Unmarked he stood amid the throng,1
In rumination2 deep and long,

Till you might see, with sudden grace,3
The very thought come o'er his face;
And, by the motion of his form,
Anticipate the bursting storm ;

And, by the uplifting of his brow,

Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.

3. But 'twas no sooner thought than done:
The field was in a moment won.
"Make way for liberty!" he cried,
Then ran, with arms extended wide,
As if his dearest friend to clasp;

Ten spears he swept within his grasp:
"Make way for liberty!" he cried,
Their keen points met from side to side;
He bowed amongst them like a tree,
And thus made way for liberty.

4. Swift to the breach his comrades fly:
"Make way for liberty!" they cry,

And through the Austrian phalanx dart,
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart;
While, instantaneous as his fall,

Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all:

1 the throng, the troops.

2 rumination, deep reflection.

8 sudden grace, the glow on his martyr face.

An earthquake could not overthrow
A city with a surer blow.

Thus Switzerland again was free:
Thus death made way for liberty.

The sailor's eyes were dimmed with dew.
"Your little lad? your Elihu?"
He said with trembling lip:
"What little lad? what ship?"

2. What little lad? as if there could be
Another such a one as he!

“What little lad, do you say?"
"Why, Elihu, that took to the sea
The moment I put him off my knee.
It was just the other day

The Gray Swan sailed away."

3. The other day? The sailor's eyes Stood wide open with surprise :

"The other day? the Swan?"

His heart began in his throat to rise.
"Ay, ay, sir: here in the cupboard lies

The jacket he had on."

"And so your lad is gone!"

4. "Gone with the Swan."-"And did she stand

With her anchor clutching hold of the sand,
For a month, and never stir?"

"Why, to be sure! I've seen from the land,
Like a lover kissing his lady's hand,
The wild sea kissing her,-

A sight to remember, sir."

5. "But, my good mother, do you know,
All this was twenty years ago?

I stood on the Gray Swan's deck,
And to that lad I saw you throw-
Taking it off, as it might be so
The kerchief from your neck:
Ay, and he'll bring it back.

6. "And did the little lawless lad,

That has made you sick, and made you sad,

Sail with the Gray Swan's crew?"

"Lawless! the man is going mad;
The best boy mother ever had:

Be sure he sailed with the crew
What would you have him do?"

7. "And he has never written line,

Nor sent you word, nor made you sign,
To say he was alive?"

"Hold! if 'twas wrong, the wrong is mine:
Besides, he may be in the brine;

And could he write from the grave?
Tut, man! what would you have?"

8. "Gone twenty years! a long, long cruise;
'Twas wicked thus your love to abuse;
But if the lad still lives,

And come back home, think you, you can
Forgive him?"-"Miserable man!
You're mad as the sea: you rave·
What have I to forgive?"

9. The sailor twitched his shirt so blue,
And from within his bosom drew
The kerchief. She was wild:
"My God! my Father! is it true?
My little lad, my Elihu?

And is it is it is it you?

My blessed boy, my child,

My dead, my living child!"

94.- Marco Bozzaris.

Marco Bozzaris (bot-sär'is) was a Greek patriot who greatly distinguished himself in the Greek war of independence against the Turks, in the early part of the present century.

1. At midnight, in his guarded tent,

The Turk was dreaming of the hour

When Greece, her knee in suppliance1 bent,
Should tremble at his power:

1 suppliance, low entreaty.

In dreams through camp and court he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;

In dreams his song of triumph heard;
Then wore his monarch's signet ring,-
Then pressed that monarch's throne, — a king:
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,
As Eden's garden bird.

2. At midnight, in the forest shades,
Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,1
True as the steel of their tried blades,
Heroes in heart and hand.

There had the Persian thousands stood,

There had the glad earth drunk their blood,
On old Platea's day;

And now there breathed that haunted air
The sons of sires who conquered there,
With arm to strike, and soul to dare,
As quick, as far, as they.

3. An hour passed on; the Turk awoke: That bright dream was his last.

He woke to hear his sentries shriek,

"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!"
He woke to die midst flame and smoke,
And shout and groan, and saber-stroke,

And death-shots falling thick and fast

1 Suliote band, followers of Bozzaris; so named from his birthplace, Suli.