but checked
  His thunder in mid volley; for he meant
  Not to destroy, but root them out of heaven: 
  The overthrown he raised, and as a herd
  Of goats or timorous flock together thronged,
  Drove them before him thunderstruck, pursued
  With terrors and with furies, to the bounds
  And crystal wall of heaven; which, opening wide,
  Rolled inward, and a spacious gap disclosed
  Into the wasteful deep:  the monstrous sight
  Struck them with horror backward, but far worse
  Urged them behind:  headlong themselves they threw
  Down from the verge of heaven; eternal wrath
  Burnt after them to the bottomless pit.

MILTON.

* * * * *

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.

FROM “HEBREW MELODIES.”

  The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
  And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
  And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
  When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

  Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
  That host with their banners at sunset were seen: 
  Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
  That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

  For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
  And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
  And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
  And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still!

  And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
  But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: 
  And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
  And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

  And there lay the rider distorted and pale. 
  With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
  And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
  The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

  And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
  And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
  And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
  Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

LORD BYRON.

* * * * *

THE SCHOOL OF WAR.

FROM “TAMBURLAINE.”

  TAMBURLAINE.—­But now, my boys, leave off and list to me,
  That mean to teach you rudiments of war: 
  I’ll have you learn to sleep upon the ground,
  March in your armor through watery fens,
  Sustain the scorching heat and freezing cold,
  Hunger and thirst, right adjuncts of the war,
  And after this to scale a castle wall,
  Besiege a fort, to undermine a town,
  And make whole cities caper in the air. 
  Then next the way to fortify your men: 
  In champion grounds, what figure serves