SECTION XLVIII.

OCTAVIO MAXIMIN.....S. T. Coleridge.

Octavio. My son! the road, the human being travels,
That, on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow
The river's course, the valley's playful windings,
Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines,
Honouring the holy bounds of property!

And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.
A war of fifteen years

Hath been thy education and thy school.

Peace hast thou never witnessed! There exists
An higher than the warrior's excellence.
In war itself war is no ultimate purpose.
The vast and sudden deeds of violence,
Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment,
These are not they, my son, that generate
The calm, the blissful, the enduring mighty!
Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect!
Builds his light town of canvas, and at once
The whole scene moves and bustles momently,

With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel
The motley market fills; the roads, the streams

Are crowded with new freights-trade stirs and hurries!
But on some morrow morn, all suddenly,

The tents drop down, the horde renews its march,

Dreary and solitary as a church-yard;

The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie,

And the year's harvest is gone utterly.

Maximin. O let the emperor make peace, my father!
Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel
For the first violet of the leafless spring,

Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed!
Oct. What ails thee? What so moves thee all at once?
Max. Peace have I ne'er beheld? I have beheld it.
From thence am I come hither: O! that sight,
It glimmers still before me, like some landscape
Left in the distance,-some delicious landscape!
My road conducted me through countries where
The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father-
My venerable father, life has charms

Which we have ne'er experienced. We have been
But voyaging along its barren coasts,

Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates,
That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship,
House on the wild sea with wild usages,

Nor know aught of the main land, but the bays
Where safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing.
Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals
Of fair and exquisite, O! nothing, nothing,
Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.

Oct. And so your journey has revealed this to you? Μαχ. "Twas the first leisure of my life. O tell me, What is the meed and purpose of the toil,

The painful toil, which robbed me of my youth,
Left me an heart unsouled and solitary,

A spirit uninformed, unornamented.

For the camp's stir, and crowd, and ceaseless larum,
The neighing war-horse, the air-shattering trumpet,
The unvaried, still-returning hour of duty,
Word of command, and exercise of arms-
There's nothing here, there's nothing in all this
To satisfy the heart, the gasping heart!

Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not-
This cannot be the sole felicity,

These cannot be man's best and only pleasures!

Oct. Much hast thou learnt, my son, in this short journey. Max. O! day, thrice lovely! when at length the soldier Returns home into life; when he becomes

A fellow-man among his fellow men.

The colours are unfurled, the cavalcade

Marshals, and now the buzz is hushed, and hark!

Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home!
The caps and helmets are all garlanded

With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields.
The city gates fly open of themselves,

They need no longer the petard to tear them.
The ramparts are all filled with men and women,
With peaceful men and women, that send onwards
Kisses and welcomings upon the air,

Which they make breezy with affectionate gestures.
From all the towers rings out the merry peal,
The joyous vespers of a bloody day.

O happy man, O fortunate! for whom

The well-known door, the faithful arms are open,
The faithful tender arms with mute embracing.

SECTION XLVIII.

OCTAVIO—MAXIMIN.....S. T. Coleridge.

Octario. My son! the road, the human being travels,
That, on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow
The river's course, the valley's playful windings,
Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines,
Honouring the holy bounds of property!

And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.
A war of fifteen years

Hath been thy education and thy school.

Peace hast thou never witnessed! There exists
An higher than the warrior's excellence.
In war itself war is no ultimate purpose.
The vast and sudden deeds of violence,
Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment,
These are not they, my son, that generate
The calm, the blissful, the enduring mighty!
Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect!
Builds his light town of canvas, and at once
The whole scene moves and bustles momently,

With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel
The motley market fills; the roads, the streams

Are crowded with new freights-trade stirs and hurrie But on some morrow morn, all suddenly,

The tents drop down, the horde renews its march,

Dreary and solitary as a church-yard;

The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie,

And the year's harvest is gone utterly.

Maximin. O let the emperor make peace, my fathe
Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel
For the first violet of the leafless spring,

Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed!
Oct. What ails thee? What so moves thee all at on
Max. Peace have I ne'er beheld? I have beheld it.
From thence am I come hither: O! that sight,
It glimmers still before me, like some landscape
Left in the distance,-some delicious landscape!
My road conducted me through countries where
The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father—
My venerable father, life has charms
Which we have ne'er experienced.
But voyaging along its barren coasts,

We have been

Like some poor ever-roaming horde of praIES,
That, crowded in the rank and narro# SUD-
House on the wild sea with wild use Tes

Nor know aught of the mat jade DIE THE DES
Where safeliest they may venture a theves muung
Whate'er in the inlanc dies the manC SONDERS

Of fair and exquisite. Ó. Doing notung

Do we behold of that in our Tube

Oct. And so your journey has revewet the I VOL"
Mar. Twas the first jessure of me

What is the meed and purpose of the 101.

The painful toil, which rooted me of my VOULI
Left me an beart unsoniec and suna”!.

A spirit uninformed, unornamemned.

For the camp's stir, and crowe, and ceaseles ILTUM
The neighing war-borse, the ar-sanering trumper
The unvaried, stil-returning how of cur
Word of command, and exercise of arms-
There's nothing here, there's nothing i al tus
To satisfy the heart, the gasping heart

Mere bustling nothingness, where the sou # DE—
This cannot be the sole femory.

These cannot be man's best and our measures"

Od. Much hast thou learnt my son in the stort pUDET.

Max. O! day, thrice lovey: when a engu the suIGHT Returns home into life: when be becomes

Afellow-man among his fellow men.

The colours are unfuried, the cartucade

Marshals, and now the buzz i rusted, and bark"

Now the soft peace-marci beats, tome, brochers, bome!

The caps and belmets are al garanJEĆ

With green

boughs, the last piusdering of the feuds.

The city gates fly open of themselves,

They need no longer the petard to tear them.

Te ramparts are all flied with men and women,

th peaceful men and women, that send or wands Les and welcomings upon the air,

hich they make breezy with affectionate gestures.
tom all the towers rings out the merry peal,
joyous vespers of a bloody day.

happy man, O fortunate! for whom

well-known door, the faithful arms are open, e faithful tender arms with mute embracing.

Acr. Well, then, honour of your company,—
Sir L. To settle our pretensions,-

Acr. Well.

Sir L. Let me see; ay, King's-Mead-fields will do; in King's-Mead-fields.

Acr. So, that's done. Well, I'll fold it up presently; my own crest, a hand and dagger, shall be the seal.

Sir L. You see, now, this little explanation will put a stop at once to all confusion or misunderstanding that might arise between you.

Acr. Ay, we fight to prevent any misunderstanding.

Sir L. Now, I'll leave you to fix your own time. Take my advice, and you'll decide it this evening, if you can ; then, let the worst come of it, 'twill be off your mind to

morrow.

Acr. Very true.

Sir L. So I shall see nothing more of you, unless it be by letter, till the evening. I would do myself the honour to carry your message; but, to tell you a secret, I believe I shall have just such another affair on my own hands. There is a gay captain here who put a jest on me lately at the expense of my country, and I only want to fall in with the gentleman, to call him out.

Acr. By my valour, I should like to see you fight first! Odds life, I should like to see you kill him, if it was only to get a little lesson!

SECTION L.

EXTRACT FROM THE SIEGE OF VALENCIA.....Mrs. Hemans.

MEN of Valencia! in an hour like this,

What do ye here ?

E'en now, the children of your chief are led
Forth by the Moor to perish!-Shall this be,-
Shall the high sound of such a name be hushed,
I' th' land to which for ages it hath been
A battle-word, as 'twere some passing note
Of shepherd music?-Must this work be done,
And ye lie pining here, as men in whom
The pulse which God hath made for noble thought
Can so be thrilled no longer? Are ye so poor