We must not let the tide go by,
To leave us stranded high and dry,
Or wait to-morrow's evening flood

To lift us o'er the sand and mud;
'Twill never do to stick aground
While other barks are sailing round:
Let loose the wine, and, should that fail,
Then swim us off with good brown ale!"

Thus shouted they, then searched the gloom,
To note what guests were in the room:
Their glance found only two beside.
"Two fellows there I think I spied,"

Thus whispered one. "Nay, there are more,"
The other answered,-" surely four:

But two, perchance, are made of wine!" Whereat they laughed; and still they swore 'Twas noble, glorious, and divine With such a general to dine.

'Ho, landlord, bring another flask,

To nerve us for to-morrow's task!

To-morrow's task! Ah, that will be
A scene of such rare chivalry
That all shall go joy-mad to see!—

A thousand times more bright and fine
Than Germantown or Brandywine!
How those poor devils in the gorge,
Hidden away at Valley Forge,
In their tatterdemalion rags,
Making their empty rebel brags,
Would ope their boorish eyes to gaze
Upon the splendors which shall blaze
And burn, until the night is spent,
Around our glorious tournament!
Come, landlord, drink, before we go,
A bumper to the royal show!

That fellow there, who seems to sulk
And in the shadowy corner skulk,
Go bring him out, and let him clear
His throat, that he may loudly cheer
The golden glories he shall see
Around to-morrow's pageantry!
Come, sirrah, when a colonel bids,
Nor sit with scowl like pirate Kidd's:
This wine will smooth your hostler frown
When it washes the hay-dust down!"

The stranger rose: through a sideway door He pushed a young companion out,

Then stood a moment as in doubt,

The while he scanned the revellers o'er,
Then strode to the table with visage grim,
Demanding what they would with him.

"To drink our general's health!" they cried. "Our general!" boldly he replied,

And drained the goblet willingly.

"And to our tournament beside !"

"And to the tournament!" echoed he; 'And may I be on hand to see!"

"Again!" the other cried, with zest;
"Fill high !—methinks that were a breast
To hold a gallon in its chest,-

And let the toast be to the fair,—

To her whose colors I shall wear,

The badge of the 'Burning Mountain' mine, 'The maid I love' my motto sign.

Then pledge for whom I set the lance,

With whom in banquet I shall dance,

Perchance"-he hiccoughed, and waved his wine— "To her who may be bride of mine,

I have the father's word for all:

Or, if not that"-with drunken leer
He whispered in his comrade's ear,

Then laughed till the cup was nigh to fall, And shouted, "The heiress of Berkley Hall!"

The stranger's tankard was ready up;
Each his lip was about to dash,

When, with an oath like a thunder-crash,
He flashed the wine in the speaker's face
And into the other's the empty cup,
And then, with heavy, giant pace,
Strode leisurely beyond the place;
And, ere they woke from their disgrace,
A light boat and a springing oar

Had borne the wagoner far from shore.

REESE

LIBRARY

(F THE

(UNIVERSITY

CALIFORNI

II.

THE MESCHIANZA.(10)

O CITY the beloved of Penn,

How was your quiet startled when
Red Mars made your calm harbor glow
With all the splendors he can show!

How looked your tranquil founder down
That day upon his cherished town,-
That town which in the sylvan wild
He reared and tended like a child?

Methinks that patriarch and his peers,

Who fashioned all your staid retreats, Groaned then in their celestial seats With sad offended eyes and ears;