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Than sold thyself to death and shame
For a meanly royal name;
Such as he of Naples wears,
Who thy blood-bought title bears.
Little didst thou deem, when dashing

On thy war-horse through the ranks,
Like a stream which burst its banks,
While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing,
Shone and shiver'd fast around thee-
Of the fate at last which found thee!
Was that haughty plume laid low
By a slave's dishonest blow?
Once-as the moon sways o'er the tide,
It roll'd in air, the warrior's guide;
Through the smoke-created night
Of the black and sulphurous fight,
The soldier raised his seeking eye
To catch that crest's ascendancy-
And, as it onward rolling rose,
So moved his heart upon our foes.
There, where death's brief pang was

And the battle's wreck lay thickest, Strew'd beneath the advancing banner

Of the eagle's burning crest(There with thunder clouds to fan her, Who could then her wing arrestVictory beaming from her breast?) While the broken line enlarging Fell, or fled along the plain; There be sure was Murat charging There he ne'er shall charge again!


O'er glories gone the invader's march,
Weeps Triumph o'er each levell'd arch-
But let Freedom rejoice,
With her heart in her voice;
But her hand on her sword,
Doubly shall she be adored;

France hath twice too well been taught
The "moral lesson" dearly bought-
Her safety sits not on a throne,
With Capet or Napoleon!

But in equal rights and laws,

Hearts and hands in one great cause-
Freedom such as God hath given
Unto all beneath His heaven,

With their breath, and from their birth,
Though Guilt would sweep it from the


With a fierce and lavish hand
Scattering nations' wealth like sand;
Pouring nations' blood like water,
In imperial seas of slaughter!


But the heart and the mind,
And the voice of mankind,
Shall arise in communion-

And who shall resist that proud union?
The time is past when swords subdued-
Man may die-the soul's renew'd:
Even in this low world of care
Freedom ne'er shall want an heir;
Millions breathe but to inherit
Her for ever bounding spirit-
When once more her hosts assemble,
Tyrants shall believe-and tremble:
Smile they at this idle threat?
Crimson tears will follow yet.



MUST thou go, my glorious Chief,
Sever'd from thy faithful few?
Who can tell thy warriors' grief,
Maddening o'er that long adieu?
Woman's love, and friendship's zeal,
Dear as both have been to me-
What are they to all I feel,

With a soldier's faith for thee?
Idol of the soldier's soul!

First in fight, but mightiest now;
Many could a world control;
Thee alone no doom can bow.
By thy side for years I dared
Death; and envied those who fell,
When their dying shout was heard,
Blessing him they served so well.
Would that I were cold with those,

Since this hour I live to see;

When the doubts of coward foes
Scarce dare trust a man with thee,
Dreading each should set thee free!
Oh! although in dungeons pent,
All their chains were light to me,
Gazing on thy soul unbent.
Would the sycophants of him

Now so deaf to duty's prayer,
Were his borrow'd glories dim,

In his native darkness share? Were that world this hour his own, All thou calmly dost resign, Could he purchase with that throne

Hearts like those which still are thine? My chief, my king, my friend, adieu! Never did I droop before; Never to my sovereign sue, As his foes I now implore: All I ask is to divide

Every peril he must brave; Sharing by the hero's side

His fall, his exile, and his grave.



STAR of the brave !-whose beam hath shed
Such glory o'er the quick and dead-
Thou radiant and adored deceit,
Which millions rush'd in arms to greet,-
Wild meteor of immortal birth;
Why rise in Heaven to set on Earth?
Souls of slain heroes form'd thy rays;
Eternity flash'd through thy blaze;
The music of thy martial sphere
Was fame on high and honour here;
And thy light broke on human eyes,
Like a volcano of the skies.

Like lava roll'd thy stream of blood,
And swept down empires with its flood;
Earth rock'd 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,
A rainbow of the loveliest hue,

Of three bright colours, each divine,* And fit for that celestial sign;

For Freedom's hand had blended them,
Like tints in an immortal gem.

One tint was of the sunbean'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 three so mingled did beseem
The texture of a heavenly dream.
Star of the brave! thy ray is pale,
And darkness must again prevail !
But, O thou Rainbow of the free!
Our tears and blood must flow for thee.
When thy bright promise fades away,
Our life is but a load of clay.

And Freedom hallows with her tread
The silent cities of the dead;
For beautiful in death are they
Who proudly fall in her array;
And soon, O Goddess! may we be
For evermore with them or thee!



FAREWELL to the Land where the gloom of glory


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I have warr'd with a world which vanquish'd me only

When the meteor of conquest allured me too far; I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely,

The last single captive to millions in war. Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crown'd me,

I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth; But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee,

Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth.
Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted
In strife with the storm, when their battles were


Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was blasted,

Had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on victory's sun! Farewell to thee, France!-But when Liberty rallies

Once more in thy regions, remember me then,The violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys; Though wither'd, thy tear will unfold it again. Yet, yet I may baffle the hosts that surround


And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voiceArose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her There are links which must break in the chain that has bound us,


She abandons me now-but the page of her Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy story, choice!


The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird for

a Selection of Hebrew Melodies.


SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!


THE harp the monarch minstrel swept,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven,
Which Music hallow'd while she wept

O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!

*The tricolour.

It soften❜d men of iron mould,

It gave them virtues not their own; No ear so dull, no soul so cold,

That felt not, fired not to the tone,

Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne.

It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God;

It made our gladden'd valleys ring,

The cedars bow, the mountains nod;

Its sound aspired to heaven and their abode! Since then, though heard on earth no more, Devotion and her daughter Love,

Still bid the bursting spirit soar

To sounds that seem as from above,
In dreams that day's broad light can not


IF THAT HIGH WORLD. IF that high world, which lies beyond Our own, surviving Love endears; If there the cherish'd heart be fond, The eye the same, except in tears-How welcome those untrodden spheres! How sweet this very hour to die! To soar from earth, and find all fears Lost in thy light-Eternity!

It must be so: 'tis not for self

That we so tremble on the brink; And striving to o'erleap the gulf,

Yet cling to Being's severing link. Oh! in that future let us think

To hold each heart the heart that shares; With them the immortal waters drink, And soul in soul grow deathless theirs!

THE WILD GAZELLE. THE wild gazelle on Judah's hills Exulting yet may bound, And drink from all the living rills That gush on holy ground: Its airy step and glorious eye May glance in tameless transport by: A step as fleet, an eye more bright, Hath Judah witness'd there; And o'er her scenes of lost delight Inhabitants more fair.

The cedars wave on Lebanon,

But Judah's statelier maids are gone! More blest each palm that shades those plains

Than Israel's scatter'd race; For, taking root, it there remains

In solitary grace:

It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.

But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die:

And where our fathers' ashes be,
Our own may never lie:
Our temple hath not left a stone,
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.


OH! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell;
Mourn-where their God hath dwelt, the god-
less dwell!

And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet?
And Judah's melody once more rejoice
The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly

Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
How shall ye flee away and be at rest!
The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
Mankind their country-Israel but the grave!

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SINCE our Country, our God-oh, my sire!
Demand that thy daughter expire;
Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow-
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!
And the voice of my mourning is o'er,
And the mountains behold me no more:
If the hand that I love lay me low,
There cannot be pain in the blow!
And of this, O my father! be sure-
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
And the last thought that soothes me below.
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent!
I have won the great battle for thee,
And my father and country are free!
When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd,
When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd,
Let my memory still be thy pride,
And forget not I smiled as I died!


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Away! we know that tears are vain,

That death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?

Or make one mourner weep the less?
And thou-who tell'st me to forget
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.


My soul is dark-oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:

I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst:
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,

And ached in sleepless silence long:
And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst,
And break at once-or yield to song.


I SAW thee weep-the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear
A violet dropping dew:

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THY days are done, thy fame begun ;
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen son,
The slaughters of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!

Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death!

The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath :
Within our veins its currents be,

Thy spirit on our breath!

Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!

Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour'd!
To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.


THOU Whose spell can raise the dead,
Bid the prophet's form appear,
"Samuel, raise thy buried head!

King, behold the phantom seer!"
Earth yawn'd; he stood the centre of a cloud :
Light changed its hue, retiring from his shroud.
Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye;

His hand was wither'd, and his veins were dry: His foot, in bony whiteness, glitter'd there, Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare; From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame,

Like cavern'd winds, the hollow accents came.
Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak,
At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.

"Why is my sleep disquieted?
Who is he that calls the dead?
Is it thou, O King? Behold,
Bloodless are these limbs, and cold:
Such are mine; and such shall be
Thine to-morrow, when with me:
Ere the coming day is done,
Such shalt thou be, such thy son.
Fare thee well, but for a day,
Then we mix our mouldering clay.
Thou, thy race, lie pale and low,
Pierced by shafts of many a bow;
And the falchion by thy side
To thy heart thy hand shall guide:
Crownless, breathless, headless fall,
Son and sire, the house of Saul!"

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FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me;
My goblets blush'd from every vine.
And lovely forms caress'd me:
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,
And felt my soul grow tender;
All earth can give, or mortal prize,
Was mine of regal splendour.

I strive to number o'er what days
Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth displays
Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour
Of pleasure unembitter'd;
And not a trapping deck'd my power
That gall'd not while it glitter'd.
The serpent of the field, by art

And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
Oh! who hath power of charming?
It will not list to wisdom's lore,

Nor music's voice can lure it; But there it stings for evermore The soul that must endure it.


WHEN coldness wraps this suffering clay,
Ah! whither strays the immortal mind?
It cannot die, it cannot stay,

But leaves its darken'd dust behind.. Then, unembodied, doth it trace

By steps each planet's heavenly way?
Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey?
Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,

A thought unseen, but seeing all,
All, all in earth or skies display'd,
shall it recall:
Shall it survey,
Each fainter trace that memory holds
So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,
And all that was at once appears.
Before Creation peopled earth,

Its eye shall roll through chaos back :

And where the furthest heaven had birth,
The spirit trace its rising track.
And where the future mars or makes,
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,

While sun is quench'd, or system breaks,
Fix'd in its own eternity.

Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,
It lives all passionless and pure:
An age shall fleet like earthly year;

Its years as moments shall endure.

Away, away, without a wing,

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DEEM'ST IT to be.

WERE my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,

O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly, I need not have wandered from far Galilee ;

A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.

THE King was on his throne,
The Satraps throng'd the hall:
A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival.
A thousand cups of gold,
In Judah deem'd divine-
Jehovah's vessels hold

The godless Heathen's wine,
In that same hour and hall,
The fingers of a hand
Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand:
The fingers of a man ;-
A solitary hand
Along the letters ran,

And traced them like a wand.
The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice;
All bloodless wax'd his look,
And tremulous his voice.
"Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the earth,
And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth."
Chaldea's seers are good,

But here they have no skill;
And the unknown letters stood
Untold and awful still.
And Babel's men of age

Are wise and deep in lore; But now they were not sage, They saw-but knew no more. A captive in the land,

A stranger and a youth, He heard the king's command, He saw that writing's truth. The lamps around were bright, The prophecy in view; He read it on that night,-

The morrow proved it true.
"Belshazzar's grave is made,
His kingdom pass'd away,
He, in the balance weigh'd,

Is light and worthless clay;
The shroud his robe of state,
His canopy the stone;
The Mede is at his gate!

The Persian on his throne."


SUN of the sleepless! melancholy star! Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,

It was but abjuring my creed to efface

The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of

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The land and the life which for Him I resign.

HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE. Он, Mariamne! now for thee

The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding: Revenge is lost in agony,

And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou?

Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: Ah! couldst thou-thou wouldst pardon now, Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding. And is she dead?-and did they dare

Obey my frenzy's jealous raving? My wrath but doom'd my own despair: The sword that smote her's o'er me waving. But thou art cold, my murder'd love! And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above,

And leaves my soul unworthy saving. She's gone, who shared my diadem;

She sunk, with her my joys entombing: I swept that flower from Judah's stem, Whose leaves for me alone were blooming; And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell, This bosom's desolation dooming; And I have earn'd those tortures well, Which unconsumed are still consuming!

FROM the last hill that looks on thy once holy

I beheld thee, O Sion, when render'd to Rome: 'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall

Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.

I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home, And forgot for a moment my bondage to come: I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane, And the fast-fetter'd hands that made vengeance in vain.

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