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“But that my country calls. When the winds roar,
“ Remember sometimes what a soldier suffers,
And think of Conrade."

« Theodore replied,
“Success go with thee ! Something I have known
“ Of war, and of its dreadful ravages,

My soul was sick at such ferocity : “ And I am well content to dwell in peace, “ Albeit inglorious, thanking that good God “ Who made me to be happy.

« Did that God"

Cried Conrade, “ form thy heart for happiness, 6 When Desolation royally careers Over thy wretched country ? did that God “ Form thee for peace when Slaughter is abroad, « When her brooks run with blood, and Rape, and Murder, “Stalk thro' her faming towns ? live thou in peace · Young man ! my heart is human: I do feel * For what my brethren suffer."

" As he spake,

« Such mingled passions charactered his face

Of fierce and terrible benevolence, “ That I did tremble as I listen'd to him. “ Then in mine heart tumultuous thoughts arose “Of high atchievements, indistinct, and wild, And vast, yet such they were as made me pant “ As tho' by some divinity possess'd.

“ But is there not some duty due to those « We love? sai 1 Theodore ; and as he spake 6 His warm cheek crimson'd. Is it not most right " To cheer the evening of declining age, “ With filial tenderness repaying thus - Parental care ?"

“ Hard is it,” Conrade cried,
'Aye, very hard, to part from those we love;
" And I have suffer'd that severest pang.
“ I have left an aged mother; I have left

One, upon whom my heart has centered all
Its dearest, best, affections. Should I live

“ 'Till France shall see the blessed hour of Peace, " I shall return: my heart will be content,

My highest duties will be well discharg'd " And I may dare be happy. There are those “Who deem these thoughts wild fancies of a mind “Strict beyond measure, and were well content, “ If I should soften down my rigid nature “ Even to inglorious ease, to honour me. “But pure of heart and high of self-esteem " I must be honoured by myself: all else, “ The breath of Fame, is as the unsteady wind “ Worthless.”

“ So saying from his belt he took “The encumbering sword. I held it, listening to him, “ And wistless what I did, half from the sheath * Drew the well-temper'd blade. I gazed upon it “ And shuddering, as I felt its edge, exclaim'd, “ It is most horrible with the keen sword “To gore the finely-fibred human frame ! “ I could not strike a lamb."

< He answer'd me

“ Maiden thou hast said well. I could not strike « A lamb. But when the invader's savage fury

Spares not grey age, and mocks the infant's sbrick As he does writhe upon his cursed lance, « And forces to his foul embrace, the wife “ Even on her murder'd husband's gasping corse !

Almighty God! I should not be a man “ If I did let one weak and pitiful feeling “ Make mine arm impotent to cleave him down. “ Think well of this, young Man !* he cried and seizd

* Dreadful indeed must have been the miseries of the French from vulgar plunderers, when the manners of the highest classes were marked by hideous grossness and vices that may not be uttered. « Of acts so ill examples are not good.”

Sir William Alexander. The following portrait of some of these outrages I extract from the notes of Andrewses admirable History of Great Britain. “ Agricola quilibet, sponsam juvenem acquisitus, ac in vicinia alicujus viri nobilis & præpotentis habitans, crudelissime vexabatur. Nempe nonnunquam in ejus domum

The hand of Theodore ; “ think well of this,

As you are human, as you hope to live " In peace, amid the dearest joys of home; " Think well of this l you have a tender mother,

irruens iste optimas, magna comitante catervå, pretium ingens redemptionis exigeret, ac si non protinus solveret colonus, istum miserum in magna arca protrudens, venustæ ac teneræ uxori suæ (super ipsam arcam prostratæ) vim vir nobilis adferret; voce exclamans horrenda, “ Audine Rustice ! jamjam, super hanc arcam constupratur dilecta tua sponsa,” atque peracto hoc scelere nefando relinqueretur (horresco referens) suffocatione expirans maritus, nisi magno pretio sponsa nuper vitiata liberationem ejus redimeret.”

J. DE PARIS. Let us add to this the detestable history of a great commander under Charles VII. of France, the bastard of Bourbon, who (after having committed the most execrable crimes during a series of years with impunity) was drowned in 1441 by the constable Richemont (a treacherous assassin, but a mirror of justice when compared to his noble contemporaries) on its being proved against him “ Quod super ipsum maritum vi prostratum, uxori, frustra repugnanti, vim adtuleret.”

“ Ensuite il avoit fait battre et decouper le mari, tant que c'etoit pitie a voir.


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