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Then as my gaze their waving eagles met, “ It may not be. Destruction's gory wing
Soars o'er the banners of the younger king, Still memory told how Austria's evil hour Too rashly brave, who seeks with single sway Had felt on Praga’s field a Frederic's power,
To stem the lava on its destined way. And Gallia's vaunting train,(4) and Mosco's Poor, glittering warriors, only wont to know horde,
The bloodless pageant of a martial show; Had fleshed the maiden steel of Brunswic's sword. Nurselings of peace; for fiercer fights prepare, Oh! yet, I deemed, that Fate, by justice led, And dread the step-dame sway of unaccustomed Might wreathe once more the veteran's silver head; war! That Europe's ancient pride would yet disdain They fight, they bleed!-Oh! had that blood been The cumbrous sceptre of a single reign;
shed That conscious right would tenfold strength afford, When Charles and Valour Austria's armies led; And Heaven assist the patriot's holy sword,
Had these stood forth the righteous cause to shield, And look in mercy through the auspicious sky, When victory wavered on Moravia's field; To bless the saviour host of Germany.
Then France had mourned her conquests made in And are they dreams, these bodings, such as vain, shed
Her backward beaten ranks, and countless slain; Their lonely comfort o'er the hermit's bed? Then had the strength of Europe's freedom stood, And are they dreams? or can the Eternal Mind And still the Rhine had rolled a German flood ! Care for a sparrow, yet neglect mankind ?
“Oh! nursed in many a wile, and practised long,
Each loathsome alms the prouder eagles spare:
By Blucher’s sword in fiercest danger tried,
While one firm rock the floods of ruin stayed,
“Friend of the friendless—Albion! where art thou?
Alas! where now the bands who wont to pour To rouse the slumbering sparks of faint desire Their strong deliverance on th' Egyptian shore ? With the base tinkling of the Teian lyre; Wing, wing your course, a prostrate world to save, While youth's enervate glance and gloating age Triumphant squadrons of Trafalgar’s wave. Hang o'er the mazy waltz, or pageant stage;
“And thou, blest star of Europe's darkest hour, Each wayward wish of sickly taste to please, Whose words were wisdom, and whose counsels The nightly revel and the noontide ease power,
These, Europe, are thy toils, thy trophies these ! Whom earth applauded through her peopled shores! So, when wide-wasting hail, or whelming rain, (Alas! whom earth too early lost deplores ;-) Have strewed the bearded hope of golden grain, Young without follies, without rashness bold, From the wet furrow, struggling to the skies, And greatly poor amidst a nation's gold ! The tall, rank weeds in barren splendour rise; In every veering gale of faction true,
And strong, and towering o'er the mildewed ear, Untarnished Chatham's genuine child, adieu ! Uncomely flowers and baneful herbs appear; Unlike our common suns, whose gradual ray The swain's rich toils to useless poppies yield, Expands from twilight to intenser day, And Famine stalks along the purple field. Thy blaze broke forth at once in full meridian sway, ""And thou, the poet's theme, the patriot's O, proved in danger! not the fiercest flame
prayer! Of Discord's rage thy constant soul could tame; Where, France, thy hopes, thy gilded promise Not when, far-striding o'er thy palsied land, Gigantic Treason took his bolder stand ; When o'er Montpelier's vines, and Jura's snows, Not when wild Zeal, by murderous Faction led, All goodly bright, young Freedom's planet rose ? On Wicklow's hills, her grass-green banner spread; What boots it now, (to our destruction brave,) Or those stern conquerors of the restless wave How strong thine arm in war? a valiant slave Defied the native soil they wont to save.- What boots it now that wide thine eagles sail, Undaunted patriot! in that dreadful hour, Fanned by the flattering breath of conquest's gale? When pride and genius own a sterner power; What, that, high-piled within yon ample dome, When the dimmed eyeball, and the struggling The blood-bought treasures rest of Greece and breath,
Rome? And pain, and terror, mark advancing death;- Scourge of the highest, bolt in vengeance hurled Still in that breast thy country held her throne, By Heaven's dread justice on a shrinking world! Thy toil, thy fear, thy prayer were hers alone, Go, vanquished victor, bend thy proud helm down Thy last faint effort hers, and hers thy parting Before thy sullen tyrant's steely crown. groan.
For him in Afric's sands, and Poland's snows, “Yes, from those lips while fainting nations drew Reared by thy toil the shadowy laurel grows; Hope ever strong, and courage ever new ;- And rank in German fields the harvest springs Yet, yet, I deemed, by that supporting hand Of pageant councils and obsequious kings. Propped in her fall might Freedom's ruin stand; Such purple slaves, of glittering fetters vain, And purged by fire, and stronger from the storm, Linked the wide circuit of the Latian chain; Degraded Justice rear her reverend form. And slaves like these shall every tyrant find, Now, hope, adieu !-adieu the generous care. To gild oppression, and debase mankind. To shield the weak, and tame the proud in war! “Oh! live there yet whose hardy souls and high The golden chain of realms, when equal awe Peace bought with shame, and tranquil bonds defy? Poised the strong balance of impartial law; Who, driven from every shore, and lords in vain When rival states as federate sisters shone, Of the wide prison of the lonely main, Alike, yet various, and though many, one; Cling to their country's rights with freeborn zeal, And, bright and numerous as the spangled sky, More strong from every stroke, and patient of the Beamed each fair star of Europe's galaxy
steel? All, all are gone, and after-time shall trace Guiltless of chains, to them has Heaven consigned One boundless rule, one undistinguished race; Th' entrusted cause of Europe and mankind! Twilight of worth, where nought remains to move Or hope we yet in Sweden's martial snows The patriot's ardour, or the subject's love. That Freedom's weary foot may find repose ?
“Behold, c'en now, while every manly lore No;—from yon hermit shade, yon cypress dell, And ev'ry muse forsakes my yielding shore; Where faintly peals the distant matin-bell; Faint, vapid fruits of slavery's sickly clime, Where bigot kings and tyrant priests had shed Each tinsel art succeeds, and harlot rhyme ! Their sleepy venom o'er his dreadful head; To gild the vase, to bid the purple spread He wakes, th' avenger-hark! the hills around, In sightly foldings o'er the Grecian bed, Untamed Austria bids her clarion sound; Their mimicguard where sculptured gryphons keep, And many an ancient rock, and fleecy plain, And Memphian idols watch o'er beauty's sleep; And many a valiant heart returns the strain:
Heard by that shore, where Calpe's armed steep And weeping France her captive king(17) de-
Their robber-monarch speeds his secret flight;
glected spear. But theirs the kindling eye, the strenuous arm; “So when stern winter chills the April showers, Theirs the dark cheek, with patriot ardour warm, And iron frost forbids the timely flowers; Unblanched by sluggard ease, or slavish fear, Oh! deem not thou the vigorous herb below And proud and pure the blood that mantles there. Is crushed and dead beneath the incumbent snow; Theirs from the birth is toil;-o'er granite steep, Such tardy suns shall wealthier harvests bring And heathy wild, to guard the wandering sheep; Than all the early smiles of flattering spring." To urge the labouring mule, or bend the spear Sweet as the martial trumpet's silver swell, 'Gainst the night-prowling wolf, or felon bear; On my charmed sense th' unearthly accents fell; The bull's hoarse rage in dreadful sport to mock, Me wonder held, and joy chastised by fear, And meet with single sword his bellowing shock. As one who wished; yet hardly hoped to hear. Each martial chant they know, each manly rhyme,“ Spirit,” I cried, “ dread teacher, yet declare, Rude, ancient lays of Spain's heroic time.(11) In that good fight, shall Albion's arm be there? Of him in Xere's carnage fearless found,(12) Can Albion, brave, and wise, and proud, refrain (His glittering brows with hostile spear-heads To hail a kindred soul, and link her fate with bound;)
Spain? Of that chaste king whose hardy mountain Too long her sons, estranged from war and toil, train(13)
Have loathed the safety of the sea-girt isle; O'erthrew the knightly race of Charlemagne; And chid the waves which pent their fire within, And chiefest him who reared his banner tall(14) As the stalled war-horse woos the battle's din. (Illustrious exile!) o'er Valencia's wall; Oh, by this throbbing heart, this patriot glow, Ungraced by kings, whose Moorish title rose Which, well I feel, each English breast shall The toil-earned homage of his wondering foes. “ Yes; every mould'ring tower and haunted Say, shall my country, roused om deadly sleep, flood,
Crowd with her hardy sons yon western steep; And the wild murmurs of the waving wood; And shall once more the star of France grow Each sandy waste, and orange-scented dell,
pale, And red Buraba's field, and Lugo,(15) tell, And dim its beams in Roncesvalles’ vale?(19) How their brave fathers fought, how thick the in- Or shall foul sloth and timid doubt conspire vaders fell.
To mar our zeal, and waste our manly fire ?" Oh! virtue long forgot, or vainly tried, Still as I gazed, his lowering features spread, To glut a bigot's zeal, or tyrant's pride; High rose his form, and darkness veiled his head; Condemned in distant climes to bleed and die Fast from his eyes the ruddy lightning broke, 'Mid the dank poisons of Tlascala's(16) sky; To heaven he reared his arm, and thus he spoke: Or when stern Austria stretched her lawless "Wo, trebly wo to their slow zeal who bore reign,
Delusive comfort to Iberia's shore ! And spent in northern fights the flower of Spain; Who in mid conquest, vaunting, yet dismayed, Or war's hoarse furies yelled on Y sell's shore, Now gave and now withdrew their laggard aid; And Alva's ruffian sword was drunk with gore. Who, when each bosom glowed, each heart beat Yet dared not then Tlascala's chiefs withstand high, The lofty daring of Castilia’s band;
Chilled the pure stream of England's energy,
And lost in courtly forms and blind delay And robed in darkness, and surrounding fears,
“O peerless island, generous, bold, and free, No!-shall yon eagle, from the snare set free,
“Yet, yet awake! while fear and wonder wait, On the poised balance, trembling still with fate !(20) If aught their worth can plead, in battle tried,
NOTES. Who tinged with slaughter Tajo's curdling tide; (What time base truce the wheels of war could
Note 1, page 8, col. 1. stay,
In Dresden's grove the dewy cool I sought. And the weak victor flung his wreath away;)
The opening lines of this poem were really comOr theirs, who, doled in scanty bands afar,
posed in the situation (the Park of Dresden), and Waged without hope the disproportioned war,
under the influence of the feelings, which they And cheerly still, and patient of distress, Led their forwasted files on numbers number- Frederic's campaign took away from the author
attempt to describe. The disastrous issue of King less!(21)
all inclination to continue them, and they remained “ Yes, through the march of many a weary day, neglected till the hopes of Europe were again reAs yon dark column toils its seaward way;
vived by the illustrious efforts of the Spanish people. As bare, and shrinking from th’inclement sky, The languid soldier bends him down to die;
Note 2, page 8, col. 2. As o'er those helpless limbs, by murder gored,
The hill of Pratzen was the point most obsti-
nately contested in the great battle which has
Austerlitz; and here the most dreadful slaughter “Oh! if such hope can plead, or his, whose took place, both of French and Russians. The
author had, a few weeks before he wrote the bier
above, visited every part of this celebrated field. Drew from his conquering host their latest tear; Whose skill, whose matchless valour, gilded flight;
Note 3, page 8, col. 2.
And, sed with slaughter, Freedom's humble crest.
It is necessary perhaps to mention, that, by “And yet the end is not! from yonder towers
freedom, in this and in other passages of the preWhile one Saguntum(22) mocks the victor's sent poem, political liberty is understood in oppo
sition to the usurpation of any single European powers; While one brave heart defies a servile chain,
In the particular instance of Spain, howAnd one true soldier wields a lance for Spain;
ever, it is a hope which the author has not yet Trust not, vain tyrant, though thy spoiler band
seen reason to abandon, that a struggle so nobly In tenfold myriads darken half the land;
maintained by popular energy, must terminate in (Vast as that power, against whose impious lord the establishment not only of national independ Bethulia’s matron(23) shook the nightly sword;) ence, but of civil and religious liberty. Though ruth and fear thy woundless soul defy,
Note 4, page 9, col. 1.
Gallia's vaunting train.
The confidence and shameful luxury of the “No! by His viewless arm whose righteous French nobles, during the seven years' war, are
very sarcastically noticed by Templeman.. Defends the orphan's tear, the poor
Note 5, page 9, col. 2.
Where youthful Lewis led.
Note 6, page 9, col. 2.
cording to the Spanish romances, and the graver By her whose charms, &c.
authority of Mariana, the whole force of CharleThe Queen of Prussia; beautiful, unfortunate, valles. Bertrand del Carpio, the son of Alonzo's
magne and the twelve peers of France at Roncesand unsubdued by the severest reverses.
sister, Ximena, was his general; and according to Note 7, page 9, col. 2.
Don Quixote (no incompetent authority on such The covering cherub, &c.
a subject) put the celebrated Ordando to the same " Thou art the anointed cherub that coverest."' _ death as Hercules inflicted on Antæus. His reaAddressed to Tyre, by Ezekiel, xxviii. 14.
son was, that the nephew of Charlemagne was
enchanted, and like Achilles only vulnerable in Note 8, page 11, col. 1.
the heel, to guard which he wore always iron Inez' grave.
shoes. See Mariana, l. vü. c. xi.; Don Quixote, Inez de Castro, the beloved mistress of the Infant book i. c. I.; and the notes on Mr. Southey's Don Pedro, son of Alphonso IV. King of Portugal, Chronicle of the Cid; a work replete with powerand stabbed by the orders, and, according to Ca- ful description, and knowledge of ancient history moens, in the presence of that monarch. A foun- and manners, and which adds a new wreath to tain near Coimbra, the scene of their loves and one, who “nullum fere scribendi genus intactum misfortunes, is still pointed out by tradition, and reliquit, nullum quod tetigit non ornavit.” called Amores.—De la Clede, Hist. de Portugalle,
Note 14, page 11, col. 1. 410. tom. i. page 282-7:-and Camoens' Lusiad,
Chiefest him who reared his banner tall, &c. canto 3, stanza cxxxv.
Rodrigo Diaz, of Bivar, surnamed the Cid by
the Moors.-See Mr. Southey's Chronicle
Note 15, page 11, col. 1.
Red Buraba's field, and Lugo posed the career of Mahometan success.
Buraba and Lugo were renowned scenes of Note 10, page 11, col. 1.
Spanish victories over the Moors, in the reigns
of Bermudo, or, as his name is Latinized, VereThy spear-encircled crown, Asturia.
mundus, and Alonso the Chaste. Of Lago the "La couronne de fer de Dom Pélage, -cette British have since obtained a melancholy knowcouronne si simple mais si glorieuse, dont chaque ledge. fleuron este 'formé du før d'une lance arrachée aux Chevaliers Maures que se heros avoit fait
Note 16, page 11, col. 1. tomber sous ses coups." —Roman de Dom Ursino
Tlascala. le Navarin, Tressan, tom. ix. 52.
An extensive district of Mexico; its inhabitants Note 11, page 11, col. 1.
were the first Indians who submitted to the SpaRude ancient lays of Spain's heroic time. niards under Cortez See the two elegant specimens given by Bishop
Note 17, page 11, col. 2. Percy in his Reliques; and the more accurate
Her captive king. translations of Mr. Rodd in his Civil Wars of Grenada.
Francis I. taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia.
Note 18, page 11, col. 2.
Yon Baotic skies. The Gothic monarchy in Spain was overthrown Andalusia forms a part of the ancient Hispania by the Mussulmans at the battle of Xeres, the Boetica. Christian army being defeated with dreadful slaughter, and the death of their King, the un
Note 18, page 11, col. 2. happy and licentious Roderigo. Pelagius assem
Roncesvalles vale. bled the small band of those fugitives who despised See the former note on Alonso the Chaste. submission, amid the mountains of the Asturias, under the name of King of Oviedo.
Note 20, page 12, col. 1.
The poised balance trembling still with fate.
This line is imitated from one of Mr. Roscoe's Alonso, surnamed the Chaste, with ample rea-spirited verses on the commencement of the French son, if we believe his historians; who defeated, ac-revolution.