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I am no orator, as Brutus is :
But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man,
? hat love my friend ; and that they know full well,
That gave me public leave to speak of him :
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Acţion, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood : I only speak right on;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb

mouths,
And bid them speak for me: But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome toʻrise and mutiny.

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LOCHIEL'S WARNING. Wizard, LOCHIEL, Lochiel ! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fiyht. They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war, What steed to the desert flies frantic and far? 'Tis thine, oh Glenullin ! whose bride shall await, Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning: no rider is there; But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. Weep, Albin ! to death and captivity led ! Oh weep ! but thy tears cannot number the dead : For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, Cullodeu ! that reeks with the blood of the bra

scorn

Lochiel. Go, preach to the coward, thou death

telling seer! Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear, Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight, This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. Wizard. Ha! laughest thou, Lochiel, my vision to

? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn! Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth, From his home, in the dark-rolling clouds of the north? Lo ! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad ; But down let him stoop from his havock on high ! Ah! home let him speed,—for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast, Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyry, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might, Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn; Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return ! For the blacknees of ashes shall mark where it stood, And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.

Lochiel. False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled

my clan,

Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one !
They are true to the last of their blood and their breath,
And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock!
Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock !
But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause,
When Albin her claymore indignantly draws ;
When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd,
Clanranald the dauntless, and Moray the proud,
All plaided and plumed in their tartan array-

Wizard. -Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of tho day

For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, But man cannot cover what God would reveal; 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring With the blood-hounds that bark for thy fugitive king. Lo! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath, Behold, where he flies on his desolate path ! Now in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight: Rise, rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight! 'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors : Culloden is lost, and my country deplores. But where is the iron-bound prisoner ? Where ? For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn, Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn? Ah no! for a darker departure is near; The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier; His death-bell is tolling: oh! mercy, dispel Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell ! Life Autters convulsed in his quivering limbs, And his blood-streaming nostril in agony

swims. Accursed be the fagots, that blaze at his feet, Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat, With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale—Lochiel. -Down, soothless insulter! I trust not

the tale : For never shall Albin a destiny meet, So black with dishonour, so foul with retreat. Though my perishing ranksshould be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe! And leaving in battle no blot his

name, Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame.

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FRIENDSHIP. Nor unremembered is the hour when friends Met. Friends, but few on earth, and therefore dear ; Sought oft, and sought almost as oft in vain ; Yet always sought; so native to the heart, So much desired, and coveted by all. Nor wonder thou,—thou wonderest not nor need'st. Much beautiful, and excellent, and fair Was seen beneath the sun ; but nought was seen More beautiful, or excellent, or fair Than face of faithful friend, fairest when seen In darkest day; and many sounds were sweet, Most ravishing, and pleasant to the ear; But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend ; Sweet always, sweetest, heard in loudest storm. Some I remember, and will ne'er forget ; My early friends, friends of my evil day; Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too ; Friends given by God in mercy and in love ; My counsellors, my comforters, and guides; My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy; Companions of my young desires; in doubt, My oracles, my wings in high pursuit. 0, I remember, and will ne'er forget, Our meeting spots, our chosen sacred hours, Our burning words, that uttered all the soul, Our faces beaming with unearthly love ; Sorrow with sorrow sighing, hope with hope Exulting, heart embracing heart entire ! As birds of social feather helping each His fellow's flight, we soared into the skies, And cast the clouds beneath our feet, and Earth, With all her tardy leaden-footed cares, And talked the speech and ate the food of Heaven! These I remember, these selectest men,

And would their names record ; but what avails
My mention of their name ? Before the Throne
They stand illustrious 'mong the loudest harps,
And will receive thee glad, my friend and theirs.
For all are friends in Heaven, all faithful friends!
And many friendships, in the days of Time
Begun, are lasting here, and growing still ;
So grows ours evermore, both theirs and mine.

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THE DISSOLUTION OF FRIENDSHIP.
ALAS! they had been friends in youth ;
But whispering tongues can poison truth;
And constancy lives in realms above ;

And life is thorny; and youth is vain :
And to be wroth with one we love,

Doth work like madness in the brain.
And thus it chanced, as I divine,
With Roland and Sir Leoline.
Each spake words of high disdain

And insult to his heart's best brother :
They parted-ne'er to meet again!

But never either found another
To free the hollow heart from paining ;
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder ;

A dreary sea now flows between,
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,

Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The marks of that which once hath been.

THE DEATH OF THE YOUNG MOTHER,

It was an April day; and blithely all The youth of nature leaped beneath the sun, And promised glorious manhood ; and our hearts

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