Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

XXXV.

ON THE SAME OCCASION.

YE Storms, resound the praises of your King!
And ye mild Seasons-in a sunny clime,
Midway on some high hill, while father Time
Looks on delighted-meet in festal ring,
And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing!
Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits, and flowers,
Of Winter's breath surcharged with sleety showers,
And the dire flapping of his hoary wing!

Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green grass;

With feet, hands, eyes, looks, lips, report your gain; Whisper it to the billows of the main,

And to the aërial zephyrs as they pass,

That old decrepit Winter-He hath slain

That Host, which rendered all your bounties vain!

XXXVI.

By Moscow self-devoted to a blaze
Of dreadful sacrifice; by Russian blood
Lavished in fight with desperate hardihood;
The unfeeling Elements no claim shall raise
To rob our Human-nature of just praise
For what she did and suffered. Pledges sure
Of a deliverance absolute and pure

She

gave, if Faith might tread the beaten ways Of Providence. But now did the Most High Exalt his still small voice ;-to quell that Host Gathered his power, a manifest ally;

He, whose heaped waves confounded the proud boast Of Pharaoh, said to Famine, Snow, and Frost,

"Finish the strife by deadliest victory!"

XXXVII.

THE GERMANS ON THE HEIGHTS OF HOCKHEIM.

ABRUPTLY paused the strife ;-the field throughout
Resting upon his arms each warrior stood,
Checked in the very act and deed of blood,
With breath suspended, like a listening scout.
O Silence! thou wert mother of a shout

That through the texture of yon azure dome
Cleaves its glad way, a cry of harvest home
Uttered to Heaven in ecstasy devout!

The barrier Rhine hath flashed, through battle-smoke,
On men who gaze heart-smitten by the view,
As if all Germany had felt the shock!

-Fly, wretched Gauls! ere they the charge renew

Who have seen themselves now casting off the yoke-The unconquerable Stream his course pursue.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

XXXVIII.

NOVEMBER, 1813.

Now that all hearts are glad, all faces bright,
Our aged Sovereign sits, to the ebb and flow
Of states and kingdoms, to their joy or woe,
Insensible. He sits deprived of sight,

And lamentably wrapt in twofold night,

Whom no weak hopes deceived; whose mind ensued,

Through perilous war, with regal fortitude,

Peace that should claim respect from lawless Might.

Dread King of Kings, vouchsafe a ray divine
To his forlorn condition! let thy grace
Upon his inner soul in mercy shine;

Permit his heart to kindle, and to embrace
(Though it were only for a moment's space)
The triumphs of this hour; for they are THINE!

XXXIX.

FEELINGS OF A FRENCH ROYALIST,

ON THE IISINTERMENT OF THE REMAINS OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN.

DEAR Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould
Uprisen to lodge among ancestral kings;
And to inflict shame's salutary stings
On the remorseless hearts of men grown old
In a blind worship; men perversely bold
Even to this hour,-yet, some shail now forsake
Their monstrous Idol if the dead e'er spake
To warn the living, if truth were ever told
By aught redeemed out of the hollow grave:
O murdered Prince! meek, loyal, pious, brave!
The power of retribution once was given :
But 'tis a rueful thought that willow bands
So often tie the thunder-wielding hands

Of Justice sent to earth from highest Heaven!

« ZurückWeiter »