Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp, the shatter'd spear, Clos'd her bright eye, | and curb'd her high career: | Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,

And Freedom shriek'd, as Koscius'ko fell! |

The sun went down. ; | nor ceas'd the carnage there', |
Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air.:|
On Prague's proud arch | the fires of ruin glow, |
His blood-dy'd waters murmuring far below: |
The storm prevails', | the rampart yields away', |
Bursts the wild cry of horror, and dismay.! |
Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, |
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call! |
Earth shook', red meteors flash'd along the sky', |
And conscious Nature shudder'd at the cry! |
Departed spirits of the mighty dead! |

Ye that at Marathon, and Leuc'tra bled! |
Friends of the world'! | restore your swords to man', |
Fight in his sacred cause, land lead the van! |
Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood', atone', |
And make her arm puissant as your own, |
O! once again to Freedom's cause return', |

Thou patriot Tell'- thou Bruce of Bannockburn! |

BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

(BYRON.)

There was a sound of revelry by night; |
And Belgium's capital | had gather❜d then |
Her beauty, and her chivalry; | and bright |
The lamps shone o'er fair women, and brave men; |
A thousand hearts beat hap'pily; and, when |
Music arose, with its voluptuous swell, |

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, |
1
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 chieftain; | 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', |
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,-"The foe! | They
come! they come!" |

'And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose'! | "The war-note of Lochiel', which Albyn's hills | I Have heard, and heard too, have her Saxon foes: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 | The stirring memory of a thousand years. ; | And Evan's, Don'ald's fame, | rings in each clansman's ears! |

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves', |
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, | as they pass,, |
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, |
O'er the unreturning brave, alas! |

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass | Which now beneath' them, but above shall grow, In its next verdure, | when this fiery mass |

Of living valour, rolling on the foe, |

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold, and low1.|
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life'; |
Last eve, in Beauty's circle proudly gay'; |

The midnight brought the signal sound of strife; |
The morn, the marshalling in arms, the day, |
|
Battle's magnificently-stern array,!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, | The earth is cover'd thick with other clay | Which her own clay shall cover, | heap'd and pent1, | Rider, and horse',- | friend, | foe', in one red burial blent! |

a

MARCO BOZZARIS.a

(HALLECK.)

-

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: |

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 | The trophies of a con'queror; |

In dreams his song of triumph heard;" | 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', ]
'Bozza'ris rang'd his Suliote band
True as the steel of their tried blades', |
Heroes in heart, and hand. I

There had the Persian's thou'sands stood; |
There had the glad earth drunk their blood, |
On old Platæ'a's day |

And now there breath'd that haunted air, |
The sons of sires who con'quer'd there, |
With arm to strike, | and soul to dare', |
As quick, as far as they. |

'An hour pass'd ond. the Turk awoke
That bright dream was his last; |

He woke to hear his sentries shriek

ff To arms'! they come ! the Greek! the fffGreek'! | 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 altars, and your fires'; | Strike for the green graves of

your

God, and your native land'!" |

sires. |

ancient Platæa, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words were

and not a pain.”

a

"To die for liberty is a pleasure,

Triumph heard; not tri-um'furd. b Mon'nårks.

d Pass'd on; not pass-ton'.

c Går'ân.

They fought like brave men- | long, and well; |
They pil'd that ground with Moslem slain; |
They conquer'd but Bozzaris fell, |
Bleeding at every vein. |

His few surviving comrades", saw,

His smile when rang their proud hurrah', |
And the red field was won'; |

Then saw in death his eyelids close,

Calmly, as to a night's repose,

Like flowers at set of sun. |

'Come to the bridal chamber, Death!

Come to the mother's,

when she feels I

For the first time, her first-born's breath -
Come when the blessed seals |

That close the pes'tilence, are broke, |

And crowded cities wail its stroke
Come in consumption's ghastly form, |

The earthquake shock', | the ocean-storm
2Come when the heart beats high, and warm, |
With banquet-song, and dance', and wine. 1
'And thou art terrible the tear', |
|

The groan, the knell', | the pall', | the bier、; |
And all we know', | or dream', | or fear' |
Of agony, are thine,. |

"But to the hero, | 3when his sword
Has won the battle for the free, |
"Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; |
And in its hollow tones, are heard |
"The thanks of millions yet to be. I
Come when his task of fame' is wrought
Come with her laurel-leaf, | blood-bought-
Come in her crown'ing hour and then
|
"Thy sunken eye's unearthly light |
To him is welcome as the sight |

Of sky, and stars to prison'd men: |

*Kům ́rådź, saw; not cum'rades-saw.

b

Bri'dâl; not bridle.