Of sight, and worthless in the trader's eyes, Of all his children; he the best beloved, Because most helpless, yet no prayer will move To share the fetters, which his father bind. He feels the bruising blow; then down he sinks, O God! how large a portion of the ills Of humankind, derives itself from man! ODE FROM THE FRENCH. I. We do not curse thee, Waterloo ! Though freedom's blood thy plain bedew; There 'twas shed, but is not sunk— Rising from each gory trunk, Like the water-spout from ocean, With a strong and growing motion Grahame. It soars and mingles in the air, With that of lost Labedoyere With that of him whose honoured grave Contains the bravest of the brave.' A crimson cloud it spreads and glows, As then shall shake the world with wonder Never yet was seen such lightning As o'er heaven shall then be bright'ning! Like the wormwood star foretold By the sainted seer of old, Showering down a fiery flood, Turning rivers into blood. II. The chief has fallen, but not by you, Vanquishers of Waterloo ! When the soldier citizen Swayed not o'er his fellow men Save in deeds that led them on Where glory smiled on freedom's son- With that youthful chief competed? Till lone tyranny commanded? Till, goaded by ambition's sting, Who would men by man enthral. III. And thou too of the snow-white plume ! Than sold thyself to death and shame Such as he of Naples wears, Who thy blood-bought title bears, On thy war horse through the ranks, Once-as the moon sways o'er the tide, Of the black and sulphurous fight, 2 The soldier raised his seeking eye vi And, as it onward rolling rose, So moved his heart upon our foes. There, where death's brief pang was quickest, IV.: O'er glories gone the invaders march, With her heart in her voice; France has twice too well been taught⠀ But in equal rights and laws, Hearts and hands in one great cause— Freedom, such as God hath given With their breath, and from their birth, With a fierce and lavish hand Scattering nations' wealth like sand; Pouring nations' blood like water, In imperial seas of slaughter! V. But the heart and the mind, And the voice of mankind, Shall arise in communion And who shall resist that proud union? The time is passed when swords subdued— Man may die-the soul's renewed: Even in this low world of care Freedom ne'er shall want an heir; Millions breathe but to inherit Crimson tears would follow yet. Byr |