Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp, the shatter'd spear,
Clos'd her bright eye, and curb'd her high career: |
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell. — |
And Freedom shriek'd, as Koscius ko fell! |

The sun went down ; | nor ceas'd the carnage there', ¦
Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air.:|
On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruia glow, |
His blood-dy'd waters murmuring far below: |
The storm prevails', | the rampart yields away', |
Bursts the wild cry of horror, and dismay.!
Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, |
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call! |
Earth shook, red meteors flash'd along the sky', I
And conscious Nature shudder'd at the cry,! |
Departed spirits of the mighty dead! |

Ye that at Marathon, and Leuc tra bled! |
Friends of the world! | restore your swords to man', ]
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van.! |

Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood', atone', |
And make her arm puissant as your own, |
O! once again to Freedom's cause return', |

Thou patriot Tell'— | thou Bruce of Bannockburn! |

BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

(BYRON.)

There was a sound of revelry by night; |
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then |
Her beauty, and her chivalry; | and bright |
The lamps shone o'er fair women, and brave men; [
A thousand hearts beat happily; and, when |
Music arose, with its voluptuous swell, |

Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again; ¦
And all went merry as a marriage-bell ·

But hush,!|hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell'

a

Proud arch; not prow-darch'. Soft eyes; not sof-ties.

Did ye not hear it? No; 'twas but the wind, ¡ | Or the car' rattling o'er the stony street.

On with the dance! | let joy be unconfin'd;

No sleep till morn', when Youth, and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours, with flying feet -| But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more', | As if the clouds its echo would repeat; |

And nearer, clearer, dead'lier than before! | Arm! arm! it is it is the cannon's opening roar ! |

Within a window'd niche of that high hall, | Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; | he did hear | That sound the first, amidst the festival, I And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; | And, when they smil'd, because he deem'd it near, | His heart more truly knew that peal too well, | Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier, | And rous'd the vengeance, blood alone could quell. . ! He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting, fell. Ah! then, and there was hurrying to, and fro, | And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress', | And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago, | Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness. | And there were sudden part'ings, such as press | The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs | Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess | If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, ! Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise? And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, | Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, | And swiftly forming in the ranks of war.; | And the deep thunder peal on peal afar`! And near the beat of the alarming drum | Rous'd up the soldier ere the morning star'; | While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, 1 Or whispering, with white lips,The foe! They come! they come !"

'And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose! | "The war-note of Lochiel', which Albyn's hills | Have heard, and heard too, have her Saxon foes:How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, | Savage, and shrill.! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers', | With the fierce native daring which instils | The stirring memory of a thousand years; | And Evan's, Don'ald's fame, | rings in each clansman's ears, ! |

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves', | Dewy with nature's tear-drops, | as they pass,, | Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,|

O'er the unreturning brave, alas! |
|

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass |
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow, |
|
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valor, | rolling on the foe,

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold, and low,.|
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life'; |
Last eve, in Beauty's circle proudly gay; |
The midnight brought the signal sound of strife.; |
The morn, the marshalling in arms', - | the day, |
Battle's magnificently-stern array.! |

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent,
The earth is cover'd thick with other clay |

Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, Rider, and horse, friend, | foe', in one red — | burial blent! |

MARCO BOZZARIS.a
(HALLECK.)

At midnight, in his guarded tent, |

The Turk was dreaming of the hour | When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,, Should tremble at his power: |

Marco Bozzaris, the Epaminonda of modern Grce.

He fell

n a night attack upon the Turkish camp at Lasp, the site of the

In dreams, through camp, and court, he bore | The trophies of a conqueror; |

In dreams his song of triumph heard;" | Then, wore his monarch's sig.net-ring; | Then press'd that monarch's throne, a king';, As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, | As Eden's garden-bird. |

'At midnight, in the forest-shades', |
'Bozza'ris rang'd his Suliote band,
True as the steel of their tried blades', |
Heroes in heart, and hand. |

There had the Persian's thou'sands stood; |
There had the glad earth drunk their blood, I
On old Platæ'a's day- |

And now, there breath'd that haunted air, I
The sons of sires who conquer'd there, |
With arm to strike, and soul to dare', |
As quick, as far as they. I

'An hour pass'd on

d

the Turk awoke — | That bright dream was his last; | He woke to hear his sentries shriek ff To arms! they come ! the Greek! the He woke to die, midst flame, and smoke, | And shout, and groan, and sa'bre-stroke, |

Greek! |

And death-shots falling thick, and fast, | As lightnings from the mountain-cloud; | And heard, with voice as trumpet-loud, |

Bozzaris cheer his band: |

fff" Strike till the last arm'd foe expires; |
Strike for your altars, and your fires; |
Strike for the green graves of your sires,
God, and your native land!"

ancient Platæa, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of Victory. His last words we e-"To die for liberty is a pleasure,

and not a pain."

Triumph heard; not tri-um'furd. b Mon'nårks.

Pass'd on; not pass-ton'.

• Går an.

They fought like brave men long, and well; |
|
They pil'd that ground with Moslem slain.;
They conquer'd | but Bozzaris fell, |
Bleeding at every vein. I

His few surviving comrades", saw,

His smile when rang their proud hurrah,

And the red field was won'; |

Then saw in death his eyelids close,
Calmly, as to a night's repose, |

Like flowers at set of sun. |

'Come to the bridal chamber, 'Death! |
Come to the mother's, when she feels |
For the first time, her first-born's breath- |
Come when the blessed seals |

That close the pes'tilence, are broke, |
And crowded cities wail its stroke,
Come in consumption's ghastly form, |
The earthquake shock, the ocean-storm
Come when the heart beats high, and warm, |
With banquet-song, and dance', and wine!
'And thou art terrible | the tear', [

The groan, the knell, the pall', | the bier; |
And all we know', | or dream', | or fear' |
Of agony, are thine,. |

'But to the hero, when his sword |
Has won the battle for the free, |
"Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word
And in its hollow tones, are heard |
"The thanks of millions yet to be. |
Come when his task of fame' is wrought
Come with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought-
Come in her crowning hour— | and then

"Thy sunken eye's unearthly light |
To him is welcome as the sight |

Of sky, and stars to prison'd men: |

b

'Kom'rådź, saw; not com'rades-saw. Bri'dal; not bri'dle.