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Breathe soft or loud; and, wave your tops, ye pines,
To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,
FROM Greenland's icy mountains,
Roll down their golden sand;
From many a palmy plain,
Their land from error's chain.
What though the spicy breezes
And only man is vile;
The gifts of God are strown,
Bows down to wood and stone
Shall we, whose souls are lighted
The joyful sound proclaim,
Has learned Messiah's name.
Waft, waft, ye winds, His story,
It spreads from pole to pole:
The Lamb for sinners slain,
In bliss returns to reign!
THIS world is all a fleeting show,
There's nothing true but heaven!
And false the light on glory's plume,
And love, and hope, and beauty's bloom,
Poor wanderers of a stormy day,
From wave to wave we're driven; And fancy's flash, and reason's ray, Serve but to light the troubled way;
There's nothing calm but heaven!
IX.-DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB'S HOST AT JERUSALEM.
THE Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
I. THE STORY OF LE FEVRE.
Ir was some time in the summer of that year in which Dendermond was taken by the Allies; when my uncle Toby was one evening getting his supper, with Trim sitting behind him at a small sideboard-I say sitting-for in consideration of the Corporal's lame knee (which sometimes gave him
exquisite pain), when my uncle Toby dined or supped alone he would never suffer the Corporal to stand; and the poor fellow's veneration for his master was such, that, with a proper artillery, my uncle Toby could have taken Dendermond itself with less trouble than he was able to gain this point over him; for many a time when my uncle Toby supposed the Corporal's leg was at rest, he would look back and detect him standing behind him with the most dutiful respect: this bred more little squabbles betwixt them than all other causes for five and twenty years together.
He was one evening sitting thus at his supper, when the landlord of a little inn in the village came into the parlour with an empty phial in his hand, to beg a glass or two of sack: 'Tis for a poor gentleman-I think of the army—said the landlord, who has been taken ill at my house four days ago, and has never held up his head since, or had a desire to taste any thing, till just now, that he has a fancy for a glass of sack and a thin toast,-I think, says he, taking his hand from his forehead, it would comfort me.
If I could neither beg, borrow, nor buy such a thing, added the landlord, I would almost steal it for the poor gentleman, he is so ill. I hope he will still mend, continued he; we are all of us concerned for him.
Thou art a good-natured soul, I will answer for thee, cried my uncle Toby; and thou shalt drink the poor gentleman's health in a glass of sack thyself, and take a couple of bottles, with my service, and tell him he is heartily welcome to them, and to a dozen more, if they will do him good.
Though I am persuaded, said my uncle Toby, as the landlord shut the door, he is a very compassionate fellow, Trim, yet I cannot help entertaining a high opinion of his guest too; there must be something more than common in him that in so short a time should win so much upon the affections of his host. And of his whole family, added the Corporal; for they are all concerned for him. Step after him, said my uncle Toby-do, Trim—and ask if he knows his name.
I have quite forgot it, truly, said the landlord, coming back into the parlour with the Corporal; but I can ask his son again. Has he a son with him then? said my uncle Toby. A boy, replied the landlord, of about eleven or twelve years of age; but the poor creature has tasted almost as little as his father; he does nothing but mourn and lament for him night and day: he has not stirred from the bedside these two days.
My uncle Toby laid down his knife and fork, and thrust his plate from before him, as the landlord gave him the account; and Trim, without being ordered, took away, without saying one word, and in a few minutes after brought him his pipe and tobacco.
Trim! said my uncle Toby, I have a project in my head, as it is a bad night, of wrapping myself up warm in my roquelaure, and paying a visit to this poor gentleman. Your honour's roquelaure, replied the Corporal, has not once been had on since the night before your honour received your wound, when we mounted guard in the trenches before the gate of St. Nicholas; and besides, it is so cold and rainy a night, that what with the roquelaure, and what with the weather, it will be enough to give your honour your death. I fear so, replied my uncle Toby; but I am not at rest in my mind, Trim, since the account the landlord has given me. I wish I had not known so much of this affair, added my uncle Toby, or that I had known more of it. How shall we manage it? Leave it, an't please your honour to me, quoth the Corporal; I'll take my hat and stick, and go to the house and reconnoitre, and act accordingly; and I will bring your honour a full account in an hour. Thou shalt go, Trim, said my uncle Toby; and here's a shilling for thee to drink with his servant. I shall get it all out of him, said the Corporal, shutting the door.
It was not till my uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe that Corporal Trim returned from the inn, and gave him the following account :—