There lay ye on each other piled,
Your brows with noble dust defiled;"
There, by the loudly-gushing water,
Lay man and horse in mingled slaughter.
Then wept I not, thrice gallant band;
For though no more each dauntless hand
The thunder of the combat hurl'd,

Yet still with pride your lips were curl'd;
And e'en in death's o'erwhelming shade
Your fingers linger'd round the blade!
I deem'd, when gazing proudly there
Upon the fix'd and haughty air

That mark'd each warrior's bloodless face,
Ye would not change the narrow space
Which each cold form of breathless clay
Then cover'd, as on earth ye lay,
For realms, for sceptres, or for thrones-
dream'd not on this Vale of Bones!

But years have thrown their veil between, And alter'd is that lonely scene;

And dreadful emblems of thy might,
tern Dissolution! meet my sight:
The eyeless socket, dark and dull,
he hideous grinning of the skull,
Are sights which Memory disowns,
'hou melancholy Vale of Bones!

TO FANCY.

GHT angel of heavenliest birth!

'ho dwellest among us unseen,

the gloomiest spot on the earth

here's a charm where thy footsteps have been. feel thy soft sunshine in youth,

hile our joys like young blossoms are new; oh! thou art sweeter than Truth, nd fairer and lovelier too!

exile, who mourneth alone, glad in the glow of thy smile, far from the land of his own, the ocean's most desolate isle: the captive, who pines in his chain, es the banners of glory unroll'd, e dreams of his own native plain, ad the forms of the heroes of old.

he earliest ray of the morn,
the last rosy splendor of even,
wiew thee-thy spirit is borne

the murmuring zephyrs of heaven: tart in the sunbeam of noon,

ou art in the azure of air,

pore on the sheen of the moon,

I search the bright stars, thon art there!

: art in the rapturous eye

the bard, when his visions rush o'er him; like the fresh iris on high

e the wonders that sparkle before him. stirrest the thunders of song,

Ose transports that brook not control; voice is the charm of his tongue,

magic the light of his soul!

the day-star that heralds the sun,

And brighten the eyes or the old!

Ulloa says that the blossom of the West-Indian anana is of

"Non indecoro pulvere sordidos."-HORACE.

grancy of the fruit discovers the plant, though concealed from sight. See ULLOA'S Voyages, vol. i., p. 72.

Were not thy bosom's stainless whiteness,
Where angel loves their vigils keep,
More heavenly than the dazzling brightness
Of the cold crescent on the deep-

Were not thine eye a star might grace
Yon sapphire concave beaming clear,
Or fill the vanish'd Pleiad's place,
And shine for aye as brightly there-

Had not thy locks the golden glow
That robes the gay and early east,
Thus falling in luxuriant flow

Around thy fair but faithless breast:

I might have deem'd that thou wert she
Of the Cumæan cave, who wrote
Each fate-involving mystery

Upon the feathery leaves that float,

Borne thro' the boundless waste of air, Wherever chance might drive along. But she was wrinkled-thou art fair: And she was old-but thou art young.

Her years were as the sands that strew The fretted ocean-beach; but thouTriumphant in that eye of blue,

Beneath thy smoothly-marble brow;

Exulting in thy form thus moulded,

By nature's tenderest touch design'd; Proud of the fetters thou hast folded

Around this fond deluded mind

Deceivest still with practised look,
With fickle vow, and well-feign'd sigh.
I tell thee, that I will not brook
Reiterated perjury!

Alas! I feel thy deep control,

E'en now when I would break thy chain : But while I seek to gain thy soul, Ah! say-hast thou a soul to gain?

HUNTSMAN'S SONG.

"Who the melodies of morn can tell ?"-BEATTIE.

OH! what is so sweet as a morning in spring, When the gale is all freshness, and larks, on the wing,

In clear liquid carols their gratitude sing?

I rove o'er the hill as it sparkles with dew,
And the red flush of Phoebus with ecstasy view,
As he breaks thro' the east o'er thy crags, Benvenue !

And boldly I bound o'er the mountainous scene, Like the roe which I hunt thro' the woodlands so green,

Or the torrent which leaps from the height to the plain.

The life of the hunter is chainless and gay,

As the wing of the falcon that wins him his prey; No song is so glad as his blithe roundelay.

His eyes in soft arbors the Moslem may close,
And Fayoum's rich odors may breathe from the

rose,

To scent his bright harem and lull his repose:

Th' Italian may vaunt of his sweet harmony, And mingle soft sounds of voluptuous glee; But the lark's airy music is sweeter to me.

Then happy the man who upsprings with the morn,
But not from a couch of effeminate lawn,
And slings o'er his shoulder his loud bugle-horn!

PERSIA.

"The flower and choice Of many provinces from bound to bound."

MILTON.

LAND of bright eye and lofty brow!
Whose every gale is balmy breath
Of incense from some sunny flower,
Which on tall hill or valley low,

In clustering maze or circling wreath,
Sheds perfume; or in blooming bower
Of Schiraz or of Ispahan,

In bower untrod by foot of man,
Clasps round the green and fragrant stem
Of lotos, fair and fresh and blue,
Apd crowns it with a diadem

Of blossoms, ever young and new;
Oh! lives there yet within thy soul
Aught of the fire of him who led
Thy troops, and bade thy thunder roll
O'er lone Assyria's crownless head?
I tell thee, had that conqueror red
From Thymbria's plain beheld thy fall,
When stormy Macedonia swept

Thine honors from thee one and all, He would have wail'd, he would have wept, That thy proud spirit should have bow'd To Alexander, doubly proud. Oh, Iran Iran! had he known The downfall of his mighty throne, Or had he seen that fatal night,

When the young king of Macedon
In madness led his veterans on,
And Thais held the funeral light,
Around that noble pile which rose

Irradiant with the pomp of gold,
In high Persepolis of old,

Encompass'd with its frenzied foes;

He would have groan'd, he would have spread The dust upon his laurell'd head,

To view the setting of that star,

Which beam'd so gorgeously and far
O'er Anatolia and the fane

Of Belus, and Caister's plain,

And Sardis, and the glittering sands
Of bright Pactolus, and the lands
Where Croesus held his rich domain:
On fair Diarbeck's land of spice,*
Adiabene's plains of rice,

Where down th' Euphrates, swift and strong,
The shield-like kuphars bound along :†
And sad Cunaxa's field, where, mixing
With host to adverse host opposed,
'Mid clashing shield and spear transfixing,
The rival brothers sternly closed.
And further east, where, broadly roll'd,
Old Indus pours his stream of gold;
And there where, tumbling deep and hoarse,
Blue Ganga leaves her vaccine source;+
Loveliest of all the lovely streams
That meet immortal Titan's beams,
And smile upon their fruitful way
Beneath his golden Orient ray:
And southward to Cilicia's shore,

Where Cydnus meets the billows' roar,

Xenophon says that every shrub in these wilds had an armatic odor.

+ Rennel on Herodotus.

The cavern in the ridge of Himmalah, whence the Ganges seems to derive its original springs, has been moulded, by the mind of Hindoo superstition, into the head of a cow.

The flowery region brightens in his smile,
Her lap of blossoms freights the passing gale,
That robs the odors of each balmy isle,

Each fragrant field and aromatic vale.

But the first glitter of his rising beam

Falls on the broad-based pyramids sublime, As proud to show us with his earliest gleam Those vast and hoary enemies of Time.

E'en History's self, whose certain scrutiny Few eras in the list of Time beguile, Pauses, and scans them with astonish'd eye, As unfamiliar with their aged pile.

Awful, august, magnificent, they tower

Amid the waste of shifting sands around; The lapse of year and month and day and hour, Alike unfelt, perform th' unwearied round.

How often hath yon day-god's burning light,
From the clear sapphire of his stainless heaven,
Bathed their high peaks in noontide brilliance
bright,

Gilded at morn, and purpled them at even !t

THE DRUID'S PROPHECIES. MONA! with flame thine oaks are streaming, Those sacred oaks we rear'd on high: Lo! Mona, lo! the swords are gleaming Adown thine hills confusedly.

Hark! Mona, hark! the chargers' neighing!
The clang of arms and helmets bright!
The crash of steel, the dreadful braying
Of trumpets thro' the madd'ning fight!

* See Xenophon's "Expeditio Cyri." + See Savary's letters.

"Stabat pro littore diversa acies, densa armis virisque, intercursantibus feminis in modum Furiarum, quæ veste ferali, crinibus dejectis, faces præferebant. Druidæque circum, preces diras, sublatis ad cœlum manibus, fundentes," etc.-TACIT., Annal., xiv., c. 30.

Exalt your torches, raise your voices; Your thread is spun-your day is brief; Yea! howl for sorrow! Rome rejoices, But Mona-Mona bends in grief!

But woe to Rome, though now she raises Yon eagles of her haughty power; Though now her sun of conquest blazes, Yet soon shall come her darkening hour!

Woe, woe to him who sits in glory,
Enthroned on thine hills of pride!'
Can he not see the poignard gory
With his best heart's-blood deeply dyed?

Ah! what avails his gilded palace,

Whose wings the seven-hill'd town enfold ?* The costly bath, the crystal chalice?

The pomp of gems, the glare of gold?

See where, by heartless anguish driven,
Crownless he creeps 'mid circling thorns ;t
Around him flash the bolts of heaven,
And angry earth before him yawns.‡

Then, from his pinnacle of splendor,

The feeble king, with locks of gray, Shall fall, and sovereign Rome shall render Her sceptre to the usurper's sway.

339

Who comes with sounds of mirth and gladness,
Triumphing o'er the prostrate dead?¶
Ay, me! thy mirth shall change to sadness,
When Vengeance strikes thy guilty head.

Above thy noonday feast suspended,
High hangs in air a naked sword:
Thy days are gone, thy joys are ended,
The cup, the song, the festal board.

Then shall the eagle's shadowy pinion
Be spread beneath the eastern skies;**
And dazzling far with wide dominion,
Five brilliant stars shall brightly rise.††
Then, coward king !# the helpless agèd
Shall bow beneath thy dastard blow;
But reckless hands and hearts, enraged,
By double fate shall lay thee low.§§

And two, with death-wounds deeply mangled,
Low on their parent earth shall lie;
Fond wretches! ah! too soon entangled
Within the snares of royalty.

+ The five good emperors: Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius, or Antoninus the Philosopher. Perhaps the best commentary on the life and virtues of the last is his own volume of " Meditations."

"Debiles pedibus, et eos, qui ambulare non possent, in gigantum modum, ita ut a genibus de pannis et linteis quasi dracones digererentur; eosdemque sagittis confecit."-EL. LAMPRID. in Vita Comm. Such were the laudable amusements of Commodus !

§ He was first poisoned; but the operation not fully answering the wishes of his beloved, he was afterward strangled by a robust wrestler.

340

Exulting in his conquests glorious— Ah! glorious to his country's fall!

But thou shalt see the Romans flying,
O Albyn! with yon dauntless rauks;
And thou shalt view the Romans dying,
Blue Carun! on thy mossy banks.

But lo! what dreadful visions o'er me
Are bursting on this aged eye!
What length of bloody train before me
In slow succession passes by !t

Thy hapless monarchs fall together,
Like leaves in winter's stormy ire;
Some by the sword, and some shall wither
By lightning's flame and fever's fire.t

They come! they leave their frozen regions,
Where Scandinavia's wilds extend;
And Rome, though girt with dazzling legions,
Beneath their blasting power shall bend.

Woe, woe to Rome! though tall and ample
She rears her domes of high renown;
Yet fiery Goths shall fiercely trample

The grandeur of her temples down!

She sinks to dust; and who shall pity Her dark despair and hopeless groans? There is a wailing in her city

Her babes are dash'd against the stones!

Then, Mona! then, though wan and blighted
Thy hopes be now by Sorrow's dearth,
Then all thy wrongs shall be requited---
The Queen of Nations bows to earth!

LINES.§

THE eye must catch the point that shows
The pensile dew-drop's twinkling gleam,
Where on the trembling blade it glows,
Or hueless hangs the liquid gem.

Thus do some minds unmark'd appear
By aught that's generous or divine,
Unless we view them in the sphere
Where with their fullest light they shine.

Occasion-circumstance-give birth
To charms that else unheeded lie,
And call the latent virtues forth
To break upon the wond'ring eye.

E'en he your censure has enroll'd

So rashly with the cold and dull, Waits but occasion to unfold

An ardor and a force of soul.

Go then, impetuous youth, deny
The presence of the orb of day,
Because November's cloudy sky
Transmits not his resplendent ray.

ern World: but those conquests, however glorious, were conducive to the ruin of the Roman Empire.-See GIBBON, vol. vi., chap. v., p. 203. * In allusion to the real or feigned victory obtained by Fingal over Caracul, or Caracalla.-See OSSIAN.

Very few of the emperors after Severus escaped assassination. Macrinus, Heliogabalus, Alexander, Maximin Pupienus, Balbinus, Gordian, Philip, etc., were assassinated; Claudius died of a pestilential fever; and Carus was struck dead by lightning in his tent.

$ To one who entertained a light opinion of an eminent character, because too impatient to wait for its gradual development.

Time, and the passing throng of things, Full well the mould of minds betray, And each a clearer prospect brings:Suspend thy judgment for a day.

SWISS SONG.

I LOVE St. Gothard's head of snows,
That shoots into the sky,
Where, yet unform'd, in grim repose
Ten thousand avalanches lie.

I love Lucerne's transparent lake,
And Jura's hills of pride,
Whence infant rivers, gushing, break
With small and scanty tide.

And thou, Mont Blanc! thou mighty pile
Of crags and ice and snow;
The Gallic foes in wonder smile

That we should love thee so!

But we were nurst within thy breast,
And taught to brave thy storms:
Thy tutorage was well confest
Against the Frank in arms-

The Frank who basely, proudly came
To rend us from our home,
With flashing steel and wasting flame.-
How could he, dare he come?

THE EXPEDITION OF NADIR SHAH
INTO HINDOSTAN.

"Quoi vous allez combattre un roi, dont la puissance
Semble forcer le ciel de prendre sa defense,
Sous qui toute l'Asie a vu tomber ses rois
Et qui tient la fortune attachée à ses lois !''

RACINE'S Alexandre, "Squallent populatibus agri."

CLAUDIAN.

As the host of the locusts in numbers, in might
As the flames of the forest that redden the night,
They approach: but the eye may not dwell on the

glare

Of standard and sabre that sparkle in air.

Like the fiends of destruction they rush on their way,
The vulture behind them is wild for his prey;
And the spirits of death, and the demons of wrath,
Wave the gloom of their wings o'er their desolate
path.

Earth trembles beneath them, the dauntless, the bold; Oh! weep for thy children, thou region of gold :* For thy thousands are bow'd to the dust of the plain, And all Delhi runs red with the blood of her slain.

For thy glory is past, and thy splendor is dim,
And the cup of thy sorrow is full to the brim;
And where is the chief in thy realms to abide,
The "Monarch of Nations," the strength of his
pride?

* This invader required as a ransom for Mohammed Shah no less than thirty millions, and amassed in the rich city of Delhi the enormous sum of two hundred and thirty-one millions sterling. Others, however, differ considerably in their account of this treasure.

↑ Such pompous epithets the Oriental writers are accustomed to bestow on their monarchs; of which sufficient specimens may be seen in Sir William Jones's translation of the "History of Nadir Shah." We can scarcely read one page of this work without meeting with such sentences as these: "Le roi des rois ;""Les étendards

The shrieks of the orphan, the lone widow's wail,
The groans of the childless, are loud on the gale;
For the star of thy glory is blasted and wan,
And wither'd the flower of thy fame, Hindostan !

GREECE.

"Exoritur clamorque virum, clangorque tubarum.”

VIRGIL.

HAT wakes the brave of yon isle-throng'd wave?
And why does the trumpet bray?
nd the tyrant groan on his gory throne,
In fear and wild dismay?

hy, he sees the hosts around his coasts

Of those who will be free;

nd he views the bands of trampled lands In a dreadful league agree.

Revenge!" they call, "for one, for allIn the page of song and story

= their name erased, and ours replaced In all its pristine glory!

Too long in pain has Slavery's chain
Our listless limbs encumber'd;
o long beneath her freezing breath
Our torpid souls have slumber'd.

But now we rise-the great, the wise
Of ages past inspire us!

what could inflame our love of fame,

f that should fail to fire us?

et Cecrops' town of old renown Her bands and chieftains muster; Eh joy unsheathe the blade of death, nd crush the foes who crush'd her!

e come, we come, with trump and drum,

"o smite the hand that smote us, spread the blaze of freedom's rays rom Athens to Eurotas!"

THE MAID OF SAVOY.

N Savoy's hills of stainless white thousand currents run,

sparkle bright in the early light the slowly-rising sun:

But brighter far,

Like the glance of a star

From regions above,

Is the look of love

In the eye of the Maid of Savoy!

n Savoy's hills of lucid snow thousand roebucks leap,

bjuguent le monde ;" "L'âme rayonnante de sa majesté:" -ayonnant monarque du monde ;" "Sa maiesté conquérante nde ;" etc.

The land is as the Garden of Eden before them, and behind desolate wilderness."-Joel.

"Tis midnight o'er the dim mere's lonely bosom,
Dark, dusky, windy midnight: swift are driven
The swelling vapors onward: every blossom
Bathes its bright petals in the tears of heaven.
Imperfect, half-seen objects meet the sight,
The other half our fancy must portray;
A wan, dull, lengthen'd sheet of swimming light
Lies the broad lake: the moon conceals her ray,
Sketch'd faintly by a pale and lurid gleam
Shot thro' the glimmering clouds: the lovely
planet

Is shrouded in obscurity; the scream

Of owl is silenced; and the rocks of granite Rise tall and drearily, while damp and dank Hang the thick willows on the reedy bank. Beneath, the gurgling eddies slowly creep, Blacken'd by foliage; and the glutting wave, That saps eternally the cold gray steep, Sounds heavily within the hollow cave. All earth is restless-from his glossy wing* The heath-fowl lifts his head at intervals; Wet, driving, rainy, come the bursting squalls; All nature wears her dun dead covering. Spreads its black mantle o'er the mountain's form; Tempest is gather'd, and the brooding storm

* The succeeding lines are a paraphrase of Ossian.