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Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp, the shatter'd spear, |
The sun went down. ; nor ceas'd the carnage there',
Departed spirits of the mighty dead! |
BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
There was a sound of revelry by night; |
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again ; | And all went merry as a marriage-bell But hush!|hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell'!|
Proud arch; not prow-darch'. Soft eyes; not sof-ties'.
Did ye not hear it? No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street — | On with the dance! | let joy be unconfin'd ; | No sleep till morn', when Youth, and Pleasure meet | To chase the glowing hours, with flying feet — | But hark` !— \ that heavy sound breaks in once more', | As if the clouds its echo would repeat'; | And nearer, clearer, | dead'lier than before! | Arm! | arm! | it is.— it is the cannon's opening roar.! |
Within a window'd niche of that high hall, Sate Brunswick's fated chief tain; | he did hear That sound the first, amidst the festival, | And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; | And, when they smil'd, because he deem'd it near, | His heart more truly knew that peal too well', | Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier, | And rous'd the vengeance, blood alone could quell:| He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting, fell. |
Ah! then, and there, was hurrying to, and fro, | And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress', | I And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago, Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness. | And there were sudden part'ings, | such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs | Which ne'er might be repeated; | who could guess | If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, | Since upon night so sweet, such awful morn could rise?,
And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, | Went pouring forward with impetuous speed`, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; | And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar! | And near the beat of the alarming drum | Rous'd up the soldier ere the morning star'; | While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, | Or whispering, with white lips,-wh«The foe! | They
come! they come!" |
And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose! | 2The war-note of Lochiel', which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard too, have her Saxon foes:- i How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills', | Savage, and shrill, ! | But with the breath which fills, Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers' | With the fierce native daring, which instils, I The stirring memory of a thousand years; | And Evan's, Don`ald's fame, | rings in each clansman's
And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, |
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold, and low.|
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life'; [
The midnight, brought the signal sound of strife; |
The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, | T The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, I Which her own clay shall cover, | heap'd and pent, | Rider, and horse', | friend, | foe', burial blent! |
| in one red
At midnight, in his guarded tent, |
The Turk, was dreaming of the hour, | When Greece, | her knee in suppliance bent, |
Should tremble at his power: |
1 Marco Bozzaris, the Epaminondas of modern Greece. He fell in a night attack upon the Turkish camp at Laspi, the site of the
In dreams, through camp, and court, he bore, i The trophies of a con'queror; |
In dreams his song of triumph, heard ;a | Then, wore his monarch's sig.net-ring; | Then press'd that monarch's throne, a king';| As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden-bird. |
'At midnight, in the forest-shades', |
There had the Persian's thou'sands stood; |
'An hour pass'd on the Turk awoke — 1 That bright dream was his last; |
He woke to hear his sentries shriek
ff To arms! they come ! the Greek! the Greek`!”| He woke to die. midst flame, and smoke, | And shout, and groan, and sa bre-stroke, |
And death-shots falling thick, and fast, | As lightnings from the moun'tain-cloud; | And heard, with voice as trumpet-loud, | Bozzaris cheer his band: |
fff Strike, till the last arm'd foe, expires; | Strike, for your al'tars, and your fires; | Strike for the green graves of sires
God, and your native land!" |
ancient Platæa, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words were "To die for liberty is a pleasure, and not a pain."
Triumph heard; not tri-um'furd. b Mon'nårks. d Pass'd on; not pass-ton'.
They fought like brave men-long, and well; }
His few surviving comrades, saw T
Like flowers at set of sun. |
'Come to the bridal chamber, Death! | Come to the mother's, when she feels
For the first time, | her first-born's breath- | Come, when the blessed seals
That close the pestilence, are broke, |
With banquet-song, and dance', and wine, 1
But to the hero, | 3when his sword, I Has won the battle for the free, | "Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; 2And in its hollow tones, are heard, |
* Kům'rådź, saw; not cum'rades-saw.
"The thanks of millions yet to be. I 3Come, when his task of fame' is wrought I Come with her laurel-leaf, | blood-boughtCome in her crown'ing hour and then, 2Thy sunken eye's unearthly light, I To him is welcome as the sight, I
Of sky, and stars to prison'd men,: |
Bri'dâl; not bridle.