The mask is off, the charm is wrought, WHO'LL BUY MY LOVE-KNOTS? THOMAS MOORE. HYMEN, late, his love-knots selling, None could doubt, who saw or knew them, Who'll buy my love-knots?" How his baskets were surrounded! Maids who now first dreamed of trying Who'll buy my love-knots?" All at that sweet cry assembled; Some laughed, some blushed, and some trembled. "Here are knots," said Hymen, taking Some loose flowers, " of Love's own making; When the nymphs all cried, "We're cheated! Who'd buy such love-knots ? Even this tie, with Love's name round it- Love, who saw the whole proceeding, Would have laughed, but for good-breeding; Take back our love-knots! Coolly said: "There's no returning Wares on Hymen's hands! Good morning." THE BATTLE OF WATERLO0. VICTOR HUGO. FOR both armies the opening was difficult, uncertain, hesitating, and threatening. It had rained all night. The ground was softened by the shower; water lay here and there in the hollows of the plain as in basins; at some points the wheels sank in to the axles; the horses' girths dripped with liquid mud. Had not the wheat and rye spread down by that multitude of advancing carts filled the ruts and made a bed under the wheels, all movement, particularly The mask is off, the charm is wrought, WHO'LL BUY MY LOVE-KNOTS? THOMAS MOORE. HYMEN, late, his love-knots selling, Called at many a maiden's dwelling. None could doubt, who saw or knew them, Who'll buy my love-knots?" Maids who now first dreamed of trying Who'll buy my love-knots?" All at that sweet cry assembled; Some laughed, some blushed, and some trembled. "Here are knots," said Hymen, taking Some loose flowers, " of Love's own making; FOR "Come, buy my love-knots! Come, buy my love-knots! Some are labelled 'Knots to tie men Scarce their bargains were completed, When the nymphs all cried, "We're cheated! Who'd buy such love-knots ? Who'd buy such love-knots ? Even this tie, with Love's name round it All a sham! He never bound it." Love, who saw the whole proceeding, Would have laughed, but for good-breeding; "Take back our love-knots! Take back our love-knots! " Coolly said: "There's no returning Wares on Hymen's hands! Good morning." THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. VICTOR HUGO. OR both armies the opening was difficult, uncertain, hesitating, and threatening. It had rained all night. The ground was softened by the shower; water lay here and there in the hollows of the plain as in basins; at some points the wheels sank in to the axles; the horses' girths dripped with liquid mud. Had not the wheat and rye spread down by that multitude of advancing carts filled the ruts and made a bed under the wheels, all movement, particularly The affair opened late. Napoleon had a habit of holding all his artillery in hand like a pistol, aiming now at one point, anon at another point of the battle; and he desired to wait until the fieldbatteries could wheel and gallop freely; for this the sun must come out and dry the ground. But the sun did not come out. had not now the field of Austerlitz. He When the first gun was fired, the English General Colville looked at his watch and noted that it was thirty-five minutes past eleven. The battle was commenced with great fury by the left wing of the French at Hougomont. At the same time Napoleon attacked the centre. Ney commanded the right wing of the French, and immediately attacked the left wing of the English. This attack was intended to overwhelm the English left, cut the Brussels road, bar the passage of the Prussians, should they come, to carry Mont St. Jean and drive Wellington back. It was successful. La Haie Sainte was captured. Then the battle wavered. There is in this day from noon to four o'clock an obscure interval; the middle of the battle is almost indistinct, and partakes of the thickness of the conflict. Twilight was gathering. You could perceive vast fluctuations in this mist, a giddy mirage, implements of war now almost unknown, the flaming colbacks, the waving sabretaches; the crossed shoulder-belts; the grenade cartridge boxes; the dolmans of the Hussars; the red boots with a thousand creases; the heavy shakos festooned with fringe; the almost black infantry of Brunswick united with the scarlet infantry of England; the English soldiers with great white circular pads on their sleeves for epaulets; the Hanoverian light horse with their oblong leather caps with copper bands and flowing plumes of red horse-hair; the Scotch with bare knees and plaids; the large white gaiters of the French grenadiers,―tableaux, not strategic lines, the need of Salvator Rosa, not of Gribeauval. Late in the afternoon the battle assumed precision. Toward four o'clock the situation of the English army was serious. The Prince of Orange, desperate and intrepid, called to the HollandoBelgians, "Nassau! Brunswick! never retreat!" Wellington was |