Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp, the shatter'd spear, The sun went down ; | nor ceas'd the carnage there', ¦ Ye that at Marathon, and Leuc tra bled! | Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood', atone', | Thou patriot Tell'— | thou Bruce of Bannockburn! | BATTLE OF WATERLOO. (BYRON.) There was a sound of revelry by night; | Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again; ¦ 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 | Of living valor, | rolling on the foe, And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold, and low,.| The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, Rider, and horse, friend, | foe', in one red — | burial blent! | MARCO BOZZARIS.a 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', | There had the Persian's thou'sands stood; | And now, there breath'd that haunted air, 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; | 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; | 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, Like flowers at set of sun. | 'Come to the bridal chamber, 'Death! | That close the pes'tilence, are broke, | The groan, the knell, the pall', | the bier; | 'But to the hero, when his sword | "Thy sunken eye's unearthly light | Of sky, and stars to prison'd men: | b 'Kom'rådź, saw; not com'rades-saw. Bri'dal; not bri'dle. |