He was my brother, but his form
Was fairer far than mine;

I grudged not that; he was the prop
Of our ancestral line,

And manly beauty was of him
A token and a sign.

Boy! I had loved her too,-nay, more,
'Twas I who loved her first;

For months-for years-the golden thought Within my soul was nursed;

T

He came he conquer'd-they were wed;— My air-blown bubble burst!

Then on my mind a shadow fell,

And evil hopes grew rife;

The damning thought stuck in my heart,
And cut me like a knife,

That she, whom all my days I loved,
Should be another's wife!

"By Heaven! it was a fearful thing
To see my brother now,

And mark the placid calm that sat
For ever on his brow,
That seem'd in bitter scorn to say,
I am more loved than thou!

8

"I left my home-I left the land-
I cross'd the raging sea;-
In vain in vain-where'er I turn'd,
My memory went with me;-
My whole existence, night and day,
In memory seem'd to be.

"I came again-I found them here—
Thou'rt like thy father, boy-

He doted on that pale face there,
I've seen them kiss and toy,-
I've seen him lock'd in her fond arms,
Wrapp'd in delirious joy!

"He disappear'd-draw nearer, child;~
He died-no one knew how;
The murder'd body ne'er was found,
The tale is hush'd up now;

But there was one who rightly guess'd
The hand that struck the blow,

"It drove her mad-yet not his death,No-not his death alone;

For she had clung to hope, when all

Knew well that there was none;No, boy! it was a sight she saw That froze her into stone!

"I am thy uncle, child,-why stare So frightfully aghast?

66

The arras waves, but know'st thou not
'Tis nothing but the blast?

I too have had my fears like these,
But such vain fears are past.

I'll show thee what thy mother saw,—
I feel 'twill ease my breast,
And this wild tempest-laden night
Suits with the purpose best.-
Come hither-thou hast often sought
To open this old chest.

It has a secret spring; the touch

Is known to me alone;

Slowly the lid is raised, and now-
What see you that you groan
So heavily? That thing is but
A bare-ribb'd skeleton."

A sudden crash-the lid fell down-
Three strides he backwards gave,-
"Oh God! it is my brother's self
Returning from the grave!

His grasp of lead is on my throat
Will no one help or save?"

That night they laid him on his bed,
In raving madness toss'd;'

He gnash'd his teeth, and with wild oaths
Blasphemed the Holy Ghost;

And, ere the light of morning broke,

A sinner's soul was lost.

H. G. Bell.

The Death of Murat.

"My hour is come!-Forget me not!-My blessing is with you;
With you my last, my fondest thought; with you my heart's adieu.
Farewell-farewell, my Caroline! my children's doting mother;
I made thee wife, and fate a queen-an hour, and thou art neither:
Farewell, my fair Letitia, my love is with thee still:

Louise and Lucien, adieu; and thou, my own Achille!"
With quivering lip, but with no tear, or tear that gazers saw,
These words, to all his heart held dear, thus wrote the brave Murat.

Then of the locks which, dark and large, o'er his broad shoulders hung;

That stream'd war-pennons in the charge, yet like caressings clung
In peace around his forehead high, which, more than diadem,
Beseem'd the curls that lovingly replaced the cold hard gem;
He cut him one for wife-for child-'twas all he had to will;
But, with the regal wealth and state, he lost its heartless chill!
The iciness of alien power, what gushing love may thaw?
-The agony of such an hour as this-thy last-Murat!

Comrade-though foe!-a soldier asks from thee a soldier's aidThey're not a warrior's only tasks that need his blood and bladeThat upon which I latest gaze-that which I fondest clasp, When death my eye-balls wraps in haze, and stiffens my hands' grasp!

With these love-locks around it twined, say, wilt thou see them sentNeed I say where?-Enough!-'tis kind!-to death, then-I'm con

tent!

Oh, to have found it in the field, not as a chain'd outlaw!
No more!-to Destiny I yield-with mightier than Murat!

They led him forth-'twas but a stride between his prison-room
And where, with yet a monarch's pride, he met a felon's doom.
"Soldiers!-your muzzles to my breast will leave brief space for
pain.

Strike to the heart!"-His last behest was utter'd not in vain.
He turn'd him to the levell'd tubes that held the wish'd-for boon;
He gazed upon some love-clasp'd pledge, then vollied the platoon;
And when their hold the hands gave up, the pitying gazers saw,
In the dear image of a wife, thy heart's best trait, Murat!

T. Atkinson.

The Triumph of Malachi, King of Meath.

'MIDST forest deep of flashing spears,

The flag of Erin's flying;

Her cause, the one the tyrant fears,
The freeman dares to die in!

In garb of steel, each true-born son,
Her anthem bold repeating,

With martial stride moves blithely on,
Impatient for the meeting!

Till Erin saw her son enslaved-
While Tara's princes swayed her,
What tongue in vain her shelter craved?
But see what wrongs have made her!
The hand-the first to welcome in,
And feast and rest the stranger,
Now wakes him with the battle's din,
To meet the stern Avenger!

In shining lists no more appear
The sons of Erin vying;
Forbade to wield the glaive or spear,
Their knightly name is dying:
For Erin's daughters, fair in vain,
Their ardent breasts are glowing,-
The nuptial couch is now their bane,
For honour shame bestowing.

From end to end the country groans;
On every hand's oppression,-
Till death becomes the best of boons:
With wrongs, in thick succession,
Her princes fall!-her heroes fall!
Her misery's upbraided!

Her name a mock! and, worst of all,
The sacred cross degraded!

But man is man, howe'er you

boast

To tame his noble nature! Though warp'd a while, is never lost Its framer-marking feature! The slave that's made by tyrant pride To grace the foul oppressor, Is found the freeman still to hide That's Freedom's sure redresser!

O day of pride!-O happy day.
When Erin's king, deploring
His country's sorrows, braved the fray,
Her banner green restoring!

Then fled the Dane, while Erin's son,
New-burst from bonds inglorious,
Stood free the gory plain upon,

That saw his arms victorious.

The Spanish Champion.

Knowles.

THE warrior bow'd his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprison'd sire:
"I bring thee here my fortress keys, I bring my captive train;
I pledge my faith, my liege, my lord, oh! break my father's chain."
"Rise! rise! even now thy father comes, a ransom'd man this day;
Mount thy good steed, and thou and I will meet him on his way:"
Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed;
And urged, as if with lance in hand, his charger's foaming speed.

And lo! from far, as on they press'd, they met a glittering band,
With one that 'mid them stately rode, like a leader in the land:
Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he,
The father, whom thy grateful heart hath yearned so long to see.

His proud breast heaved, his dark eye flash'd, his cheeks' hue came and went;

[bent;

He reach'd that grey-hair'd chieftain's side, and there dismounting
A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took;
What was there in its touch, that all his fiery spirit shook?

That hand was cold, a frozen thing, it dropp'd from his like lead;
He look'd up to the face above, the face was of the dead;
A plume waved o'er the noble brow, the brow was fix'd and white;
He met at length his father's eyes, but in them was no sight!

Up from the ground he sprung, and gazed; but who can paint that
They hush'd their very hearts who saw its horror and amaze: [gaze?
They might have chain'd him, as before that noble form he stood;
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his cheek the
blood.

"Father!" at length he murmur'd low, and wept like children then-
Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men-
He thought on all his glorious hopes, on all his high renown;
Then flung the falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down;

And, covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly-mournful brow,
"No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for now;
My king is false, my hope betray'd, my father, oh! the worth,
The glory, and the loveliness, are past away to earth!"

Up from the ground he sprung once more, and seized the monarch's
Amid the pale and wilder'd looks of all the courtier train; [rein,
And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led,
And sternly set them face to face, the king before the dead.