A LOVE OF A BONNET

Mrs. Clipper, a Widow.Kitty, her Daughter.Aunt Jemima Hopkins, a leetle inquisitive.Mrs. Hortensia Fastone, very genteel.Dora, her Daughter.Katy Doolan, Irish Help.

Mrs. Clipper, a Widow.

Kitty, her Daughter.

Aunt Jemima Hopkins, a leetle inquisitive.

Mrs. Hortensia Fastone, very genteel.

Dora, her Daughter.

Katy Doolan, Irish Help.

Scene.—Room inMrs. Clipper'sHouse. Lounge,L.;Chairs,C.;Table and Rocking-chair, Looking-glass,R.

EnterMrs. ClipperandKitty, r.

Mrs. C.But really, Kitty, I cannot afford it.

Kitty.O, yes, you can, mother; just this once. It's such a love of a bonnet! it's so becoming! and it only costs fifteen dollars.

Mrs. C.Fifteen dollars! Why, child, you are crazy! We cannot afford to be so extravagant. The income derived from the property your dear father left will only allow us to dress in the most economical manner.

Kitty.But this bonnet is not extravagant. Dora Fastone wears a bonnet which cost twenty-five-dollars, and her father has failed five or six times. I don't see why I can't have a new bonnet as well as that proud, stuck-up—

Mrs. C.Hush, my child! never speak ill of our neighbors because they dress better than we do. If they spend money foolishly, we should endeavor to use ours to better purpose. I am sure I should be glad to gratify you, but we have so many expenses. Your music lessons cost a great deal of money; and your brother Harry, off at school, is really suffering for a new suit of clothes. I must send him some money to-day.

Kitty.O, he can wait; he's only a boy; and no one cares how he looks; but young ladies must dress, or they are thought nothing of. O, you must let me have the bonnet, mamma!

Mrs. C.If you have this bonnet, Kitty, Harry must go without his new suit.

Kitty.If you could just see it! It's such a love of a bonnet! Do let me run down and ask Miss Thompson to send it up for you to look at.

Mrs. C.I've no objection to that; and if you think you need it more than Harry does his new suit, why—

Kitty.You'll let me have it. That's a good, dear mother. I know you wouldn't refuse. I'll run to Miss Thompson's. I won't be gone long. I suppose I am selfish; but then, mother, it's such a love of a bonnet.[Exit,L.

Mrs. C.(Sits in a rocking-chair.) Dear child, it is hard to refuse her! But one should be made of money to keep up with the extravagant fashions of the day.

EnterAunt Hopkins, r.

Aunt H.Angelina, what on airth have them air Joneses got for dinner? I've sot and sot at that air front winder till I've got a crick in my back a tryin' to find out whether it's lamb or mutton. It's something roasted, anyhow.

Mrs. C.Aunt Hopkins, you are very inquisitive!

Aunt H.Inquisitive! Law sakes, do hear the child talk! Neow, what harm kin there be in tryin' to find eout what your neighbors have got for dinner? I mean to put on my bunnet and run acrost and see. I know they've got apple dumplin's, for I see the hired gal throw the parin's out into the yard.

Mrs. C.Run across! Don't dream of such a thing!

Aunt H.Well, I'm goin' up stairs to git my specs and have another good look, anyhow; for I'm jest dyin' to know whether it's lamb or mutton. Land sakes! what's the use of livin', ef you can't know how other folks live?[Exit,R.

Mrs. C.Aunt Hopkins!—She's gone! Dear me, she does worry me terribly! What will our neighbors think of us?

EnterKaty Doolan, l.

Katy.If you plase, mam, may I coome in?

Mrs. C.Certainly, Katy. What's the matter?

Katy.If you plase, mam, I have a letther; and would you plase rade it for me?

Mrs. C.(Takes letter.) Certainly, Katy. From your lover?

Katy.Indeed, mam, I have no lover. It's my cousin, mam.

Mrs. C.O, your cousin. (Opens letter.) "Light ov my sowl!" Why, this cannot be your cousin.

Katy.Indade, indade, it be, sure! It's only the insinivatin' way he has, mam!

Mrs. C.(Reads.)

"Bewitchin' Katy! and how are ye's onyhow? I take my pin in hand to till ye's I am yurs, in good hilth and sphirits; and it's hopin' ye's the same, truly! The pulsitations uv my heart are batin' wid the love I bears ye's, darlin' Katy! the fairest flower—niver mind the blot—that iver bloomed an the family tree uv Phil Doolan uv Tipperary, dead and gone this siven years, bliss his sowl,—and how are ye's? An' by the same token that I loves ye's much, I sind by the ixpriss, freight paid, a new bunnit, which my cousin Biddy Ryan, for my dear love, have made for ye's charmin' Katy Doolan! Wear it nixt ye's heart! And if ye git it before this letther coomes to hand, ye's may know it is fromYour ever sighin',Wid love for ye's dyin',Cornalius Ryan.P.S. If ye's don't resave this letther, sind me word uv mouth by the man who fetches the bunnit."

Your ever sighin',Wid love for ye's dyin',Cornalius Ryan.

Your ever sighin',

Wid love for ye's dyin',

Cornalius Ryan.

P.S. If ye's don't resave this letther, sind me word uv mouth by the man who fetches the bunnit."

Mrs. C.That's a very loving epistle.

Katy.Pistol, it is? Faith, I thought it was a letther.

Mrs. C.And so it is; and a very loving one! Yourcousinhas sent you a new bonnet.

Katy.Is it in the letther, mam!

Mrs. C.It is coming by express.

Katy.Sure, he might sind it in the letther, and save expinse. What will I do?

Mrs. C.Wait patiently until the bonnet arrives.

Katy.Will Cornalius coome wid it?

Mrs. C.I think not. The expressman will bring it.

Katy.Sure, I don't want the ixpressman. It's Cornalius I want.

Mrs. C.This cousin of yours seems very affectionate. Are you going to marry him some day?

Katy.Some day?—yis, mam. He tould me, Would I? and I axed him, Yes. What will I do with the letther, mam?

Mrs. C.Keep it with your treasures. It should be precious to you.

Katy.Faith, thin I'll put it in the savings bank with my money. I'm obliged, to ye's Mrs. Clipper, mam. If you plase, what was that last in the letther?

Mrs. C.

"Your ever sighin',Wid love for ye's dyin',Cornalius Ryan."

"Your ever sighin',

Wid love for ye's dyin',

Cornalius Ryan."

Katy.O, don't, ma'am! Ye's make me blush wid the shame I fail. Och! it's a quare darlin', wid all his sighin', is Cornalius Ryan! Och, musha! it's an illigant lad he is, onyhow![Exit,L.

Mrs. C.So we are to have another new bonnet in the family! Well, Katy is a good girl, and I hope will get a good husband, as well as a new bonnet.

[Exit,L.

EnterAunt Hopkins, r.,with a bandbox.

Aunt H.It's mutton! I was determined to find eout, and I have! I saw that air Jones boy a playin' in the street, and I asked him what his folks had got for dinner, and he said mutton, and neow I'm satisfied on that air p'int. I wonder what's in this 'ere bandbox! I saw that express cart stop here, and the man said it was for Miss Kitty somebody; of course, Angelina's darter. I do wonder what it is! (Opens box.) Well I declare! A spic span new bunnet! (Takes out a very large, gaudily-trimmed bonnet.) And sich a bunnet! Ribbons and lace, flowers and feathers! Now that's jest what I call a tasty bunnet! I mean to try it on. It'll jest suit my complexion. Law sakes! here comes Kitty! 'Twon't do to let her know I've been at her things! (Puts bonnet back into box, and places it behind the table.)

EnterKitty, L.

Kitty.O, aunt Hopkins! Where's mother?

Aunt H.Land sakes! I don't know no more than the child unborn!

Kitty.Dear me! Here are Mrs. Fastone and Dora coming up the steps! What shall I do?

Aunt H.Why, let 'em in, of course!

Kitty.Has my new bonnet come yet?

Aunt H.Indeed it has! And sich a beauty!

Kitty.O, I'm so glad! But where is it?

Aunt H.Down there behind the table. I hain't teched it; only jest took a peep.

Kitty.I'll let Miss Dora see that some people can dress as well as some other people. Aunt Hopkins, you must manage to draw attention to my new bonnet while the visitors are here, to give me an opportunity to show it.

Aunt H.Why, I'll take it right eout the fust hing.

Kitty.No, no! that would be too abrupt. Manage to speak of bonnets; but do not show it until they ask to see it.

Aunt H.Well, I guess I know heow to do it genteelly.

EnterKaty, l.

Katy.Two ladies to see you, miss. (Crosses toR.)

Kitty.Where's mother, Katy?

Katy.Gone to the butcher's, miss. [ExitR.

Aunt H.Butcher's? Wal, I do hope she'll git some mutton, for the Joneses has it; and we ought to be as genteel as our neighbours.

EnterMrs. FastoneandDora, l.,very elegantly attired.

Mrs. F.My dear child, how do you do?

Kitty.(Shaking hands with her, and afterwards withDora.) I'm delighted to see you! Hope you are quite well, and Dora.

Mrs. F.Quite well—aren't you, Dora?

Dora.Quite, mamma.

Kitty.Pray be seated, ladies. (They sit on lounge.) Mrs. Hopkins, Mrs. Fastone.

Aunt H.(Steps over and shakes hands.) Hope you are pretty well, ma'am, and you, too, miss, though you do look awful delicate! And how's your husband? He's a broker—ain't he? (Sits in rocking-chair, and keeps it in motion.)

Mrs. F.Yes, Mrs. Hopkins, Mr. Fastone is a broker, engaged day after day in the busy vortex of fluctuating enterprises.

Aunt H.Well, I never hearn tell of that business afore; but I s'pose it's profitable, or you couldn'tafford to dress so. Is that a silk or a poplin you've got on?

Kitty.(Brings her chair; sits,C.) Aunt Hopkins!—Mother has stepped out to make a call.

Aunt H.No, she hain't; she's only gone to the butcher's.

Kitty.Aunt Hopkins!—Mrs. Fastone, what is the news?

Mrs. F.Well, really nothing. I am dying ofennui, the world is so quiet; no excitement to move the placid waters of fashionable society—is there, Dora?

Dora.Nothing, mamma.

Mrs. F.Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to wear,—is there, Dora?

Dora.Nothing, mamma.

Aunt H.Nothing to wear! Yes, there's bunnets.

Kitty.Aunt Hopkins!—Mrs. Fastone, you are quite correct.

Mrs. F.Mrs. Hopkins spoke of bonnets. I have been so disappointed! Thompson had a perfect love of a bonnet that I had quite set my heart upon for Dora; but it is gone, and the poor child is almost broken-hearted—ain't you, Dora?

Dora.Quite, mamma.

Kitty.I am very sorry, for bonnets are so hard to find. I have been very much perplexed about them myself. They are so very commonplace; no air of refinement about them.

Mrs. F.None, whatever—is there, Dora?

Dora.None, mamma.

Kitty.I've just had a new one sent home, but it doesn't suit me.

Aunt H.Why, Kitty, how you talk! It's a regular beauty!

Kitty.Aunt Hopkins!—It is not what I wanted, but Thompson said it was the most stylish she had.

Mrs. F.Thompson! Did you get it of Thompson?

Kitty.Yes, all my bonnets come from Thompson.

Mrs. F.Do let me see it!

Aunt H.(Jumps up.) I'll show it to you right off. It's an eligunt bunnet. (Gets bandbox.)

Kitty.Aunt Hopkins!

Aunt H.Neow don't aunt Hopkins me! for I'm going to show 'em jest how it looks on yer; set still; for if there's anything I pride myself on, it's showin' off a bunnet. (Stands behindKitty,puts the bonnet on her head, and ties it.) There! ain't that a beauty?

Mrs. F.Why! what a hor—a handsome bonnet! Did you ever see anything like it, Dora?

Dora.Never, mamma!

Aunt H.That's the style, marm.

Mrs. F.Really! I want to know! And this is Thompson's most stylish bonnet! Really, how the fashions do change! Did you ever, Dora!

Dora.Never, mamma!

Kitty.(Aside.) I do believe they are laughing! Aunt Hopkins, I cannot get it off! You've tied it in a hard knot!

Mrs. F.It's very becoming—isn't it, Dora?

Dora.O, very, mamma.

Mrs. F.(Aside toDora.) —What a horrid fright!

Dora.Frightful, mamma!

Mrs. F.I believe we must be moving, for I must hurry to Thompson's and order just such a bonnetfor Dora. Good day. You have such a charming taste—hasn't she, Dora?

Dora.Charming, mamma! (They bow, and exeunt,L.,with their handkerchiefs to their mouths, endeavouring to conceal their laughter.)

Kitty.Good day. Call again.—The hateful things! They are laughing at me. What ails this bonnet. (Goes to glass.) Goodness gracious; what a fright! This is not my bonnet. Aunt Hopkins, you've ruined me! I shall be the laughing-stock of the whole neighbourhood. (Tears off the bonnet.)

EnterMrs. Clipper, r.

Mrs. C.Have the Fastones gone?

Kitty.I hope so. O, mother, send aunt Hopkins home; she's made me look ridiculous!

Aunt H.Well, I declare! this comes of trying to please folks!

Mrs. C.Isthatyour love of a bonnet, Kitty?

Kitty.No, indeed! Aunt Hopkins, where did you get this hateful thing?

Aunt H.Out of that bandbox.

Kitty.(Takes up the cover.) It's marked "Miss Katy Doolan." You've made a pretty mess of it!

Aunt H.Sakes alive! It's the hired gal's! Well, I never!

Mrs. C.But where's the bonnet you sent from Thompson's?

Katy.(Outside.) O, murder! that iver I should say this day!

EnterKaty, r., (holding in her hand an elegant bonnet.)

The mane, stingy blackgurd has sint me this whisp of a bunnet, that I'll niver git on my head at all at all!

Kitty.That's my bonnet!

Katy.Is it, indade? and perhaps ye's be afther claiming the letther Cornalius Ryan sint wid it.

Mrs. C.No, no, Katy; there's a little mistake here. This is your bonnet.

Katy.Faith, now, isn't that a darling, jist! I'll wear it to church to-morrow, sure.

Kitty.Put it on now, Katy; and then take this wisp of a bonnet, as you call it, to Miss Thompson, with my best compliments and tell her I have decided not to keep it.

Mrs. C.Why, Kitty, I thought your heart was set upon having it.

Kitty.So it was, mother; but I shall never dare to wear it, after the ridiculous appearance I have just made. It's too fine for me. My conscience gave me a little twinge as I was coming home. Send Harry the money for his new suit. My old bonnet is quite good enough for me.

Aunt H.Neow that's what I call a self-denyin' gal. I'll fix it up for you; for if there's anything I pride myself on doin', it's fixing up old bunnets.

Kitty.And trying on new ones! No, I thank you, aunt Hopkins. Hereafter I'll look after my bonnets myself. I think our acquaintance with Mrs. Fastone will be broken off by this adventure; and so I will make a merit of necessity, abandon fashionable society, and be more humble in my demeanor and in my dress.

Mrs. C.Ah, my child, you will be better satisfied with your decision, as you grow older, and see how frivolous are the demands of fashion, and how little happiness can be obtained by lavish display. And I think this little adventure, though a severe lesson, will be far more profitable than the possession of that "love of a bonnet."

MRS. H. L. BOSTWICK.

The opening stanzas of this poem should be recited in an agitated, broken voice, as though the fond mother could not fully realize the fact of her boy being drafted:—in the end the voice changes to a firmer and gentler tone, as a spirit of resignation fills the mother's heart:

MYson! What! Drafted? My Harry! Why, man, 'tis a boy at his books;No taller, I'm sure, than your Annie—as delicate, too, in his looks.Why, it seems but a day since he helped me girl-like, in my kitchen at tasks;He drafted! Great God, can it be that our President knows what he asks?He never could wrestle, this boy, though in spirit as brave as the best;Narrow-chested, a little, you notice, like him who has long been at rest.Too slender for over much study—why, his master has made him to-dayGo out with his ball on the common—and you have drafted a child at his play!"Not a patriot?" Fie! Did I wimper when Robert stood up with his gun,And the hero-blood chafed in his forehead, the evening we heard of Bull Run?Pointing his finger at Harry, but turning his eyes to the wall,"There's a staff growing up for your age, mother," said Robert, "if I am to fall.""Eighteen?" Oh I know! And yet narrowly; just a wee babe on the dayWhen his father got up from a sick-bed and cast his last ballot for Clay.Proud of his boy and his ticket, said he, "A new morsel of fameWe'll lay on the candidate's altar"—and christened the child with his name.Oh, what have I done, a weak woman, in what have I meddled with harm,(Troubling only my God for the sunshine and rain on my rough little farm,)That my ploughshares are beaten to swords, and whetted before my eyes,That my tears must cleanse a foul nation, my lamb be a sacrifice?Oh, 'tis true there's a country to save, man, and 'tis true there is no appeal,But did God see my boy's name lying the uppermost one in the wheel?Five stalwart sons has my neighbour, and never the lot upon one;Are these things Fortune's caprices, or is it God's will that is done?Are the others too precious for resting where Robert is taking his rest,With the pictured face of young Annie lying over the rent in his breast?Too tender for parting with sweet hearts? Too fair to be crippled or scarred?My boy! Thank God for these tears—I was growing so bitter and hard!* * * * * * * *Now read me a page in the Book, Harry, that goes in your knapsack to-night,Of the eye that sees when the sparrow grows weary and falters in flight;Talk of something that's nobler than living, of a Love that is higher than mine,And faith which has planted its banner where the heavenly camp-fires shine.Talk of something that watches us softly, as the shadows glide down in the yard;That shall go with my soldier to battle, and stand with my picket on guard.Spirits of loving and lost ones—watch softly with Harry to-night,For to-morrow he goes forth to battle—to arm him for Freedom and Right!

Yson! What! Drafted? My Harry! Why, man, 'tis a boy at his books;

No taller, I'm sure, than your Annie—as delicate, too, in his looks.

Why, it seems but a day since he helped me girl-like, in my kitchen at tasks;

He drafted! Great God, can it be that our President knows what he asks?

He never could wrestle, this boy, though in spirit as brave as the best;Narrow-chested, a little, you notice, like him who has long been at rest.Too slender for over much study—why, his master has made him to-dayGo out with his ball on the common—and you have drafted a child at his play!

He never could wrestle, this boy, though in spirit as brave as the best;

Narrow-chested, a little, you notice, like him who has long been at rest.

Too slender for over much study—why, his master has made him to-day

Go out with his ball on the common—and you have drafted a child at his play!

"Not a patriot?" Fie! Did I wimper when Robert stood up with his gun,And the hero-blood chafed in his forehead, the evening we heard of Bull Run?Pointing his finger at Harry, but turning his eyes to the wall,"There's a staff growing up for your age, mother," said Robert, "if I am to fall."

"Not a patriot?" Fie! Did I wimper when Robert stood up with his gun,

And the hero-blood chafed in his forehead, the evening we heard of Bull Run?

Pointing his finger at Harry, but turning his eyes to the wall,

"There's a staff growing up for your age, mother," said Robert, "if I am to fall."

"Eighteen?" Oh I know! And yet narrowly; just a wee babe on the dayWhen his father got up from a sick-bed and cast his last ballot for Clay.Proud of his boy and his ticket, said he, "A new morsel of fameWe'll lay on the candidate's altar"—and christened the child with his name.

"Eighteen?" Oh I know! And yet narrowly; just a wee babe on the day

When his father got up from a sick-bed and cast his last ballot for Clay.

Proud of his boy and his ticket, said he, "A new morsel of fame

We'll lay on the candidate's altar"—and christened the child with his name.

Oh, what have I done, a weak woman, in what have I meddled with harm,(Troubling only my God for the sunshine and rain on my rough little farm,)That my ploughshares are beaten to swords, and whetted before my eyes,That my tears must cleanse a foul nation, my lamb be a sacrifice?

Oh, what have I done, a weak woman, in what have I meddled with harm,

(Troubling only my God for the sunshine and rain on my rough little farm,)

That my ploughshares are beaten to swords, and whetted before my eyes,

That my tears must cleanse a foul nation, my lamb be a sacrifice?

Oh, 'tis true there's a country to save, man, and 'tis true there is no appeal,But did God see my boy's name lying the uppermost one in the wheel?Five stalwart sons has my neighbour, and never the lot upon one;Are these things Fortune's caprices, or is it God's will that is done?

Oh, 'tis true there's a country to save, man, and 'tis true there is no appeal,

But did God see my boy's name lying the uppermost one in the wheel?

Five stalwart sons has my neighbour, and never the lot upon one;

Are these things Fortune's caprices, or is it God's will that is done?

Are the others too precious for resting where Robert is taking his rest,With the pictured face of young Annie lying over the rent in his breast?Too tender for parting with sweet hearts? Too fair to be crippled or scarred?My boy! Thank God for these tears—I was growing so bitter and hard!

Are the others too precious for resting where Robert is taking his rest,

With the pictured face of young Annie lying over the rent in his breast?

Too tender for parting with sweet hearts? Too fair to be crippled or scarred?

My boy! Thank God for these tears—I was growing so bitter and hard!

* * * * * * * *

Now read me a page in the Book, Harry, that goes in your knapsack to-night,Of the eye that sees when the sparrow grows weary and falters in flight;Talk of something that's nobler than living, of a Love that is higher than mine,And faith which has planted its banner where the heavenly camp-fires shine.

Now read me a page in the Book, Harry, that goes in your knapsack to-night,

Of the eye that sees when the sparrow grows weary and falters in flight;

Talk of something that's nobler than living, of a Love that is higher than mine,

And faith which has planted its banner where the heavenly camp-fires shine.

Talk of something that watches us softly, as the shadows glide down in the yard;That shall go with my soldier to battle, and stand with my picket on guard.Spirits of loving and lost ones—watch softly with Harry to-night,For to-morrow he goes forth to battle—to arm him for Freedom and Right!

Talk of something that watches us softly, as the shadows glide down in the yard;

That shall go with my soldier to battle, and stand with my picket on guard.

Spirits of loving and lost ones—watch softly with Harry to-night,

For to-morrow he goes forth to battle—to arm him for Freedom and Right!

BULWER.

The following magnificent description of perhaps the most awful phenomenon in nature, gives full scope for almost every tone and gesture. Care should, however, be taken that the natural grandeur of the subject be not marred by a stilted, pompous, or affected delivery. Let the speaker try to realize the thought and feelings of a spectator of the dark scene of desolation, and he cannot go amiss:

THEeyes of the crowd beheld, with ineffable dismay, a vast vapour shooting from the summit of Vesuvius, in the form of a gigantic pine-tree; the trunk, blackness; the branches, fire, that shifted and wavered in its hues with every moment: now fiercely luminous, now of a dull and dying red, that again blazed terrifically forth with intolerable glare.

Then there arose on high the universal shrieks of women; the men stared at each other, but were dumb. At that moment they felt the earth shake beneath their feet; the walls of the theatre trembled; and beyond, in the distance, they heard the crash of falling roofs. An instant more, and the mountain-cloud seemed to roll toward them, dark and rapid like a torrent; at the same time it cast forth from itsbosom a shower of ashes, mixed with fragments of burning stone! Over the crushing vines, over the desolate streets, over the amphitheatre itself,—far and wide,—with many a mighty splash in the agitated sea, fell that awful shower!

The cloud advanced, darker, disgorging showers of ashes and pumice stones; and, amid the other horrors, the mighty mountain now cast up columns of boiling water. Blent and kneaded with the half-burning ashes, the streams fell like seething mud over the streets, in frequent intervals.

The cloud, which had scattered so deep a murkiness over the day, at length settled into a solid and impenetrable mass. But in proportion as the blackness gathered did the lightnings around Vesuvius increase in their vivid and scorching glare.

Nor was their horrible beauty confined to their hues of fire. Now brightly blue, as the most azure depth of a southern sky; now of a livid and snake-like green, darting restlesslytoand fro, as the folds of an enormous serpent; now of a lurid and intolerable crimson, gushing forth through the columns of smoke far and wide, and lighting up all Pompeii; then suddenly dying into a sickly paleness, like the ghost of its own life!

In the pauses of the showers were heard the rumbling of the earth beneath, and the groaning waves of the tortured sea; or, lower still, and audible but to the watch of intensest fear, the grinding and hissing murmur of the escaping gases through the chasms of the distant mountain.

The ashes, in many places, were already knee-deep; and in some places immense fragments of rock, hurled upon the house-roofs, bore down along the streets masses of confused ruin, which yet more and more, with every hour, obstructed the way; and, as the day advanced, the motion of the earth wasmore sensibly felt; the footing seemed to slide and creep, nor could chariot or litter be kept steady, even on the most level ground.

Sometimes the huger stones, striking against each other as they fell, broke into countless fragments, emitting sparks of fire, which caught whatever was combustible within their reach; and along the plains beyond the city the darkness was now terribly relieved, for several houses and even vineyards had been set on flames; and at various intervals the fire rose fiercely and sullenly against the solid gloom. The citizens had endeavoured to place rows of torches in the most frequented spots; but these rarely continued long; the showers and the wind extinguished them.

Suddenly arose an intense and lurid glow. Bright and gigantic through the darkness which closed around it, the mountain shone, a pile of fire! Its summit seemed riven in two; or rather, above its surface, there seemed to rise two monster-shapes, each confronting each, as demons contending for a world. These were of one deep blood-red hue of fire, which lighted up the whole atmosphere; but below, the nether part of the mountain was still dark and shrouded, save in three places, adown which flowed serpentine, and irregular rivers of molten lava. Darkly red through the profound gloom of their banks, they flowed slowly on, as towards the devoted city. And through the still air was heard the rattling of the fragments of rock, hurling one upon another, as they were borne down the fiery cataracts, darkening for one instant the spot where they fell, and suffused the next in the burnished hues of the flood along which they floated!

Suddenly a duller shade fell over the air; and one of the two gigantic crests into which the summit had been divided, rocked and waved to and fro; and then, with a sound, the mightiness of which nolanguage can describe, it fell from its burning base, and rushed, an avalanche of fire, down the sides of the mountain. At the same instant gushed forth a volume of blackest smoke, rolling on, over air, sea and earth. Another, and another, and another shower of ashes, far more profuse than before, scattered fresh desolation along the streets, and darkness once more wrapped them as a veil.

The whole elements of civilization were broken up. If in the darkness, wife was separated from husband, or parent from child, vain was the hope of reunion. Each hurried blindly and confusedly on. Nothing was left save the law of self-preservation.

DUGANNE.

Thisbeautifulpoem should be recited with a calm, even devout dignity; occasionally rising into energetic expression as the poet apostrophizes the Deity in behalf of the down-trodden:

OFall my Father's herds and flocks,I love the Ox—the large-eyed Ox!I think no Christian man would wrongThe Ox—so patient, calm, and strong!How huge his strength! and yet, with flowersA child can lead this Ox of ours;And yoke his ponderous neck, with cordsMade only of the gentlest words.By fruitful Nile the Ox was Lord;By Jordan's stream his blood was poured;In every age—with every clan—He loves, he serves, he dies forMan!And, through the long, long years of God,Since labouringAdamdelved the sod,I hear no human voice that mocksThehuewhich God hath given His Ox!While burdening toils bow down his back,Who asks if he bewhiteorblack?And when his generous blood is shed,Who shall deny its commonred?"Ye shall not muzzle"—God hath sworn—"The Ox, that treadeth out the corn!"I think no Christian law ordainsThatOxorManshould toil in chains.So, haply, for an Ox I pray.That kneels and toils for us this day;A huge, calm, patient, large-eyed Ox,Black-skinned, among our herds and flocks.So long, O righteous Lord! so longBowed down, and yet so brave and strong—I think no Christian, just and true,Can spurn this poor Ox for hishue!I know not why he shall not toil,Black-skinned, upon our broad, free soil;And lift aloft his dusky frame,Unbranded by a bondman's name!And struggling still, for nobler goal,With wakening will and soaring soul,I know not why his great free strengthMay not be our best wealth at length:That strength which, in the limbs ofslaves—Like Egypt's—only piles up graves!But in the hands offreemennowMay build up states, by axe and plough!—And rear up souls, as purely whiteAs angels, clothed with heavenly light;And yield forth life-blood, richly redAs patriot hearts have ever shed.God help us! we are veiled within—Or white or black—with shrouds of skin;And, at the last, we all shall craveSmall difference in the breadth of grave!But—when the grass grows, green and calm,And smells above our dust, like balm—I think our rest will sweeter be,If over us the Ox be—free!

OFall my Father's herds and flocks,I love the Ox—the large-eyed Ox!I think no Christian man would wrongThe Ox—so patient, calm, and strong!

Fall my Father's herds and flocks,

I love the Ox—the large-eyed Ox!

I think no Christian man would wrong

The Ox—so patient, calm, and strong!

How huge his strength! and yet, with flowersA child can lead this Ox of ours;And yoke his ponderous neck, with cordsMade only of the gentlest words.

How huge his strength! and yet, with flowers

A child can lead this Ox of ours;

And yoke his ponderous neck, with cords

Made only of the gentlest words.

By fruitful Nile the Ox was Lord;By Jordan's stream his blood was poured;In every age—with every clan—He loves, he serves, he dies forMan!

By fruitful Nile the Ox was Lord;

By Jordan's stream his blood was poured;

In every age—with every clan—

He loves, he serves, he dies forMan!

And, through the long, long years of God,Since labouringAdamdelved the sod,I hear no human voice that mocksThehuewhich God hath given His Ox!

And, through the long, long years of God,

Since labouringAdamdelved the sod,

I hear no human voice that mocks

Thehuewhich God hath given His Ox!

While burdening toils bow down his back,Who asks if he bewhiteorblack?And when his generous blood is shed,Who shall deny its commonred?

While burdening toils bow down his back,

Who asks if he bewhiteorblack?

And when his generous blood is shed,

Who shall deny its commonred?

"Ye shall not muzzle"—God hath sworn—"The Ox, that treadeth out the corn!"I think no Christian law ordainsThatOxorManshould toil in chains.

"Ye shall not muzzle"—God hath sworn—

"The Ox, that treadeth out the corn!"

I think no Christian law ordains

ThatOxorManshould toil in chains.

So, haply, for an Ox I pray.That kneels and toils for us this day;A huge, calm, patient, large-eyed Ox,Black-skinned, among our herds and flocks.

So, haply, for an Ox I pray.

That kneels and toils for us this day;

A huge, calm, patient, large-eyed Ox,

Black-skinned, among our herds and flocks.

So long, O righteous Lord! so longBowed down, and yet so brave and strong—I think no Christian, just and true,Can spurn this poor Ox for hishue!

So long, O righteous Lord! so long

Bowed down, and yet so brave and strong—

I think no Christian, just and true,

Can spurn this poor Ox for hishue!

I know not why he shall not toil,Black-skinned, upon our broad, free soil;And lift aloft his dusky frame,Unbranded by a bondman's name!

I know not why he shall not toil,

Black-skinned, upon our broad, free soil;

And lift aloft his dusky frame,

Unbranded by a bondman's name!

And struggling still, for nobler goal,With wakening will and soaring soul,I know not why his great free strengthMay not be our best wealth at length:

And struggling still, for nobler goal,

With wakening will and soaring soul,

I know not why his great free strength

May not be our best wealth at length:

That strength which, in the limbs ofslaves—Like Egypt's—only piles up graves!But in the hands offreemennowMay build up states, by axe and plough!—

That strength which, in the limbs ofslaves—

Like Egypt's—only piles up graves!

But in the hands offreemennow

May build up states, by axe and plough!—

And rear up souls, as purely whiteAs angels, clothed with heavenly light;And yield forth life-blood, richly redAs patriot hearts have ever shed.

And rear up souls, as purely white

As angels, clothed with heavenly light;

And yield forth life-blood, richly red

As patriot hearts have ever shed.

God help us! we are veiled within—Or white or black—with shrouds of skin;And, at the last, we all shall craveSmall difference in the breadth of grave!

God help us! we are veiled within—

Or white or black—with shrouds of skin;

And, at the last, we all shall crave

Small difference in the breadth of grave!

But—when the grass grows, green and calm,And smells above our dust, like balm—I think our rest will sweeter be,If over us the Ox be—free!

But—when the grass grows, green and calm,

And smells above our dust, like balm—

I think our rest will sweeter be,

If over us the Ox be—free!

JAMES NACK.

TWOYankee wags, one summer day,Stopped at a tavern on their way,Supped, frolicked, late retired to rest,And woke, to breakfast on the best.The breakfast over, Tom and WillSent for the landlord and the bill;Will looked it over:—"Very right—But hold! what wonder meets my sight?Tom! the surprise is quite a shock!""What wonder? where?" "The clock, the clock!"Tom and the landlord in amazeStared at the clock with stupid gaze,And for a moment neither spoke;At last the landlord silence broke,—"You mean the clock that's ticking there?I see no wonder, I declare!Though maybe, if the truth were told,'Tis rather ugly, somewhat old;Yet time it keeps to half a minute;But, if you please, what wonder in it?""Tom, don't you recollect," said Will,"The clock at Jersey, near the mill,The very image of this present,With which I won the wager pleasant?"Will ended with a knowing wink;Tom scratched his head and tried to think."Sir, begging your pardon for inquiring,"The landlord said with grin admiring,"What wager was it?""You rememberIt happened, Tom, in last December:In sport I bet a Jersey BlueThat it was more than he could doTo make his finger go and comeIn keeping with the pendulum,Repeating, till the hour should close,Still—'Here she goes, and there she goes.'He lost the bet in half a minute.""Well, if I would, the deuce is in it!"Exclaimed the landlord; "try me yet,And fifty dollars to be bet.""Agreed, but we will play some trick,To make you of the bargain sick!""I'm up to that!""Don't make us wait,—Begin,—the clock is striking eight."He seats himself, and left and rightHis finger wags with all its might,And hoarse his voice and hoarser grows,With—"Here she goes, and there she goes!""Hold!" said the Yankee, "plank the ready!"The landlord wagged his finger steady,While his left hand, as well as able,Conveyed a purse upon the table,"Tom! with the money let's be off!"This made the landlord only scoff.He heard them running down the stair,But was not tempted from his chair;Thought he, "The fools! I'll bite them yet!So poor a trick sha'n't win the bet."And loud and long the chorus roseOf—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"While right and left his finger swung,In keeping to his clock and tongue.His mother happened in to seeHer daughter: "Where is Mrs. B——?""When will she come, do you suppose?"Son!—""Here she goes, and there she goes!""Here!—where?"—the lady in surpriseHis finger followed with her eyes;"Son! why that steady gaze and sad?Those words,—that motion,—are you mad?But here's your wife, perhaps she knows,And—""Here she goes, and there she goes!"His wife surveyed him with alarm,And rushed to him and seized his arm;He shook her off, and to and froHis finger persevered to go,While curled his very nose with ireThatsheagainst him should conspire;And with more furious tone aroseThe—"Here she goes, and there she goes!""Lawks!" screamed the wife, "I'm in a whirl!Run down and bring the little girl;She is his darling, and who knowsBut—""Here she goes, and there she goes!""Lawks! he is mad! What made him thus?Good Lord! what will become of us?Run for a doctor,—run, run, run,—For Doctor Brown and Doctor Dun,And Doctor Black and Doctor White,And Doctor Grey with all your might!"The doctors came, and looked, and wondered,And shook their heads, and paused and pondered.Then one proposed he should be bled,—"No, leeched you mean," the other said,—"Clap on a blister!" roared another,—"No! cup him,"—"No! trepan him, brother."A sixth would recommend a purge,The next would an emetic urge;The eighth, just come from a dissection,His verdict gave for an injection.The last produced a box of pills,A certain cure for earthly ills:"I had a patient yesternight,"Quoth he, "and wretched was her plight,And as the only means to save her,Three dozen patent pills I gave her;And by to-morrow I supposeThat—""Here she goes, and there she goes!""You are all fools!" the lady said,—"The way is, just to shave his head.Run! bid the barber come anon.""Thanks, mother!" thought her clever son;"You help the knaves that would have bit me,But all creation sha'n't outwit me!"Thus to himself, while to and froHis fingers perseveres to go,And from his lips no accent flowsBut—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"The barber came—"Lord help him! whatA queerish customer I've got;But we must do our best to save him,—So hold him, gemmen, while I shave him!"But here the doctors interpose,—"A woman never—""There she goes!""A woman is no judge of physic,No even when her baby is sick.He must be bled,"—"No, no, a blister,"—"A purge, you mean,"—"I say a clyster,"—"No, cup him,"—"Leech him,"—"Pills! pills! pills!"And all the house the uproar fills.What means that smile? what means that shiver?The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver,And triumph brightens up his face,His finger yet shall win the race;The clock is on the stroke of nine,And up he starts,—"'Tis mine! 'tis mine!""What do you mean?""I mean the fifty;I never spent an hour so thrifty.But you who tried to make me lose,Go, burst with envy, if you choose!But how is this? where are they?""Who?""The gentlemen,—I mean the twoCame yesterday,—are they below?""They galloped off an hour ago.""O, purge me! blister! shave and bleed!For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!"

WOYankee wags, one summer day,

Stopped at a tavern on their way,

Supped, frolicked, late retired to rest,

And woke, to breakfast on the best.

The breakfast over, Tom and Will

Sent for the landlord and the bill;

Will looked it over:—"Very right—

But hold! what wonder meets my sight?

Tom! the surprise is quite a shock!"

"What wonder? where?" "The clock, the clock!"

Tom and the landlord in amazeStared at the clock with stupid gaze,And for a moment neither spoke;At last the landlord silence broke,—

Tom and the landlord in amaze

Stared at the clock with stupid gaze,

And for a moment neither spoke;

At last the landlord silence broke,—

"You mean the clock that's ticking there?I see no wonder, I declare!Though maybe, if the truth were told,'Tis rather ugly, somewhat old;Yet time it keeps to half a minute;But, if you please, what wonder in it?"

"You mean the clock that's ticking there?

I see no wonder, I declare!

Though maybe, if the truth were told,

'Tis rather ugly, somewhat old;

Yet time it keeps to half a minute;

But, if you please, what wonder in it?"

"Tom, don't you recollect," said Will,"The clock at Jersey, near the mill,The very image of this present,With which I won the wager pleasant?"Will ended with a knowing wink;Tom scratched his head and tried to think."Sir, begging your pardon for inquiring,"The landlord said with grin admiring,"What wager was it?"

"Tom, don't you recollect," said Will,

"The clock at Jersey, near the mill,

The very image of this present,

With which I won the wager pleasant?"

Will ended with a knowing wink;

Tom scratched his head and tried to think.

"Sir, begging your pardon for inquiring,"

The landlord said with grin admiring,

"What wager was it?"

"You rememberIt happened, Tom, in last December:In sport I bet a Jersey BlueThat it was more than he could doTo make his finger go and comeIn keeping with the pendulum,Repeating, till the hour should close,Still—'Here she goes, and there she goes.'He lost the bet in half a minute."

"You remember

It happened, Tom, in last December:

In sport I bet a Jersey Blue

That it was more than he could do

To make his finger go and come

In keeping with the pendulum,

Repeating, till the hour should close,

Still—'Here she goes, and there she goes.'

He lost the bet in half a minute."

"Well, if I would, the deuce is in it!"Exclaimed the landlord; "try me yet,And fifty dollars to be bet.""Agreed, but we will play some trick,To make you of the bargain sick!""I'm up to that!"

"Well, if I would, the deuce is in it!"

Exclaimed the landlord; "try me yet,

And fifty dollars to be bet."

"Agreed, but we will play some trick,

To make you of the bargain sick!"

"I'm up to that!"

"Don't make us wait,—Begin,—the clock is striking eight."He seats himself, and left and rightHis finger wags with all its might,And hoarse his voice and hoarser grows,With—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

"Don't make us wait,—

Begin,—the clock is striking eight."

He seats himself, and left and right

His finger wags with all its might,

And hoarse his voice and hoarser grows,

With—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

"Hold!" said the Yankee, "plank the ready!"The landlord wagged his finger steady,While his left hand, as well as able,Conveyed a purse upon the table,"Tom! with the money let's be off!"This made the landlord only scoff.He heard them running down the stair,But was not tempted from his chair;Thought he, "The fools! I'll bite them yet!So poor a trick sha'n't win the bet."And loud and long the chorus roseOf—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"While right and left his finger swung,In keeping to his clock and tongue.

"Hold!" said the Yankee, "plank the ready!"

The landlord wagged his finger steady,

While his left hand, as well as able,

Conveyed a purse upon the table,

"Tom! with the money let's be off!"

This made the landlord only scoff.

He heard them running down the stair,

But was not tempted from his chair;

Thought he, "The fools! I'll bite them yet!

So poor a trick sha'n't win the bet."

And loud and long the chorus rose

Of—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

While right and left his finger swung,

In keeping to his clock and tongue.

His mother happened in to seeHer daughter: "Where is Mrs. B——?""When will she come, do you suppose?"Son!—""Here she goes, and there she goes!""Here!—where?"—the lady in surpriseHis finger followed with her eyes;"Son! why that steady gaze and sad?Those words,—that motion,—are you mad?But here's your wife, perhaps she knows,And—""Here she goes, and there she goes!"

His mother happened in to see

Her daughter: "Where is Mrs. B——?"

"When will she come, do you suppose?"

Son!—"

"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

"Here!—where?"—the lady in surprise

His finger followed with her eyes;

"Son! why that steady gaze and sad?

Those words,—that motion,—are you mad?

But here's your wife, perhaps she knows,

And—"

"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

His wife surveyed him with alarm,And rushed to him and seized his arm;He shook her off, and to and froHis finger persevered to go,While curled his very nose with ireThatsheagainst him should conspire;And with more furious tone aroseThe—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

His wife surveyed him with alarm,

And rushed to him and seized his arm;

He shook her off, and to and fro

His finger persevered to go,

While curled his very nose with ire

Thatsheagainst him should conspire;

And with more furious tone arose

The—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

"Lawks!" screamed the wife, "I'm in a whirl!Run down and bring the little girl;She is his darling, and who knowsBut—""Here she goes, and there she goes!""Lawks! he is mad! What made him thus?Good Lord! what will become of us?Run for a doctor,—run, run, run,—For Doctor Brown and Doctor Dun,And Doctor Black and Doctor White,And Doctor Grey with all your might!"

"Lawks!" screamed the wife, "I'm in a whirl!

Run down and bring the little girl;

She is his darling, and who knows

But—"

"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

"Lawks! he is mad! What made him thus?

Good Lord! what will become of us?

Run for a doctor,—run, run, run,—

For Doctor Brown and Doctor Dun,

And Doctor Black and Doctor White,

And Doctor Grey with all your might!"

The doctors came, and looked, and wondered,And shook their heads, and paused and pondered.Then one proposed he should be bled,—"No, leeched you mean," the other said,—"Clap on a blister!" roared another,—"No! cup him,"—"No! trepan him, brother."A sixth would recommend a purge,The next would an emetic urge;The eighth, just come from a dissection,His verdict gave for an injection.The last produced a box of pills,A certain cure for earthly ills:"I had a patient yesternight,"Quoth he, "and wretched was her plight,And as the only means to save her,Three dozen patent pills I gave her;And by to-morrow I supposeThat—""Here she goes, and there she goes!"

The doctors came, and looked, and wondered,

And shook their heads, and paused and pondered.

Then one proposed he should be bled,—

"No, leeched you mean," the other said,—

"Clap on a blister!" roared another,—

"No! cup him,"—"No! trepan him, brother."

A sixth would recommend a purge,

The next would an emetic urge;

The eighth, just come from a dissection,

His verdict gave for an injection.

The last produced a box of pills,

A certain cure for earthly ills:

"I had a patient yesternight,"

Quoth he, "and wretched was her plight,

And as the only means to save her,

Three dozen patent pills I gave her;

And by to-morrow I suppose

That—"

"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

"You are all fools!" the lady said,—"The way is, just to shave his head.Run! bid the barber come anon.""Thanks, mother!" thought her clever son;"You help the knaves that would have bit me,But all creation sha'n't outwit me!"Thus to himself, while to and froHis fingers perseveres to go,And from his lips no accent flowsBut—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"The barber came—"Lord help him! whatA queerish customer I've got;But we must do our best to save him,—So hold him, gemmen, while I shave him!"But here the doctors interpose,—"A woman never—""There she goes!"

"You are all fools!" the lady said,—

"The way is, just to shave his head.

Run! bid the barber come anon."

"Thanks, mother!" thought her clever son;

"You help the knaves that would have bit me,

But all creation sha'n't outwit me!"

Thus to himself, while to and fro

His fingers perseveres to go,

And from his lips no accent flows

But—"Here she goes, and there she goes!"

The barber came—"Lord help him! what

A queerish customer I've got;

But we must do our best to save him,—

So hold him, gemmen, while I shave him!"

But here the doctors interpose,—

"A woman never—"

"There she goes!"

"A woman is no judge of physic,No even when her baby is sick.He must be bled,"—"No, no, a blister,"—"A purge, you mean,"—"I say a clyster,"—"No, cup him,"—"Leech him,"—"Pills! pills! pills!"And all the house the uproar fills.

"A woman is no judge of physic,

No even when her baby is sick.

He must be bled,"—"No, no, a blister,"—

"A purge, you mean,"—"I say a clyster,"—

"No, cup him,"—"Leech him,"—"Pills! pills! pills!"

And all the house the uproar fills.

What means that smile? what means that shiver?The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver,And triumph brightens up his face,His finger yet shall win the race;The clock is on the stroke of nine,And up he starts,—"'Tis mine! 'tis mine!""What do you mean?"

What means that smile? what means that shiver?

The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver,

And triumph brightens up his face,

His finger yet shall win the race;

The clock is on the stroke of nine,

And up he starts,—"'Tis mine! 'tis mine!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the fifty;I never spent an hour so thrifty.But you who tried to make me lose,Go, burst with envy, if you choose!But how is this? where are they?""Who?"

"I mean the fifty;

I never spent an hour so thrifty.

But you who tried to make me lose,

Go, burst with envy, if you choose!

But how is this? where are they?"

"Who?"

"The gentlemen,—I mean the twoCame yesterday,—are they below?""They galloped off an hour ago.""O, purge me! blister! shave and bleed!For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!"

"The gentlemen,—I mean the two

Came yesterday,—are they below?"

"They galloped off an hour ago."

"O, purge me! blister! shave and bleed!

For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!"

Goliath gives vent to his arrogance in a bombastic style. This should be borne in mind by the speaker. David, on the other hand, expresses himself with modesty, but in a tone of confident courage:

Goliath.Where is the mighty man of war, who daresAccept the challenge of Philistia's chief?What victor-king, what general drenched in blood,Claims this high privilege? What are his rights?What proud credentials does the boaster bringTo prove his claim? What cities laid in ashes,What ruined provinces, what slaughtered realms,What heads of heroes, or what hearts of kings,In battle killed, or at his altars slain,Has he to boast? Is his bright armoryThick set with spears, and swords, and coats of mail,Of vanquished nations, by his single armSubdued? Where is the mortal man so bold,So much a wretch, so out of love with life,To dare the weight of this uplifted spear?Come, advance!Philistia's gods to Israel's. Sound, my herald,Sound for the battle straight!David.Behold thy foe.Gol.I see him not.Dav.Behold him here.Gol.Say, where?Direct my sight. I do not war with boys.Dav.I stand prepared; thy single arm to mine.Gol.Why, this is mockery, minion; it may chanceTo cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee:But tell me who, of all this numerous host,Expects his death from me? Which is the manWhom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?Dav.The election of my sovereign falls on me.Gol.On thee! on thee! by Dagon, 'tis too much!Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion!'Twould move my mirth at any other time;But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy!And tempt me not too far.Dav.I do defy thee,Thou foul idolator! Hast thou not scornedThe armies of the living God I serve!By me he will avenge upon thy headThy nation's sins and thine. Armed with his name,Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foeThat ever bathed his hostile spear in blood.Gol.Indeed! 'tis wondrous well! Now, by my gods!The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior!Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung,Of idle field-flowers? Where thy wanton harp,Thou dainty-fingered hero?Now will I meet thee,Thou insect warrior; since thou dar'st me thus,Already I behold thy mangled limbs,Dissevered each from each, ere long to feedThe fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well,Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locksAnd toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds.Dav.Ha, say'st thou so? Come on, then; Mark us well.Thou com'st to me with sword and spear, and shield;In the dread name of Israel's God, I come;The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defi'st;Yet though no shield I bring; no arms, exceptThese five smooth stones I gathered from the brookWith such a simple sling as shepherds use;Yet all exposed, defenceless as I am,The God I serve shall give thee up a preyTo my victorious arm. This day, I meanTo make the uncircumcised tribes confessThere is a God in Israel. I will give thee,Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,To glut the carrion-kites. Nor thee alone;The mangled carcasses of your thick hostsShall spread the plains of Elah; till Philistia,Through all her trembling tents and flying bands,Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!I dare thee to the trial!Gol.Follow me.In this good spear I trust.Dav.I trust in Heaven!The God of battles stimulates my arm,And fires my soul with ardor not its own.

Goliath.Where is the mighty man of war, who dares

Accept the challenge of Philistia's chief?

What victor-king, what general drenched in blood,

Claims this high privilege? What are his rights?

What proud credentials does the boaster bring

To prove his claim? What cities laid in ashes,

What ruined provinces, what slaughtered realms,

What heads of heroes, or what hearts of kings,

In battle killed, or at his altars slain,

Has he to boast? Is his bright armory

Thick set with spears, and swords, and coats of mail,

Of vanquished nations, by his single arm

Subdued? Where is the mortal man so bold,

So much a wretch, so out of love with life,

To dare the weight of this uplifted spear?

Come, advance!

Philistia's gods to Israel's. Sound, my herald,

Sound for the battle straight!

David.Behold thy foe.

Gol.I see him not.

Dav.Behold him here.

Gol.Say, where?Direct my sight. I do not war with boys.

Gol.Say, where?

Direct my sight. I do not war with boys.

Dav.I stand prepared; thy single arm to mine.

Gol.Why, this is mockery, minion; it may chanceTo cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee:But tell me who, of all this numerous host,Expects his death from me? Which is the manWhom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?

Gol.Why, this is mockery, minion; it may chance

To cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee:

But tell me who, of all this numerous host,

Expects his death from me? Which is the man

Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?

Dav.The election of my sovereign falls on me.

Gol.On thee! on thee! by Dagon, 'tis too much!Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion!'Twould move my mirth at any other time;But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy!And tempt me not too far.

Gol.On thee! on thee! by Dagon, 'tis too much!

Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion!

'Twould move my mirth at any other time;

But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy!

And tempt me not too far.

Dav.I do defy thee,Thou foul idolator! Hast thou not scornedThe armies of the living God I serve!By me he will avenge upon thy headThy nation's sins and thine. Armed with his name,Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foeThat ever bathed his hostile spear in blood.

Dav.I do defy thee,

Thou foul idolator! Hast thou not scorned

The armies of the living God I serve!

By me he will avenge upon thy head

Thy nation's sins and thine. Armed with his name,

Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foe

That ever bathed his hostile spear in blood.

Gol.Indeed! 'tis wondrous well! Now, by my gods!The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior!Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung,Of idle field-flowers? Where thy wanton harp,Thou dainty-fingered hero?Now will I meet thee,Thou insect warrior; since thou dar'st me thus,Already I behold thy mangled limbs,Dissevered each from each, ere long to feedThe fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well,Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locksAnd toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds.

Gol.Indeed! 'tis wondrous well! Now, by my gods!

The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!

Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,

And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior!

Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung,

Of idle field-flowers? Where thy wanton harp,

Thou dainty-fingered hero?

Now will I meet thee,

Thou insect warrior; since thou dar'st me thus,

Already I behold thy mangled limbs,

Dissevered each from each, ere long to feed

The fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well,

Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locks

And toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds.

Dav.Ha, say'st thou so? Come on, then; Mark us well.Thou com'st to me with sword and spear, and shield;In the dread name of Israel's God, I come;The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defi'st;Yet though no shield I bring; no arms, exceptThese five smooth stones I gathered from the brookWith such a simple sling as shepherds use;Yet all exposed, defenceless as I am,The God I serve shall give thee up a preyTo my victorious arm. This day, I meanTo make the uncircumcised tribes confessThere is a God in Israel. I will give thee,Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,To glut the carrion-kites. Nor thee alone;The mangled carcasses of your thick hostsShall spread the plains of Elah; till Philistia,Through all her trembling tents and flying bands,Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!I dare thee to the trial!

Dav.Ha, say'st thou so? Come on, then; Mark us well.

Thou com'st to me with sword and spear, and shield;

In the dread name of Israel's God, I come;

The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defi'st;

Yet though no shield I bring; no arms, except

These five smooth stones I gathered from the brook

With such a simple sling as shepherds use;

Yet all exposed, defenceless as I am,

The God I serve shall give thee up a prey

To my victorious arm. This day, I mean

To make the uncircumcised tribes confess

There is a God in Israel. I will give thee,

Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,

To glut the carrion-kites. Nor thee alone;

The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts

Shall spread the plains of Elah; till Philistia,

Through all her trembling tents and flying bands,

Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!

I dare thee to the trial!

Gol.Follow me.In this good spear I trust.

Gol.Follow me.

In this good spear I trust.

Dav.I trust in Heaven!The God of battles stimulates my arm,And fires my soul with ardor not its own.

Dav.I trust in Heaven!

The God of battles stimulates my arm,

And fires my soul with ardor not its own.

In this dialogue, the first speech of Goliath is simple vaunt. Confident in hishugebulk and strength, he strides occasionally from side to side while speaking, elevating his arms and throwing his limbs about as if anxious to display his powerful sinews and muscular proportions. He speaks very loud, as if willing to terrify all Israel with his voice.In this second speech, Goliath partly stoops, half shuts his eyes like aperson endeavouring to discern some diminutive object, and, after looking intently a short time, suddenly straightens himself up to his full height, and says arrogantly: "I see him not."In his third speech, Goliath maintains the same ground, till, in the conclusion, he seems, at last, to have perceived David, and, turning away contemptuously, adds: "I do not war with boys."In the latter part of the dialogue, Goliath becomes really furious, and is in haste to transfix David with his spear; while David, on the other hand, becomes more calm, collected, and observant as the critical moment approaches, thus denoting his firm and unwavering trust in the God of Israel. David makes but few gestures, but always assumes a reverential attitude when he mentions the name of God—not puritanical by any means, but expressive of humble hope and smiling confidence.

In this second speech, Goliath partly stoops, half shuts his eyes like aperson endeavouring to discern some diminutive object, and, after looking intently a short time, suddenly straightens himself up to his full height, and says arrogantly: "I see him not."

In his third speech, Goliath maintains the same ground, till, in the conclusion, he seems, at last, to have perceived David, and, turning away contemptuously, adds: "I do not war with boys."

In the latter part of the dialogue, Goliath becomes really furious, and is in haste to transfix David with his spear; while David, on the other hand, becomes more calm, collected, and observant as the critical moment approaches, thus denoting his firm and unwavering trust in the God of Israel. David makes but few gestures, but always assumes a reverential attitude when he mentions the name of God—not puritanical by any means, but expressive of humble hope and smiling confidence.

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