THE GOOD COMRADE. (UHLAND.) A comrade brave once had I, Amid the dead and dying My comrade bore him well, To grasp my hand he wishes, "I have not, my dear fellow, I looked-but he was dead. THE BRIDGE OF THE BIDASSOA. On the bridge where Bidassoa Rolls his waters to the main, There stands a sainted image Looking forth on France and Spain. Gently doth heaven's blessing Descend on that sweet shore, Once crossed by many a soldier, On the bridge of Bidassoa By night strange music plays, The other dark with sand, The waves of Bidassoa Glide on with gentle swell, And, rising o'er their music, Is heard the shepherd's bell. When a broken host at twilight On the bridge they leaned their rifles, Long watched they for the missing, Until an ancient warrior To his drooping soldiers cries: "Roll up the tattered banner, Once the ensign of the brave- "We must seek a home of Freedom In some country far away, Where our ancient star of glory Shall shine with cloudless ray. Oh, thou, in Freedom's battle, Who many a toil hast borne, Spirit of the sainted Minna! Show the path of our return. "We have one dauntless leader Left to Spain and Freedom yet— On, then! o'er the river Her star of glory hath not set! From the old time-worn marble, Where he long had lain so still, Minna rises, sternly glancing On the lighted western hill!" Then from his breast removing DURAND. I. His heart with song and love o'erflowing, Back to that dear country going, II. For there had dwelt a graceful lady, Whose gentle, downcast eyes would fill When, from 'neath the lindens shady, III. Where the broadest linden flingeth Its shadow the clear stream above, Now the gallant Durand singeth The sweet old song she used to love. IV. He sees the flowers she tended glisten V. Her lattice sadly looks forsaken; A mourner draweth near, and saith"Her rest your song can never wakenThe Lady Blanka sleeps in death." VI. Not a word Durand hath spoken— VII. The fitful light of tapers, gleaming VIII. But lo! a mighty awe surpriseth All the throng of mourners near, As in raiment white she riseth Slowly from her flower-strewn bier. IX. "Heard I not sweet music ringing, X. “Dear lady, yes—but he is taken XI. "To realms of glory now removed, He wanders on the Phantom-shore, Seeking for that form beloved He vainly thought had gone before. XII. "Though fields of bliss are round him lying, Still the ceaseless echo falls, As she wanders, sadly sighing For Blanka, through these desert halls." THE TRUMPETER OF KATZBACH. I. A trumpeter at Katzbach, As the storm of fight swept by, His life-blood ebbing slowly, Had laid him down to die. Castle Chapel. A RAMBLE FROM THE HARBOUR OF VALETTA TO THE CEMETERY OF ALEXANDRIA. CHAPTER L First View of Egypt-Episode on the "Sesostris"-Battle of the Donkeys, and value of Spanish Dollars. It was on a fine sunny morning in the beginning of November, as I leant over the bows of the good ship "Sesostris," that my anxious eyes were blessed with the first view of Egypt ; indeed it was not through fault on my part I had not caught a glimpse of the land of the Pharaohs long before. I had been up, and on the look-out some hours before daybreak, without once reflecting, that to tumble out of one's quiet berth, any hour after midnight, could in nowise expedite our arrival at the destined port.-Expedite! no powers of man could expedite the gallant "Sesostris"-cloud or sunshine-calm or storm-fair wind or foul-" she held the even tenor of her way," some four knots and a-half an hour, and "no mistake" -on our start from Malta her deliberation was exemplary. The French war-steamer having publicly notified her fixed determination of leaving port by six o'clock, A.M., the morning following, on the preceding evening my friend and I had been hurried incontinently on board, to be ready for a start by "cock shout" the next day. The morning dawned, and with it I appeared on deck to take a last farewell of the "little military hot-bed,” as well as to inspect the Frenchmen getting under weigh; but though within an hour or so of sailing, Morpheus still reigned over the bold "Sesostris"-the very "watch" themselves somnambulized, bobbed against the rigging, sacrèed, and bobbed on. At last a stir was heard alongside, the restaurateur boat had arrived -first from "the vasty deep" uprose a consumptive Mouton, evidently sent by his physicians to try change of air and scene; then, by some mysterious process, followed a heteroge neous mass of fish, fowl, and vegetables -then, last not least, the important personage who provided these undoubted"sinews of war"-the restau rateur himself. Phoebus in real earnest had touched our deck, and Morpheus fled at his approach. Forth sails, from his pavilion in the poop, Monsieur le capitain, a weasel-visaged gentleman in epaulets and listen slippers-then, from "the regions below," emerge the officers, cigar in jaw, puffing their matin incense to the god of day-seamen bustled to and fro with praiseworthy alacrity-in fact, the "Sesostris" was wide awake at last. Gallant "Sesostris!" truly thou wert a man-of-war from the stockslittle didst thou need the proud ap pellative of war-steamer (as translated from the placards) to prove thy gallant title-no, nor the lacquered guns, on which each ill-starred passenger that paced thy deck, was wont diurnally to smash his shins-nor yet, those hirsute heroes who proclaimed thy glory-far from it. Within thyself thou hadst a virtue that must shut the mouth of gainsaying-handle her in any way, the "Sesostris" would rather die than run. Now, really, without presumption, I consider this neat little episode of mine quite as flippant, and ten times more veracious, than any rhapsody of Eugene Sue about his favourite "Salamander," which was in the habit, he tells us, of "sparing her bullets, as a prodigal would spare his last half-crown, to blow the English to the d-l." But all this while, despite of fate, we are nearing the shores of Egyptthat long, low, dusky streak before us, is real, veritable Egypt, the land of mystery, mythology, and miracle, above all of miracle for there Jehovah manifested "his own right hand and wondrous power"-and the wisdom, potency, and pride of Egypt were bowed before the arm of the living God. As we near the land, Pharos comes in view, and then that ancient landmark, Pompey's Pillar, |