ale before the gleam of morning,
Into that dungeon stream'd the dawn-light of the day,
Upon the grate he bends a glance unshrinking....
A noise. They come, they call. There is no hope! 'Tis they!
Locks, bolts, and bars, and chains, are clinking.
They call.... Stay, stay; one day, but one day more,
And he shall live in liberty
A mighty citizen, when all is o'er,
Amid a nation great and free.
The silent train moves on. There stands the headsman grim;
But the Bard's path of death, the ray of friendship lighteth,
Murmuring Glory's name, he mounts--His brow he smiteth--
Weep, Muse, for him!

MARSTON; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN.

PART XVIII.

"Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea, puft up with wind
Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in the pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang?"

SHAKSPEARE.

On returning to London I found the world in the "transition state." The
spirit of the people was changed; the nature of the war was changed; the
principle of the great parties in the legislature was changed. A new era
of the contest had arrived; and, in the midst of the general perplexity
as to the nature of the approaching events, every one exhibited a
conviction, that when they came their magnitude would turn all the
struggles of the past into child's play.

I, too, had my share in the change. I had now passed my public
novitiate, and had obtained my experience of statesmanship on a scale,
if too small for history, yet sufficiently large to teach me the working
of the machinery. National conspiracy, the council-chamber, popular
ebullition, and the tardy but powerful action of public justice, had
been my tutors; and I was now felt, by the higher powers, to be not
unfit for trust in a larger field. A seat in the English House of
Commons soon enabled me to give satisfactory evidence that I had not
altogether overlooked the character of the crisis; and, after some
interviews with the premier, his approval of my conduct in Ireland was
followed by the proposal of office, with a seat in the cabinet.

I had thus attained, in the vigour of life, a distinction for which
hundreds, perhaps thousands, had laboured through life in vain. But mine
was no couch of rosy prosperity. The