Thy tents, Nebaioth, rise, and, Kedar, thine!
Itic ruins of Estakhar, or Persepolis, the ancient capital of Persia, an account follows of the wild
See Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xiv. p. 43. local traditions just alluded to. Vol. ii. p. 190. Ed.
Amst. 1735, 4to. Vide also Sale's Koran; D'Herbelot, Bibl. Orient. (article Soliman Ben Dao ud); and the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, passim. Note 26, page 2, col. 2.
Through nature's mazes wandered unconfined. The Arabian mythology respecting Solomon is in itself so fascinating, is so illustrative of the pre-shipped." sent state of the country, and on the whole so agreeable to Scripture, that it was judged improper to omit all mention of it, though its wildness might have operated as an objection to making it a principal object in the poem.
Note 33, page 3, col. 1.
Beat o'er her soul the billows of the proud.
Psalm cxxiv. 4.
Note 34, page 3, col. 2.
Weep for
your country, for your children weep.
Luke xxiii. 27, 28.
Note 35, page 3, col. 2.
And the pale parent drank her children's gore.
Josephus vi. p. 1275. Ed. Huds.
And Tadmor thus, and Syrian Balbec rose. Palmyra ("Tadmor in the desert") was really built by Solomon, (1 Kings ix. 2 Chron. viii.) and universal tradition marks him out, with great probability, as the founder of Balbec. Estakhar is also attributed to him by the Arabs. See the Romance of Vathek, and the various Travels into the East, more particularly Chardin's, in which, after a minute and interesting description of the majes-been very exalted when they ascribed so large a
The stoic tyrant's philosophic pride.
The Roman notions of humanity can not have
share to Titus. For the horrible details of his conduct during the siege of Jerusalem and after its capture, the reader is referred to Josephus. When
Note 43, page 4, col. 1.
Tabaria's stream.
Tabaria (a corruption of Tiberias) is the name
we learn that so many captives were crucified, that used for the Sea of Galilee in the old romances.
για το πλήθος χωρα τι ενέλειπετο τους σταυροις και σταυροι τους σωμασιν; and that after all was over, in cold blood and merriment, he celebrated his brother's birthday with similar sacrifices; we can hardly doubt as to the nature of that untold crime, which disturbed the dying moments of the "daring of the human race." After all, the cruelties f this man are probably softened in the high piest's narrative. The fall of Jerusalem nearly resembles that of Zaragoza, but it is a Morla who
Note 37, page 4, col. 1.
Yon pompous shrine.
The temple of the Sepulchre.
Note 38, page 4. col. 1.
And bade the rock with Parian marble shine.
Se Cotovicus, p. 179, and from him Sandys.
Note 39, page 4, col. 1.
The British queen.
St. Helena, who was, according to Camden, born at Colchester. See also Howel's History of the World.
And pale Byzantium feared Medina's sword. The invasions of the civilized parts of Asia by the Arabian and Turkish Mahometans.
Note 41, page 4, col. 1.
The wandering hermit waked the storm of war.
Peter the hermit. The world has been so long accustomed to hear the Crusades considered as the height of phrenzy and injustice, that to undertake their defence might be perhaps a hazardous task. We must however recollect, that, had it not been for these extraordinary exertions of generous courage, the whole of Europe would perhaps have fallen, and Christianity been buried in the ruins. It was not, as Voltaire has falsely or weakly asserted, a conspiracy of robbers; it was not an unprovoked attack on a distant and inoffensive nation; it was a blow aimed at the heart of a most powerful and active enemy. Had not the Christian kingdoms of Asia been established as a check to the Mahometans, Italy, and the scanty remnant of Christianity in Spain, must again have fallen into their power; and France herself have needed all the heroism and good fortune of a Charles Martel to deliver her from subjugation.
Note 42, page 4, col. 1..
While beardless youths and tender maids assume The weighty morion and the glancing plume. See Vertot. Hist. Chev. Malthe. liv. 1.
Note 44, page 4, col. 1.
By northern Brenn, or Scythian Timur led.
Brennus, and Tamerlane.
There Gaul's proud knights with boastful mien advance.
The insolence of the French nobles twice caused
the ruin of the army; once by refusing to serve under Richard Cœur de Lion, and again by reproaching the English with cowardice in St. Louis's expedition to Egypt. See Knollee's History of the Turks.
Note 46, page 4, col. 1.
Form the long line.
The line (combat a la haye), according to Sir Walter Raleigh, was characteristic of French tactics; as the column (herse) was of the English. The English at Créci were drawn up thirty deep.
Whose giant force Britannia's armies led.
All the British nations served under the same
banner.
Sono gl' Inglesi sagittarii ed hanno
Gente con lor, ch'è più vicina al polo,
Questi da l'alte selve irsuti manda
La divisa dal mondo, ultima Irlanda.
Tasso, Gierusal. lib. i. 44. Ireland and Scotland, it is scarcely necessary to observe, were synonymous.
Lords of the biting axe and beamy spear.
The axe of Richard was very famous. See
Warton's Hist. of Anc. Poetry.
Note 49, page 4, col. 2.
And burst his brazen bonds, and cast his cords away. Psalm ii. 3. cvii. 16.
Then on your tops shall deathless verdure spring. "I will multiply the fruit of the tree, and the increase of the field, that ye shall receive no more the reproach of famine among the heathen."-And they shall say, This land that was desolate is become like the garden of Eden," &c. Ezek. xxxvi. Note 51, page 4, col. 2.
Courts the bright vision of descending power. "That great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God." Rev. xxi. 10.
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.(1)
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,
To catch the war-note on the quivering gale,
And bid the blood-red paths of conquest hail.
Oh! 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,(2)
Oh! on that hill may no kind month renew
The fertile rain, the sparkling summer 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;(3)
There Europe, soiled with blood her tresses gray,
And the far-distant fife that thrilled along the And ancient Honour's shield-all vilely thrown 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,
Thus mused 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 glorious
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 Praga's field a Frederic's power,
And Gallia's vaunting train,(4) and Mosco's
horde,
Had fleshed the maiden steel of Brunswic's sword.
Oh! yet, I deemed, that Fate, by justice led,
Might wreathe 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 afford,
And Heaven assist the patriot's holy sword,
And look in mercy through the 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,
And millions weep a tyrant's single pride?
Thus sadly musing, far my footsteps strayed,
Rapt in the visions of the Aonian maid.
It was not she, whose lonely voice I hear
Fall in soft whispers on my love-lorn ear;
My daily guest, who wont my steps to guide
Through the green walks of scented even-tide,
Or stretched with me in noonday ease along,
To list the reaper's chaunt, or throstle's song:
But she of loftier port; whose grave control
Rules the fierce workings of the patriot's soul;
She, whose high presence, o'er the midnight oil,
With fame's bright promise cheers the student's
toil;
That same was she, whose ancient lore refined
The sober hardihood of Sydney's mind.
Borne on her wing, no more I seemed to rove
By Dresden's glittering spires, and linden grove;
No more the giant Elbe, all silver bright,
Spread his broad bosom to the fair moonlight,
While the still margent of his ample flood
Bore the dark image of the Saxon wood-
(Woods happy once, that heard the carols free
Of rustic love, and cheerful industry;
Now dull and joyless lie their alleys green,
"It may not be. Destruction's gory wing
Soars o'er the banners of the younger king,
Too rashly brave, who seeks with single sway
To stem the lava on its destined way.
Poor, glittering warriors, only wont to know
The bloodless pageant of a martial show;
Nurselings of peace; for fiercer fights prepare,
And dread the step-dame sway of unaccustomed
They fight, they bleed!-Oh! had that blood been
shed
When Charles and Valour Austria's armies led;
Had these stood forth the righteous cause to shield,
When victory wavered on Moravia's field;
Then France had mourned her conquests made in
vain,
Her backward beaten ranks, and countless slain;
Then had the strength of Europe's freedom stood,
And still the Rhine had rolled a German flood!
"Oh! nursed in many a wile, and practised long,
To spoil the poor, and cringe before the strong;
To swell the victor's state, and hovering near,
Like some base vulture in the battle's rear,
To watch the carnage of the field, and share
Each loathsome alms the prouder eagles spare:
A curse is on thee Brandenburgh! the sound
Of Poland's wailings drags thee to the ground;
And, drunk with guilt, thy harlot lips shall know
The bitter dregs of Austria's cup of wo.
"Enough of vengeance! O'er the ensanguined
I gaze and seek their numerous host in vain;
Gone like the locust band when whirlwinds bear
Their flimsy regions through the waste of air.
Enough of vengeance!—By the glorious dead,
Who bravely fell where youthful Lewis led;(5)
By Blucher's sword in fiercest danger tried,
And the true heart that burst when Brunswic died;
By her whose charms the coldest zeal might
warm,(6)
The manliest firmness in the fairest form-
Save, Europe, save the remnant !-Yet remains
One glorious path to free the world from chains.
Why, when your northern band in Eylau's wood
Retreating struck, and tracked their course with
blood,
While one firm rock the floods of ruin stayed,
Why, generous Austria, were thy wheels delayed?
And silence marks the track where France has And Albion!"-Darker sorrow veiled his browbeen.)
Far other scenes than these my fancy viewed:
Rocks robed in ice, a mountain solitude;
Where on Helvetian hills, in godlike state,
Alone and awful, Europe's Angel sate:
Silent and stern he sate; then, bending low,
Listened the ascending plaints of human wo.
And waving as in grief his towery head,
"Not yet, not yet the day of rest," he said;
"Friend of the friendless-Albion! where art thou?
Child of the Sea, whose wing-like sails are spread,
The covering cherub of the ocean's bed!(7)
The storm and tempest render peace to thee,
And the wild-roaring waves a stern security.
But hope not thou in Heaven's own strength to ride,
Freedom's loved ark, o'er broad oppression's tide;
If virtue leave thee, if thy careless eye
Glance in contempt on Europe's agony.
Alas! where now the bands who wont to pour
Their strong deliverance on th' Egyptian shore?
Wing, wing your course, a prostrate world to save,
Triumphant squadrons of Trafalgar's wave.
"And thou, blest star of Europe's darkest hour,
Whose words were wisdom, and whose counsels
Whom earth applauded through her peopled shores!
(Alas! whom earth too early lost deplores;-)
Young without follies, without rashness bold,
And greatly poor amidst a nation's gold!
In every veering gale of faction true,
Untarnished Chatham's genuine child, adieu!
Unlike our common suns, whose gradual ray
Expands from twilight to intenser day,
Thy blaze broke forth at once in full meridian sway,
O, proved in danger! not the fiercest flame
Of Discord's rage thy constant soul could tame;
Not when, far-striding o'er thy palsied land,
Gigantic Treason took his bolder stand;
Not when wild Zeal, by murderous Faction led,
On Wicklow's hills, her grass-green banner spread;
Or those stern conquerors of the restless wave
Defied the native soil they wont to save.—
Undaunted patriot! in that dreadful hour,
When pride and genius own a sterner power;
When the dimmed eyeball, and the struggling
breath,
And pain, and terror, mark advancing death;
Still in that breast thy country held her throne,
Thy toil, thy fear, thy prayer were hers alone,
Thy last faint effort hers, and hers thy parting
"Yes, from those lips while fainting nations drew
Hope ever strong, and courage ever new;—
Yet, yet, I deemed, by that supporting hand
Propped in her fall might Freedom's ruin stand;
And purged by fire, and stronger from the storm,
Degraded Justice rear her reverend form.
Now, hope, adieu!—adieu the generous care
To shield the weak, and tame the proud in war!
The golden chain of realms, when equal awe
Poised the strong balance of impartial law;
When rival states as federate sisters shone,
Alike, yet various, and though many, one;
And, bright and numerous as the spangled
Beamed each fair star of Europe's galaxy-
All, all are gone, and after-time shall trace
One boundless rule, one undistinguished race;
Twilight of worth, where nought remains to move
The patriot's ardour, or the subject's love.
To rouse the slumbering sparks of faint desire
With the base tinkling of the Teian lyre;
While youth's enervate glance and gloating age
Hang o'er the mazy waltz, or pageant stage;
Each wayward wish of sickly taste to please,
The nightly revel and the noontide case-
These, Europe, are thy toils, thy trophies these!
"So, when wide-wasting hail, or whelming rain,
Have strewed the bearded hope of golden grain,
From the wet furrow, struggling to the skies,
The tall, rank weeds in barren splendour rise;
And strong, and towering o'er the mildewed ear,
Uncomely flowers and baneful herbs appear;
The swain's rich toils to useless poppies yield,
And Famine stalks along the purple field.
"And thou, the poet's theme, the patriot's
prayer!
Where, France, thy hopes, thy gilded promise
where;
When o'er Montpelier's vines, and Jura's snows,
All goodly bright, young Freedom's planet rose?
What boots it now, (to our destruction brave,)
How strong thine arm in war? a valiant slave
What boots it now that wide thine eagles sail,
Fanned by the flattering breath of conquest's gale?
What, that, high-piled within yon ample dome,
The blood-bought treasures rest of Greece and
Rome?
Scourge of the highest, bolt in vengeance hurled
By Heaven's dread justice on a shrinking world!
Go, vanquished victor, bend thy proud helm down
Before thy sullen tyrant's steely crown.
For him in Afric's sands, and Poland's snows,
Reared by thy toil the shadowy laurel grows;
And rank in German fields the harvest springs
Of pageant councils and obsequious kings.
Such purple slaves, of glittering fetters vain,
Linked the wide circuit of the Latian chain;
And slaves like these shall every tyrant find,
To gild oppression, and debase mankind.
"Oh! live there yet whose hardy souls and high
Peace bought with shame, and tranquil bonds defy?
Who, driven from every shore, and lords in vain
Of the wide prison of the lonely main,
Cling to their country's rights with freeborn zeal, sky,More strong from every stroke, and patient of the steel?
"Behold, e'en now, while every manly lore
And ev'ry muse forsakes my yielding shore;
Faint, vapid fruits of slavery's sickly clime,
Each tinsel art succeeds, and harlot rhyme!
To gild the vase, to bid the purple spread
In sightly foldings o'er the Grecian bed,
Their mimic guard where sculptured gryphons keep,
And Memphian idols watch o'er beauty's sleep;
Guiltless of chains, to them has Heaven consigned
Th' entrusted cause of Europe and mankind!
Or hope we yet in Sweden's martial snows
That Freedom's weary foot may find repose?
No;-from yon hermit shade, yon cypress dell,
Where faintly peals the distant matin-bell;
Where bigot kings and tyrant priests had shed
Their sleepy venom o'er his dreadful head;
He wakes, th' avenger-hark! the hills around,
Untamed Austria bids her clarion sound;
And many an ancient rock, and fleecy plain,
And many a valiant heart returns the strain:
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