IV. O'er glories gone the invaders march, With her heart in her voice; But, her hand on her sword, Doubly shall she be adored; France hath twice too well been taught But in equal rights and laws, Hearts and hands in one great cause— Freedom, such as God hath given With their breath, and from their birth, Pouring nations' blood like water, In imperial seas of slaughter! V. But the heart and the mind, Shall arise in communion And who shall resist that proud union? - Even in this low world of care Freedom ne'er shall want an heir; When once more her hosts assemble, Smile they at this idle threat? Crimson tears will follow yet.* FROM THE FRENCH. ["MUST THOU GO, MY GLORIOUS CHIEF?"]T MUST thou go, my glorious Chief, Dear as both have been to me # ["Talking of politics, pray look at the conclusion of my 'Ode on Waterloo,' written in the year 1815, and, comparing it with the Duke de Berri's catastrophe in 1820, tell me if I have not as good a right to the character of Vates,' in both senses of the word, as Fitzgerald and Coleridge? 'Crimson tears will follow yet;' and have they not?"- Byron's Letters, 1820.] "All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish officer who had been exalted from the ranks by Bonaparte. He clung to his master's knees; wrote a letter to Lord Keith, entreating permission to accompany him, even in the most menial capacity, which could not be admitted." What are they to all I feel, With a soldier's faith for thee? II. Idol of the soldier's soul! First in fight, but mightiest now: Thee alone no doom can bow. Death; and envied those who fell, III. Would that I were cold with those, When the doubts of coward foes Scarce dare trust a man with thee, Oh! although in dungeons pent, "At Waterloo, one man was seen, whose left arm was shattered by a cannon ball, to wrench it off with the other, and throwing it up in the air, exclaimed to his comrades, 'Vive l'Empereur, jusqu'à la mort!' There were many other instances of the like: this you may, however, depend on as true." - Private Letter from Brussels. IV. Would the sycophants of him Could he purchase with that throne Hearts like those which still are thine? V. My chief, my king, my friend, adieu! Never did I droop before; As his foes I now implore: All I ask is to divide Every peril he must brave; His fall, his exile, and his grave. ON THE STAR OF "THE LEGION OF HONOR." [FROM THE FRENCH.] STAR of the brave! - whose beam hath shed Such glory o'er the quick and dead · Thou radiant and adored deceit ! Which millions rushed in arms to greet, Wild meteor of immortal birth! Souls of slain heroes formed thy rays; Like lava rolled thy stream of blood, And swept down empires with its flood; Earth rocked beneath thee to her base, As thou didst lighten through all space; And the shorn Sun grew dim in air, And set while thou wert dwelling there. Before thee rose, and with thee grew, Of three bright colors,* each divine, For Freedom's hand had blended them, One tint was of the sunbeam's dyes; One, the blue depth of Seraph's eyes; One, the pure Spirit's veil of white Had robed in radiance of its light: *The tricolor. |