We gazed,--but not a man could speak! With horror all aghast, In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, We watched the quivering mast. The atmosphere grew thick and hot, And of a lurid hue;-- As riveted unto the spot, Stood officers and crew. The father came on deck:--he gasped, "Oh God! Thy will be done!" Then suddenly a rifle grasped, And aimed it at his son: "Jump, far out, boy into the wave! Jump, or I fire!" he said; "That only chance your life can save! Jump, jump, boy!" He obeyed. He sunk, he rose, he lived,--he moved,-- And for the ship struck out. On board, we hailed the lad beloved, With many a manly shout. His father drew, in silent joy, Those wet arms round his neck-- Then folded to his heart his boy, And fainted on the deck. G. P. Morris. CCXXXV. CATILINE ON HIS BANISHMENT FROM ROME. Banished from Rome! What's banished, but set free, From daily contact of the things I loathe? "Tried and convicted traitor!"--Who says this? Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head? Banished?--I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain! I held some slack allegiance till this hour; But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords; I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, To leave you in your lazy dignities. But here I stand and scoff you: here I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face. Your consul's merciful. For this all thanks. He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. "Traitor!" I go but I return. This trial!-- Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs, To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. This day's the birth of sorrows!--This hour's work Will breed proscriptions. Look to your hearths, my lords; For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus!--all shapes and crimes; Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;