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Than sold thyself to death and shame
On thy war-horse through the ranks,
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,
France hath twice too well been taught
But in equal rights and laws,
Hearts and hands in one great cause-
With their breath, and from their birth,
With a fierce and lavish hand
But the heart and the mind,
And who shall resist that proud union?
FROM THE FRENCH.
MUST thou go, my glorious Chief,
With a soldier's faith for thee?
First in fight, but mightiest now;
Since this hour I live to see;
When the doubts of coward foes
Now so deaf to duty's prayer,
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.
ON THE STAR OF THE LEGION OF HONOUR."
FROM THE FRENCH.
STAR of the brave !-whose beam hath shed
Like lava roll'd thy stream of blood,
Of three bright colours, each divine,* And fit for that celestial sign;
For Freedom's hand had blended them,
One tint was of the sunbean's dyes;
And Freedom hallows with her tread
FROM THE FRENCH.
FAREWELL to the Land where the gloom of glory
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.
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.
SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
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
THE harp the monarch minstrel swept,
O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,
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 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,
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,
But we must wander witheringly,
And where our fathers' ashes be,
OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.
OH! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
SINCE our Country, our God-oh, my sire!
OH! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S
Away! we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Or make one mourner weep the less?
MY SOUL IS DARK.
My soul is dark-oh! quickly string
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
That sound shall charm it forth again:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
And ached in sleepless silence long:
I SAW THEE WEEP.
I SAW thee weep-the big bright tear
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
THY days are done, thy fame begun ;
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Thy spirit on our breath!
Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Thy fall, the theme of choral song
THOU Whose spell can raise the dead,
King, behold the phantom seer!"
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.
"Why is my sleep disquieted?
ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE
FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
I strive to number o'er what days
And spells, is won from harming;
Nor music's voice can lure it; But there it stings for evermore The soul that must endure it.
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS
WHEN coldness wraps this suffering clay,
But leaves its darken'd dust behind.. Then, unembodied, doth it trace
By steps each planet's heavenly way?
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
Its eye shall roll through chaos back :
And where the furthest heaven had birth,
While sun is quench'd, or system breaks,
Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,
Its years as moments shall endure.
Away, away, without a wing,
WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU
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.
VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.
The godless Heathen's wine,
And traced them like a wand.
But here they have no skill;
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.
Is light and worthless clay;
The Persian on his throne."
SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS!
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
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!
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF
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.