Lord Marmion turned, well was his need, -
And dashed the rowels in his steed,
Like arrow through the archway sprung;
The ponderous grate behind him rung:
To pass there was such scanty room,
The bars, descending, razed' his plume.

The steed along the drawbridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Nor lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim.

And when Lord Marmion reached his band,
He halts, and turns with clenchéd hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,

And shook his gauntlet at the towers.

SCOTT.

110.- Saint Jonathan.

There's many an excellent saint,

St. George, with a dragon and lance;
St. Patrick, so jolly and quaint;
St. Vitus, the saint of the dance;
St. Denis, the saint of the Gaul;
St. Andrew, the saint of the Scot;
But Jonathan, youngest of all,
Is the mightiest saint of the lot.

1 razed = grazed.

Well worthy a martyr's possessing;
But it isn't all owing to grace,

But partly to thinking and guessing.
In sooth, our American saint

Has rather a secular 2 bias,

And I never have heard a complaint
Of his being excessively pious.

He's fond of financial improvement,
And is always extremely inclined
To be starting some practical movement
For mending the morals and mind.
Do you ask me what wonderful labors
St. Jonathan ever has done

To rank with his calendar neighbors?
Just listen, a moment, to one:

One day when a flash in the air

Split his meetinghouse fairly asunder,
Quoth Jonathan, "Now, I declare,

They're dreadfully careless with thunder!"
So he fastened a rod to the steeple;

4

And now, when the lightning comes round,
He keeps it from building and people
By running it into the ground.

1 sooth = truth.

2 secular, worldly.

4 rod: the poet's allusion has reference to the lightning rod invent

8 calendar neighbors; i.e., the ed by Franklin. (See Lesson 69 of

list of saints.

this Reader.)

One morning, while taking a stroll,
He heard a lugubrious' cry,
Like the shriek of a suffering soul,-
In a hospital standing near by;
Anon, such a terrible groan

Saluted St. Jonathan's ear,

That his bosom — which wasn't of stone -
Was melted with pity to hear.

That night he invented a charm 2

So potent, that folks who employ it,
In losing a leg or an arm,

Don't suffer, but rather enjoy it,

A miracle, you must allow,

As good as the best of his brothers;
And blesséd St. Jonathan now

Is patron of cripples and mothers.

There's many an excellent saint,

St. George, with the dragon and lance;

St. Patrick, so jolly and quaint;
St. Vitus, the saint of the dance;

St. Denis, the saint of the Gaul;
St. Andrew, the saint of the Scot;
But Jonathan, youngest of all,

Is the mightiest saint of the lot.

SAXE.

1 lu-gū'bri-oŭs, mournful.

2 charm; i.e., chloroform.

111.-The Raven.

The central idea in this, the most celebrated poem of Edgar Allan Poe, is thus stated in his essay on the "Philosophy of Composition:”.

"I asked myself what, according to the universal understanding of mankind, is the most melancholy of poetic topics. The answer was obvious: it is Death. I then inquired when this most melancholy of topics is most poetical. Here, too, the reply was obvious: it is when it most closely allies itself to beauty. Hence the death of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world; and the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover. This is the essential motive of my poem."

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and

weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door,

Only this, and nothing more."

Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost1 upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow: vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease 2 of sorrow, sorrow for the lost

Lenore;

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name

Lenore,

Nameless here forevermore.

1 ghost; i.e., shadow.

2

surcease, cessation, relief.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me -filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, ""Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"- Here I opened wide the door:

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering,

fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream

before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word

"Lenore?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word "LENORE!"

Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery explore, Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore: "Tis the wind, and nothing more."