Poems you ought to know . on eyed, In the camp a spy hath found;With a sharp clang, a steel clang, The patriot is bound. With a calm brow and a steady brow. He listens to his doom;In his look there is no fear. Nor a shadowy trace of gloom;But with calm brow and steady brow, He robes him for the tomb. In the long night, the still night, He kneels upon the sod;And the brutal guards withhold Een the solemn word of God!In the long night, the still night, He walks where Christ hath trod. Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn. He dies upon the tree;And he mourns that he can lose But one life for liber
Poems you ought to know . on eyed, In the camp a spy hath found;With a sharp clang, a steel clang, The patriot is bound. With a calm brow and a steady brow. He listens to his doom;In his look there is no fear. Nor a shadowy trace of gloom;But with calm brow and steady brow, He robes him for the tomb. In the long night, the still night, He kneels upon the sod;And the brutal guards withhold Een the solemn word of God!In the long night, the still night, He walks where Christ hath trod. Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn. He dies upon the tree;And he mourns that he can lose But one life for liberty;And in the blue morn, the sunny morn. His spent wings are free. But his last words, his message burn, lest friendly eye Should read how proud and calmA patriot could die. With his last words, his dying words,A soldiers battle cry. From fame leaf and angel leaf, From monument and urn,The sad earth, the glad of heaven, His tragic fate shall learn;And on fame leaf and angel leaf The name of HALE shall burn! 213. THE SONG OF CALLICLES. BY MATTHEW the black, rushing smoke-bursts Thick breaks the red Etna heaves fiercely Her forest-clothed flame. Not here, O, Apollo, Are haunts meet for thee,But where Helicon breaks down In cliff to the sea. iWhere the moon-silverd inlets Send far their light voiceUp the still vale of Thisbe, O, speed, and rejoice! On the sward at the cliff-top Lie strewn the white flocks; On the cliff-side the pigeonsRoost deep in the rocks. In the moonlight the shepherds, Soft-lulld by the wrapped in their blankets. Asleep on the hills. What forms are those white through the gloom ? What garments out-glisteningThe gold-flowerd broom? 214 What sweet-breathing PresenceOut-perfumes the thyme? What voices enrapture The nights balmy prime? Tis Apollo comes leadingHis choir, the Nine— The Leader is all are divine. They are lost in the hollow,They stream up again. Vhat seeks on this mountainThe glori
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