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Tous las autres exemplalres orlginaux sont f llmAs en comment ant par la pramlAre paga qui comporte une empreinte d'impresslon ou d'lllustratlon at en terminant par la darnMre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un d9s symboles suh^ants apparottra sur la demldre Image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: la symbola — ► signlfie "A SUIVRE". le symbols ▼ signlfie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre fllmAs A dee taux de rAductlon diff Arents. Lorsque le document est trop grsnd pour Atre reproduit en un soul cllchA, 11 est filmA A partir da Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 i^ ■-» i^ 5^ vr^Vwr ^ T.y , THE (. niartf) CRUSADES. Ac^. AMD OTHER POEMS. BY JOHN BREAKENRIDGE, OF OSGOODE HALL, BARRISTER-AT-LAW. The hnmble boon was soon obtained ; The daring minstrel audience gained. Perchance he wished his boon denied ; For when to tune his harp he tried. His trembling hand had lost the ease Which marks security to please : KINGSTON: PUBLISHED BY JOHN ROWLANDS. MDCCCXLVI. p^ m 'J m c% 253274 1 % CF Hil to THE RIORT HONOURABLE CHARLES THEOPHILUS, BARON METCALFE, OF FEBNHILL, IN THE COVMTT OF BERKS, LATE GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF BRITISH NORTH AMERICA, ETC., ETC., ETC., WHOSE UNIVERSAL LIBERALITY, AMD MANY ENNOBLING QUALITIES, RAVE RENDERED HIS MEMORY DEAR TO THE PEOPLE OP CANADA, THIS VOLUME IS, BY PERMISSION, RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. In sul ind sul pie Kii beii # ] pri( Poc uni ] scri sho hoj wal Eg: the PREFACE. In undertaking to submit a volume of Poems to my subscribers, I have imposed a task upon myself from which, perhaps, more mature reflection would have induced me to abstain. I should be happy to think that each individual subscriber would find in this volume something to please or interest him. My muse must speak for herself. With the modest Kirke White (though with much more reason for being bashful ) I am inclined to exclaim — No hand, the diapason o'er, Well skilled, I throw with sweep sublime ; For me no academic lore Has taught the solemn strain to pour, Or build the polished rhyme. I feel that " The Crusades " is a very inappro- priate title for the volume ; but the truth is, the longer Poem, which I have placed at the - oO, remained unfinished when the Prospectus was publ 3hed. In the final Poem (La'i'za) I have hazarded de- scriptions founded solely upon my reading ; and should I, in such things, have fallen into error, I hope a lenient judgment will be exercised. " The Highlands of iEthiopia," by Major Corn- wallis Harris ; Stephens' " Incidents of Travel in Egypt, Arabia Petreea, etc." ; " The Crescent and the Cross"; Bruce's Travels; and "George," a f « -ifW VI. Novel by Alexandre Dumftn; together with Victor Hiif^n*§ "Biijf Jftrpal "; liowis's West Indies ; Lnnmr- tine's " Voynpe en Orient "; and " Life in the New World, by Scatiificld " ; have each in turn aflbrded me some information or hint on the subject-matter of the Poem. I claim an indulgent criticism from my readers as a Canadian. Although I cannot expect that great faultji will be passed over in silence, I hope that this consideration will shield me from reproof. To those who have honoured me by their subscrip- tion, I beg leave to return my sincere acknowledg- ments, And remain. Their obedient servant, The Author. |M TABLE OF COiNTENTS. PART I. 9H)t Crneabes. The Battle of Doryl^um, 11 Crusaders' Hymn before Jerusalem, 18 Siege of Antioch, 20 Battle of Antioch, 33 TheTrobadourto the captive Richard Csur de Lion, 44 Battle of Tiberias, 47 The Amulet, 49 JVotes to The Crusades, 61 PART II. JUnetratione of Bible i^ietors. The Dfluoe, 65 Tower of Babel, 68 Destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, .... 71 Abraham's Faith, 73 Plague of the Locusts, 75 Passage of the Red Sea, 76 Discovery of the promised land, and death of Moses, 82 Ruth and Naomi, 84 The Witch of Endor, 88 The Judgment of Solomon, 93 VIII. PART III. ^itccUaneont {lotme. Napoleon Buonaparte and the French Revolution, 101 EccE Homo, 133 Canada : a Prize Poem at Upper Canada College, 134 Medea to Jahon, 141 The Anorv Poet : an Epistle from Claud Halcro to THE 'locum TENENs' OF DiEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER, 153 The Mysterious Visitant — a Ballad, .... 156 Youth, 166 The Passage of the Beresina, 174 The Litany of the Church of England, versified, 177 My Mother, .... 188 Twilight and Home, 189 The Falls of Niagara, 190 The Lay of the Clock, 191 JVotes to the Poem on J^apoleon Buonapartef . 198 PART IV. Laiza : A Tale of Slaveky, in three cantos, . . 207 01 33 34 41 53 56 66 .74 [77 188 89 [90 [91 [93 107 ir THE BATTLE OF DORYLJEUM, IN THE VALLEY OF 00R60N.* 'Ti» at eve — in tht valley the white tents are spread ; The sun, swift descending, beams lustrously red ; Flashing here, gleaming there, on the golden hued clouds, Ere the shadow of night the horizon enshrouds. Unharnessed, the chargers all heated, behold The river so bright through the green meadows rolled ; Gleam their eyes — heave their chests — all in chorus they neigh, And fain would career to the waters away ! Pennants gay, nodding plumes, gorgeous banners are there, And the bugle note floats on the still evening air : Till at length all the tumult of armed thousands flowii} Naught is heard but the tramp of the sentry alone. While they sleep — while they dream — afar off in the plain. To the sound of the cymbals, the trumpets refrain, The Sultan rides on with the speed of the wind, And spearmen in myriads careering behind ! 12 Snowy white are their turbans, but brighter the play Of the crescent, there gU^aming beneath the moon's ray t Thousands crowding on tliousands, they rush evermore, Banner bearers and war-breatiiing music before. 'Tis morning — the sun on that vale ever fair Pours a rich flooding light through the balm-breathing air; Tenths are struck, flags unfurled — all is life-like again, As the hoe* ^f the Christians moves on through the plain. In advance ride the Cavaliers, gallant and bold. Clad in hauberks of steel, wearing helmets of gold ; On they ride, gaily prancing, their hearts beating high, Ever ready in battle, all fearless to die. Soon cr )wning the hills that rise frowning before, They see the proud Turk's marshalled legions once more ; They hear the loud clash of the cymbals resound. Wildly blent with the war-breathing clarion's sound ! All wondering they halt — but their hearts know no fear : Exulting they bound when the foemen are near ; Though thousands on thousands, in myriads they lie, Like the wild beasts that crouch on their victims to fly. Now advancing, all glorious, with banners outspread, Comes the host of the Cross, by Lord Boemond led. Hark ! the bugle-call sounds for the stragglers return ! And the Knights for the battle with fierce ardour burn. b 18 0! why in that hour was Do I^uillon not thorf, In the dangJT, tho toil, mid the glory to shtiro? Far away to the Eastward his squadrons advance, Never dreaming of work for the falchion or lance ! AH at once comes a gallant Knight, breathless and pale, And silently points — upward points through the vale ; 'Tis enough — " To the rescue, De Bouillon !" they cry, And wheeling, their chargers at full gallop fly ! Hark ! the thundcr-stanip coming of squadrons that bound ; The earth reeling, trembh^s and groans at the sound ; Down the Moslemah dash, like the Parthians of old, A legion of horse, decked with housings of gold. Their scimitars gleam in the sun, waved on high ; And borne on the air comes their fierce battle cry ; Like the breakers of ocean, storm driven, they roar, " II Allah ! II Allah !" — they shout evermore ! 0! who in the path of their legions shall stand. Unnumbered, like grains of tlie surf beaten sand ; Vain, vain seems the valour of Christendom there : Vain the prowess of Knight — vain the fervour of prayer ! 0, no ! never vain ! Lo ! dismounted they kneel. The Knights of the Cross, in their armour of steel ; A moment, and then to the saddle they spring. And forth in defiance their brave banners fling ! 14 There, shining resplendent in crimson, behold ! The Cross on their standards of silver unrolled ; There the flag of the Templars, alternately rayed Black and white — the death bearer — is proudly displayed. " Fair to friends, fierce to foes" — lo ! their banner unfolds, And straight in the pathway of danger it holds ; O'er each cuirass is worn a fair robe, virgin white. Where the Cross is embroidered, refulgent and bright. They turn not, nor flee ; iron-visagcd they stand. On the foe every eye, on the lance every hand ; While down, like a thunder-bolt coming, thoy hear The trampling of squadrons, the wild battle cheer ! There, too, the Hospitallers stand side by side. Whose robes, dark and mournful, the steel hauberk hide ; Each Knight, nobly emulous, burning to bear His part in the contest — the glory to share. Brace your arms, noble Knights! nerve your hearts, gallant men ! Sternly struggle, as though ye should ne'er fight again ! " God wills it! God wills it!" to-day shall ye see The armies of Soliman tremble and flee ! One moment of silence ! — and then through the sky The death-dealing shafts of the Osmanlis fly ; They whistle, they rustle, swift-winged in their flight. Bearing down the proud charger, unhorsing the Knight ! 15 Bcnu-soani! Beau-scant! a Enavant, brave Knights t Where the foemen ore tliickest, the bold Templar fights ; At that cry, swift descending, each lance is in rest, To the flanks of their chargers the golden spur pressed ! O'er their helmets the gay plumes are waving in light, And the sun on their armour shines lustrous and bright ; Like an avalanche hurled, on the Moslems they dash, And meet them at length with an earth-quaking crash ! Down topple their turbans, their banners go down, Their leaders have turned, and the bravest have flown ; But still, as they fly, they their arbalasts bend : Retreating, a shower of arrows they send. Swift their steeds as the wind ; light and agile they leap, So that far from the death-dealing lances they keep ; Till the Knights, worn and wearied, no longer essay To bear down the ranks of their flying array. They halt — form in line — every lance still in rest, The steel corslet gleaming on each noble chest ; While, rallying afresh to the contest, behold ! All brilliant with crimson, all glittering with gold. Still squadron on squadron the Moslems rush in. Like the tempest-lashed ocean, with roaring and din ; Their ataghans flash, like a broad sea of steel ; The Templars arc stricken — Hospitallers reel I i 16 O, woe ! for the brother of Tnncred in slnin ! The flower of our army lies strctclied on the plaiu ; Lo ! Tancred tiimself in the ni61u(; is lost, Alone in the hands of the Saracen host ! To the rescue, Tarentum ! Tarentum ! they cry ; And backward, afirightcd, the Mosleinah fly ; He is saved — but thy banner, Otranto, is borne Afar by the Moslems, all sullied and torn ! All at once from the rear echo cries of despair. And the heavens are lit with a funeral glare ; The Knights' gay pavilions are gleaming with flame ! The women are crying in anguish and shame ! Lo ! the Turk with his cavalry comes from the rear. With the flashing of sabres, with victory's cheer ; From the camp the death-wailings all dismally rise ; At the breast of its mother the sweet infant dies ; Dies the maiden in shame, by her ravisher's sword. While kneeling her prayers are for mercy outpoured ; For vengeance, for vengeance, O, God ! hear our prayer In this hour of terror, of woe, and despair ! Hark ! hark ! from the field gallant Normandy's shout : " Rally ! rally ! brave Knights, charge again — ^wheel about ! O ! Boemond, fly not — Apulia's afar : Turn, for honor or death, turn again to the war ! $ ! i; 17 *' Turn Tancri'd ! Olrnnto lirs fur from your km ; Wliitlicr lly you ? O, chnrgr, gnllant Tancr«' long nml toihomo wny, Wlio dragged his limbs to Sulem*8 walls, his pious vows to pay : Just Heaven ! the blighting breath of war surrounds the sacred fane ; His humble prayer is laughed to scorn — his march of toil is vain i Look on the Holy City, that hnth kissed a Saviour's feet ! E'en there the unbelieving dog with scorn our prayers would greet ! Then spur the steed, and brace the arm, and shout defiance high. For the trumpet-call hatli sounded^ and the turbaned host is nigh! They come! they come! with hourr& wild, and many a bristling spear, And the war-cry of the Paynim band breaks on the startled ear ! They call, with words of mystery, high-shouted, earr. . prayer, On Mahomet, their Prophet false, his followers to spare ; But we unto the living God our hopeful incense send. While the shouts of rival hosts with words of adoration blend ! Lo! in their van the crescent of bold Saladin afar. Gleams brightly from the lesser host, and lights them to the war ! But our lion-hearted monarch waves aloft his trusty sword ! Then onward ! we will triumph in our arm of strength, the Lord! TIIK SIEGE OF ANTIOCH.* Willi ^lillcriiig spears, with hnnners slifeii, Ami all iIh" glorious pomp of war ; Willi valor in each Knightly iiiii'n, The Christian chivalry from far ; From every vine-clad hill of France, Ami from the banks of lovely Rhine, From Italy and Spain, advance The warrior pilgrims to the shrine Of him who on the Holy Hill Of Calvory his blood outpoured, Oblation meet the wrath to still That o'er the seed of Adam loured : And Britain, sea-girt Isle, hath sent Her heroes in the cause to fight ; All feuds in one great purpose blent, They march to battle for the right. Godfrey De Bouillon first behold. In panoply of burnished steel ; Deftly he doth the saddle hold. Nor may his weight the war-horse feel : 91 In «'(iiim-il rnliii, in iirlinii tli-rn*. And tut Niiniiilinn lion IhiIiI, He can in war llir vantriiaril pirrrc, In council, wiNdoni's planM unfold. In former dayw, when Pilffrinis told, In coHtk* hall, or Ind v^n lH)Wi>r, Of deeds (liat made the Mood run cold, Wrought by tin* benrdeil Moslem's powers On those who to the Holy Shrine, With snndnl shoon, and scallop shell, Went to implore the aid divine, Pardon, perchance, to ask as well ; De Bouillon by the rede would swear, That not with stufTand scrip would he The cross to Pala;stina bear ! His staff the steel-capped lance should be ! And when the glorious tidings burst O'er Christendom, and Europe armed. Among the Crucigerents first. His standard borne, the foe alarmed ! Next him the zealous Hermit, he Who first the Cross to Europe preached, Till thousands, in a surging sea, Zealots, the sacred banner reached ! His features marked, and open brow. The signs of fervent truth unfold ; Sackcloth denotes the Pilgrim's vow ; His sword, the Priest in battle bold ! In order next, a gallant Knight, Rides Hugh, the Count of Vermandois, Blood Prince of France, and in the fight Ever the first his sword to draw ! I i I ■: 33 •'11' II ii il ii Then DtN'inontI, Tnn>niiini*t Priiict*, Who, learning ^irnlli AiiiulA'i wiUl Tli(> glorioiiH ruiiiif, unNhcntlicil hi* swurd, And giviiiff up liin linmd lundH all, Hid batllc-axc on lii^li he fiwiuiK', Till on IiIn armour rraHhing tlirre Thr |M)ndfroii!i blow dcHccndinji; rung ; TiM'nci'fortli hf vowed tht* crons lo k'nr. But long 'twould take their naHU's to tell, Each noble and each gallant KnifUt Who now the Christian vanguard swell, When, tried in nmny an Eoitteiu liglU, In Nerried ranks, with pennon.- gay, Rich streaming on the sun-bright uir, As from the lances' heads they play, To Antioch their forces bear ! From sounding trump, from clarion shrill,. From b(>at of dnmi, and cymbal clash, A warlike strain the air doth fill, lilent with their heavy armour's crash* On ! where the towering palm on high. Untouched, its giant leaves expands ; On ! 'neath the burning, sultry sky j On ! o'er the deserts scorching sands i They spare not spur, nor draw the rein ; Before them Antioch's walls extend : Lo! rising from the l.tin i>enoath, They reach the niouuui ..' immit h' 1. ; And bristling, like u iluuiiy wieath^ Their walls embattled flout the sky ! Still dauntlcssly Uic Ghristion host On o'er the Iron Bridge hath passed : III. « II, ■ 23 TIh' MmsIpuih fly ! 'Phi' ninwork* Irwt, They m . \ ihe struiiK a iiII^1 98 'Tis mi«l-(lny : On tlio (cnlcd field Th«' Chrislian host is iimrshnlltd thero; From glillorinfT casque, nnd polished shield, The sun's hright rays are flashing fair. Forth, from amid the silent ranks. With downcast eyes, and blushing red. While at each step the iron clanks, The guilty fugitives are led : Shame on their brows hath set its seal ; Their eyes they may not lift again ; Each now doth poignant anguish feel, That thus his honor he should stain. Alas ! for the bold Hermit's zeal. That reared the cross in Euroiie high ; Alas ! for Count De Melum's heel, Knocked off his spurs of Knighthood lie. Silent, the Christian host looks on. And gleams distrust from every eye : Not thus the sacred cause is won ; Than thus to live, 'twere better die. Before th' assembled Chieftains now. Prone, on the earth, the traitors lie ; And, murmuring, each repeats the vow. That each must take, or each must die. " Here, on the holy cross, we swear. Come weal, come woe, whate'er betide, We faithfully the cross will bear ; Foremost against the foe we'll ride, Till firmly upon Salem's walls. Victorious, we our banners plant ; 29 Until the Sultan's prowess fnlls; Until no Saracen shall haunt The City where a Saviour died." Aid for the famine stricken host ! Lo ! to Saint Simeon romes u fleet ; Safe, although sorely tempest tossed ; The Latins soon their brethren greet. For Antioch they march. Alas ! A straggling and unwarlike crowd : When, as they gain a rocky pass. They hear the Turkish bugles loud. Down, like the arrow from the bow, With lightning speed, the Moslems bear ; And swift they deal th' unerring blow ; Nor age, nor youth, nor sex they spare. Down, as the wheat in harvest time Beneath the mower's sickle falls ; Down, as to prayer, at evening chime, When from the mosque the muezzin calls, The followers of Mahomet bend : So, 'neath the fiery Moslems' lance The unresisting Christians fall ; Till from the rear-guar»l ({uick advance Lord Boemond's Knights, at bugle call. Backward, the Paynim band they drive ; Then quick retreat — then turn again ; And fighting bravely, still they strive The Christian camp unharmed to gain. \ i I 30 Once lUvrv — " To anus! to arms! " they cry ; " The foe to Antioch wentls his way ; Arm ! arm ! and let our banners fly : Turn out! turn out ! in strength to-day ! '* l!i: M. Hi !i Soon, in hot ha^-te, doth Tancred mount, And from his Esquire takes his lance ; And Knights five hundred you may count. Who witli him 'gainst the foe advance : With speed of wind they prick their way Out, and across the level plain : They see the gleaming crescents play, Hastening the city walls to gain. Now on, by gallant Tancred led. They rush, in one firm phalanx knit; Till half the turbancd host lie dead, And many a Turk the dust hath bit. There, like a meteor, streams the brand Of Tancred on the evening air ; Where'er he waves his red right hand, Death to the foeman follows there. From hill to hill the Paynims fly For safety — but their flight is vain : With gleaming swords, uplifted high. The Knights come thundering in their train ! They reach the bridge — but, woful day ! There, too, the red cross banners wave ; There, too, the Christian bugles play; There, too, they meet a yawning grave : God shrive their souls ! Five thousand men Have perished in that fearful fight ; 31 Tlioir iMxlies in tlir Oronlof* lie; Their souls are plunged in endless niglil. 'Tis mom — within the Christinn ramp, High council keep the Chieftains bold ; The weary days their ardour damp, For still the Turks the ramparts hold. Then up Lord Boemond stands, and says : Sith ye will make me Antioch's King, The means within my power lays Our host within the walls to bring. Scarce spake he, when throughout the tent A loud and angry murnuir creeps ; Swords rattle, sullen brows are bent On him who thus his secret keeps. Quick to his feet De Bouillon springs, And says — " Brave Knights, now say him nay ! Who, to his selfish interest clings. Will never faithful lead the way." And Tancred by the rede hath sworn, " 'Tis shame to Europe's chivalry. That thus their camp, by faction torn, Should e'er give place to rivalry." But Boemond, with angry voice, Swears he will ne'er the secret yield. Till, one and all, they make their choice. Him, as the City's Lord, to shield. Long time in fierce debate they spend ; Long time they argue, loud and high ; Till, wearied, they the council end, And Antioch's walls through Ucason buy. 32 "I'is eve. — The arinor-rurf^cr'H non, A Irnilnr, wiihli and ward dolli keep Wifliiii till' Willis; for prayers aro done, And all, save only Rir/clfacli, sleep. 'Tis inidnii^liJ. — From Mie Clirislian lines Seven hundred Kni^litM, in armour cased, March, where the single guard-light shines, Williin lh«! traitor's watch-lower placed. Silent and firm they spur their way, Across the valley steeped in shade ; Nor gleaming torch, nor brand bear they ; Their march must be in silence made. Sidlen and loud the tempest roars ; The wind in eddying gusts sweeps by ; And, lashing the Orontes' shores, The angry waves are beating high. The Knights beneath the watch-tower stand ; The signal give — then, anxious, pause : Sudden, among them falls a brand ; And then his sword each Chieftain draws. They mount the walls — they win the town ; Their brazen trinnpets loudly blow ; Soon are the Moslem guards cut down. And fast the Turkish blood doth flow. Thus Antioch's walls are won at last ; Their siege hath lingered many a day. 'Tis well — for thitlier bearing fust. The Persian army wends its way. 83 Then g\ory to the Lord on liigli ! To him be glory first of ull : On Antioch^s wiiils our Imnners fly ; Thence nmy tlie reil cross never full ? THE BATTLE OF ANTIOCH.* I. 'Twos yesternight ; in shnnber sound Within his chamber, hiy A Clerk of Provence, wearied By tlie hibours of the day : His dreams were of the far oflf hmd, The joyous hmd of France ; And ladies bright, and gallant Knights^ All mingled in the dance : But, suddenly, a dirfful change Came flitting o'er his dream ; It seemed as if the Moslem banners On the wind did stream : 'Round him the dying and the dead Were mingled on the plain ; iiiTi!^ 34 lie hoard the crashing cymhnl, And the trumpet's loud rcfrai». II. A Moslem's hand was on his throat ; It seemed his dying hour — Alone, unarmed, unaided, Within the Paynim's power. At once, throughout the i athering gloom^ A glorious lustre broke ; And from his slumber etcUting up, The wearied boy awoke. In ves(n»ents such as angels wear, Of pure, unsullied white, Before him then a figure stood, All lun.iiious with light. "Awake! awake from slumbering ! " He heard the spirit say ; " And arm thee for the combat, boy, Or ere the dawn of day.*' III. " What wouldst thou here 1 " all wondering, The dreamful boy replies, And trembles like an aspen leaf. And opens wide his eyes. " Awake ! awake from slumbering ! Before thee stands this night The spirit of Saint Andrew, come To nerve thee for the fight. I romr, by Hrnvon's high Ix-hpsi, A incsscnpfdr to thoc ; Hear hut iiiy words — the Mosleinali B«'fore the Cross shull llci'. In Peter's Church of Aniiocli, Within the chancel, lies A precious relic, hidden From the uuhclievers' eyes — XV. " The spear that pierced our Saviour's side. All clotted with his blood, Fresh, as when from his wounded side Poured forth the sacred Hood. To-morrow, at the earliest dawn, Ir solemn march, and slow, Let all the Christian host to seek The holy relic go. Go, all the priesthood in their robes, With fasting and with prayer. And let each Christian Prince and Knight, And each Esquire be tiiere. Awake! awake from slumbering! Hie thee to Godfrey's tent. And bear to hifti this message, boy, Before the night be spent. V. " And w'hen the holy lance is found, Then sallv fm the foe : 36 . * GcnI willii it !' TliiiM liiK rollnwcm Their fcM'iiwn nIiiiII (»'cr(lirow." He H|K)ki' — and vw (Ih* Nolniin voict; In Nilcnn> died away, Hin radiant form had niched, Like (lie waning' li^'ht of day. High noon \s Nircaniinfr iUnvn upon Bch'agni'rcd Anlioch's wails : No nior«^ ♦' To prayers! " from minaret The hoarse Mnc/'/in calls ; No more the silver oresrenl i^leams From every dome on hijjh ; No more the Turkish standards from Every watch tower fly. VI. But clothed in Christian mitre. And in vestments snowy white, The Bishop, Adhemar of Puy, Performs a sacred rite. Barefooted, as a pilgrim At the sepulchre of God, With fervent faith and holiness. And contrite meekness shqiil. He leads a long procession forth. And offers up a prayer Unto their God Omnipotent, The Christian host to spare. The dream-revealed lance they seek, By Heaven's high command ; t7 And ii(M)n, liy iliniiiianilN rrnwdint; in, Witliin tht' Cliiirt'li tiity Nlaiid. Til. Now to llu' vaiihcd roof llicrr rinjjs The vriisU of iron mail, Ah, cluthcd in armour, km-cl lli<< Knif^'lilN The sn'Ted hmre to liail. " Not unto ns, O (Jctd !— to Tlice Doth victory lichtnj,' ! " Thus in tlie sainted P.'sahniMt\s words, They raist- a choral song : Clarion and (rump, in' wild accord, Swell up the solemn strain ; The voices of the choristers Shout, " Human streufjth is vain ! Not unto us, God ! to Thee Doth victory iieloujo;' !" Thus, prayerfully, the hymn of praise Is home the air along. i* I VIII. From forth the vault ascending Now, the Clerk of Provence stands ; And lo ! the lance, all red with blood, He beareth in his hands. From marble floor to vaulted roof. Then rings the loud acclaim ; And thousands shout, " God fights for us! Hosannah to his name ! " 38 Briglit is the dawn one sultry day In the snnimer month of June ; The Christian host must sally forth, Or yield to famine, soon : From the citadel of Antioch A black flag waves on high. To warn the catnp of Kerbogah, The hour of strife is nigh. m 1- ^^i|: IX. 'Tis morning — within Antioch's walls The clash of arms is hoard, As by the martial bugle's note Each warlike heart is stirred. By ghastly famine worn and wan, But valourous and bold. The bravest Knights of Christendom Are in the ranks enrolled. The victors of an hundred fields, All cased in burnished steel. No more into the saddle vault. With golden arm6d heel ; But still with dauntless courage filled, And nerved with holy hope. On foot, amid the ranks, they march, With Kerbogah to cope. X. Forth from the gates they issue, In one tumultuous throng. Half arnieil, Ixit, hy the ho|M; of aid Celestial, borne alonjr. Magnificently then there hursts Upon their achinc^ sight A host three hundred thousand strong, All nuirshalled for the light : Then singing to the Lord of Hosts Unnunilwred hymns of joy, The Christian soldiers from the gates In serried ranks deploy. On high each warrior Bishop The sacred Cross upholds ; Each banner-bearer to the winds His Chieftain's flag unfolds. XI. Some in the saddle, some on foot. The Christian Knights advance, With broadsword and with battle-axe. With falchion, spear, and lance. There Adhemar, in Knightly guise, With helm and nodding crest, Leads on the van, with fearless mien, Nor doth from carnage rest. Couched for the charge, the holy lance He levels at the foe ; And swings his battle-axe on high. To deal a pond'rous blow. Light on the grass the bright dew rests. And flashes in the mom : iil ■■) h I J: ■: I ' i I ..4 M ll II )i ■f-liiii 40 All natun*, l)oaiiiing, smiles upon The Christiun host forlorn. XII. Onward, with bounding hearts, they march. But silently and slow ; In steady phalanx moving. To the neighbouring hills they go. What time the Christian warriors Without the gate emerged, Courier on courier, in hot haste, The Persian chieftain urged. " Up L up ! most mighty Capitaun, And arm thee for the fray ; The Christian dogs e'en now Unto the mountains wend their way I Up ! up ! with lance and banner ! See — across the bridge they rush, And a flame of livid fire seems Before their host to rush ! " XIII. But scornfully the Vizier Each breathless courier hears ; Or chides them, with impetuous wrath. For their unmanly fears, Until without his tent is raised A clamour and a shout : The cry is — " They are down on us ! The vanguard, lo ! they rout." i 41 Then Kerhognti, amazed, springs up. And niounls his battle steed ; He sees the Christian host Across the bridge defiling speed ; He sees the men who guarded it Thrown headlong in the stream ; And wakes to warlike energy, As men wake from a dream ! XIV. To horse ! to horse ! cries Soliman ; And twice ten thousand men, With lightning speed, a circuit make, Lord Boemond's rear to win. Far to the right a flame extends, And wildly leaps on high ; And smoke, in rolling volumes poured, The wind comes sweeping by : But, nathless, on the Moslemah Charges the Christian host ; Deeply the lance is died in blood ; On high the broadsword tossed ; Fast fly the steel-capped arrows ; Fast fall the newly slain ; The Christians, fighting hand to hand, The Turks bear back amain. XV. Back, to the tent of Kerbogah, The beaten vanguard press ; ! i| i I u I 43 And, rushing in, the Christian Knights TIk; God of battU's bless ! Hark ! from the rear a thunder-sound, The tramp of many feet ; Emerging from the smoke, behold ! The Moslem squadrons fleet. Ten thousand horsemen chari^e in line, With the fierce Arab cry ; And, hurled with an unerring aim, The steel-capped javelins fly. On high the gleaming scimitars Above their heads they wave ! Now figlit ye, gallant Templar Knights, For glory or the grave ! XVI. Lord Tancred heard, and turned him round. Then spurred his jaded steed ; And through the flame, and smoke, and heat. He dashed with headlong speed. De Bouillon, and the gallant Count, Lord Hugh of Vermandois, In mid career of victory, Tarentum's danger saw ; Then on they spurred, and riding down. With every lance in rest. Back, 'mid the rolling smoke and flame, The Moslem horse they pressed. But Kerbogah again came up. And charged them in the rear j ii 43 Yet never did one Cliristian heart Yield to ignoble fear ! xvn. For there, upon a milk-white steed, Rode Adheinar, of Puy ; And there, before the sacred lance, Proud Kerbogah did flee. Like the avenging angel's sword. Where'er it smote, there fell Death, havoc, and disaster. Among the dogs of hell ! Hark ! how the shouts of " Victory ! " Resound o'er all the plain ; In serried ranks the Christian Knights Rush to the charge again ! " Heed not the rolling clouds of smoke ; Heed not the blazing heath ; Ye fight for noble victory. Or yet more noble death ! " XVIII. Paleth the silver crescent. Gleams red the fiery cross ! The Persian Sultan liveth not To count his deadly loss ! Full fifty thousand Turks lie low Upon the battle field, No hand to wield the scimitar, No arm to raise the shield ! THE TROUBADOUR TO THE CAPTIVE HICHARD C(EUR DE LION.* 1'' i O ! Richard, my King, lion-hearted, behold From thy prison, near which the dark waters are rolled ; 'Tis Blondell the foithful, whose troubadour lay Would win the sad 'houghts of his monarch away ; As David of old, when he played before Saul, Could banish the demon of woe at his call. II nti^' II. ! King of the lion-heart, oft hath thy sword Gleamed bright in the fight, for the cause of the Lord : How the Saracens trembled, and Saladin fled ! How thy pathway was cumbered with dying and dead ! The plume on thy helmet flew on like a bird, Where, as by the simoom, the Moslems were stirred. III. iliii! Or when, in the tourney, thy long lance in rest, Thy spurs, all of gold, to thy charger's flank pressed ; With a bound, through the lists, to the tilt rushing on, Down hurling some Templar, or Knight of Saint John ; ijiiiiii; 46 Whi'ii the heralds were crying — Brave Kiii^htH ! have a care ; Upon ye are beaming the eyes of the fair ! IV. ! then, with what grace, from yotir steed vaulting off, Your helmet, all plumed, to the ladies you 'd doff; How you smiled, bent the knee, to the Queen Berengcre,' While thousands of handkerchiefs waved in the air ! How the charger of Saladin, proud you bestrodt', And, fearless, to conquer the gallant Turk rode ! V. ! England, arise ! for thine honour advance. And punish the traitor-king, Philip of France ; Spread out thy broad standard — " Saint George !" be the cry; To rescue our Richard, brave cavaliers, fly ! Alas ! in the dungeons of savage Tyrdl, No hope ever comes to the poor captive's soul ! VI. Alas ! in her bower the Queen ever weeps. And treason o'er all thy hroad realm, England, sweeps ! Thy brother hath risen, and seized on the Crown, And still the usurper no hand hurleth down. Doth England forget Casur de Lion 1 0, no ! For him the bright tears of her people still flow. * Berenguia. I use the Frencli word fur the sake of the rhyme. mm li 46 VII. On my soul there comes rusliing a foresight of woe, And before ine long years of the dark future flow. Tlie Pahice of Austria, proud Schoenbrunn, The Gaul hath invaded, the conqueror won. Long years have gone by, but the Heavens are just, And Austria's hopes trodden down in the dust. VIII. \ r fill But ere the avenger shall rise in his might, Long ages will pass, wherein wrong conquers right; Months and years, it may be, shall flow over thy head ; Thy people will mourn thee, believing thee dead ; But now, and forever, there beats in one heart Devotion, that living, shall thence never part. II, h qj. IX. Coeur de Lion, farewell ! But again, when at eve The world sunk in slumber, thy gaolers believe ; ! then 'neath these battlements sternly that frown, I'll weep for thy wrongs, and I'll sing thy renown. King of England, farewell ! for the night falleth fast. And I hear the dull tramp of the sentry at last. THE BATTLE OF TIBERIAS.' 'Tis noon of night : Long since the sultry sun hath sunk to rest ; Long since the purple light of eve hath doffed its gorgeous vest. Tiio banners of the Cross are furled ; the snow white tents are spread ; The hum is still — that host might seem an army of the dead ! The champions of Christendom lie there on every side ; But, parched with thirst, they cry aloud for Gennesar's * bright tide. Reveille/, ! On their standards, lo ! the early dawn doth rest ; It gleameth upon helm and sword, streams o'er each Knightly crest, Proud banners, waving pennants, and the lance's head of steel, And the golden spur that flasheth from the Templar's arnidd heel ! To arms ! to arms ! The Saracen and Saladin are there ; The Moslems' early orisons are borne upon the air ! The crescent gleameth whitely from the Sultan's proud array, And on his crimson banners doth in silver beauty play ! • The Lake of Gennesareih. 48 I M^f fi.ii;l l^ikr the snow upon tlio niounlnin top, in myriads holiold Tin; tiirlmns of ihe Osmuniis, and Arab tribfs untold ! The Cliristian host is up in arms ! To some war-breathing strain, In serried ranks, the Templars proudly prick across the plain ! And now one moment pauseth there that plumed and steel-clad band ; Then, with their war-cries rending Heaven, they spurn the yielding sand ! Great God ! it was a gallant sight the Templar Knights to view. As, cased in triple harness, on their thundering s(|uadrons flew ! The pride of Europe's chivalry, dread thunderbolts of war. Resistless, on the foe they rolled — earth-shaking wide and far! The Moslemah may tremble now ; their infantry shall fall, And bite the dust in agony, and loud on Allah call ; The horsemen of the desert on their fleetest steeds shall fly, And Fak-Ed-Deen, their leader, on Mahomet shall cry ; Already they are on them — when, from out the very earth, A long unbroken line of flame springs up from sudden birth ! The sapless grass, the lowly shrubs, burn fiercely into light. That flashes on the armour of each gallant Christian Knight ! They may not stay ! They mingle with the densely rolling smoke ; The warrior priests are stricken — their goodly ranks are broke. .Mah Akbar! rends the skies ; and down the Moslem horsemen bear. While flights of arrows, winged with death, are rustling in the air ! Then sabre broad, and scimitar, and steel-y-pointed lance, Now reek with blood of foemen slain — now in the flame-light glance ! Now hclin-clad licmls are cluvrn — now ili<' rntiiin^^ nrinour rings, And loud defiance to his fuc ench warrior Cliiertnin Hings ! But vainly doth the blood of £uro{}e'8 Knightliood frrt-ly flow ; Hospitallers,* and Templars, vainly deal the poiuProus blow ! In vain doth Lidda's Bishop high the holy Cross uprear ! A panic, presaging defeat, hath struck th(> host with fear. They fly ! The sacred Cross is ta'en ! and captive is the King ! And Montserrat, and Chatillon, in triumph, lo ! they bring ! 0, field of woe ! we mourn o'er thee, for glory waneth now ! Alas ! again the red cross to the crescent pale must bow ! f THE AMULET. « ustling in ! listen Knights and ladies all, A fytte to you I '11 sing ; About the far off Syrian land. And Baldwin, our good King. ance, lame-light • Knights of S:. John. tThe facta on which this Poem are founded were drawn from "Traits of Saracenic Chivalry " in a late number of the Dublin University Magazine. The Poem was published in " The Church." I have made one or two verbal alterations in it since. G 1 >l ! 50 A K«illant, courtly Kniglil \iv wnH, And l>rav»', i\s Itruvf ciwild \yv ; And kindly was tlu; inonurcli's hearf, Though great h'la majesty. Bold Saladin his archers sent, The Christians to annoy, Who, mounted on their wind-swift builw, Did all the land destroy. In fiery troops they scoured the plain, Rode to the City's gate ; And mony a pilgrim wending there, Unwitting met his fate. Then Baldwin on the cross did swear, Kissing his good sword hilt, For every drop of Christian blood A Moslem's should bo spilt ! Then mounted he his charger black. And took his lance in hand. And forth, with goodly company. He rode to rid the land. And fast, and far, he galloped tiien, And gallantly did work, To chase from out his royal realm The unbelieving Turk. r*\ On llir iliirk nir iIh* bnlc-firrs rrw««, Anil llitslu'il wiili liiriti lit;lii ; Anil the llnnirs of Musloni villiigf<4 Burned fiercely evory niglil. The mother from her infant son In agony did Hy, And loudly upon Allah railed, " ! save us, or we die ! " The maid*'ii from her lover's arms In wild alFright was torn ; And the father cursed th' unlucky hour In which his child was born ! Ami W'lfnl was our monarch then : Ho could not all restrain The anger fierce that, sad to tell. Did Knightly honour stain. But from the sickening task he turned, And homeward went his way, For pardon for his followers, At the holy shrine, to pray. 'Twas mid-day — o'er the desert lone King Baldwin rode his way ; The sun was sultry — and no breeze Did with his banners play* i - -.If -■ '■ : k 1 53 1 k '■ Like islands in the waste of sand, H A Apart full many a mile, The palm groves rose from out the plain, In Oriental style. I. 1 Aloft, in solitary pride, > 1 'i' The palm its leaves outspread ; 1 1 i; ■ But all beside was desolate — : ■ !■ A region of the dead ! |!i i In heavy mail and cuirass clad. The Knights were faint with heat. ; !-:''i^ For on the brightly polished steel 1 h The sun's rays fiercely beat. 1 r ' They stopped beneath a palm grove's shade, ', To rest them on their way ; \ And there, in mortal agony, ll ; ! An Arab woman lay. i ' if jj i i ! shame that e'er of Christian Knights ' Should tnle like this be told ! i ilm! I And shame upon the warrior's heart, 1 I To tender mercy cold ! •■ 1 1 { There stepped a Knight from out the ranks, And would have pierced her through ; But the King struck up the lance's hejid, And dark his visage grew. I 68 The Knight, abashed, Nlirunk back in shaino, Nor e'er a word lie said ; The King from ofr his charger got, And raised her aching head. " Lone woman ! wherefore art thou here In this untrodden spot 1 " But she did naught but sorely groan, And still she answered not. Beneath tlie vaulted arch of Heaven, With none to aid that day, A mother, in her hour of need. The Paynim woman lay. " And, ! for Allah's sake," she cried ; And fast her bosom heaved ; And though the King no word could tell. His heart was sorely grieved. For, well-a-day ! the King could see Her travail li, was sore ; And knowing that no help was nigh. He pitied her the more. Then off he took his Knightly cloak, And covered her with care, To shelter her from shameless gaze, While she her babe did bear. 54 And to his trusty Sf|uirrs lie said, " I leave her in your cliargo ; And if ye well fulfil your trust, Ye shall have guerdon large ! " The Kinj hath mounted his good steed, And left his Es(|uirc8 three. With camels and attendants there, To help, if help might be. M The day had waned — at set of sun His glories fast did fade Far in the west, and all the world Was steeped in sudden shade. Then, just as the red sun went down, Zuleika's babe was born ; And joyfully she wept o'er it, Her little child forlorn ! I n %: And in strange tongue, which they, alas ! Could never understand. She murmured out her thanks, that she Had met a helping hand. Then up, at midnight hour, there rode An Arab to the grove. And on Zuleika's name he called, In tlnilling tones of love. 66 One glad embrace, and then she told How in that fearful hour The Christian King had covered her, And saved her by his power. With gratitude her husband's heart. At hearing this, o'erttowed, And otroight untu the King's Esquires He turned, and lowly bowed. " May Allah bless your King ! " he said, *^ And bless his offspring, too. Tell him the hour may come when I Can him like service do : ** That in the desert-wanderer's breast His memory aye shall dwell. I swear it, by the Caaba's stone, I yet shall serve him well ! " He salaamed low — he doffed his cap. And kissed each Esquire's hand ; " And is there aught that I can do ? " He said : " If so, command ! " Then out an Esquire spoke, and said : *' Some token we would bring. That we his royal will have done, To shew unto our King." I ;l. 66 Quickly the Arab Chief replied : " Your wish shall he obeyed ; Beai to your King this Amulet, Of treble virtue made. ** If e'er in danger he should be, Then let him guard it well ; It bears within a charmed power, A holy, magic spell ! " My mother, on her dying bt^d, To me the secret told ; Since then, I know a wondrous power The casket doth enfold." A year hath flown, 'mid war's alarms, The battle-field's red glare ; And Baldwin, by the Mc^lems pressed, Is filled with grim despair ! Besieged, he lies at Ramula, After the fatal day When the Turkish host, in myriads, His bravest Knights did slay. With mournful air, the Christian King Doth in tlie castle sit, And memories of happier days Before him dimly flit. 67 Beneath the rainpait wall encamped, He sees the Turkish host ; The horsemen of Damascus, The Syrian pride and boost. Th?y swarm without, in fierce array But fifty Kniglits within Are there to die upon the walls, Ere they tlic ramparts win ! He looks upon the Amulet, And to himself doth say, " O ! would that the brave Aral) Were here to aid this day ! " %. 'Tis dewy eve — and darkness shrouds The castle and the camp ; And naught the sullen silence breaks, Save the lone sentry's tramp. Suddenly, at the gate, appesirs An Arab, all alone, And at the postern gate !ie seeks The monarch to be shown. Straight to the King they lead him then, And he falls upon his knci'. And thus he speaks — " O ! mighty King ! Long may you happy be ! II J !\ )i 19' j^ " Wlien on U»e Note 6, page 44. — I cannot recollect where I read the story of Blomlell, or Blundell, discovering the dungeon of the royal captivoj G(Bur de Lion, by traversing Germany, and singing beneath the walls of every fortress an air wdl known to his^ royal master ; till at length the King from his dungeon ■ answered it, and thus- his prison was known. "How the Saracens trembled, and Saladin fled!" How thy pathway was cumbered with dying and dead .' " Speaking of Richard L : " We learn," says Gibbon, " from the evidence of his enemies, that the King of England, grasp- ing his lance, rode furiously along their front^ from the right to the left wing, without, meeting with au adversary who tUvred to encounter his career. Am I writing the history of Orlando or Aniodis? " Note 7, page 47. — See tli© note at page 49. This Poem was first published as a " Hynm " of the Crusaders ; but the title was so obviously incorrect, tliat I am glad to avail myself of the opportunity of correcting it. Note 8, page 49, eic.-r—THE. Amulet is founded' in fact. I' wish it had something more to say for itself. See JoMae^/ii; 18V« KUtt0trAtlon0 of DiUlr ^totorfi. p The rain At lengr THE DELUCiE. In thunder from the throne of GcmI, amid the henvenN iip- renred, The hiighling words of doom tame down, l)y sinful ni 'tals feared ; And Noah heard the awful voice with trenihiiii ' and in fear — "Prepare, thou man of God! tlie day of vc ig«'u \ce now is near ! " Now six score years have rolled away, and then upon the world, Down, ceaselessly — morn, noon, and night — the rains of heaven are hurled. Hark to the city's hum at eve! Gay harlots revel tliere ; Freely they quaff the ruby wine with light and wanton air : But while they drink, and dance, :^' d sing, down conies the plashing rain, And, suddenly, upheave and swell the surges of the main. Obedient to the word of God, within the sacred ark The Patriarch, with liif? suns, goes forth upon the waters dark. The fountains of the deep unlock ; the great lakes grow amain ; And torrents from the mountain-top come thund'ring o'er the plain : The rain, the dismal rain, descends in one unceasing flood ; At length a dreary ocean rolls where the gay city stood. (i(> l\i ! IjJ), lip, tliry cliiiih wliii call, (t» rncks, ur hills, «»r ffiaiil In-i-s ; WaiiH'd l»y iIh" lurid lifflidiiiifr's Hasli of i'vcr f,'ro\ving m'ns ! Hcncatli, the weak and lit-Ipless stand — the surges oVr tlu'iii swt'cp, .\nd they with the dead are numbered, who lie beneath the d«H'p. Up ! up ! unto the mountains, let the mother bear her child, The lover save his mistress from the foaming waters wild ; Up ! up ! unto the mountains — the hoary peaks that rise Beyond the ken of human eye — till the last mortal dies. Climb on ! climb on ! the waves are rolling dark and deep beneath ; Stop not to look behind ye — pause not to draw your breath ! L«'t the bridegroom, from the wedding-feast up-springing, bear his bride ; Let the anguished daughter cling unto the father by her side : Or be each human tie forgot ; careering madly on, Let the father from his garments loose the wild grasp of his son. Up, to the highest mountains — up, to the snow-capped peak The doomed ones fly, a shelter from the wrath of heav'n to seek. In vain ! in vain ! forever press the angry waves behind, Rising, with solemn, fearful march, the last of men to find. Down flow the ceaseless torrents — upheaves the angry main ; As each tall cliff is covered, hark ! the cry of human pain ! But still, upon the waves upborne, the ark majestic rides — The Covenant of God, amid the wreck of worlds, abides. (I ii Behold ! upon a mountain high the last doomed mortal stands, And, with appealing gaze to heaven, he lifts his clenched hands ; ffiis^ ()7 Bcnoalli liiin still tlic \v;i\i>s incn'iiso ; ilic ualrrs lavr W\h fivt. And wildly roar, as if o'crjoycd, liiiii, their last prry, fo inert! He riasps his Itrow — his frenzied eye nmnis o'er the waters wild, And lo ! unto his fi-et they l>ear his son, his only rhild ! 'Twas yt'sternifjht u]wn a rock down fathom deep below, O'er which the troubled waters now in noisy triumph flow : The boy had clasped his father's arm, unnerved by wild aiTright, When the fatlier, maddened, flung him back into the realm of night ! And now before his murdered child the heartless nutrderer stands, And lifts appealing eyes to heaven, and clasps his guilty hands. But the surge rises — on it comes, one unrelenting flood, The instrument of wrath divine — avenger, too, of blood ! And when into the raging waves sinks down the guilty soul, His mingled curse and prayer above the giant ocean roll ! Look out upon the formless void, the world of waters wide ; Can aught of hope on yonder wat'ry desert be descried ] Yes ! emblem of the Hope and Faith that heaven to mortals gives, Behold ! the ark — the covenant — above the waters lives ! There dwell the favoured family of Noah in the ark ; There sweetly sings the nightingale — there carols gay the lark ; Of ev'ry insect, beast, and bird, the olden world had known, A pair in safety wait until the weary days are flown ! And underneath the vasty deep that rideth still so high, Uprooted from their rocky beds, the ancient mountains fly. In undistinguishable forms they lie beneath the main : On all the formless face of earth hath rhaos come again. 68 'Tis done! — a niiprhty wind from heaven, lashing the stormy main, Fast sweeps away the murky clouds of late surcharged with rain. Forth from tlio ark a raven sent, returnetli to and fro, And the gentle dove at first no rest can find on earth below ; But hieing forth again to search, an olive leaf she brings ; Then with her mate she flies away W'th light and joyous wings. And now the ark on Ararat hath rested firm and fast, And from the earth the dreary waves have dried away at last. In heaven appears a glorious arch, that spans the world out- spread. An everduring token that the wrath of heaven hath fled,, THE TOWER OF BABEL I. On the plain of Shinar standing, A vast tower ascends the sky ; Earth-born against heaven-born banding. Stone on stone they rear on high. 69 II. See the busy fliotjsnnds labour, Ever luboiirinf,'-, diiy by day ; Vieing each one willi bis ncijr|il,our ; Heavenward making still ibcir way ! III. Slowly rises, still increasing. The bold mass of brick jind lime ; Still, with energy increasing, Heav'nward the mortals climl)! J: IV. But they ask not aid supernal : Impious their dread design : Bold defying the Eternal ; They forget his power divine. V. 'Round the walls, afar extending, Winds a labyrinthine way ; Horses, oxen, men, are wending. With their burdens, there each day. VI. Upward, still, the structure creepeth — Up, amid the ether blue ! 'Round it still the pathway sweepeth, 'Til from earth 't is lost to view. ■■■V «J 70 VII All the oai(li-l)orn tlicro combining, Sp* iking but onmples, where the gods of granite stand, Thousands and millions, more ami more, they crawl on every hand j !:■ 1'^ 76 Tri PImrnoli's imlacc, lo ! llu-y cr<'«'|> oVr all tin* royal food ; Tliry (aim. Jlu* savoury viands — \\u' foul and iioisotuc hrood ! Thousands and millions, more and more, new legions onward lly; Fresh swarms sweep on to fill the plact; of myriads more that die ! The voice of woe in Egypt cries of famine and of pain ; The husbandman that mourns the loss of nil his goodly grain ; Amid the grief, and woe, and fear, a darkness, as of hell, O'er nil the Nile's broad valley doth in mystic horror dwell. •^HE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. Morning breaking, breaking brightly OVr the valley of the Nile ; O'er her thousand giant temples ; O'er each lofty granite pile, Where the Sphynxes grimly sitting — Sitting staidly all the while — Moveless always, stern and passionless, On mortals never smile ! 77 Wondrous cntpim ! — woniiioiis luviplc ! Who to niarhlc, life Imvc given ! With your art our nr>, contnulinjr, Ilath ill vain for ngcs Ntrivcn. Who shall win from yt; tin- lnur»'Is — In thr mystic secrets dive — That, amid the rolling centuries, Have bid your genius live ? Sunlight gleaming, gleaming whitely On the river broad and fair ; On the palm whose leaves are waving, Gently waving in the air ! On the city's streets 't is shining. Shining down with heat and glare ; And the mart seems all deserted. And the burning streets are bare ! But the sound of warriors arming Comes from out the monarch's hall, And the sound of pipe and tabor Beating still tlio battle-call ; And the heavy roll of chariots Rumbling, on the ear doth file stale; Now, \m Hoiil willi an^er hiiriiing, Mow, his heart with pride elute ! ■HI r ri P! Thousand steeds the chist arc trauipling- Streaiiiing on the wind tlieir manes! Snowy white llieir fjhwsy coats are — Prondly swell (hi'ir piirph- veins! They are clianiping' on tlie steel-hits, Pulling fiercely at the reins ; Dashing onward, ever onward, O'er the hroad and level plains ! I! i Sons of Israel ! chosen people ! Ye are wandering far away ; Through the desert, parched and dri'ary, Through the desert lone ye stray ! Led divinely from your bondage. Ye the voice of God obey ; And by the Red Sea's shore encamp, By the waning light of day. Hark ! behind ye rolls the fury And the burning breath of war! Like the dread Sirocco, breathing Hame, Comes Pharaoh on his car ! And before, with stormy breakers, Rolling ever from afar, Uplifteth I he Red Sea its waves, To your onward path a bar. 7!» RiM llio V(M*'(> of (iihI, ill Ii>iii|m*mI hrratli, ('iirccrinjj: <»ii llif wind, Cnti llic iiiiiflily watcis loosm, Can the ^iaiit. \vav(*s iin 'muI ; Though niysicrioiisly (heir cssi'iico Is all hlriit and iiitrrlwini'd, Ho can hid thcni roll disscvfird, Or sweep onward unconlincd ! Down comes the fierce Kj^yplian host Where the Red Sea rolls amain ; Where the II(!bre\v tents are fair out-spreail On Baal/ephon's plain. Down-rushing, lo ! their Captains come, In the pomp of battle vain ; In one hand the javelin hearing, In one hand the guiding rein ! Hark ! the Lord in thunder speaking, Saying from the heavens on high : " Wherefore nKuinur ye, my people] Never doubting, onward lly ! For I, your God, Omnipotent — I, the Lord of Hosts, am nigh ; And their horsemen, and their charioteers. Before your eyes shall die ! " And, lo! from yonder rock outstretched. Looking down upon the sea, (Growing fathom deep beneath whose waves Fair spreads the coral tree) , I 80 Tlirn*, llio rod of Mosos wnvinji, Hfiiiiiiff Ilciivcirs jTicnl (Iccrrc, HitldcJii llir waves nsiiiuU'r part — Bids ocean backward the ! See ! mysteriously tliey 're moving, Rolling back on either side; See! the waves for ages bU-nding — Parting now, t!i(! wavt's divide ! Roaring back, witli voice of thunder, Pressing back, a mighty tide. Leaving open a dry patliway. Firm and solid, fair and wiile ! It is morning. Aaron leadeth All the hosts of Israel through ; All the tribes are onward moving. Men and women, children too ! And on cither side, all lloating In the world of waters blue, There the dwellers in the vasty deep With wondering eyes they view ! \i J \4! B h There they see the beauteous dolphin. Sporting ever, golden-hued ; There the hideous shark is grinning, Staring fierce in hungry mood ! And with glancing scales of silver, Now of azure, float the brood Near the army as it passes, By the sight of wonder wooed. HI Rut now, iiiriiin '• '^ " Would ye the infants' jEfrowth await — Wttit 'lil the spring of iiiunliood came? Shall the young dove not seek a niato, Ere (led is love's celestial flame 1 Turn ye again, my daughters, turn ! Go ! and among your people seek Brave youths with ardent love, who burn To kiss the toais from cither's cheek ! " Then bitterly again the} wept, Those young and lovely sisters, lone ; And o'er the mind of Orpah swept Thoughts that her lips would never own ! Turning, she went, with downcast eye ; But Ruth, the gentle Ruth, remained ; Her gaze was steadfast, firm and high, Though her fair cheek with tears was stained ! i: " Behold ! thy sister-m-law hath gone — Gone to her gods and kindred back ! Go ! leave me wretched and alone, And follow in thy sister's track ! Thy husband from thine arms is torn ; Tile tie that bound me to thy side, By the i'ell hand of dt-ath, is shorn ; And thou muy'-st with thy friends abide ! " m Then Ruth her bi-aniin? face upraised, That shone with undiminis'iea love, And OH Naomi s>\ irily gnzed : " Wouldstihou,''' she said, " my courage prove ? " KS.;»siiac- 87 O! ask nn' not lliy siilo to Icnvf, Thou motlicr of my liiislmnd dear ! For I will ever to thee cleave ; My place through life shall still Ik* here ! *♦ Whither thou goest I will go ; The humble roof that shelters thee, No other home I'll ever know Than that loved roof, where'er it be ! Thy people shall be mine, and where Ttiou diest, there too I will die ! Thy Grod shall hear my fervent prayer, Upborne to Him in Heaven on high ! " ! ask me not thy side to leave ! Let me but near thee ever dwell ; Still to my husband's mother cleave, Whom I have loved so long, so well. And when this weary life hath ceased, And each within the grave is laid. Our love in happier worlds increased. We'll wander through the realms of shade ! " 9 THE n ; WiTCH OF ENDOR. i ■;- i^i ' '■; iflj r ^. ifl :n oB : * H 1 uil r',: i The thunder clouds arc looming up o'er all the murky sky ; The winds, unprisoiied, rage and roar, as through thsj air they hie ; And Saul, with troubled heart, goes forth at Endor to a cave, Where a lone prophet woman dwells, within her living grave ; For mournful is the monarch's heart — the Philistines bear down ; In martial order marching, they bear to Ramah's town j And on the mount of Gilboa, down-looking on the land, The armies of the Philistines — the foes of Israel — stand. til: The livid lightnings Hash along the darkling veil of night, Illumining the ancient hills with swift departing light ! The hollow thunders roll along, or burst with sudden crash ; And ever on the moistened earth the rains descending dash. At length the monarch ;?tands alone within the wizard's cave. Anxious the words of fate ro bear — the voice of doom to brave. There, sitting in a sullen mood, her bands upon her face, He sees an ancient Saga sif, alone in that drear place. W) A veil of smoke ix-rvades the cave, mid seeks llie upper air ; A dampness liaiijirs iipun the walls, all dripping, rold, ami bare ! There, simmering in a cauldron huge, upon the -isiouldering coal, Dank herbs their noisome exhalations 'round the chamU'r roll ; And ever and anon the withered prophetess throws in Some foul and fu>tid living thing, with all its mottled skin ! With haggard look, she sees the monarch stand within her cave ; And her locks, like serpents writhing, around her shoulders wave ; Her eye beams with intensest light — there 's fury in her gaze. Glowing, as if there burned within, a fiend-like, hellish blaze! " O! wherefore art thou liere?" she cried, threatening with outstretched arm ; "Hast thou a talisman to save from witchcraft and from harm 1 Turn, ere my spirits 'round thee press, and drag thee down to hell, When never shall your cruel fate your weeping kinsmen tell ! Turn, ere the mother who bore thee, her son would ik ver;know ! Turn, ere the wrathful fiends of hell around their victim How ! " " ! hear me, woman ! " cried the King — " I come thine aid to ask : Canst thou the dead ni'Mi disinter? — then quick [)eifonii thy task ! " 1. 90 " Niiw, foul Ix'l'iil tlu'c," fries llic witcli, " llial iiii' to ileal Ii woiildst briii^ ! TIkhi knowesl tW\n tWmfr f(»rl)i(l(len is by Saul, otir iniijlily Kiiif? ; 'I'lioii knowt'Ht how his sword hulh slain the wizards of ihe IhikI, Ami tliose who raise faniiliur spirits with a magic wand ! "' "Now, hy tlie living God!" cried Saul, "I sw«'ar (o tlicc this day, No luirni shall happen t(» thee, if thon dost my words obey." Then spake the hag, with fiendisli laugh, that echoed through the cave : " And who is he whom thou wouldst see fresh risen from the grave? " " Bring up the Prophet Samuel, who dead in Ramah lies, In all his ghostly cerements in which he mouldering lies." Then o-» r the seething cauldron, bending down, the withered witch Moved round and round, with rapid hand, a slender hazel switcli ; And fast the volumed steam went up, and fast the cauldron boiled : In vapoury wreaths it rose, and upward tlirough the cavern coiled ! *n TIh' liiitf rcrnilrd aixl shrilly s<-r(>nincil, willi iciror iiixl iifTri<;lil ; Fill soon llirr*' hiir^l tVniii out llir <>iir(li ii luiirlit iinciirllilx liu^lil ! Anil to llit> iiidiiiiri'li thus s\iv ixikc, in aiii;rr an5^ ***> <^ J f ■ i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 ^^ Ui ^s ■» m 12.2 ^ V Sciences Carparation 23 WIST MAIN STMH wnSTII,N.Y. 14SM (716)l7a-4S03 4r ^ ^•^ ^ ^ Ci^ 92 The nionnrcli saw ftiid knew ilie form — the Prophet loved of old, A chill ran through his shiv'ring frame, that made liini icy cold ! He bowed his head unto the earth, until the shade swept by — Until a hollow voice proclaimed, the risen dead was nigh ! " Why hast thou me disquieted, and wherefore called me here ?" The phantom said in measured tones, sepulchral, deep, and clear. " ! Prophet, I am sore distressed, and anguished is my heart ; The favour of the Lord of Hosts now doth from me depart : No more in dreams He answers me, nor will the Prophets hear. Though Philistines against me ma'.ch, with banner, sword, and spear ! To Urim He will answer none, nor to my fervent prayer : Therefore, I would that thou, the dead, to me His will declare." " 0, King ! thy glory wnneth, and thy kingdom fades away ! The Lord of Hosts is angered and wroth with thee this day ! Wherefore, when the voice of God to thee, the deed com- manding, came. Didst thou not waste th' Amalekites with sword, and spear, and flame? Lo ! on Gilhoa's height I see a battle-field outspread ; The gory earth, encumbered, reeks with dying and with dead ; And there, upon the field, I see thee, monarch, with thy son. Thy kingly crown deported, and thy race of glory run. Close by liis arinour-bt'arcr, lo ! I sec King Snul lit> tlown In the dust, with all his valour — (rumpled under fottt his crown s Then, with a mighty groan, the King upon the earth did fall, And the spirit, waning, seemed to sink into the cavern wall ! ('• t • ?»*■ THE JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON Eve declining on the mountain ; Upon Lebanon's tall head. Waning sunlight, swift d««parting, Poured its hues of brilliant red. Steeped in shade lay all the valley ; Deeper grew the darkness still ; 'Til, at last, the sun descended. Shadows crept upon the hill. 94 On ihc liill-sido ^lopt a monarch, Yoiin^ nnd noWlr, fair and bold ; Slept he in his tent so g'orgeous, All of crimson cloth nnd gold. O'er that tent the lofty cedars, Gnarled and knotted, huge and old, Whispered ever in the breezes, And a tale of wonder told : " List, ye nations," cried the cedars ; " For, beneath our arms outspread, Lo ! the wisest of earth's monarchs Now he rests his youthful head ! " And the giant trees they murmured, Waving in the soft night breeze, As if love were through ihrilling. Through the proud an^ -- -igly trees. While the youthful monarch slumbered, Gently breathing whilst he slept, 'Round his couch strange visions wandered ; Through his brain strange dreamings swept. On th'^ night-wind he heard voices , Angels saw he round his bed ; All of light their glowing mantles, Halos crowning every head. k 95 '.%■ Music heard he — lirnvfiily l>n*atliii»^'s, Such as mortals svldoni hear ; Chural symphoniefl, sfrapliic — Angel voices, full and clear. As they ceased, a lif^lit prodigious All the inner tent illumed ; And a look of adoration Every angel face assumed. " Son of David ? Youthful monarch ! " Cried a voice of depth and power ; " Thou art King o'er all my people ; High and far thy wish may tower ! ** Wouldst thou wish for endless riches, Wealth and grandeur, pride and state 1 Boundless wealth from Ethiopia, Boundless gold shall on thee wait 1 " Speak, and fear not, what thy wish is ; Boldly speak, and never fear ; I, thy God, am omnipresent — I, thy God, thy prayer will hear ! " H-1 Then Solomon, still dreaming, spake — Thus the trembling monarch said : " Give me wisdom and discernment ; A good heart and a wise head ! " 96 When III* 'wukc, the bright light, waning From the chanibt^r, died away ; Ceased the drenmings of the monarch ; Dawning came the light of day. Glanced the old primaeval forest In the sunbeams broad and bright ; And the woodland glades looked lovely, Now in shadow, now in light. Mid-day — in the hall of judgment, With a bearing proud and high. Sore complaints of all his people, First to hear, and then to try — 1 I III ii Golden crowned, a mighty monarch — Lo ! he sits ! Upon his brow Dwells of thought the mighty impress. That within his mind doth grow. Before him now two harlots rnme : Came one with a downcast eye ; But the other was unblushing. And upon her lips a lie. In the arms of her who blushed not Slept an infant, sweet and fair ; And the other's eye dwelt on it, Wild with frenzy and despair. 97 *' Miglily King, llie infunl mine in ! Him, with ptiin nnd travail sore, Witli the anguish of a mother, And in shame and sin, I bore ! " Then out spake the flaunting harlot. And she cried — '^ O ! righteous King ! See, the infant cleaveth to me ! I the child to life did bring." Then in loud voice the crier called, "Silence ! heur our Lord the King, While he gives his righteous judgment On this great and weighty thing/' " firing ye here the sword of justice. And the hapless child divide," Cried the monarch in his wisdom : " Let not justice be denied ! " t < But on her knees the mother fell ; And she cried — " O ! spare tiie child ! " And her voice was shrill and trembling. And her gesture tierce and wild. #' *' Mighty monarch! give the infant To this woman — I have lied ! It is hers — O ! let her lake it ; But do not the child divide ! " 98 ''Stay the sword, O! armour-bearer! Do not strike, but stay the sword ! For, bc'liold, it is her infant Wlio hath tluis for life implored ! ^* Then throughout the hall of judgment Rang a long and loud acclaim ; Thousand voices, mingling, shouted, '' Glory to our monarch's name ! " Jlllf0crUa(neou0 iPoemtt. 1^1 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTK, AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTION Peace o'er the nations reigns ! Gay revel in the monarches hall — Sweet music's soul-entranring strains ! Licentiousness, that Ijmles iiis fall, Runs riot in the noble's veins ! Cares not the feudal Lord For all his vulgar horde Of starving tenantry : A hundred minions work his will ; What recks he whether well or ill— His life glides smoothly by ! Heed noi the brilliant throng ! Its joyous days are brief and few ; An hour it glitters, and 't is gone — Swept by a vast, a wild, a new, A world-engulphing stream, along ! Groans in the peasant's cot : Priests, nobles, hear them not ! But they shall hear them well. When, waking in their might, they ring O'er nobles, courtiers, priests, and king, Death's solemn, startling knell ! Up nprings the Fuiirili RNtnK* ! Now lights (irt' duiioing in our eyes : A godlcHH rrccd UNiirps the place* Uf Vn'uU — Religion wanes, nnd dies ! Men meet their Maker face to face, Upon their lips a lie! " There is no Go tu vartli. No bound!) to the wild sen Of liuiiiun wrntli, that Nwells niul rave^! A feudal Kinjf, a PrincesH fnir — Their garde du corps the rahblu's 8tavei — Die duuntlessly in o(M>n nir ! 'T is done ! Peuct? tlies the world ; War hath his ting unfurled ; Proudly on high to sour, 'Til, springing from the blood-red field, A warrior shall the sceptre wield. And freedom lie no more! Clouds, storms, and tempests now ! The storm of nations' dendly hate ; The tempest in the war-cloud's breath ; The cloud itself, an armed State, Hurling the thunderbolts of death ! Down, one by one, they fall — Kingdoms, Republics, all Prostrate before the foe ! Alone, the sea-girt Isle maintains Her freedom ! — ^proudly, peace disdains, And strikes for weal or woe. 104 m Yhl Eagles, with outstretched wing ! Mute emblems, ye ! Yet how ye speak, As, on the warlike banner perched, Fresh battle-fields for prey ye seek. Say, if his inmost soul be searched, Whp, with the victor's tramp. Hurries from camp to camp, To gorge ye with fresh slain ; Then, will that iron breast disclose Such lust for triumph o'er his foes, As shall liis laurels stain 1 Aye ! ever onward pour, O'er fair Italia's smiling plain, Hosts upon hosts ! The cannon's roar- The rattling musketry — the train Of glittering bayonets before ! The victor mounts his car ; Loosed are the dogs of war ; The Caisar's legions fly ! Now RivoLi, and Arcola,' proclaim, In thunder, Buonaparte's name ; And conquest is the cry. Lo! upon Lonrs bridge,* With cheek unbleucliing — dauntless soul- Waving the tri-colour, he stands ! Around him warlike thunders roll, And cluster Gallia's martial bands : The plunging shot flies fiist ; The bravest stands aghast ; 105 But " onward ! " is Aw cry ! And fast, through flame and smoke, he goes, A thunderbolt against his foes — A child of victory ! m And Italy is free ! O, freedom ! in thy sacred name Can tyrants thus the world enslave "? Thy birth, oppresskou, men proclaim The heritage that freedom gave ! Hark ! " Liberty ! " they shout. The brave cry ringing out. Resounds from hill to hill ; The ancient Alps their echoes give, And bid that word of promise live: Alas ! a tyrant will ! ! wonderful career ! Within the Legislative Hall, 'Mid shouts that e'en would rend the grave. He stands — admired, yet feared by all ; While low the Austrian standards wave. All hail ! O ! victor, hail ! Trembling, the world grows pale, And bows before thy might ! He hearfi — and, thrilling to his heart. The first glad words of homage dart, And guide his future flight t N ■miif m 106 The gardens of the Tuillcrics ! A mighty shout, piercing the air ! The hum of that wild multitude, So fearful late, again is there ! But now no more it cries for blood. " The victor ! " shouts each voice ; He comes — ! France, rejoice ! The child of freedom, he ! He comes — the trophies on his car Of Italy's sur.,e»8ful war : And France is tyrant free ? ! death-devoting lie ! Awake ! O, Austria ! mark thy doom ! On to the Danube, more and more. With lightning flash, and thunder boom. The concueror's serried legions pour ! Thy blood, 0! France, flows free, Poured forth for victory : More freely yet shall flov/, When, with the Empire's glittering horde. Along the Danube's valley poured, A monarch he shall go ! * Dark Egypt rears her head ! Strange visions haunt the hero's mind : Her mystic faith — her ancient power ! His brows he would with laurels bind. Won from the solemn land where tower The Pyramids of old ! The ships their sails unfold ; I'r 107 The anririil ocean sweep. And " Siihnn Kliebir " * on thy plain, Egyptia, stands ; while from the main Boom Britain's thunders deep ! Brave Nelson of the Nile ! Ship after slup, Aboukir's bay, Led on by Nelson's hate of France, Steer for thy shore, in stern array, And steadfast 'gainst the foe advance ! Their anchors drop, " Yo, ho ! " RattUng, they phmge lielow. Till each her place hath won : Then wakes a mighty crash and roar ; And giant thunders tell the shore. The Frenchman's sands are run ! Despair within his heart ! But dauntless is the victor's eye ; His words like fire ! Unflagging hope Glows in his port and bearing high ! Who can with him in valour cope 1 The Titans lie before — The Pyramids of yore ! Apd there, in dense array, The Mamelukes, with warlike grace, Bestride their noble Arab race Of chargers, fleet and grey ! 108 On ! to the battle-field,* In serried ranks, and trim array, The dark-browed grenadiers of France, While on their bayonets sunbeams play. Joyful, with gallant shouts, advance. Behold him in the van ! His eagle eye doth span The rushing squadron's force — The desert host, that, thousands strong, Bears down, in one tumultuous throng, To sweep him from his course ! m ill i: The bristling squares are formed ! Then comes a thunder-crashing sound, Seeming the very earth to shake ! Ten thousand horsemen onward bound ; A gallant, fearful charge they make ! Now, forth the cannon pour. With one continuous roar, Their missiles swift and dread ! Long lanes they cut amid that host, As when, 'mid forests, tempest-tossed, The giant trees lie dead. They halt, but do not flee ! Numidia's lion not more bold : Shouting " II Allah ! " down they dash ! Though many a noble steed lies cold. They charge, at length, with earthquake crash j But not a square then breaks ; While, far and wide, awakes, 109 'Round tlmt devoted band, The Sultan Kliebir's rolling fire ! They gnaw their swords for very ire, And perish where they stand ! Vast struggles, and vast crimes ! He dons the Moslem's faith to-day — To-morrow ravages and burns : Now hears the bearded Imaum pray ; Now on the warlike Murad turns. On ! To the desert, on ! Or e'er his power is gone. His magic influence o'er. They march through Syria's burning sands, Wasting, with fire and sword, her lands, And reach the sacred shore. ^■f Of Jaffa's slaughter, tell, 7 O ! muse ; and, while the burning tear Of pity starts for those who fell In one red murder, born of fear, Invoke the very fiends of hell To curse the damning deed ! Three thousand captives feed Th' uncovered fosse with dead ! Th' ensanguined sea rolls back her flood, As if surcharged with human blood, And moaning, as in dread ! *.■ no O! infmiioiH, jjrcal criino! Not all the laiinOlrd wreaths that twine Around thy memory — dread scourge! Nor though an hundred tapers shine Before ihee, niirhl and day, can purge That darkest crime away ! Not nil that sophists say ; Not flattery's holdest flight, Can wipe away unholy deeds ! Thy monster murder freshly bleeds. And shall thy soul affright! The blood-stained walls of Acre! ^ There, Richard stormed a Paynim band. The Holy Cross upon his breast ; And won the ramparts, sword in hand — Boldest Plantagenet, and best ! Who sunnnons Acre now 1 He who, upon his brow. The seal of triumph wears ! But though the bttstions, crumbling, fall ; Though yawn the breaches ; still, the wall The Turkish standard bears ! W? Ships in Saint Jean's bay ! The flag of England waving there ! Succour, beleaguered men, at hand ; And timely, too ; for, onward bear The columns of assault — a band By battle tried of old ; Who death as nothing hold. In ■ -■ 'i •■ ill Balanced with victory ! With one impetuous rush they reach, To fall, by hundreds, in the breach, And miserably die ! Ambition's wildest flight! Hurled back on Egypt^s burning soil, Whither should now his steps be bent t Him could the walls of Acre foil? Aye ! but the very change hath lent New glory to his dream ; And changed the burning theme Of conquest, and of fame, Frojn East to West — from Hindostan To where the Caesars' glory ran. And won a deathless name. Aye ! won a deathless name ! Then cast away the crown of Rome ! For thee, O, Paris ! glory-crowned ; Birth-place of triumph, and his liuiiie — For thee his eager steps are bound. Once more upon the sea ; A charmed life bears he. And Nelson's search evades. The ship her wings hath lightly spread ; The land of promise is a-head ; And Egypt slowly fades. 112 Consul, Dictator — now The foremost Triumvir he sits ; And wields the rod of empire well The power supreme his genius fits, And in his eagle eye doth dwell. He can the nations goad. Or form a glorious Code : A Legislator wise: A Code for ages to endure ; A wreath of glory — bloodless, pure — for free-born men to prize ! And is ambition quenched 1 Have peaceful arts subdued the fire That burned for conquest, as if life Had nought to kindle his desire But arms — the battle-field's great strife — The column's heavy tread — The carnage, and the dead — The strategy of war 1 Ah, no ! Those thoughts are burning still ; But tempered is the warrior's will By visions loftier far ! It If-' The diadem of France ! The blood-stained throne, by gory hands Besmeared — red with the blood of him Who, guarded by infuriate bands. Yielded to every rabble's whim ! Seeks he the Bourbon's throne 1 No ! Prouder still hath grown ^r 113 Tiic (Inunilras upstarl^s d renin. 'T were liiil to raise the fnllen race ! Did he supply their kingly place, 'T would very madness seem ! Fear in the Tyrant's heart ! • The weary night brings not to him The Lethe of unbroken sleep ; The sun at mid-day height seems dim ; Wild tremours o'er his heart-strings creep. The dagger haunts him now ! Pole is that mighty brow, As Cromwell's was of old. He sees, in every face, a foe ! The very Throne — a hidden woe — A horror doth enfold ! ^; i mm Hunt out the Bourbon blood ! From every vale — from every cot — From brave La Vendee's sacred shore ; '" Whose loyal peasants ne'er forgot The Kings who reigned, by right, of yore ; Seek for the scaffold food ! Hunt out the Royal brood ! 'T is meet it thus should be, That he who seeks another's Throne, Should wade through blood and death, alone, To regal dignity. 114 Invoke red iiiiinler now ! Let nil the fallen fiends uf hell Join in the chorus, long und loud, And chaunl the virtues high thnt dwell In one to nmd ambition vowed ! Murder shidl check him not ; Nor can his mem'ry blot, So that he liveth still ! The Glory and the Pride of France, Unstained, through murder may advance, A Throne of blood to fill ! The fortress of Vincknnes ! The midnight hour, fit for dark deeds ! Within the castle's fosse a grave ! There D'Enghien innocently bleeds ! " No power to aid — no law to save ! A victim to the will Of one, whose deeds shall fill. As with a trumpet-blast, Resounding hell with horror dread ; And, clustering 'round his dying bed, Torture his soul at last ! It :_l The towers of Notre Dame ! '* Where, late, within the temple, stood The flaunting whore, thin-veiled. Behold ! Men gather now in joyous mood ; All glittering in Imperial gold. And brilliant waving plumes. The clear bright sun illumes 116 Till* viiitt callit'tlral now. 'I'lic cliorul fliuiiiit to llcnvt'ii iiMTiitN ; As with tlu* iimrtiiil iiuinic lilnuls The tyrant monurrh^s vow ! Englano ! thine hour is conic ! '* So, from tilt; TniUericN, proi'lainiii T}iu haughty monarch of an hour, With voice of thunder — breathing flanuvs : Then hurls against tlieu all his [Mkwer ! Now must the leopards Hee, '* With terror, to the sea ! Nor shall their ships avail ! With flashing wing the Eagle conu«s, 'Mid warlike trumps, and rattling druuis. And England's star grows pule ! One moment of great fear ! The next, u nation's heart is roused ! The monarch, on his glorious Throne ; The stalwart yeoman, humbly housed ; The clansman from the Highlands lone ; With one heart-stirring cry, To arms, for England, hie ; And thousands seek the field : Each Briton's heart's heroic blood Pours on, in one tumultuous flood, The sea-girt isle (o shield ! Wi H' H';'[. B'^'*'' Bi' ■ Bir, ^HMj.i i 1 1 116 r Such were lliy gliirioua duyn, '» O ! Kngland*! iiobleil virgin Qiutd, Wlivii, looming Troin the mighty deep, Thi' giniX nrtnanu'nt was aurn, Thrcntcning, nlong the scniioard crirp ! Brightly the bt'aconii gUuimed ! From hill to hill there seemed To leap the living tlaine ! Then up the God of battles rose, And hurled Win vengeance on thy foes ! Be glory to His Name ! Bear back, thou tyrant King ! Usurper of tli' Imperial Throne — Crowned with thy diadem of thorns ! Our seo-encircled isle, alone^ Thy hosts defies— thy fury scorns ! Behold ! her ensign wave — Behold ! her seamen brave Anchor — beside thy shore ! Bootless, alike, thy threats, thy gold ; The hour of England is not told ; Her star shines forth once more. Changed is the seat ' f v ' . -^ With lightning speed— with hurried tramp Diverging from thy shore, Boulogne, The thousands from th' invading camp Are on devoted Austria thrown ! Vienna's gates are won ! Thy Imlls, O ! Schoenbrunn, U ^1 \{i i i If 117 Tlir conqiu'ror n'rt'ivt«! Nur ihall iht* Scyihmii sword nviiil ; '^ Nur inuuntcil ihuusamU, cliul in lunil^ Thy furtunua lo retrit^ve ! The sun of Austcrlitx ! Watchword of many an after year, When fate above the hero loured ! In thundering charge, the squadrons hear Upon the allied armies |)oured ! Long fight they — but in vain ! Hurled backward from the plain, The treacherous ice tliey win : Thousands on tliousands, driven tiiere. Maddened by fear, disgrace, despair, The wild waves swallow in. St And now, on Jena^s field. Are tricolour and eagles seen ! And Prussia, that nor friend, nor foe, Had boldly frowned, or smiled serene, Falls, crushed with sudden overthrow. Not Europe's proudest force ; Not well-trained foot and horse, Can save the Prussian realm ! Froiw fort to fort, the booming sound Of dietid artiUcry goes round, A nation lu u'erwhelm ! 118 ■ m May siicli forever Im' The fute of those who in the cause Of freedom, and religion, too. And Europe's peace, ignobly pause. Nor prove to patriotism I rue ! Great Frederick ! hadst thou lived, First in the breach had strived Thy spirit's fiery glow ! But now — thy course of glory run — Lost is the master mind that won Silesia from the foe ! Lo ! at the hero's tomb A hero stands ! *^ and genius bows To its departed prototype. But shall not this the land arouse, And bid its sons for war be ripe ? Banner, and sword, and shield. Their monarch once did wield. Are now the victor's spoil ! Aye ! while in France Te Deunis swell. Rage in the fathekland shall dwell ; "* Its children's blood shall boil ! The Crown of Charlemagne ! Thoughtful and sad, alone — alone The monarch sits, in seeming trance ; His dynasty shall fill the throne. And rule the destinies of France. ! dream replett^ with woe ! Man, 't is thy deadliest foe 119 Tlial dolh for ulteiniu-t' Imiiii \ See grief upon thy lordly l)row With mud uinhilioii striving now ! Ah ! whicli the scale shall turn 1 But, see ! whose form is there 1 The gentlest matron France can boast ; For aye to mercy's cause inclined : The loyal heart that, once H is lost To him, he ne'er again shall find : The Empress, Josephine ! •" She, whose true love did shine, A jewel fair and bright. Purest of all the brows that bound Of him whom giant treason crowned, And blood, and godless might. Her arms are 'round him thrown ! Behold her passionately weep ! Too truly hath her heart divined His thoughts that, unrevealed, sleep ; That with his loftiest hopes ar«' twined She fears the mandate dread ! Her gloomy fate hath read, And trembles 'neath the blow : Without reproach, save only tears, Her undeserved doom she hears — Unutterable woe ! «1 1 ii 120 A yvat Iiftth rolled away : The house of Hapsburoh hath allied " Its name to the usurper's fate ; And that which war its arms denied, Hath wrought the policy of state. Rome ! ^ thou a King must own ! Bear him the Iron Crown ! Now is the purple won ! The cannon of the Invalides — The herald of the Father's deeds — In thunder greet the Son. ife ■ i> i 1 The coming voice of war ! Onward, the giant murmur strides ;'^' And, like the whirlwind in its course, It gathers strength as on it rides. Shouting, " To arms ! To horse — to horse ! " On, o'er the nations, on ! From where the rising sun Shines down, with golden beam. On silver-spangled domes and towers. To where, in this far land of ours, The hoary eagles screaui ! On ! O'er the nations, on ! O'er Switzerland, bold freedoni's soil ; The land of lion-hearted Tell : (There, too, did patriot Hofer toil. And leave a hero's name to dwell Enshrined in every heart Allied to freedom's part): 121 P There rolls the gathering flame ! On mountain-tops the l)eacons blaze ! From hill to hill the watchword strays, The murdered HoFEa's name ! % s On ! o'er the nations, on ! The gathering cry is, blood for blood ! Insult for insult — wrong for wrong ! Long hath the impious tyrant stood The scourge of Europe — aye, too long ! 'T is England fans the flame ; Trumpets her hero's name — The Champion of the world ; He who, from off" the fields of Spain, The Gallic Marshals hurled amain Back, with their banners furled ! Immortal Wellington ! From field to field thy standards fly ! Thy serried columns, marching, fight : ViTTORiA and Busaco, high Thy name shall raise, with glory bright ! And Salamanca's field. With DouRO on thy shield. And Badajoz, shall shine ! And liberated Spain shall raise. To honour thee, the voice of praise, E'en on the banks of Rhim* ! *' 122 fSi On rolls liic breath of war ! From cainp U) camp— from hill to hill. The soldiers of the Empire dy ! The Pyrenees with armies fill, And echo thunder from the sky ! Onward ! one struggle more To gain the Gallic shore, And hurl th' usurper down ! Onward ! for fate is louring o'er Napoleon, on the Baltic shore ! ** Fortune his arms hath flown ! Onward ! for Moscow now ! *• On, to the Niemen's frozen stream, Five hundred thousand men are poured ! Spoiled child of fortune ! how his dream Of mad ambition high has towered ! Against the haughty Czar He hurls the bolt of war ; To all save conquest blind ! His path the dauntless Russians fill ; Defeated, but unconquered, still A rallying point they find ! The Holy City * see ! Before them in the glorious light Of the clear, cold, dazzling morn, Her domes, with gold and azure bright. Up, 'mid the sunlit heavens are borne ! • Moscow. 123 Nor ward nor watch llioy kerp : A doomed silence, deep, Broods o'er yon towers ! E'en from his proudest triumplis now, Unnumbered woes, unlooked for, flow ; And fate, relentless, lours ! I Anotlit'r Empire fallen ! From the old Kremlin's f sacred halls The scourge of Europe dictates peace ; " And on the prostrate Czar he calls The Holy City to release ! Peace ! 't is forever fled ; First shall, with blood, be red. Dark Beresina's tide ! First shall those towers be wrapped in flame, A halo, pointing where the fame Of Buonaparte died ! § m Hark ! to the brazen clang ! ^ With never-ceasing din it tells Some sudden tale of heavy woe ! Why ring the loud alarum bells? " To arms ! to arms ! — the foe ! the foe ! " Hark ! in the Court below The tramping squadrons go. As if in sudden fright ! Why doth the victor's courage fail 1 Ask, why upon his visage pale Flashes yon lurid light ? tThe Palace of the Czars • f I I. V) 124 The ceaseless rolling druin ; The hurrying tramp of sleel-clud men ; The crash of many falling towers ; And then, that livid flame again — Hell hath let loose on earth her powers ! Tyrant ! it is thy doom ! In that flame-lighted gloom, Behold the hand of fate ! With eddying whirl — with giant force. The conflagration keeps its course ; Nor shall the fires abate ! On, to the Kremlin, roll The flames, that gather new-born might As round the stately pile they glow ! A wild — a spirit-stirring sight ! Upward their snake-like coils they throw ! On ! over dome and tower. The dread abode of power. Relentless — on they whirl ! The victor, vanquished, stands aghast: He sees th' avenger rise at last, Him from his throne to hurl ! Awhile he gazes there. Mute with astonishment and awe : Strange forms amid the furnace leap, And fiends his very heart-strings gnaw, Until his quivering flesh doth creep ! Wildly, the red flames rise, Eager to seize their prize — 195 L ^1 Yun glittering cross on high ! Around the silent monarch stnml A bold, but wonder-stricken Itund, Urging him still to fly. Alas ! for glory, conquest, all The evanescent breath of fame ! Spurred by despair, he rushes out Amid the world of smoke and tlame ; Amid the raging dres, that dout The clear, cold starry sky — He sees his legions fly, Hotly, as if the foe Were pressing onward in the rear, In phalanx firm, near and more near, To work his overthrow ! The Russian camp by night ! The silent countermarch, to bring The vanguard on the flying foe. Around them burning embers wing Their flight ! ** Solemn their march, and slow ! Their country shall be free ! The distant flames they see Redden the Northern sky. Russia beholds her funeral pyre. But swears that she, from yonder fire, Will date her freedom high ! S' ll I 136 Uniitl«'ra))Io wor ! Wot' to the Gallic legions brnve! Wop to the eagles high that soar ! Woe to the tri-colours that wave, Half furled, by Beresina's" shore ! Anguish, dismay, despair, Brood over thousands there ; While the relentless foe, From town to town — from hill to hill, Pursues the worn-out remnant still, Spared by the wintry snow ! No outlet for the mass Of wretched fugitives, who strive, Phrenzied with fear, to journey on ! O ! who of all that host shall live tell of all the brave men gone ; To tell how all were tried ; How heros bravely died. The snow-wreath for their grave 7 Few ! few ! — for, hark ! the cannon's roar Booms from the rearward evermore — The death-knell of the brave. The gallant Victor, foot by foot. Full in the rear, the torrent stems ! '• But vain are human efforts there : A giant host the rear-guard hems ; And even he to yield must bear. All is in vain ! Away ! The Russian batteries play, 127 With ceaseless havoc dread, Upon the treiubhng mass Ih>1()W, Who, crowding on the pontoon, go. The dying o'er tlie dead ! Sudden the briil»e gives way. While yet towards it, crowding on. Thousands, and tens of thousands, pour. Hark ! to the shrill death-cry ! 'T is done ! The Gallic army lives no more ! Russia is free again ! Full thirty thousand men Perish beneath the wave ! But still the rear-guard struggles on. Its way through hostile masses won, A gallant few to save ! The Emperor in France ! Gloom on the hueless faces there : Distrust and doubt surround him now ; And e'en his clear cold eye doth glare Sullenly 'neath his pallid brow. " Men, arms, munitions, give ! France yet again shall live, Victor o'er all the world ! Again the tri-colour shall wave O'er Russian hind, and Austrian slave, In pride once more unfurled ! " 128 (Var by the cottage lieartli ! From all the " pleusunt land of France," Seek out the ynuthful conscripts now ; Leave they the evening greensward dance, And forward to the frontier flow. The mother's eye is dim ; In tears the maiden's swim ; Dead is the warlike sire : Ah ! who the gallant youth shall save From glory and an early grave — From battle, sword, and iire ! On ! o'er the nations, on ! The din of war, redoubl.'ng, flies : From mouth to mouthy with lightning speed, The cry " To arms for Europe ! " hies : France, 't is thy hour of utmost need : " The fight of giants " comes ; Hark ! to the allied drums ; 'Neath Leipsic's walls they beat : Like a wild beast within his lair. The Emperor of France lies there. To fight — for a retreat ! I Again the crasli of armies ! The multitudinous sounds again, Of the great battle-field, I hear ; The squadrons charging on the plain ; Th' unheeded cry of pain or fear ; The loud artillery's roar. Booming for evermore ; 129 Tlio l>rn/(>n triiin]MH*ii nolo ; Tlio thoiisniul Imldi'-cries that blciui, As fofs on Am's tlioir fury Npend, The hard foiiglit tiehl denote. Fight on, fight on, ye l)rave ! Tools of n reckless despot's will ; Fight on, and die; or if ye live, Live hut the tlying ranks to fill ; For him your hearts' best blood ye give. Now that his eagles fly, Ye can but bravely die — Die in a tyrant's cause. The day, the hour, have come at last, When all the victor's hopes are past, When all his triumphs pause ! Monarcha and people now No longer yield to weak alarms : The TuGENDBUND*' Uplifts its voice; The Fatherland springs up in arms ; lis liberated sons rejoice ! " For Fatherand," they cry, " We conquer, or we die — The cause of freedom ours ! " Our songs the nation's heart shall nerve ; Our warriors ne'er from battle swerve, While danger o'er us lours ! \M) ■i M-. mm On ! oVr ilif iiaiiuiiN, nn ! O'tT tlu' iintrodilcii livUU of Frmin' Tilt* din of war cumicn rolling' l>ai*k ; Tliitlicr tliu allied inmpH advaut-**, Fast closinf; on the ^Inipcror's Iratk : And AuNtria, too, in (Iiito ; Not kitli or kin can !<|mre The tyrant at IiIn call. At ClIAMPAUBERT and MoNTMIHAII," He NiandH ; but naii^^lit ran now u\nil ; Groat Buonaparte niiiNt fall ! Lord of ft jK'tty IsU' ! His lofty spirit may not liruok The insult, deadlier far than dealli : To France again his visions look ; There will he yield his latest breath j There render up his trust; There mingle dust with dust — In his adopted land. But first again its banners bear, Triumphant, through the battle's glare, And bid its empire stand ! Palace of Fontainhlkau ! Scene of his triuiiiplis and bis woes! Again within thy walls be slands; His bosom heaves with joyous throes ; Around him gather trusty bunds. Hark ! deafening cheers resound ! France hath her hero found ; i:il l^oiiir mil) llic Kiiipnoi livf! riiioiiirli Kiaiirc llii' wiirlikr vviinN k'miiiiiiI, AntI F^iiro|M' Mlmll, nt that ilrcntl noiiiiiI, A^diii tor nii|)ir(' Htrive! The |il:)iii of Watkkloo ! At AuiNcouHT — oil Chkshy's (Ichl, Kiif^laiid 1111(1 FritiK'f \iu\v iiicl iN'fun*. May (iod (lit- ri^hlruiis nation Nhicld, And ffivr it victory once more! Finn stands earli Itritish s(|iiare, Though charge the ohi ^iiard (here, All clad ill heavy mail ! And, as the siinadroiiN backward fly, Bencatli the iniirderons fire they die, That conies like storm of hail ! No more the theme pursue ! What tongue shall tell, what pen relate, How, 'mid the siilph'rous smoke of war, From dawn of day 'til evening late. They hravely fought ; or how the star Of con(|uest, waning, fell ! Ah ! who in truth can tell How virtue triumphed there ! Prostrate, at length, the mighty foe Of England, and the world, lies low, Never to rise again ! I i: Kl I 5^ r m ^' ■'I ■4. ECCE HOMO! ! what a world of thought ujk)!! tliat brow ! Sad, yet serene — compassion's mercy seat ! Grief, measureless — unfathomable woe — Veils the angelic eyes. They speak a holy mystery ? Within those gentle orbs a deity, Incarnate, dwells, and mourns — aye ! tears of blood Weeps for the guilty race of fallen man ! f< '■■I I I n. ,^ .} 'Tis not the scoffer's jest — the insult rude — The ruffian blow — the cruel crown of thorns — The cry for blood, that now the savage crowd Yells in his ear — appal him : Deeper far The mighty grief lies hidden ! ! face of heavenly mould — what eye could view. Unmoved, thy matchless beauty ? Who lo doubt Would dare, while on him beamed those gentle eyes 1 ! sure, the painter's hand some aid from Heaven • Written after seeing a fine line Engraving from n Picture in the NntionnI Gallery by Leonardo Da Vinpi. To those wlio have seen n good engraving of this picture ; or, more fortunate Btill, have beheld the immortal original, my wurds will be inadequate to remind them of its matchlese beauty. 133 Won 10 iU) task ; (or, wliilt! \v»' gazo, wr I't'i-I As if II ilfity befor*' us stood, And, with His nu;ek upbraiding f,'uzi', did plrad With us, His errinor crt'dtures. What human heart melts not at thine appeal, Saviour, witli angel face and serapli's mien ? What eyes their tribute of rich tears refuse '{ None ! O ! forever liath the artist there Impressed his Maker's image — full of truth, Angelic meekness, and unselfish woe. Not such the grief of Niobe, who stands In marble sorrow — Heavenward lifts her hands — The gods imploring to restore her sons. Her's is a mortal mother's thrilling woe ; Sublime, and yet of human mould ; wherein The woman writhes beneath the cruel wounds That rob her of the fond delight of yore She felt, when, with a thrill of joy, she pressed The infants to her bosom. Gone, alas ! Forever gone. Lo ! quivering they lie Where, from the clouds, the vengeful lightnings fell. res Nniional liprnving of niy words 0, no ! not such ! The love that, here enthroned, Dwells in those orbs, by God-like sorrow veiled. Has naught of self! Pure, stainless, undefiled, It pities and deplores the fate (tf man, And ofl'ers up — a nol)le sacrifice ! — Self, on the altar of the Father — God ! ir 134 (J(i(l iiiciiiniitc, liail ! Tlic wurld redeeming! K\ei li\e, williiii tliis lienrt, lliiiu* iinnge ! King (»f the hearts of men ! Thy crown, the prayers Of cons('i<'nce-slrifken milHons ! Saviour, hail ! 4' CANADA A PRIZE POEM AT UPPKK CANADA COLLEGE. ;;l J Land of the East ! where spicy gales perfume Tlie tepid air — where thousand flow'rets bloom ; For thee it was t' inspire the sage's mind With thoughts that led him a new world to find. Some western passage to thy shore might be ; Some land, the bourne of yon expanded sea, Might lie unnoticed and unknown — a clime Where Nature flourished since the birth of Time ! m Prophetic thought ! which fired his soul with zeal, No time extinguished, no neglect could chill ; Nor raging seas, that rolled in pride afar, Could daunt his bosom, or his project mar ; WJ wJ M(J Lei 135 Nor cynic sneers, nor courtly coldness, l»reiik The spirit once to great enipri/e uwuke ! But where tlie land 1 No ha/y shores are seen ; And grant tliem there — what dangers roll iR-tween ! The unknown perils of a boundless sia ; A coast, perchance, of rock, if coast there he. Such sneers as these, with superstition's aid, Repulsed tlie hero, and his plan delayed ; Whilst he, at courts and camps, still strove to gain A timely aid, ere aid should be in vain ; 'Til one, with generous sympathy, at last. An eye of favour on the sailor cast. Thine, Isabella ! thine, in deathless fame. Lives, nobly blended with Columbus' name ! Cheered by thy smiles, with fresh and favouring bree'/c. They ventured forth to tempt the distant seas. A daring few, a scant, but hardy, band. With doubtful hopes they (juit their native land : Onward they sail — and on ; yet nought appears — Whilst hope fades fast, and clam'rous grow their fears ; 'Til, when, at length, all hearts save one despaired, From the high mast the cry of " Land ! " is heard. I Soon they npproach that land ; and, suppliant there, One moment kneel, to breathe the grateful prayer ; The next, a banner proudly waves, unfurled — First Eastern standard o'er the Western W(»rld ! Where now the cynic sneer, th' incredulous smile t Where, baffled arts of treachery and wile ? Meanwhile, Britannia, mistress of the main, Lets not the brightness of her laurels wane. 136 11 ' . , ! II Slioiilil ()llu>r nations of their expluitn boast, While Britain's bulwarks mouldered on her const? Her spirit roused, with rival ardour vies, To bear her part in deeds of enterprize. Soon from her ports adventurous bands she pours. To try their lot on transatlantic shores : Fearless, the dangers of the deep they dared ; For trials strange, in foreign lands, prepared ; To brave the liardships of the settler's life. The red man's tomahawk and scalping-knife ! Then spreading forests, of gigantic oak, First felt the burden of the woodman's stroke ; Then woodland glades first learned to bear the grain, The yellow ear then ripened o'er the plain, And many a village reared its spire on high — The sweet reward, the home, of industry ! Far, through the lapse of by-gone years, we trace A fierce, a free, a wild, unsettled race — Lords of the tract two ocean seas enclose, From equinoctial suns to Northern snows ! Here stretched a wide and undulating plain ; Rank grew the grass, uncultured sprung the grain ; Here forests dense, o'er upland, hill, and dale. Oft whispered softly 'neath the breathing gale : These were their own, ere yet the white man came, With grasping hand, a conqueror's right to claim. Inglorious conquest ! liial, for selfish gain, Drives the poor savage froni his native plain ! Hid from the sun, where lordly forests gleam, Whose pendant boughs o'erhang the murm'ring stream, The Indian Chief off lonely sits, to pore O'er former days of gladness — now no more ! Ai T Go 137 When Ills old sires, unonvied and unknown, Could call those fields, then forests wild, their own; When, with light heart, the hunter chief pursued The Hying game through trackless solitude ; At eve, the youthful Chief returned with spoils Won hy the shaft, or skilful hunter's toils. And, at some blushing damsel's feet, he laid The hard-earned fur — a pleader with the maid. The eagle spirit of their Chiefs is crushed ! Their fierce war-whoop in wide extinction hushed ! No more the snow by buskined feet is pressed ; For warlike deeds no more the paint is dressed ; The light canoe no longer skims the wave — His native land is but the Indian's grave ! Thrust from his grounds, and backward forced, to seek Subsistence hard, in regions cold and bleak. Far from his once-loved haunts ; with many a sigh He wanders forth, with broken heart, to die ! Turn we from this, a sad and gloomy theme. And view those lands where limpid waters gleam ; No Fauns their woods, no Nereids bright their waves Can boast, nor Naiads in the fount tliat lave ! Yet, where majestic Huron's waves expand, And wash, in pride, their native forest land, The Indian, skilled in legendary lore. Oft tasks his mem'ry for the valued store : He tells, while hushed in mute attention stands A swarthy circle of these warrior bands. How the great hunter, with his dogs and bow, Goes forth, released from meaner realms below, R 138 With scunly fan*, and roams llir pifiiiiiscd ^Tdutul — The fit'hl of hope, where anilered stairs aliound ; Where beauteous maids await the huntrr''H spoil, And the Great Spirit grants release from t«til ! Nor less his skill to fill the peopled wood With forms of adoration : tales of l>lood Have too their God ! A hero here was laid, And oft, at nightfall, lingers still his shade ! Legends like these, by superstition wove, Supply materials for the tale they love. Bui chief for thee my lay her muje designs, Fair land of ocean-lakes and ov/ering pines ; Thee, Canada ! the Briton's s» cond home When fortune tempts him from his first to roam ; And thou art blessed in Britain's fostering care. That fain would see thee great, as thou art fair ! Shielded by her, behold thy sons around. Their labors with success securely crowned ; See woods and swamps transformed by magic toil ; Here cities rise — there golden harvests smile : Nor boast we less that learning holds her sway Where howling wilds once stretched across the way. Here, for the youth whose future hands might guide His country's council o'er the eventful tide. He — whom (while each his long-tried worth approves) A monarch honors and a people loves — * Here raised a seat, where youthful minds might learn To court fair virtue — hideous vice to spurn ! hi li • Sir John Colbome, now Lord Seaton, is here alluded to. He founded V. C. College. 13fl llcrr Rriiiiiirs sons, \\\w foiully Inni; to sirny Wlirif Milrnii, Riirkc, or Newton, It-tl jIm- way, .M;iy one van. And liind nrw laurels Vonnd the hrows of man! \ ;inI lliicon! einhlein of a lordly trihe, VVIiosf cliildreii yet thy sparklinn these hath Conunerce spread her busy sail Cleared the dense woodland and the wildering vale! And thou, great stream, whose awful waters flow, PoiuProus and ceaseless, to the abyss below — Say if, since time began, thy mighty tide Has thus for ever with the thunder vied 1 Or, when the deluge overwhelmed the earth. Some wreck of o'erstrained nature gave thee birth 1 Still roll thy waters ; still thy waves are seen ; Am', while they are, declare that they have been ! And flow thou must, till stayed by His command Who poincd thee first from out his " hollow hand ! " Peace to the hero's ashes where he bled, On yon high mountain's gore-empurpled head ! Long may each Briton, pausing on that rock, Pay gratefid tribute to the name of Brock ! But pass we on, along the mighty chain Of linked waters stretching to the main ; And see, where broad Saint Lawrence rolls his tide, And barks of commerce on his bosom glide ; 140 •^ <" tj His arms, outstretched, n lliuiisaiid isies cniliruce, Whose fairy forms his nm'rous waters grace ; Glorious he rolls, a tributary stream. To where the salt waves of old ocean gleam ! But, lo ! from ocean's depths what giant form Aloft, erect, withstands tii' eternal storm, And sparkling gems its crested head adorn '{ 'T is there Quebec salutes the rising morn ! A lordly fortress, guardian of the land ! By art and nature destined to command ; Here see what work th' aspiring insect man. By mind pre-eminent, is formed to span ! Key of the land, our country's strength and pride, Long may thy walls impregnable abide ! For thou hast heard the cannon's awful roar, With pealing echo, thunder on the shore ! Telling of war and death ! — the herald dire Of many a wailing cry, and many a funeral pyre ! O, war ! unsparing, all insatiate war, This fair earth's bane, mankind's ill-boding star ! Could'st thou not spare the young, the bright, the brave 1 Lo ! Britain mourns upon her hero's grave ! Yet mourn not — w^eep not — dash the flowing tear — Quell the fond grief, and check the rising fear ! The hero died, but on the bed of fame. Won the fond object of his life — a name ! What nobler death-bed could a victor have — A brilliant triumph and a soldier's grave ! Bright was his fate ! for Victory twined the wreath That graced his temples, as he slept in death ! 141 My native land ! Ims this bocMi done for thee ? And shall we ever say done uselessly ? Nay ! thou wilt cling to Britain fondly still. Thy shield from danger — thy defence from ill ! Shall mad delusion make thy children strive Against the fostering hand that bids them live t Is that a chain to struggle to untwine, That knits her welfare and her heart with thine? Cease, cease ! for shame ! let not the world descry Such blot upon thy long-tried loyalty ! But to high Heaven let ardent prayers be sent, That Britain's safety with our own be blent; That whilst firm hands shall still our councils guide. And Emigration pour her swelling tide. Succeeding ages may with former vie. To prove they know and love true British liljerty ! MEDEA TO JASON. RENDERED INTO ENGLISH VERSE FROM OVId's EPISTLES. When for my skill your humble prayer you brought. My aid was granted, almost ere 't was sought ; Well I remember how that aid was won : 'T was asked — 't was given — Medea was undone ! i mi- 1 142 'I'lirn, my sad tlirond of lifp, tin- fntnl three Wield si>l<'rs, fell, wlio sliapc (nir >|)iiiillc 'til they luid encli roil ui)don<>. 'riini could I, frail Mi'doa, well liuvr died, Uiisliiincd my lioiioiir, and iiiiliiirt my pridt; ! Since lUnx Vvc lived an ajje of dreary pain ; Still clogged with life — still hiirthened with its chain ! Ah, me ! why, urged by youth's untiring arm, Did ever vessel, hewn from Pelian farm, fome forth to search the Phrygian Heece of gold ? Why did wc e'er Thessalion hark b<;hold 1 Or why did youths, from glowing Greece, e'er lave Their arid lips in this our Colchian wave? Why were your flowing locks of auburn hue. Your form of nuinly beauty — uU untrue ! — And the feigned sweetness of that syren tongue, So dear, so far too dear, to maid so young 1 But when our strand that stranger ship had won, And with her crew had all our coast o'er-run. Ungrateful Jason, with no favouring charm To shield his traitor limbs from pending harm. Forth shoidd have gone to meet tlie darning breath And tortuous horns of oxen, fraught with death ; Forth from his hand he should have strown the seed, That foes all armed (prodigious talc!) should Liced : So should the tiller of the soil he slain By his own harvest, sprung from poisonous grain. O ! godless wTetch ! with thee what fraud had died ! Then had not fate to me some peace denied ! O! T m^' 143 Tliprp is n pl»»n8uro — 'l is my sole tlrlit'lii ! — Bnckwnrd to ur)fi" relurtnnt iiirnuiry's tlijjiil ; InifraU* ! to love that I did fondly waste On lliec ! This lost Had solace now I lasie. -"«!, 1 1 Ordained by fale^s directing hand to turn Your venturous bark to Colchis, you discern, Kre long, my father's kingdom — at that day Peaceful beneath the good iEetes' sway. There I, Medea, was as fair as she, Old Creon's daughter, wedded late to thee. Rich as her father is, in princely state — The old iEetes l)oasted wealth as gr«'at : One over Corinth, sea-lninnd, either way — By rival oceans laved — extends his sway ; The other rules the snowy Scythia o'er, Where to the left extends the Euxine's shore. With hospitable cheer, my father's pride, The Grecian youths he bid unto his side ; And wearied, ye the painted couches pressed — High piled in state — vouchsafed at length to rest. Then I beheld you — then my feeble heart First felt thy power — first knew thee as thou wert f ! fatal hour ! In that sweet pang I find The life embittered time has left behind ! How long I gazed ! How perished in that gaze I With unknown fires I burned — as when the blaze Of torches, streamirig with a meteor glare, Bear to the gods on high the suppliant's prayer. Fate drove me on — for manly grace was thine ; Thine eyes soft lustre stole the light from mine I 144 Tniitor! you mw your |M)W«'r! — for wlio llmt lovt-s Ciiii liidf till' (ire th(> inwiird nouI llmt niovcN { Un>;uar(U'd |mNNioii brcukit forth, Helf-lxMrayrd, Aud shews, hy kn own light, the havoc made ! Fyasr ' f Mrontinie, thy tnsk is given thee — to deck, With yoke unused, each bull's terrific neck ; Ridls whose dire horns would work more seamy scars Than e'er did weapon on the field of Mars ; Whose respiration — horrible to name — Came forth in many a tongue of lurid fiame ! lira/en their feet — their snouts with brass o'erlaid, Blackened by l)reathing flames that through them played! More, thou wast ordered, with devoted hand, Through that wide field to scatter o'er the land The dragon's teeth, whose seed should give to day A host war-breathing — fiercely bent to slay Ilim from whose hand they sprung — (prodigious birth!) — A harvest dire to thee who tilled the earth. One lal)our more thou hadst — liy cunning skill, The dragon's never-closing lids to fill With sleep — ne'er known before to him who kept The Golden Fleece, with eyes that never slept. Thus did Mies then your task propound : Ye rise together, saddened at the sound; W^ith downcast faces all. The lofty board Deserts the purple couches at the word. Say, where was then Creusa's royal dower — "Where sire and daughter in that fearful hour 1 Sadly you went ; and your averted face I with fond eyes, surcharged with tears, did trace ; Sue 146 My lon^ii('*H low iiiiiriiiiirs tmiililril ih i\\r\ frll. And, ill mt({ acrciils, fnlli'ml forlli " Fiirrwrll!" Wlicii on my In-(1 a( Irn^'tli my liiiilis I r<>>4|, By iMDivailinir noitow noh- opiin-sHnl, The lon^, loni,' iiiyhl, is h|m'iiI liy iiii' in Irars ; Ik'forc my ryes dn' l)iiH\ licrcc l»rraJli appears; Wavj's tin' tlrcad roiii in liatllc's sicrn array ; While the fell dragon sleeps not rii^'lit or day ! First wild with love — next, fear my heart doth move ; These nnxions tremonrs bnt inrrease my love. 'Tis morn : my walclif'nl sisler seeks my side ; Sees my neglectt'd rintriets llowiny wide ; Prone on my bed I lie : my face appears, And all thinffs near, hedewed with hitler fears. She for the Grecian youths romes siippiiant there; (Creusa asks — she, too, shall win her prayer!) For thee inv l«' thruiigli my t-voiy lu-rve, Nor tlunip^lu tlie<* fuls««, as thou didst well dcsorvr ; But yet, tliroughout, my feeWIe heart was rtlh'd Willi tremuurs cold — my curdling Idood was chilled. I The crowd rush on ; and us they rusli, they shout Hymen — and Hymen's rites prevail without ! If this glad word were harbinger of joy To thee, then sure it did my hopes destroy. Now servants wept aloud — now some concealed Their tears ; for who such horror e'er revealed 7 T, then, in peace, unknowing should have dwelt; But, mad to know, my heart new sadness felt. Placed at the outer threshold of the door Whose do' ble entrance guards the house before, My younger boy, in anxious haste to see. Delighted stands — then cries aloud to me — " Come, motlier ! First my father Jason rides. And, clothed in gold, the harnessed chargers guides ! " Straight front my breast my guardian rol)e I rent. And there, with firm clenched hand, my rage did vent: Nor were my pallid cheeks denied a share ; My fingers worked their venomi'd fury there ! Some power witidield me, else I forth had sprung (Though wildly o'er me then my tresses hung). Exposed, and siiouting " He is mine ! " to stand And cling to thee with each convulsive hand ! Rejoice ! once more, my injured sire, rejoice! Abandoned Colcliians, sing with gladsome voice! Shades of my brotiier ! Powers of fiaming hell ! Come, bid my soul in endless torture dwell ! ■ 150 Flown from my fadior's house and ruyiil renlni, Me, too, abandoned, sorrow «lotli o'erwhelm ! My husband leaves me ! Once, unto my lieart He could alone the power of love impart. Was it for this that I, whose art could tame Th' envenomed snake, and oxen breathing flame, Essayed in .ain o'er thee my power to fling, And to my feet one suppliant man to bring 1 And is it thus that I, whose mystic charm, 'Mid gnawing flames, could shield thy form from harm, Now, seared by inward wrath, in vain begin To quench the madd'ning fires that live within'} My mystic rites — my herbs — my arts — all fail ; Fell Hecate, nor all her powers, avail ! No more do I bid hail the morning light — And yet I sleep not through the dreary night ! No more within my grief-worn breast the spell Of dreamy sleep, unbidden, comes to dwell ! With leaden sleep I charged the dragon's eye — Sleep that doth still my drowsy eyelids fly. In other's cause my magic skill was blest ; To me 't is useless — 't will not bring me rest ! The limbs a wanton's fondling arms embrace, That free from danger once my power did place j And she unworthily doth share thy heart. Who liv'st indebted to Medea's art! Perhaps, too, boasting to your wife's fond ear. You speak of me with many a wanton jeer ; While to my rival all my woes are told. And you each fault of face or mind unfold ! She then, perchance, with scandal pleased, mjiy smile, And, 'gainst my vices, sport her tongue the while! 151 And k't her laugh — ami raisctl in slate on high, On her soft couch of Tyrian purple lie ; For she shall weep with tears no art can heal, And thrilling rage, more keen than mine, shaJI feel ! While fire, and sword, and poison's aid, are nea*", No harmless foe Medea shall apiK'ar ! If prayers, perchance, can yet with thee avail, Or bid, subdued, thy stubborn purpose fail, Come, hear these prayers, that shall thy heart dissolve ; (My woman's weakness, less than my resolve !) Suppliant to thee (as thou wert wont to call On me) , before thee now I prostrate fall ! And dost thou hate me 1 Come l)ut luire, and view My infant sons, who claim a sire in you ! Gods ! shall a cruel step-dame's envious hate. With rage envenomed, urge my children's fate] Ah ! cruel, no ! — for they thy likeness bear ! Saddened, I view thine image seated there ; And gazing there, my dim eyes moistened grow ; I view them not but tears, unbidden, flow ! O ! I implore thee, by the Gods above ; By my undying, all-deserving love ; By the winged flames that I did once subdue ; By these, love's pledges — by my children, too! O ! yet restore me to my marriage bed. For which, fame, fortune, home, and power, I fled ! Add to thy vows some ratifying deed, And bring me help in this my hour of need ! 'Gainst bulls, nor men, nor serpents breathing flame, I seek no aid — no charm (juiescent claim : 152 E I ask fur llicr aloiu! — most justly luiiu' ! Of yore that gift, iiimski'tl l»y me, was thine ! A mother now, I ask a father's care For these — tliy children ef|ually they are. You ask my dower ! 'T was counted on the plain, Well ploughed, where you the golden fleece did gain ! The gaudy ram, bright dressed in fleece of gold. Was dower of mine, which you, when asked, withhold ! My marriage portion — thou, preserved from ill ; Thy life the measure of my gifts duth lill ! Go, traitor ! Now with ecjual justice weighed. Cast in the scale old Creon's vaunted aid ; Your very life — your wife's endearing care — And all her father's riches that you share — This — this — and all — aye, every good you own, My kindness gave — ungrateful wretch, alone ! Which soon, in trutli — but why foretell the deed 1 Fierce rage within doth outward anger breed ! '} Once done, my soul, now steadfast, may repent: ! that to thee mine ear I ne'er had lent ! She, Goddess, fell ! — that in my breast doth ride, Alone shall witness — witnessing, decide ! For I — on troublous waves of torment tossed — To firm resolve, for love or hate, am lost ! , iiM THE ANGRY POET. AN EPISTLK FROM CLAUD HALCRO TO THE " LOCUM TKNKNS " OK niEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER. And so, Mr Knick, you wont piil)lisli my druma'? * A play tliat would s e it from Maine t' Alabama ! I protest, sir — I vow — I proclaim " 't is too had ! " Though I 've given you the hint, don't I wish I ne'er had ? Glorious John ! glorious John ! could you 'wake from your sleep To behold your poor parasite, whimblecropt, cheap, How your blood, John,would boil ! Walter Sc(jtt how you'd rave! Though I want not yotir pity, you pirating knave ! Sweet Minna! dear Minna! and Brenda, the fair. This rebuff did you know, how you 'd pull Diedrich's hair ! How oft, while the love scenes to you I have read. Would each eye close, delighted, and nod each sweet head ! Then, when some fine passage would thrill to her heart, Blushing Brenda would whisper to Mordaunt apart ; And Minna, with earnest gaze, heav(?nward turned, For the absent one sigh, whom to love she had learned. * The above waa, as it purports to have been, si-nt to the Editor of " The Knick- erbocker " Magazine, wlio hiul previously (in answer to a letter of mine otierint; liini a MS. dranui) very kindly replied, stilting that drninas were not popular, nor fitted for the pages of a periodical. The " Angry Poet " was not, howevor, very irate, as maybe seeii. "The Knickerbocker" only published a portion of the above, leav- ing out the threats. Ill i^' m m^f Wi 154 OhI Noma! tlioii wizaul of yon fitful liond, How, in wild scornful spirit, yon M l{Mif,'li lind yon read The ihtmpery tin* draft of my drnnia that cIiccIumI — That stnntcd my lanrcls — my rich cargo wreckrd ! * That cargo ! ! nov<'r was galleon of Spain Thus freighted — by winds wafted over tl>e main ! There were stuffs, and brocades, and rich laces, and blonde ; There were Damascene blades, and thy silks, Trebi/ond ! Tliere was armour from Milan — both cuirass and helm ; AlM'lards, Eloisas, and Father Anselm ; There were jewels, and gold, and the aniulel's power ; A hero to rant and to spout by tlie hour ; A lady to love and be loved, and — to faint ; As a matter of course, turning pale through her paint ! There were clowns who the grave-digger clown could outvie, And Princes, who on the stage strutted so high. That Prince Hamlet they 'd scolT — (who could pick up a scull !) Vote his morals a bore, and his wit mighty dull ! There were spirits that roam in the great vasty deep, Coming back to our earth — as ghosts will do — to peep ! A King of the Cannibals — warriors a host — And a city, with domes, 'mid the dim waters lost ! There was some one descended from Brian Boru ; And, for pleasaunce, a hunchback — in French, un tortu! Every scene was an episode — tragic each act — Winding up with swords clashing, and pistols well cracked ! 'Til, n^ And s\\| Retract! That ir * The whole of this pnrngrnph refers to chameters in Sir Waher Scott's "Pirate }" my assuiiieil nanie of •' Clauu IIalcko " being that of a well known character in that Novel. • DiediJ t 'I'he j| t " Ponl 4 Goveif llil 165 O! who llmt llic fndex now rends wifli dcli^'lii, Hilt iMiiK) fret with vexnlion, and stamp with pure spite, To (liiiik tlint old Diedricli * got crusty, and swore He 'd kick liiis bright jewel away from his door ! Up, authors, in myriads ! Your hrother r«'venge ! Let us raise sucli an altar as stands at Slonehenge ! Let us borrow a Burke, i and, onci^ well on his trail, Smother up Mr Knick — tar him well, head and tail ; Then skewer and roast him — a sacrifice meet To the shades of my play — shouting " Claud Halcro's treat ! " Thou hearest my revenge, Knickerbocker ? Prepare ! I '11 make forcemeat of odes — I '11 inflate thee with air ! " To the winds," " To the sky," " To the waves," I will send Thee my I)allads entitled, and rhymes without end ! Every post shall convey them — each breeze waft them on — "Canzonetts," "Fragments," "Stanzas" — ten thousand if one ! And if they to the dead letter office should go. Wont I soon find it out? Nay, I 'm not quite so slow ! Expresses and railroads, and messengers, then Shall bear you the surfeit that flows from my jien ; Pomeroy f shall convey thein by Mathews, or Moore, § (Whom I know, by the way!) — shall encumber your floor ! 'Til, maddened, you groan at the horrible sight, And swear, for the drama you 'II instantly write ! Retract, sir! retract! Own 't is shameful indeed That my pinions are clipped thus in youth ! Horrid deed ! » Dieilrich Knickerhcx-kcr — Irvine's Historinn of Nfw York, t TIk^ pcriK'trators ol' many diDbolicnl murders in Kdinhuruii. t " Fonicroy' Exprt-ae." i) Government ngenl for cnrrying Despntches lo Canadn. 150 If (lie name of bold Soiulrry vvvr you've heard, * Read his preface and trenibh' ! I 'ni dil(u ! A word In your ear — you will learn thai if not A ilninialisl'^ood — I 'ni at least a good shot ! THE MYSTERIOUS VISITANT. A BALLAD. Forth to the forest, hand in hand, Two lovely children stray alone, Brimful of playful glee ; Now by a mnrnuiring brook they stand. And whiles they sit them on a stone — The hours unheeded flee. The sun that high in Heaven careercil. Now waning, sinks toward the West, And still they wander on ; But when, at length, the twilight 's neared, Each to the other's heart is presseil. And all their smiles are gone. • An enrly Novelist who, in his preface, challenged his critics to fight. See D'bmeli's Curiosities of Literature. IM 167 Como, sister »li'nr! rnim', liiiNicn linmc! The hoy, willi tn'inlfliiij? iicitiiIs, saitl, And U'iXTS wiTf in liis I'yr : O ! yes, my hrotlier ! Id us ronie. For night is g(iih<-ring fast overhead ; 0! hasten ; let ns Hy ! And fast tlicy ran, and on, and on, But thicker still the forest grew, And darker yet the shade. An hour — the glinunerinj,' twilight tlown — The moonless night oVrtook the two, And deeper simdow made. Then, with appealing ga/e to Heaven, The gallant boy looked up and })rayed ; Prayed for his sister dear ; That courage might to him he given, And to them both God's holy aid To keep their hearliS from fear. ! brother, I can run no more. At length the trembling maiden cried ; ! save me, l)rother kind ! My limbs are tired, my feet are sore ; O ! press me closer to thy side ! ! leave mo not l)ehind ! His arm around her waist is thrown ; Her head upon his l)osom laid ; Her bitter sol)s he hears. Calm thee, my sister dear, my own ! The boy, in gentle accents, said ; Dry up, sweet love, thy tears ; 168 Scf, I am near tlii-c ! I will Nliicid Thy lirad, my jrcnlli* sistrr, llirrc, Until lli«> morning dawn ; And G<»d above will Hun'ly yic'ld llis li('l|>, implored l»y fervent prayer, From hitler an^Miisli drawn! w And down they laid them thus to sleep, Each in the other's arniM enlwineil, Her head upon his hrenst ! Weary were tliey, and young ; and deep The sliimhers arc that youth can find ! So placid was their rest! And, though they knew it not the while, Aroung them hovering as they slept. Their wings ahove them spread, Good angels on the pair did smile, And ward and watcli unceasing kept Over each guileless head. is ■' H ;' 'T was night : within their distant home The anguished mother tore her hair ; The father's heart was sad. O ! whither did my children roam? Wher<' are my own loved infants'? Where My girl — my noble lad \ O ! righteous God ! to thee I pray ; Let not the mother's prayer l)e vain ; Break not this tortured heart ! O ! heavy woe ! O ! mournful day ! Give me my children back again ; We never niore shall part ! I5U TliiiN, wiili tlrspnirinu' tfc^liin-, wliilc The iiiotlirr inoiiniDl livr iiilaiUN IonI Willi frantir nirony, In vnin tlio stiri! cimiycd to 8iiiilc ; Each NJrkly Miiilc a lii'art-paiii; cost, Uiilil he (•cased to try. TluMi out willi moiiniriil s(c|>s lir went, The iK'ijflil)ours of liis fi.'ars (o tell, And to implore their aid. Earli, at the tale of liurror, l)i'nt His steps o'er \vo(»ded liill and dell. Nor young nor old delayed. Bright through the iiiglit the torch-lights glared And 'neath the oVr-arching forest streamed And flickered in the air ; No pains forgot — no labour spared ; Though far and near their torches gleamed. Still found they not the pair. Days rolled along — and day and night Still on their weary search they went ; And thus a fortnight passed ; But never came the gladdening ii^hi Of those for whom their search was bent ; And home they turned at last. Then suddenly, one sun-bright day, As sadly they went journeying homo, Despair in every heart, Behold ! they saw them in the way, Together through the woodland roam, As if they ne'er could part. :}:}. ii 160 Aiul s«»«ni llif l.oy lii^ fatln'r sees. And ludiiuiiiiff from his sister's side, Spriiiifs (() his jiriiis outspread ! '''iicn faUin^' on his hcndcd knees, '['he Cliristian sire, in joy and pride, A fervent prayer he said. ' I And wliitlier, O! my children dear, Ilavt! ye so long thus wandering been T And whereof did ye eat 1 Thought ye not of your mother's fear, Nor trendded in the woodland green, Trod hy the fairies' feet ? Then the girl raised her face so pure ; Then nestled to her father's breast, And timidly she spoke : ! many woes we diil endure. Since last, at niglii', we sank to rest. And in the woods awoke ! But speak, my own dear brother, speak ! For I am faint, and weak, and wasted. And thou canst speak so well ! A blush o'erspread tlie brave boy's cheek ; A flush of pride the glad youth tasted, And love his heart did swell : With heaving chest, and eye dilated. Awhile upon his sire he ga/ed, So full of pride and joy. Ere he his numy woes related ; At which the eager crowd were 'mazed, And treml)led, with the boy ! IGl O! fatlin-, 'l is a wondrous lah" ! Tlius hi' with solemn voice began — The earnest voice of truth ! No human aid did sure avail To send to us that kindly man. Pitying our tender youth ! Lost in the wild wood's solemn shade, My sister and myself lay down, With bitter tears, to sleep. I dreamed — and then iiiethought there played Sweet smiling faces, all unknown. Where we lay slumbering deep ! I started up to call for aid. But, waking, the sweet visions fled, And all was dark and drear. Pillowed, my sister's head was laid Here, on this faithful bosom's bed ; But naught beside w.-is near. Then, in the lonely night, I wept — Wept for the frail and tender child Who in the cold might die : Strange fears of death upon me crept ; The wind moaned wierd-like, sad, and wild ; The dead leaves rustled by. Slowly the morning rose at last ; The dawn star glimmered in the East ; Then, up I 'rose to pray : But still my sister slumbered fast — The pallour of her face increased By the pale morning ray : 162 }n Her golden hair neglected fell In curls upon her shoulders fuir ; An angel form she seemed, Fit 'niid the \vhite-rol)ed choirs to dwell. Who sing in Heaven some sacred air ; Such love around her beamed. But soon the glittering leaves on high Proclaimed the coming light of day — The world-illuming sun ! Up, sister dear ! I cried ; we '11 fly, And rK''er again from home we '11 stray Up, sister dear ! and run. She started up, then wildly stood And gazed about with startled eye : ! brother dear '. she cried. How came we here in this wild wood 1 ! homeward, brother, let us fly ; And then her tears she dried. nf* Homeward ! but whither 1 On we ran Until the sun in heaven was high ; But, deeper grew the wood. Fierce hunger now his calls began ; My sister sat her down to cry. And I beside her stood. Look, sister dear ! at last I cried ; See where yon brilliant berries grow ; Our hunger they will stay : And then my busy hands I plied The harvest in her lap to throw. And hunger drive away. !fl 163 Again 'i was iii|i?lii ! No oiiilri Miill ( Th' interminable forest seemed At every step to sprentl. In every vnle, on every hill, When night set in, or daylight beained, A gloom was o'er us shed ; And hunger, ravening, fierc(>, and fell, Again came o'er us faint and wan, And we were near to die ! O ! God ! my anguish who shall tell When bread to ask my sister 'gan, And in despair to cry ? I fell upon my bended knees ; I prayed the Lord to feed us there — Afar from human eye. Then, gleaming by the forest trees. Sudden, I saw a light so fair, That seemed approaching nigh : A gentle footstep next we heard, And soon a mau appeared to view, A lantern in his hand ! Graceful, and long, his flowing beard Down to his very middle grew ; And all his face was bland : Mild lustre in his beaming eyo, All redolent of merry, shone ; Beauty, and Godlike grace : His brow was clear, and fair, and high ; His waist w^as girded with a /one, That kept his robe in place ; 164 His voice was like an angers loiu>, So sweet, so musical, so clear, '')iir hearts wre filled with love. He called us children dear — his own! And told us not to yield to fear, But ask for aid above ! Then, from a basket which he bore. He brought us forth a savoury pie, Our hunger to appease ; And whiles we ate, he bent him o'er My sister with a beaming eye : We seemed his heart to please : Then, Farewell, children dear ! he said. Longer I may not tarry here. But I will come once more ! Blessed be, he said, each guileless head, And o'er us dropped a pitying tear ; Then left us as before ! And every night, at eventide. Still the same gentle stranger came With the same heavenly smile j Still did for all our wants provide ; Stul luiJ "w3 not his home or name — We, wandering mile on mile ; Ne'er mentioned how he found us out. Or why he thus prolonged our days By his mysterious aid : But still we could not dread or doubt ; For, from his angel face the rays Of beaming merry played. ;f.ll| '"I V\ 165 At last — 't was not an hour ayo — A light from Heaven iK-fore us slione, And HE again was there ! But 'round him iieavenly music's How We heard — and saw him on a throne Of gold and azure fair ! There angels, of seraphic mien, Around him grouped, adoring, knelt : Again his voice we heard — Children! your hope in Heavkn luas been ; Your hearts the lioly truths have felt. Taught by God's holy word ! Farewell, 'til in a happier world Your gentle spirits rest with me — In endless love to dwell ! Farewell ! but when on world-storms hurled. Then to your Heavenly Father flee — To him your sorrows tell. Farewell ! your earthly parents seek, And soon shall find ye, guileless pair. To glad their sorrowing hearts ! Then ceased that angel voice to speak ; Faded away that vision fair. As light from earth departs ! H t 'A And here ye are, preserved of Heaven ! My daughter dear — my gallant boy ! Come to your father's heart ! The lesson from on high is given, Where dwells alone eternal joy. That never shall depart ! n 166 TIiIn, too, iriy darling cliildrrn, U'arii, That Wfindrous are tin- ways of God— - OninipotiLnt his wiki ! And lliough tlu' itigh Iwlicsi seoim ■ jrrn, Our dtjly is to k'^s the rod That smites us — and be still ! The fur-^going Ballad is foiimled upon astciv rcii;t'd to mv mother >> a [jentlnnan who clBiincd to be an artm- in it. Two rhii(ir"ii vvrre lost, f..' the Bnilnd deK'riiws it . linil I'll the ne -/hboiirs turning out to senrcri, tiiey wcr tound, after some days, .'ilix'' ;u the wooiIk. On iM-ing nsked how they were fed, they replied, that a man in v'litf hii'l roiiiu to them daily, B>id given them i'akes. The unsuperstitious may 1 1' ,;li, and say the gentleinaii was a quiz. The more credulous, like myself, will .viy " jMThn{)H so ! " YOUTH. Come hither, youth, with merry eye ; Hither, ! age of pleasure, fly : With thee what joys our souls o'erflow, Dreamless of coming pain or woe ! Now, wandering 'neath unclouded skies. Such dreams as Poets dream arise, And Love's sweet promptings softly steal O'er hearts that throb his fires to feel. He who lit tills sweet {(gc is blest Witli pulses full, and lieavinjf hreiisl, Away will bound through meadows green With sonic fair maid of seventeen ; Guileless her breast, but, throbbing high, There doth the warm blood, mantling, fly ; And on her soft and downy cheek The crimson blush young love bespeak ; His loving arm around her thrown Circles a bosom all his own ; And gazing in her lovelit eye, In that sweet task he fain would die. Their hearts are one ; the eyes of both Beam brightly as they plight their troth ; Then weeping (on his bosom laid Her beauteeus head) he soothes the maid ; With her long locks he fondly plays. Through which the 'namoured Zephyr strays, 'Til, won from this her virgin fear, She smiles his burning words to hear. Then oft, within some fragrant grove. The very dwelling-place of love, When skies are sheen, and bright, and fair, And summer perfumes fill the air, With glowing cheek, with melting eye. Whose lustrous orbs in beauty lie ; With roimded form, of virgin mould, That doth a loving heart enfold ; With breast that heaves a gentle sigh Of joy repressed that he is nigh ; 168 Willi step as li^lil and fairy-like As when Titaniu's footslcps strike The h)wly flower, that scarcely hends When past the eWin (Joddess wends, She meets him with confiding love, Holy, and chronicled above! Then follows hjuning kiss on kiss ; But never yet such lovt^ as this Hath led to any evil thought ; Too fervent, and too pure, 't is wrought By Godlike power within the soul, And half its bliss is self-control ! Sweet picture of our earlier days, When first we feel the kindling blaze That thrills us through our every vein, Insatiate, and unmixed with pain. Alas ! that e'er those holy fires Should yield to passion's fierce drsires. Alas ! that ruthless men should dare Deceive the too confiding fair. Alas! that virtue, honour, all That fallen man his hope can call. Should, then, unheeded, prostrate lie, And 'mid unholy passions die ! Th' undying grief 't were vain to tell Of her who thus from virtue fell. No more on her the balm doth rest That soothes th' unsullied maiden's breast ; Her pillow aye is wet with tears ; Her bosom torn with anxious fears ; ^^-^.' 169 Dishonour tvsls upon lior naniP ; Loud doth til' unpitying worhl proclaim Her early sin — her lasting shame ! But not 'gainst him the wrong who wrouglil Doth the world's virtue kindle aught. Perchance 't is known, and yet men say He will reform some other day ! Away with this unmanly creed : Let the world's praise be virtue's meed ; Be pardon to repentance given; But forth from every slu-lter driven, He who a woman's love hath won, And then the trusting maid undone ; Who, unrepentant of the ill. The damning cup of vice can fdl, By boasting of the unholy deed That leaves a broken heart to bleed ! Woman, in virtue's precepts schooled. Thou who wert ne'er by passion ruled, Whom chance may lead to reo'i this page, In honoured life's maturer age, Drop o'er their fate one pitying tear. Whoe'er they are, of whom you hear That they from virtue's paths have strayed- Pray for betrayers and betrayed ! But when the joyous blood of youth Blends with its vigour love and truth, O ! then, no bliss to mortal dealt Can vie with that which then he felt ! 170 *tti, , The whiHiM'riiif? 'inalli llu" liawlli<»ri» Crro, Which Burns hath sung— ihr l(»vclil rV, All, all, were his — and 'mid the dancf, The thrillinff touch, the speaking glance ! Then when the sire's consent is given. The harbinger, on earth, of Heaven, The i>ealing bell — the fairy chin»e, (0 ! who can ring like them his rhyme !) When, on the wedding morn, the bride, All beaming loveliness and pride. In virgin white, wit'-, love-knots trim, Prepares to yield herself to him ; When the .oft, thrilling " yes " he hears, Whispered with modest, trembling ft!urs ; ! hours once passed no more redeemed, By manhood mourned — l)y boyhood dreamed ! What angel touched you with his rod, To raise the mortal to a God 1 P -i Perchance, too, at this age of fire. To loftier dreams young hearts aspire : Wisdom and honour, glory, fame, And all the treasures of a name. The kindling youth sometimes inspire. With earnest hand, to strike tln^ lyre; And, O ! in tliat creative gift What spells ihere dwell the soul to lift Abcve the sordid human clay. That lives and grovels out its day ; What forms the bard in visions sees ! What murmurs whisper through the trees ! If • U 171 Pt-rcliatu'c, in tlioiiirht iIm> iln>nint>i' .sliii)il!i, Fur, far awiiy in hie nnd cieor TliR sea nround in ripph's lloata, Wliere silent glide a thousand boats ; The moonlight dwells iijjon the scene, A flood of brilliance, chaste and sheen. There gently, o'er that silvered tide. The world forgotten, lovers glide ; Mirrored clearly in l)right blue eyes, Shrines spotless as the a/ure skies. Perchance, romantic days of yore, Chivalric days his thoughts explore, When, marshalled in a bold array. The steel-clad champions met mid-way, And sought the meed from beauty's eyes — The meed of valour's high emprize. Perchance, he hears of warlike deeds. And with the dying hero bleeds ; Perchance, some giant theme of old. In visions wrapped, his eyes behold; And from the dust of other days He strives to kindle Godlike rays : Who can the thousand scenes recall That on the Poet's vision fall. When in his youthful days of dreams A Homer to himself he sin^ms. 17.1 O! fiKnl power; if in Imn ndiiI Hut dimly ihoNc ^^rcal vi!«ions mil ; Or if, |H»M.s«'<«Niiiif llii'iii, lir fiillM *Mi(l Wiisy haiiiil.H whrrr m, too ; To raise the voice in Patriot cause ; To nuike, amend, preserve, the laws ; To live in the memory of men For uges, such as \\v. there then To be — the stars of eloipience, Hulwarks of freedom, and dc'fence Of monarths' sucred rights — to share Their glory in men's eyes: such were, And are, and will be, evermore, The dreams of youth, ere youth explore That which lies yet beyond their reach — Stern truth, which manhood's trials teach ! Farewell, sweet age ; for never more For me thy visions thou 'It outpour ; Farewell ! Thy brilliant fancies, lied, Are numbered witli th' unheeded dead. Farewell ! But imforgotten still By me, thy inemory shall fill, 174 s-** , m With light, perchance, some ilreary page Of manhood, or forlorn old age ; But not for ine the mystic scrolls O'er which the future darkly rolls, To read — they are the Book of God Alone, who wrote them with a nod. Farewell ! Again, Farewell ! To thee I cling, hating from thence to flee — Morning of life ! Young birth of hope ! I go with man — th.e world to cope. THE PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA. Onward ! Still on — the relics of a host Whose fame hath made earth's proudest monarchs quake- They rush, like Ocean's waves, tumultuous, tost — Bloodshed and famine mingling in their wake. There, in one mass, behold the proud array — The boast of France ! Ere yet shall close that day, Not e'en his voice his minions shall awake ; Nor yet a mother's eye — if such be there — Shall tell, amid the ghastly heaps, the son she bare ! 175 Onward tliey press, for ever in their rear The foemnn sweeps relenth'ss on his way ; The cannon speaks in thunder to the ear ; No voice can bid that fearful torrent stay ; For flash on flash, and gleaming steel, ap()ear ' What reck they aught of war, save mortal fear. That bids them not from safety madly stray, But seek that boon in flight ! For, wild and dread, O'er many a dreary plain the Hettman's Cossacks spread ! A. Behold their spectral corses grimly strew Their brethren's path ; and all unheeded lie, Save by the warrior foes' manuiding crew. Whose knives gleam swiftly on the closing eye — Waked but to hear the curse that bids them die ! And then the banner once that proudly flew. War-worn and soiled, lies stiff 'ning in the hold Of him who, to his honoured standard true, Binds to his heart that pall with one convulsive fold ! s quake-- *y> iro! Onward ! still on ! for now beiure their view The sullen river rolls its darkling flood ; The clang of war behind them bursts anew ; No time have they o'er sad defeat to l)rood. Onward, o'er dying friends, so late who stood The sharers of their toil — for life, for life, The madd'ning race begins ! In that dark hour. With every horror frauglit — with danger rife — Who dreamt of kindred ties, or felt sweet friendship's power 1 .•''V - it - ^^ - 176 '1-;c And fiisl, iind wild, in gaUicrinf]^ rrowds they come, And shrieks and groans from out that mingling mass, Tell that the angnished spirit wingeth home Its weary flight ! They win that narrow pass, But ever and anon the thund'ring bass Of guns that, rumbling in the distance, boom — Waking to one continuous peal ! Alas ! Is there no hope for that once victor host 1 The despot's ann,earth's 8courge,and Gaul's triumphant boast'? h. None ! For tlie tempest-breath of heaven awakes, And darkly green the swollen waters flow ; The wintry l)lftst upon them cohlly breaks — The rear-guard yields to the victorious foe ! It heaves — it yawns — O, God ! with one dread throe, The crowded bridge beneath the pressure shakes. And thrice ten thousand souls are hurled below Into that " hell of waters," fierce and strong. Whose waves relentless bear the flower of France along ! Aye ! and her vine-clad valleys long shall hear Tlie voice of mourning for her sons wiio lie. Thrown by the sated wave on deserts drear ; And long shall ring " that agonizing cry," And haunt liis dreams wlien none to soothe is nigh ! And, fortune flown, shall thunder in his ear 'Mid courts and camps — the worm that ne'er shall die ; And tell to every age, like Heaven's own wrath. The vengeance dire that waits on th' invader's path ! THE LITANY OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND, V E R S I F I K D. Father of Heaven ! God of all ! O ! thou Supremo alone ! We miserable sinners bend before thy glorious Throne, And, as we kneel, imploring cry, be merciful, O God ! Down looking from thy throne of grace, be merciful, O God ! long ! thou Redeemer of the world — ! blessed Son of God ! Have mercy on us — scourge us not witli 'hiiu! avenging rod ! To thee, our Saviour, low we benii — and ps we kneel, we cry In penitence and anguish, spare us. Son of God ! Most High ! nigh ! ihall die ; thl ! Holy Spirit, offspring of the Futlier and the Son ; Spirit of God, and of the sacred triune Godhead one ! Prostrate before the mercy seat of God on high we bow : Have mercy on us, sinful men and miserable, now ! ! Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, three persons and one Lord ! ! holy, blessed Trinity, in unity adored. Have mercy on r^. sinfu' men ! O! hear our humble prayer, All vile and worthless as we are ! ! hear us. Lord, to spare ! w I" ^ -I ' 178 Think not on our offences, Lord, nor our forefalhers' sins ; Nor take thou vengeance on us when tliine hour of wrath begins ! Spare us, good Lord ! Thy people spare, enfranchised by thy blood — The precious blood that from thy side in streams of mercy flowed : Let not thy kindling anger. Lord, forever still be stored. Until the day of wrath shall come — but spare us, ! good Lord ! .i :f m- From evil and from mischief, and from each besetting sin ; From Satan's craft, and wiles, and wrath, our feeble spirits win ! From thy devouring wrathfulness, from everlasting hell And misery, deliver us, ! righteous God, as well ! From every blindness of the heart — vain glory, pomp and pride, Hypocrisy and envy mean, from hate and malice wide; From any want of charity unto our fellow men, We cry, good Lord deliver us — enfranchise us again ! From fornication damnable, and every deadly sin ; From all allureuicnts of the world that fain our souls would win ; From all the devil's cunning traps — from every fleshly wile. Good Lord deliver us, we pray, in penitence the while. From lightning and from tempest — from pestilence and plague ; From deadly famine save us. Lord, with all its horrors vague ; From battle and from nuirder foul, and from a sudden death, Good Lord deliver us ! we cry in one united breath. In In 0! All From every rank sedition, conspiracy, and all Tke evils of rebellion, ! save us, or we fall ! 179 From nil false (loclrino, licrcsy, nnd linnlncss of tlio lionri ; From schism and disunion, that thy trno Clnirrli would pari ; From all contempt and disobedience of thy holy word, And from brcaVing thy commandments, deliver us, O Lord ! Now by the holy mystery, whereby the Godhead, veiled. Was in human form incarnate, that on the Cross was nailed ; Now by thy blessed nativity, when in a manger laid. The voice of herald angels glad hosannns 'round thee made ; And by thy circumcision, temptation, fasting, prayer, And by thy holy baptism, good Lord ! thy people spare ! By thy bloody sweat and agony — thy Cross — thy passion there ; Thy precious death and burial, good Lord, thy pv^ople spare ! Thy glorious resurrection from the regions of the dead ; And by thy blessed ascension, that earth to heaven did wed ; By the coming of the Holy Ghost, foreshadowed in thy word, The harbinger of grace and peace — deliver us, good Lord ! plague ; vague ; death, In all time of tribulation, and in our hour of wealth ; In death, and at the day of Judgment, taking us by stealth, O ! then, in trustful confidence on thy revealed word, All bending low, we cry aloud, deliver us, good Lord ! Beseeching thee, we, sinners, bend before thy sacred Throne, And we cry to thee to hear us, O Lord ! our God alone ! That it may please thee aye to rule thy holy Church aright, Humbly we do beseech thee, Lord ! tho i God of might ! \'{ 180 4. 11^ »* pff. That it may pleiise thee, O ! great Go ; 'I'lif Nofi rarrsN tlirilN to iId- rdiil, And, a> Iroiii oiil lli*- gia^fs, Siiiiiiiioiird li\ llic uri 111' r^ liiiiiip, Till' dfail sliall livi Tilt' vivifyiliir Hood < m FluWN upward to tlu -^1 Now yt'oiiu-n, in a busy ln>op, Bear liitlicrward your way ! Lust night tlie .sparkling lionr-frost gleunicd- Tlu' sun Im'uius Iniglit to-day : Now lu'W your iroiiglis, and lap your trees ; And, as ye work, upraise A lusty song of lioinefelt joy, A gladsoniu hymn of praise. Ye are not Gods — no nectar Hows Into the homely bowl ; Btil your nuiple shall a nectar l>e To every grateful soul. The wiiul — the wind — of early spring ! Glad reveller, it tlies Far over every hill and dale — Far through the Hashing skies : The ice-bound rivers heave and swell To greet the halniy an ; And us with thunder riven, lo ! The ice is severed there. *' ■ i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 11.25 2.2 H ti& |2.0 yuu M U 11.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation v ^v n\ ^, 23 WIST MAM STMIT WIBSTIR.N.Y. 14SM (716)«72-4S03 v\ 186 Willi lH>oiniiig sotinci, tlial runs nhmg^ The mighty crack extends ; Outward each mass, dissevered now, Its course unwilling wends : Then from the mast-head floats the Hag To greet the favouring breeze ; The sails expand — the joyous bark Floats o'er the inland seas. The wind — the wind — the spring-time wind ? It comes with rushing sound ; 'Hie blue waves heave, right joyously, i In many a merry bound. On sunny slopes — on mountain tops — O'er peaceful valleys fair — It comes, bequeathing gladness And fragrance to the air. Beneath the flat and marshy plain The green grass deftly grows ; The voice of Spring it hears again — The mother voice it knows. Upon the hill sides, sparkling, shine The dew-drops, silver bright ; And there the crimson petalled flowers Are struggling into light. Upspringing from the moistened earth, The lady-slipper see ; And all the brilliant orchis tribe — The dragon, und the bee. 187 j!>lurtiiig iiiiiid llir (lurk green l«-HVcp. As fearful half to break her sleep ! Changed be the measure and the theme : No trickling of the tuneful stream Can tell how bright the toich-lights beam When o'er the noisy mass thry gleam And flash with vengeful fire. Black gloom upon the City spread. When NINE the clock strikes overhead, Then wakes commotion dire : An hundred thousand torches flare, And madly wave their flaming hair ; And luridly they flout the sky, With sparks that 'mid the darkness fly ! " Death to the tyrants ! " Hear A million voices near. Repeat the fearful soiinil. In mingled yells of rage and wot', Curses and cries for succour flow, The mighty mass around. Lo ! gleaming in the hands Of yon infuriate bands, Bright in the ruddy torch-light glow, The polished jav'lins flash. With rage and hungi-r wildly rash. !.1 . 194 The |H>o|)Ic burn Ut Hirikc flio Idow — The blow that, with u thiiiulcr-orusb. Would lay the enrtli-liorn nobles low. The giant Hinitli stands glowering (here, Grim-visaged, wierd, with clotted hair ; There, too, the weaver, pale and wan, With gleaming eyes, leads on the van To works of death and doom. They leave the Town — they seek the plain, And, ruthless, trample the ripe grain — Those minions of the loom ! The loud alarums, wide and far, Spread like the burning breath of war, And fears the hamlet fdl. But, hark ! upon the night-breeze come The squadron's tramp — the rattling drum — The heavy rolling gun. 'Til all, at once, grows still ! But, hark ! again upwakes the cry, " Death to the titled tyrants high ! Our vengeance has l)egun ! " Then flash on flash, with sullen ronr. The troops their " volleyed thunder " pour Upon th-i writhing crowd : Then shrieks and groans commingled rise ; And far the trembling myria <'OMie again — Until at TKN they ceooe ! Then, an each l)iir^[her gtx's to rest, His piUow in soft .diinilMT pressed, The City is at peace. But soon the carriage rolls along ; The votaries of fashion throng To some gay revel, where the dance May mirthfully the night advance. Like light from every fair one's l)row The sparkling diamonds flash and glow, While 'round the candelabra throw A flood of light on all below, And fast the waltzers move. Soft eyes with radiant glances beam, And music's cleor melodious stream Winds 'round them and obove. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven ! It seems a fairy heaven With gleaming lights, and music gay, And eyes that steal your heart away. On speed the hours with swifter pace ; Old Time with waltzing runs a race : Bright smiles are dimpling each sweet face ; And spurs destroy Valenciennes lace ; But still the mirth goes on. Still gay Huzzars and Lancers blaze With gold, that glitters in the maze ; 'Til, one by one, they 're gone ! -ml '■i\ jlnni8 iinih', or tfinpcNiM htiir, Tho ancient clock rings out ihi' hour, Sonirtiuieii with voici! of wondrouft |M)W(