With fruitless labour, Clara bound,
And strove to stanch the gushing wound;
The monk, with unavailing cares,
Exhausted all the Church's prayers.
The war, that for a space did fail,
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale,
And-STANLEY! was the cry ;-
A light on Marmion's visage spread,
And fired his glazing eye:
With dying hand, above his head,
He shook the fragment of his blade,
And shouted "Victory!—

Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!"
Were the last words of Marmion.

FITZJAMES AND RODERICK DHU.
"ENOUGH, I am by promise tied
To match me with this man of pride:
Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen
In peace; but when I come again,
I come with banner, brand, and bow,
As leader seeks his mortal foe.
For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,
As I, until before me stand

This rebel Chieftain and his band !"

"Have, then, thy wish!"-He whistled shrill,

And he was answer'd from the hill;

Wild as the scream of the curlew,
From crag to crag the signal flew.
Instant, through copse and heath, arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles grey their lances start,
The bracken-bush sends forth the dart,
The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand,
And every tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior armed for strife.
That whistle garrison'd the glen
At once with full five hundred men,
As if the yawning hill to heaven

A subterranean host had given.
Watching their leader's beck and will,
All silent there they stood, and still,
Like the loose crags, whose threatening mass
Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,
As if an infant's touch could urge
Their headlong passage down the verge,
With step and weapon forward flung,
Upon the mountain-side they hung.
The Mountaineer cast glance of pride
Along Benledi's living side,

Then fix'd his eye and sable brow

Full on Fitz-James-"How say'st thou now?
These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;
And, Saxon,-I am Roderick Dhu!"

Fitz-James was brave:-Though to his heart
The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start,
He mann'd himself with dauntless air,
Returned the Chief his haughty stare,
His back against a rock he bore,
And firmly placed his foot before:-
"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I."
Sir Roderick mark'd-and in his eyes
Respect was mingled with surprise,
And the stern joy which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel.

Short space he stood-then waved his hand;
Down sunk the disappearing band;

Each warrior vanish'd where he stood,
In broom or bracken, heath or wood;
Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,
In osiers pale and copses low;

It seem'd as if their mother Earth
Had swallowed up her warlike birth.
The wind's last breath had toss'd in air,
Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair,—
The next but swept a lone hill-side,
Where heath and fern were waving wide:
The sun's last glance was glinted back,
From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,-
The next, all unreflected, shone

On bracken green, and cold grey stone.

James Montgomery.

{

Born 1771.

Died 1854.

THE "Christian poet," as he has been aptly termed, was born at Irvine in Ayrshire, 4th November 1771. His father was a Moravian missionary, who, leaving his son at Fulneck in Yorkshire to be educated, went to Tobago in the West Indies, in the pursuit of his duties, where he died. At the age of twelve, Montgomery began to write verses; and after being sent first to Mirfield, and afterwards to Wath, to earn his bread as a shopkeeper, he became so averse to his employment that he set off for London on foot, with his poems in his pocket, in the hope of obtaining a publisher for them. He was unsuccessful in this, but at last obtained a situation in a bookseller's shop, which he retained till the death of his employer. After some wanderings, Montgomery obtained a situation as clerk in Mr Gale's, the publisher of the "Sheffield Register." Here his talent found due exercise in writing for, and conducting the paper. His master had ultimately to fly for fear of a prosecution by Government, and Montgomery, by the aid of some friends, was enabled to retain the office, and bring out a newspaper, the "Sheffield Iris," which he conducted till 1825. Montgomery's life as an editor was at first very unfortunate. In his.paper he advocated liberal politics and religious freedom, and thus was brought under the notice of the Government, who, in these troublous times, acted with great tyranny; an old song on the destruction of the Bastile, which had been standing in type in the office for some time, had been reprinted unknown to him by one of his men; words applicable inoffensively to the circumstances of 1789 were now interpreted into a seditious libel, and a prosecution was most basely pushed on against him for a crime he never committed, and he was sentenced to three months' imprisonment in York Castle. In 1795 he was tried for another imputed political offence, and such was the temper of the times that the jury brought him in guilty, and he was incarcerated for six months. The history of this little affair is one of the most interesting episodes in his life. He beguiled his time by writing poems, afterwards published under the title of "Prison Amusements." But the affairs of the poet were now more satisfactory. He had often written little pieces in his newspaper; but in 1806 he issued "The Wanderer of Switzerland." It was honoured with a withering criticism by the "Edinburgh Review," but in spite of this, it went rapidly through several editions. In 1807 appeared "The West Indies;" in 1813," The World before the Flood;" in 1819, "Greenland;" and in 1827,. "The Pelican Island," the finest of his poems. But the name of Mont

gomery as a poet does not rest alone on these: his religious pieces, contributed to periodicals and hymn books, are to be found in every collection, and will be used with those of Watts, Cowper, and Newton, as long as the English language exists. In 1846 Government conferred on him the well-merited pension of £150 a-year, which he enjoyed till his death, on 30th April 1854.

FROM "THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD."

THE Giants reach'd their camp:—the night's alarms
Meanwhile had startled all their slaves to arms;
They grasp'd their weapons as from sleep they sprang,