SCHILL.

BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight

From Prussia's timid region. Go, and rest

With heroes, 'mid the Islands of the Blest.

Or in the fields of empyrean light. A meteor wert thou crossing a dark night;

Yet shall thy name, conspicuous and sublime,

Stand in the spacious firmament of time,

Fixed as a star: such glory is thy right.

Alas! it may not be: for earthly fame Is fortune's frail dependent; yet there lives

A Judge, who, as man claims by merit, gives; To whose all-pondering mind a noble aim,

Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed; In whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed.

WORDSWORTH.

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, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is it is - the cannon's opening roar!

Within a windowed niche of that high hall

Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain: he did hear

That sound the first amidst the festival,

And caught its tone with death's prophetic ear;

And when they smiled because he deemed it near,

His heart more truly knew that peal too well Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,

And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell:

He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.