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14. So through the night rode Paul Revere ;

And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,-
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forever more !
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

LXXVII.-ALEXANDER THE GREAT, AND A

ROBBER.

JOHN AIKIN. Alexander. What, art thou the Thracian robber, of whose exploits I have heard so much ?

Robber. I am a Thracian, and a soldier.

Alex. A soldier !-a thief, a plunderer, an assassin! the pest of the country ; I could honor thy courage, but I must detest and punish thy crimes.

Robber. What have I done, of which you can complain?

Alex. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority, violated the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring the persons and properties of thy fellow subjects ?

Robber. Alexander! I am your captive-I must hear what you please to say, and endure what you please to inflict. But my soul is unconquered ; and if I reply at all to your reproaches, I will reply like a free man.

Alex. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the advantage of my power, to silence those with whom I deign to converse.

Robber. I must then answer your question by another. How have you passed your life?

Alex. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell you. Among the brave, I have been the bravest : among sovereigns, the noblest : among conquerors, the mightiest.

Robber. And does not Fame speak of me too? Was there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band ? Was there ever- but I scorn to boast. You yourself know that I have not been easily subdued.

Alex. Still, what are you but a robber-a base, dishonest robber?

Robber. And what is a conqueror ? Have not you, too, gone about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair fruits of peace and industry ; plundering, ravaging, killing, without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable lust for dominion ? All that I have done to a single district with a hundred followers, you have done to whole nations with a hundred thousand. If I have stripped individuals, you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few hamlets, you have desolated the most flourishing kingdoms and cities of the earth. What is, then, the difference, but that as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have been able to become a mightier robber than I?

Alex. But if I have taken like a king, I have given like a king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded greater. I have cherished arts, commerce, and philosophy.

Robber. I, too, have freely given to the poor what I took from the rich. I have established order and discipline among the most ferocious of mankind, and have stretched out my protecting arm over the oppressed. I know, indeed, little of the philosophy you talk of, but I believe neither you nor I shall ever atone to the world for half the mischief we have done it.

Alcx. Leave me.—Take off his chains, and use him well. --Are we then so much alike? Alexander like a robber? Let me reflect.

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1. “Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,

In the sunshine bright and strong,
For this world is fading, Pompey-
Massa won't be with you long;

ed I fain we more the breaking

*And I fain would hear the south wind

Bring once more the sound to me,
Of the wavelets softly breaking

On the shores of Tennessee.

2. “Mournful though the ripples murmur,

As they still the story tell,
How no vessels float the banner

That I've loved so long and well,
I shall listen to their music,

Dreaming that again I see
Stars and stripes on sloop and shallop

Sailing up the Tennessee ;

3. “And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting

For Death's last dispatch to come,
If that exiled starry banner

Should come proudly sailing home,
You shall greet it, slave no longer-

Voice and hand shall both be free
That shout and point to Union colors

On the waves of Tennessee.”

4. “ Massa's berry kind to Pompey; .

But old darkey's happy here,
Where he's tended corn and cotton

For dese many a long gone year.
Over yonder, Missis' sleeping-

No one tends her grave like me:
Mebbe she would miss the flowers

She used to love in Tennessee.

5. “ 'Pears like, she was watching Massa

If Pompey should beside him stay,
Mebbe she'd remember better

How for him she used to pray;
Telling him that way up yonder

White as snow his soul would be,
If he served the Lord of Heaven

While he lived in Tennessee."

6. Silently the tears were rolling

Down the poor old dusky face,
As he stepped behind his master,

In his long accustomed place.
Then a silence fell around them,

As they gazed on rock and tree
Pictured in the placid waters

Of the rolling Tennessee ;

7. Master, dreaming of the battle

Where he fought by Marion's side,
When he bid the haughty Tarleton

Stoop his lordly crest of pride ;-
Man, remembering how yon sleeper

Once he held upon his knee,
Ere she loved the gallant soldier,

Ralph Vervair of Tennessee.

8. Still the south wind fondly lingers

'Mid the veteran's silver hair;
Still the bondman close beside him

Stands behind the old arm-chair,
With his dark-hued hand uplifted,

Shading eyes, he bends to see
Where the woodland, boldly jutting,

Turns aside the Tennessee.

9. Thus he watches cloud-born shadows

Glide from tree to mountain-crest,
Softly creeping, aye and ever

To the river's yielding breast.
Ha! above the foliage yonder

Something flutters wild and free!
“Massa! Massa ! Hallelujah!

The flag's come back to Tennessee !”

10. “Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,

Help me stand on foot once more,
That I may salute the colors

As they pass my cabin door.

Here's the paper signed that frees you,

Give a freeman's shout with me-
'God and Union !' be our watchword

Evermore in Tennessee !”

11. Then the trembling voice grew fainter,

And the limbs refused to stand ;
One prayer to Jesus—and the soldier

Glided to the better land.
When the flag went down the river

Man and master both were free;
While the ring-dove's note was mingled

With the rippling Tennessee.

LXXIX.—THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

ROBERT SOUTHEY.
1. It was a summer evening ;

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door

Was sitting in the sun ;
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

2. She saw her brother Peterkin

Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet,

In playing there, had found.
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large and smooth and round.

3. Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by ;
And then the old man shook his head,

And with a natural sigh,
“ 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,” said he,
Who fell in the great victory. ·

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