to hear,

Breathed from the cavern's misty chambers nigh: There have been voices, through the sunny sky, And the pine-woods, their choral hymn-notes sending,

And reeds and lyres, their Dorian melody, With incense-clouds around the temple blending, And throngs, with laurel-boughs, before the altar bending.

There have been treasures of the seas and isles Brought to the day-god's now forsaken throne: Thunders have pealed along the rock-defiles, When the far-echoing battle-horn made known That foes were on their way!--the deep-wind's

Fear ye the festal hour!

When mirth o'erflows, then tremble !—'T was a night

Of gorgeous revel, wreaths, and dance, and light, When through the regal bower

The trumpet pealed, ere yet the song was done, And there were shrieks in golden Babylon, And trampling armies, ruthless in their power.

The marble shrines were crowned: Young voices, through the blue Athenian sky, And Dorian reeds, made summer-melody, And censers waved around; And lyres were strung, and bright libations poured, When, through the streets, flashed out the avenging sword,

Fearless and free, the sword with myrtles bound !*

Through Rome a triumph passed.
Rich in her sun-god's mantling beams went by
That long array of glorious pageantry,

With shout and trumpet-blast.
An empire's gems their starry splendor shed
O'er the proud march; a king in chains was led ;
A stately victor, crowned and robed, came last. †

And many a Dryad's bower

Had lent the laurels, which in waving play, Stirred the warm air, and glistened round his way, As a quick-flashing shower.

Away, vain phantasies!-doth less of power Dwell round thy summit, or thy cliffs invest, Though in deep stillness now, the ruin's flower Wave o'er the pillars mouldering on thy breast? -Lift through the free blue heavens thine arrowy crest!

Let the great rocks their solitude regain!

No Delphian lyres now break thy noontide rest With their full chords :-but silent be the strain! Thou hast a mightier voice to speak th' Eternal's reign!*

THE FESTAL HOUR.

WHEN are the lessons given

That shake the startled earth ?-When wakes the

foe,

Through his fair halls a cry of anguish rungWo for the dead!--the father's broken flower!

A sound of lyre and song,

In the still night, went floating o'er the Nile,
Whose waves, by many an old mysterious pile,
Swept with that voice along;
And lamps were shining o'er the red wine's foam,
Where a chief revelled in a monarch's dome,
And fresh rose-garlands decked a glittering throng.

'T was Antony that bade

The joyous chords ring out!-but strains arose
Of wilder omen at the banquet's close!
Sounds by no mortal madet

Shook Alexandria through her streets that night,
And passed-and with another sunset's light,
The kingly Roman on his bier was laid.

• The sword of Harmodius.

blow?

When are proud sceptres riven,

This, with the preceding, and several of the following pieces, have appeared in the Edinburgh Magazine.

of Macedon, when Perseus, king of that country, was led in chains.

See the description given by Plutarch, in his life of Antony, of the supernatural sounds heard in the streets of Alexandria, the night before Antony's death.

Bright 'midst its vineyards lay

The fair Campanian city, with its towers

Clear in the golden day;

Joy was around it as the glowing sky,
And crowds had filled its halls of revelry,
And all the sunny air was music's way.

A cloud came o'er the face

Of Italy's rich heaven!-its crystal blue
Was changed, and deepened to a wrathful hue
Of night, o'ershadowing space,
As with the wings of death!—in all his power
Vesuvius woke, and hurled the burning shower,
And who could tell the buried city's place?

Such things have been of yore,
In the gay regions where the citrons blow,
And purple summers all their sleepy glow

On the grape-clusters pour;

And where the palms to spicy winds are waving,
Along clear seas of melted sapphire, laving,
As with a flow of light, their southern shore.

Turn we to other climes!

Far in the Druid-Isle a feast was spread,
'Midst the rock-altars of the warrior-dead, t
And ancient battle-rhymes

Were chanted to the harp; and yellow mead
Went flowing round, and tales of martial deed,
And lofty songs of Britain's elder time.

But ere the giant-fane

Cast its broad shadows on the robe of even, Hushed were the bards, and, in the face of Heaven,

O'er that old burial-plain

Flashed the keen Saxon dagger!-Blood was streaming,

Where late the mead-cup to the sun was gleaming,

With fatal perfume, through the revel's bower.

Twine the young glowing wreath! But pour not all your spirit in the song, Which through the sky's deep azure floats along, Like summer's quickening breath! The ground is hollow in the path of mirth, Oh! far too daring seems the joy of earth, So darkly pressed and girdled in by death!

SONG OF THE BATTLE OF MORGARTEN.

"In the year 1315, Switzerland was invaded by Duke Leopold of Austria, with a formidable army. It is well attested, that this prince repeatedly declared he would trample the audacious rustics under his feet;' and that he had procured a large stock of cordage, for the purpose of binding their chiefs, and putting them to death.

"The 15th October, 1315, dawned. The sun darted its first rays on the shields and armour of the advancing host; and this being the first army ever known to have attempted the frontiers of the cantons, the Swiss viewed its long line with various emotions. Montfort de Tettnang led the cavalry into the narrow pass, and soon filled the whole space between the mountain (Mount Sattel) and the lake. The fifty men on the eminence (above Morgarten) raised a sudden shout, and rolled down heaps of rocks and stones among the crowded ranks. The confederates on the mountain, perceiving the impression made by this attack, rushed down in close array, and fell upon the flank of the disordered column. With massy clubs they dashed in pieces the armour of the enemy, and dealt their blows and thrusts with long pikes. The narrowness of the defile admitted of no evolutions, and a slight frost having injured the road, the horses were impeded in all their motions; many leaped into the lake; all were startled; and at last the

whole column gave way, and fell suddenly back on the infantry; and these last, as the nature of the country did not

For they returned no more!

They that went forth at morn, with reckless heart, In that fierce banquet's mirth to bear their part; And on the rushy floor,

And the bright spears and bucklers of the walls, The high wood-fires were blazing in their halls; But not for them-they slept-their feast was o'er! Fear ye the festal hour!

Ay, tremble when the cup of joy o'erflows! Tame down the swelling heart!--the bridal rose, And the rich myrtle's flower

and many of thein trampled to death. A general rout ensued, and Duke Leopold was, with much difficulty, rescued by a peasant, who led him to Winterthur, where the historian of the times saw him arrive in the evening, pale, sullen, and dismayed."-Planta's History of the Helvetic Confederacy.

THE wine-month* shone in its golden prime,

And the red grapes clustering hung, But a deeper sound through the Switzer's clime, Than the vintage music, rung.

A sound, through vaulted cave,

A sound, through echoing glen
Like the hollow swell of a rushing wave;
-'T was the tread of steel-girt men.

With a thousand of their own.

Wine-month, the German name for October.

And through the forest glooms
Flashed helmets to the day,

And the winds were tossing knightly plumes,
Like the larch-boughs in their play.

In Hasli's* wilds there was gleaming steel,

As the host of the Austrian passed; And the Schreckhorn'st rocks, with a savage peal, Made mirth of his clarion's blast.

Up 'midst the Righit snows The stormy march was heard, With the charger's tramp, whence fire-sparks rose, And the leader's gathering word.

But a band, the noblest band of all,

Through the rude Morgarten strait,
With blazoned streamers and lances tall,
Moved onwards, in princely state.
They came with heavy chains
For the race despised so long-
-But amidst his Alp-domains,

The herdsman's arm is strong!

The sun was reddening the clouds of morn
When they entered the rock-defile,
And shrill as a joyous hunter's horn
Their bugles rung the while.
But on the misty height,
Where the mountain-people stood,
There was stillness, as of night,

When storms at distance brood.

There was stillness, as of deep dead night,
And a pause-but not of fear,

While the Switzers gazed on the gathering might
Of the hostile shield and spear.

On wound those columns bright
Between the lake and wood,

But they looked not to the misty height
Where the mountain-people stood.

The pass was filled with their serried power,
All helmed and mail-arrayed,

And their steps had sounds like a thunder-shower
In the rustling forest-shade.

There were prince and crested knight,
Hemmed in by cliff and flood,
When a shout arose from the misty height

Where the mountain-people stood.

And the mighty rocks came bounding down,
Their startled foes among,

With a joyous whirl from the summit thrown-
-Oh! the herdsman's arm is strong!

* Hasli, a wild district in the canton of Berne.

† Schreckhorn, the peak of terror, a mountain in the canton of Berne.

* Righi, a mountain in the canton of Schwytz.

They came, like lauwine* hurled
From Alp to Alp in play,

When the echoes shout through the snowy world,

And the pines are borne away.

The fir-woods crashed on the mountain-side,
And the Switzers rushed from high,
With a sudden charge, on the flower and pride
Of the Austrian chivalry:

Like hunters of the deer,

They stormed the narrow dell,
And first in the shock, with Uri's spear.
Was the arm of William Tell.t

There was tumult in the crowded strait,
And a cry of wild dismay,
And many a warrior met his fate
From a peasant's hand that day!
And the empire's banner then,
From its place of waving free,
Went down before the shepherd-men,
The men of the Forest-sea.+

With their pikes and massy clubs they brake
The cuirass and the shield,

And the war-horse dashed to the reddening lake,

From the reapers of the field!

The field-but not of sheaves

Proud crests and pennons lay

Strewn o'er it thick as the birch-wood leaves
In the autumn-tempest's way.

Ask not!-the peasant at his cabin-door
Sits, calmly pointing to the distant cloud
Which skirts th' horizon, menacing to pour
Destruction down, o'er fields he hath not ploughed.
Thus, where no echo of the battle's roar,
Is heard afar, e'en thus the reckless crowd
In tranquil safety number o'er the slain,
Or tell of cities burning on the plain.

There mayst thou mark the boy, with earnest gaze,
Fixed on his mother's lips, intent to know,
By names of insult, those, whom future days
Shall see him meet in arms, their deadliest foe!
There proudly many a glittering dame displays
Bracelet and zone, with radiant gems that glow,
By husbands, lovers, home in triumph borne,
From the sad brides of fallen warriors torn.

Wo to the victors and the vanquished! Wo!
The earth is heaped, is loaded with the slain,
Loud and more loud the cries of fury grow,
A sea of blood is swelling o'er the plain!
But from th' embattled front, already, lo!
A band recedes-it flies-all hope is vain,
And venal hearts, despairing of the strife,
Wake to the love, the clinging love of life.
As the light grain disperses in the air,
Borne from the winnowing by the gales around,
Thus fly the vanquished, in their wild despair,
Chased-severed-scattered--o'er the ample

ground.

But mightier bands, that lay in ambush there, Burst on their flight-and hark! the deepening sound

Of fierce pursuit !—still nearer and more near,
The rush of war-steeds trampling in the rear!
The day is won;-they fall-disarmed they yield,
Low at the conqueror's feet all suppliant lying!
'Midst shouts of victory pealing o'er the field,
Oh! who may hear the murmurs of the dying?
-Haste! let the tale of triumph be revealed!
E'en now the courier to his steed is flying,
He spurs-he speeds-with tidings of the day,
To rouse up cities in his lightning way.

Why pour ye thus from your deserted homes,
Each hurrying where his breathless courser foams,
Oh, eager multitudes! around him pressing?
Each tongue, each eye, infatuate hope confessing!
Know ye not whence th' ill-omened herald comes,
And dare ye dream he comes with words of bless-
ing!

-Brothers, by brothers slain, lie low and cold-
Be ye content! the glorious tale is told.

I hear the voice of joy, th' exulting cry!
They deck the shrine, they swell the choral strains;
E'en now the homicides assail the sky
With peans, which indignant Heaven disdains!

But, from the soaring Alps, the stranger's eye
Looks watchful down on our ensanguined plains,
And with the cruel rapture of a foe,
Numbers the mighty, stretched in death below.

Haste! form your lines again, ye brave and true! Haste, haste! your triumphs and your joys suspending!

Th' invader comes; your banners raise anew,
Rush to the strife, your country's cause defending!
Victors! why pause ye?-Are ye weak and few?
Ay, such he deemed you! and for this descending,
He waits you on the field ye know too well,
The same red war-field where your brethren fell.

Oh! thou devoted land! that canst not rear
In peace thine offspring; thou, the lost and won,
The fair and fatal soil, that dost appear
Too narrow still for each contending son;
Receive the stranger, in his fierce career,
Parting thy spoils!-thy chastening is begun!
And, wresting from thy chiefs the guardian sword,
Foes whom thou ne'er hadst wronged, sit proudly
at thy board.

Gorsedd, or the stone of assembly), in the centre. The sheathing of a sword upon this stone was the ceremony which announced the opening of a Gorsedd, or meeting. The bards always stood in their uni-coloured robes, with their heads and feet uncovered, within the circle of federation.-See Owen's Translation of the Heroic Elegies of Llyware Hen.

WHERE met our bards of old?-the glorious throng,

They of the mountain and the battle-song?
They met-oh! not in kingly hall or bower,
But where wild Nature girt herself with power:
They met-where streams flashed bright from
rocky caves,

They met-where woods made moan o'er warriors' graves,

And where the torrent's rainbow spray was cast,
And where dark lakes were heaving to the blast,
And 'midst th' eternal cliffs, whose strength defied
The crested Roman in his hour of pride;
And where the Carnedd,* on its lonely hill,
Bore silent record of the mighty still;
And where the Druid's ancient Cromlecht frown'd,
And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round.
There thronged th' inspired of yore!-on plain or
height,

THE MEETING OF THE BARDS. WRITTEN FOR AN EISTEDDVOD, OR MEETING OF

WELSH BARDS.

Held in London, May 22d, 1822.

The Gorseddau, or meetings of the British bards, were anciently ordained to be held in the open air, on some conspicuous situation, whilst the sun was above the horizon; or, according to the expression employed on these occasions, "in the face of the sun, and in the eye of light." The places set apart for this purpose were marked out by a circle of stones, called the circle of federation. The presiding bard stood on a large stone (Maen

the sun's face, beneath the eye of light, And, baring unto heaven each noble head, Stood in the circle, where none else might tread.

Well might their lays be lofty!-soaring thought From Nature's presence tenfold grandeur caught: Well might bold Freedom's soul pervade the strains,

Which startled eagles from their lone domains,
And, like a breeze, in chainless triumph, went
Up through the blue resounding firmament!

Whence came the echoes to those numbers high?
-T was from the battle-fields of days gone by!
And from the tombs of heroes, laid to rest
With their good swords, upon the mountain's
breast;

And from the watch-towers on the heights of snow,
Severed by cloud and storm, from all below;
And the turf-mounds, once girt by ruddy spears,
And the rock-altars of departed years.

Thence, deeply mingling with the torrent's roar,
The winds a thousand wild responses bore:
And the green land, whose every vale and glen
Doth shrine the memory of heroic men,

Carnedd, a stone-barrow, or cairn.

↑ Cromlech, a Druidical monument, or altar. The word means a stone of covenant.

The ancient British chiefa frequently harangued their followers from small artificial mounts of turf.-Sec Pennant