Even in this low world of care

Freedom ne'er shall want an heir;
Millions breathe but to inherit
Her for ever bounding spirit-
When once more her hosts assemble,
Tyrants shall believe and tremble —
Smile they at this idle threat?
Crimson tears will follow yet.*

#

FROM THE FRENCH.

["MUST THOU GO, MY GLORIOUS CHIEF?"]1

MUST thou go, my glorious Chief,
Severed from thy faithful few?
Who can tell thy warrior's grief,
Maddening o'er that long adieu?
Woman's love, and friendship's zeal,

Dear as both have been to me

["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?

6

'Crimson tears will follow yet; '

and have they not?"- Byron's Letters, 1820.]

↑ "All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish officer who had been exalted from the ranks by Bonaparte. 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."

What are they to all I feel,

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.
By thy side for years I dared

Death; and envied those who fell,
When their dying shout was heard,
Blessing him they served so well.*

III.

Would that I were cold with those,
Since this hour I live to see;

When the doubts of coward foes

Scarce dare trust a man with thee,
Dreading each should set thee free!

Oh! although in dungeons pent,
All their chains were light to me,
Gazing on thy soul unbent.

"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.

IV.

Would the sycophants of him
Now so deaf to duty's prayer,
Were his borrowed glories dim,
In his native darkness share?
Were that world this hour his own,
All thou calmly dost resign,

Could he purchase with that throne

Hearts like those which still are thine?

V.

My chief, my king, my friend, adieu!
Never did I droop before;

Never to my sovereign sue,
As his foes I now implore:
All I ask is to divide

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

His fall, his exile, and his grave.

ON THE STAR OF "THE LEGION OF HONOR.'

[FROM THE FRENCH.]

STAR of the brave! - whose beam hath shed

Such glory o'er the quick and dead ·

Thou radiant and adored deceit !

Which millions rushed in arms to greet,

Wild meteor of immortal birth!

Why rise in Heaven to set on Earth?

Souls of slain heroes formed thy rays;
Eternity flashed through thy blaze;
The music of thy martial sphere
Was fame on high and honor here;
And thy light broke on human eyes,
Like a volcano of the skies.

Like lava rolled thy stream of blood, And swept down empires with its flood; Earth rocked beneath thee to her base, As thou didst lighten through all space And the shorn Sun grew dim in air, And set while thou wert dwelling there

Before thee rose, and with thee grew,
A rainbow of the loveliest hue

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

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

One tint was of the sunbeam's dyes; One, the blue depth of Seraph's eyes; One, the pure Spirit's veil of white Had robed in radiance of its light:

The tricolor.

The three so mingled did beseem
The texture of a heavenly dream.

Star of the brave! thy ray is pale,
And darkness must again prevail !
But, oh thou Rainbow of the free!
Our tears and blood must flow for thee.
When thy bright promise fades away,
Our life is but a load of clay.

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

NAPOLEON'S FAREWELL.

[FROM THE FRENCH.]

I.

FAREWELL to the Land, where the gloom of my Glory

Arose and o'ershadowed the earth with her name

She abandons me now

but the page of her story,

The brightest or blackest, is filled with my fame.

I have warred with a world which vanquished me

only

When the meteor of conquest allured me too far;