THE DESTRUCTION OF

SENNACHERIB

THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on

the sea,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep

Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is

green,

That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath

blown,

That host on the morrow lay wither'd and

strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the

blast.

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And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and

chill,

And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever

grew still!

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And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 16

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his

mail:

And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,

Hath melted like snow in the glance of the

Lord!

1815.

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Lord Byron.

THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW

OH, that last day in Lucknow fort!

We knew that it was the last;

That the enemy's lines crept surely on,

And the end was coming fast.

To yield to that foe meant worse than death:
And the men and we all worked on;

It was one day more of smoke and roar,
And then it would all be done.

There was one of us, a corporal's wife,
A fair, young, gentle thing,
Wasted with fever in the siege,

And her mind was wandering.

She lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid,
And I took her head on my knee;

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"When my father comes hame frae the pleugh,"

she said,

"Oh! then please wauken me."

She slept like a child on her father's floor,
In the flecking of woodbine-shade,

When the house dog sprawls by the open door,
And the mother's wheel is stayed.

It was smoke and roar and powder stench,
And hopeless waiting for death;

And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child,
Seemed scarce to draw her breath.

I sank to sleep; and I had my dream
Of an English village-lane,

And wall and garden;-but one wild scream
Brought me back to the roar again.

There Jessie Brown stood listening

Till a sudden gladness broke

All over her face; and she caught my hand
And drew me near as she spoke :-

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"The Hielanders! O! dinna ye hear

The slogan far awa?

The McGregor's. O! I ken it weel;
It's the grandest o' them a'!

"God bless the bonny Hielanders!

We're saved! we're saved!" she cried; And fell on her knees; and thanks to God Flowed forth like a full flood-tide.

Along the battery-line her cry

Had fallen among the men,

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And they started back;-they were there to die; But was life so near them, then?

They listened for life; the rattling fire
Far off, and the far-off roar,

Were all; and the colonel shook his head,
And they turned to their guns once more.

But Jessie said, "The slogan's done;

But winna ye hear it noo,

The Campbells are comin'? It's no a dream; Our succors hae broken through!"

We heard the roar and the rattle afar,

But the pipes we could not hear;

So the men plied their work of hopeless war, And knew that the end was near.

It was not long ere it made its way,-
A thrilling, ceaseless sound:

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