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Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn,
Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn;
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,
Presaging wrath to Poland-and to man!

Warsaw's last champion, from her height survey'd,
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,—
O Heaven! he cried,-my bleeding country save !-
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains,
Rise, fellow men! our country yet remains!
By that dread name we wave the sword on high!
And swear for her to live with her to die!

He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd
His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd;
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;
Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly,
Revenge, or death,-the watch-word and reply;
Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm !—

In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!
From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew :-
O! bloodiest picture in the book of time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her wo!

Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear, Closed her bright eye, and curb'd her high career ;— Hope for a season bade the world farewell,

And freedom shriek'd-as Kosciusko fell!

The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there, Tumultuous murder shook the midnight airOn Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below; The storm prevails, the rampart yields a way, 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, And conscious nature shudder'd at the cry!

O! righteous Heaven! ere freedom found a grave, Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save?

Where was thine arm, O vengeance! where thy rod,
That smote the foes of Zion and of God?

That crush'd proud Ammon, when his iron car
Was yoked in wrath, and thunder'd from afar?
Where was the storm that slumber'd till the host
Of blood-stain'd Pharaoh left their trembling coast,
Then bade the deep in wild commotion flow,
And heaved an ocean on their march below?
Departed spirits of the mighty dead!

Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra 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

The patriot Tell-the Bruce of Bannockburn!

CAMPBELL.

60.-ON ANCIENT GREECE.

CLIME of the unforgotten brave !—
Whose land from plain to mountain cave
Was freedom's home or glory's grave—
Shrine of the mighty! can it be,
That this is all remains of thee?
Approach, thou craven, crouching slave,
Say, is not this Thermopyla?
These waters blue that round you lave,
O servile offspring of the free-
Pronounce what sea, what shore is this?
The gulf, the rock of Salamis !

These scenes their story not unknown-
Arise, and make again your own;
Snatch from the ashes of your sires
The embers of their former fires,
And he who in the strife expires
Will add to theirs a name of fear,
That tyranny
shall quake to hear,
And leave his sons a hope, a fame,
They too will rather die than shame ;

For freedom's battle once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft, is ever won.
Bear witness, Greece, thy living page,
Attest it, many a deathless age!
While kings, in dusty darkness hid,
Have left a nameless pyramid,
Thy heroes, though the general doom
Hath swept the column from their tomb,
A mightier monument command,
The mountains of their native land!
There points thy muse to stranger's eye
The graves of those that cannot die!
"Twere long to tell, and sad to trace,
Each step from splendour to disgrace;
Enough-no foreign foe could quell
Thy soul, till from itself it fell;
Yes! self-abasement paved the way
To villain bonds and despot sway.

BYRON.

61.-LOUDHON'S ATTACK-A HUNGARIAN WAR-SONG.

RISE, ye Croats, fierce and strong,
Form the front and march along;
And gather fast, ye gallant men
Of Nona and of Warrasden,
Whose sunny mountains nurse a line
Generous as her fiery wine;

Hosts of Buda, hither bring
The bloody flag, and eagle wing;
Ranks of Agria, head and heel
Sheathed in adamantine steel,
Quit the woodlands and the boar,
Ye hunters wild on Drova's shore;
And ye that hew her oaken wood,
Brown with lusty hardihood,

The trumpets sound, the colours fly,
And Loudhon leads to victory!

Hark! the summons loud and strong

66

Follow, soldiers-march along ;".

Every baron, sword in hand,

Rides before his gallant band;

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The vulture, screaming for his food,
Conducts you to the field of blood,
And bids the sword of valour seek
For nurture to his gory beak!

Men of Austria, mark around,
Classic fields and holy ground;
For here were deeds of glory done,
And battles by our fathers won-
Fathers who bequeathed to you
Their country and their courage too;
Heirs of plunder and renown,

Hew the squadrons-hew them down.
Now ye triumph-Slaughter now
Tears the field with bloody plough;

And all the streamy shore resounds

With shouts and shrieks and sabre-wounds!

Now your thunders carry fate;

Now the field is desolate

Save where Loudhon's eagles fly

On the wings of victory!
This is glory, this is life!
Champions of a noble strife,
Moving like a wall of rock
To stormy siege or battle-shock;
Thus we conquer might and main,
Fight and conquer o'er again :
Grenadiers, that, fierce and large,
Stamp like dragons to the charge;
Foot and horsemen, serf and lord,
Triumph now with one accord!
Years of triumph shall repay
Death and dangers' troubled day.
Soon the rapid shot is o'er,
But glory lasts for evermore-
Glory, whose immortal eye
Guides us to the victory!

ANONYMOUS

62.-THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.

Lo! the wide theatre, whose ample space Must entertain the whole of human race,

At Heaven's all-powerful edict is prepared,
And fenced around with an immortal guard.
Tribes, provinces, dominions, worlds, o'erflow
The mighty plain, and deluge all below :
And every age, and nation, pours along;
Nimrod and Bourbon mingle in the throng;
Adam salutes his youngest son: no sign
Of all those ages, which their births disjoin.

How empty learning, and how vain is art,
But as it mends the life, and guides the heart!
What volumes have been swell'd, what time been spent
To fix a hero's birth-day or descent!—

What joy must it now yield, what rapture raise,
To see the glorious race of ancient days!

To greet those worthies, who perhaps have stood
Illustrious on record before the flood!

Alas! a nearer care your soul demands,
Cæsar unnoted in your presence stands.

How vast the concourse! not to number more
The waves that break on the resounding shore:
The leaves that tremble in the shady grove,
The lamps that gild the spangled vaults above.
Those overwhelming armies, whose command
Said to one empire, fall; another, stand;
Whose rear lay wrapt in night, while breaking dawn
Roused the broad front, and call'd the battle on;
Great Xerxes' world in arms; proud Canna's field,
Where Carthage taught victorious Rome to yield;
Immortal Blenheim, famed Ramillia's host;
They all are here, and here they all are lost :
Their millions swell to be discern'd in vain,
Lost as a billow in the unbounded main.

This echoing voice now rends the yielding air: "For judgment, judgment, sons of men, prepare!" "O thou! whose balance does the mountains weigh, Whose will the wild tumultuous seas obey, Whose breath can turn those watery worlds to flame, That flame to tempest, and that tempest tame; Earth's meanest son, all trembling, prostrate falls, And on the boundless of thy goodness calls.

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