EUROPE:

LINES ON THE PRESENT WAR.

WRITTEN IN 1809.

ID.'QVANDO. ACCIDERIT. NON. SATIS. AVDEO EFFARI. SIQVIDEM. NON. CLARIVS. MIHI PER.SACROS. TRIPODES. CERTA. REFERT. DEVS

NEC. SERVAT. PENITVS. FIDEM

QVOD. 81.

QVID. LICEAT. CREDERE. ADHVC.

TAMEN

NAM. LAEVVM.TONVIT. NON. FVERIT. PROCVL.

QVAERENDVS. CELERI. QVI. PROPERET. GRADV

IT. GALLVM. REPRIMAT. FEROX

PETRVS. CRINITVS. IN. CARMINE

AD BER. CARAPHAM.

EUROPE.

Ar that dread season when th' indignant north
Poured to vain wars her tardy numbers forth,
When Frederic bent his ear to Europe's cry,
And fanned too late the flame of liberty;
By feverish hope oppressed and anxious thought,
In Dresden's grove the dewy cool I sought.
Through tangled boughs the broken moonshine

played,
And Elbe slept soft beneath his linden shade-
Yet slept not all ;-I heard the ceaseless jar,
The rattling wagons, and the wheels of war,
The sounding lash, the march's mingled hum,
And, lost and heard by fits, the languid drum;
O’er the near bridge the thundering hoofs that

trode, And the far-distant fife that thrilled along the

road. Yes, sweet it seems across some watery dell

To catch the music of the pealing bell;
And sweet to list, as on the beach we stray,
The ship-boy's carol in the wealthy bay:
But sweet no less, when Justice points the spear,
Of martial wrath the glorious din to hear,
To catch the war-note on the quivering gale,
And bid the blood red paths of conquest hail.

0, song of hope, too long delusive strain.
And hear we now thy flattering voice again?
But late, alas, I left thee cold and still,
Stunned by the wrath of Heaven, on Pratzen's

hill. 0, on that hill may no kind month renew The fertile rain, the sparkling suminer dew. Accursed of God, may those bleak summits tell The field of anger where the mighty fell. There youthful Faith and high born Courage rest, And, red with slaughter, Freedom's humbled

crest, There Europe,soiled with blood her tresses gray, And ancient Honor's shield -- all vilely thrown

away. Thus inused my soul, as in succession drear Rose each grim shape of Wrath and Doubt and

Fear.
Defeat and shame in grizzly vision passed,

And Vengeance, bought with blood, and glori

ous Death the last. Then as my gaze their waving eagles met, And through the night each sparkling bayonet, Still memory told how Austria’s evil hour Had felt on raga's field a Frederic's power, Aud Gallia's vaunting train, and Mosco's horde, Had fleshed the maiden steel of Brunswic's

sword. O! yet, I deemed, that Fate, by Justice led, Might wreath once more the veteran's silver

head; That Europe's ancient pride would yet disdain The cumbrous sceptre of a single reign; That conscious right would tenfold strength af

ford, And heaven assist the patriot's holy sword, And look in mercy through th' auspicious sky, To bless the saviour host of Germany. And are they dreams, these bodings, such as

shed Their lonely comfort o'er the hermit's bed ? And are they dreams ? or can the Eternal Mind Care for a sparrow, yet neglect mankind ? Why, if the dubious battle own his power, And the red sabre, where he bids, devour, Why then can one the curse of worlds deride,