The soldier raised his seeking eye There, where death's brief pang was quickest, IV. O'er glories gone the invaders march, With her heart in her voice; But, her hand on her sword, Doubly shall she be adored; France hath twice too well been taught The "moral lesson" dearly bought Her safety sits not on a throne, With Capet or Napoleon! But in equal rights and laws, Hearts and hands in one great cause— Freedom, such as God hath given Unto all beneath his heaven, With their breath, and from their birth, Though guilt would sweep it from the earth; With a fierce and lavish hand Scattering nations' wealth like sand; Pouring nations' blood like water, V. But the heart and the mind, And the voice of mankind, Shall arise in communion And who shall resist that proud union? FROM THE FRENCH.5 I. MUST thou go, my glorious Chief, With a soldier's faith for thee? II. Idol of the soldier's soul! First in fight, but mightiest now; Many could a world control; Thee alone no doom can bow. 4 ["Talking of politics, pray look at the conclusion of my 'Ode on Waterloo,' written in the year 1815, and comparing it with the Duke de Berri's catastrophe in 1820, tell me if I have not as good a right to the character of Vates,' in both senses of the word, as Fitzgerald and Coleridge ?— 'Crimson tears will follow yet; and have they not ?"-B. Letters, 1820.] 5 "All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish officer who had been exalted from the ranks by Buonaparte. He clung to his master's knees; wrote a letter to Lord Keith, entreating permission to accompany him, even in the most menial capacity, which could not be admitted." By thy side for years I dared Death; and envied those who fell, III. Would that I were cold with those, Scarce dare trust a man with thee, IV. Would the sycophants of him Could he purchase with that throne Hearts like those which still are thine? V. My chief, my king, my friend, adieu ! Never did I droop before; As his foes I now implore: All I ask is to divide Every peril he must brave; His fall, his exile, and his grave. 6 "At Waterloo one man was seen, whose left arm was shattered by a cannon ball, to wrench it off with the other, and throwing it up in the air, exclaimed to his comrades, 'Vive l'Empereur, jusqu'à la mort!' There were many other instances of the like this you may, however, depend on as true."-Private Letter from Brussels. ON THE STAR OF "THE LEGION OF HONOUR." [FROM THE FRENCH.] STAR of the brave!-whose beam hath shed Such glory o'er the quick and dead— Which millions rush'd in arms to greet,— Wild meteor of immortal birth ! Why rise in Heaven to set on Earth? Souls of slain heroes form'd thy rays; Like lava roll'd thy stream of blood, Before thee rose, and with thee grew, For Freedom's hand had blended them, One tint was of the sunbeam's dyes; 7 The tricolor. Star of the brave! thy ray is pale, And Freedom hallows with her tread NAPOLEON'S FAREWELL. [FROM THE FRENCH.] I. FAREWELL to the Land, where the gloom of my Glory I have warr'd with a world which vanquish'd me only I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely, II. Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crown'd me, I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth, But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee, Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth. Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted In strife with the storm, when their battles were wonThen the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was blasted, Had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on victory's sun! |