She lay on the ground in her Scottish plaid, "When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," She slept like a child on her father's floor, It was smoke and roar and powder stench, But the soldier's wife like a full-tired child, Of an English village lane And wall and garden, till a sudden scream Brought me back to the rear again. There Jessie Brown stood listening, "The Highlanders! O dinna ye hear The McGregor's? Ah! I ken it weel; "God bless the bonny Highlanders ; We're saved! we're saved!" she cried; And fell on her knees and thanks to God Poured forth, like a full flood tide. Along the battery line, her cry Had fallen among the men; And they started; for they were there to die, They listened, for life, and the rattling fire Were all, and the colonel shook his head, And they turned to their guns once more. Then Jessie said, "The slogan's dune, But can ye no hear them, noo? The Campbells are coming! it's nae a dream We heard the roar and the rattle afar, It was not long ere it must be heard, It was the pipe of the Highlanders, And now they played " Auld Lang Syne"; It came to our men like the voice of God; And they shouted along the line. And they wept and shook each other's hands, And every one knelt down where we stood, That happy day, when we welcomed them in, And the General took her hand; And cheers from the men like a volley burst. And the pipers' ribbons and tartans streamed, 66 Anonymous. CLXIX. PARRHASIUS AND THE CAPTIVE. THE golden light into the painter's room Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl Were like the wingéd god's, breathing from his flight. "Bring me the captive, now ! My hand feels skilful, and the shadows lift From my waked spirit airily and swift, And I could paint the bow Upon the bended heavens Colors of such divinity to-day. around me play "Ha! bind him on his back! Look! as Prometheus in my picture here! or he faints! stand with the cordial near ! Now - bend him on the rack! Press down the poisoned links into his flesh! Will he live thus? Quick, my good pencil, now How fearfully he stifles that short moan! "Pity' thee! So I do! I pity the dumb victim at the altar But does the robed priest for his pity falter? A thousand lives were perishing in thine "But, there's a deathless name! A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, And though its crown of flame 66 Ay-though it bid me rifle My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first- The yearning in my throat for my sweet child, "All I would do it all Sooner than die, like a dull worm, to rot O heavens! - but I appall Stand back! I'll paint the death-dew on his brow! But for one moment one till I eclipse Brokenly now that was a difficult breath Another? Wilt thou never come, O Death? Is his heart still? Aha! lift up his head! He shudders --- SO How like a mounting devil in the heart The heart to ashes, and with not a spring Oh, if earth be all, and heaven nothing, - he's dead." N. P. Willis. |