be the most important of his many and great disco- Where proofs jnstly do teach, thus matcht, such worth to be bought veries. No praise can add to his deserved celebrity.


Let r.ot a Puppet abuse thy sprite, Kings' Crowns do not belp them Note 11, page 597, col. 1.

From the cruel headach, nor shoes of gold do the gout heal;

And precious Couches full oft are sbak't with a feaver.
Xot his affectionate spirit

If then a hodily evil in a bodily gloze be not hidden,
Could the act of madness innate for guilt be accounted.

Shall such morning dews be an ease to the heat of a love's fire? The act of suicide is very far from being so certain au indication of insanily as it is usually considered by our inquests. But in the case of Chatterton, it was the luis hexameters, as more uplike their model; for, in our

Sidney's pentameters appear even more uncouth than manifestation of an hereditary disease. There was a pronunciation, the Latin pentameter reads as if it ended madness in his family. His only sister, during one part with two trochiees. of lier life, was under confinement.

Fortune, Nature, Love, long have contended about me, The law respecting suicide is a most barbarous one;

Which sbould most miseries cast on a worm that I am. and of late years has never been carried into effect Fortane i hus gan say, misery and misfortune is all one, without exciting horror and disgust. It might be a sa- And of misfortune, fortune bath only the gift. Jutary enactment, that all suicides should be given up with strong foes on land, on sea with contrary tompests. for dissection. This would certainly prevent many wo

Still do I cross this wretch what so be taketh in hand.

Tush, tusli, said Naturo, this is all but a trifle, a man's self, men from committing self-murder, and possibly might

Gires baps or misbaps, even as he ordereth his heart. in time be useful to physiology.

But so his humor I frame, in a mould of choler adusted,

That the delights of life shall be to him dolorous.
Note 12, page 597, col. 2.

Love smiled, and thus said ; What joyn'd to desire is unhappy:
The gentle Amelia.

But if he nought do desire, what can Heraclitus ail?

None but I work by desire : by desire baso I kindled in his soul In one of his few intervals of sanity, after the death

Infernal agonies into a beauty divine: of this beloved daughter, the late King gave orders, Where thou poor Nature left'st all thy due glory, to Fortuna that a monument should be erected to the memory of

Her vertue is sovcraign, Fortune a vassal of hers.

Nature alasht went lack: Fortune blusht: yet she replied thus: one of her attendants, in St George's Chapel, with the

And even in that love shall I reserve him a spite. following inscription :

Thus, thus, alas! woful by Yature, unhappy by Fortune;
King George III

But most wretched I am, now love awakes my desire.
caused to be interred near this place

Sidney has also given examples in his Arcadia of the body of MAY GASCOIGJE, Servant to the Princess ANELIA;

Anacreontic, Phaleucian, Sapphic, and Asclepiad verse, and this stono

all written upon the same erroneous principle. Those to be inscribed in testimony of his grateful

persons who consider it ridiculous to write English

verses upon any scheme of Latin versification, may perof the faithful services and attachment

haps be surprised to learn that they have read, as of an amiablo Young Woman to his beloved Daughter,

blank verse, many lines which are perfect Sapphics or whom she survived only three months.

Phalcucians. Rowe's tragedies are full of such lines. She died 19th of February 181. This may probably be considered as the last act of

The Censura Literaria supplies me with two choice his life;-a very affecting one it is, and worthy of re- samples of Stanihurst's Virgil. membrance. Such a monument is more honourable to the King, hy whom it was set up, than if he had erect

Neere joynctlye brayeth with ruffleryo' rumboled Etna :

Soomtymo owt it bolcketha from bulck clowds grimly bedimmed ed a pyramid.

Like fyerd pitcbe skorching, or flash flame sulphurus heating:
Flownce to the stars towring thee fire like a pellet is burled,

Ragd rocks, up raking, and guts of mounten yrented

From roote up ho jogletb: stoans hudge slag' molten be rowseth,

With route sport crumbling, in bottom flash furie kindling. The annexed Specimens of Sir Philip Sidncy's hexa- Men say that Enceladus, with bolt haulf blastod, here harbrought, meters will sufficiently cvince that the failure of the Dingd' with this squisings and massive burthen of Ætda,

Which pres on bim nailed, from broached chimneys stil heateth: attempt to naturalize this fine measure in his days, was As oft as the giant his brold 6 syds croompeled altreth, owing to the manner in which the attempt was made, So oft Sicil al shivereth, therewith flaks smoakye bo sparekled', not to the measure itself.

T'ward Sicil is seated, to the welkin loftily peaking, First shall fertile grounds not yield increase of a good sced. A soyl, ycleapt Liparen, from whence with flounce furye flinging, First the rivera shall cease to repay their floods to the ocean: Stoans and burlye bulets, like tampounds, maynelyc hetowring. First may a trusty greyhound transform himself to a liger.

Under is a kennel, wheare chymneys fyryo be scor, bing First shall verlue be vice, and beauty be counted a blemish; of Cyclopan tosters, with rent rocks chamferye sharded, Ere that I leave with song of praise her praise to solemnize, Lowd rub a dub tabering with frapping rip rap of Xina. Her praiso, whence to the world all praise bath his only beginning: In the den are dramming gads of steele, parchfalse sparckling, But yet well I do find each man most wise in his own case.

And flam's fierclye glowing, from furnace flashye he wbisking. Xone can speak of a wound with skill, if he have not a wound felt : Vulcan his hoate ford ghartb, named eke thee Vulcian Island. Grent to theo my state seems, thy state is blest hy my judyment: Doon from the hev'nlye palace travayled the firye God hither. And yet neither of us great or blest deemeth his own self,

In this cave tho rakebels yr'ne bars, bigce bulcked ar hamring, For yet (weigh this, alas :) great is not great to the greater.

Brontes and Steropes, with baerlym swartie Pyracmon. What jadge you doth a hillock show, by the lofty Olympus ? These thre nere upbotching, not shaple, but partlye wel onward, Such my minuto greainess doth ssem compard to the greatest. When Codars to the ground foll down by the weight of an Emmet, • Ruffling seems to be turbulent noise. A ruffler was formerly a Or when a rich Rubie's price be the worth of a Walnut,

boisterous bully. Or to the Sun for wonders seem small sparks of a candle:

2 To bolck or boke, is ructare. Then by my high Celar, rich Rabie, and only shining Sun,

1 Slag is the dross of iron. * Dash'd down. Vertucs, riches, heauties of mine shall great be reputed.

5 Squeezing.

ki, e. Broiled sides crumpled. Oh, no, no, worthy Shepherd, 'worth can never enter a title,

7 Tinacria.

A elapping fior-bolt (such as oft with rounce rebel bobble, side, hath both the male, as Bon Son; and the Female,
Jove to the ground claitreil) but Yeet not finnished holye.
Threo showrs wringlyo wrythen glimmring, and forciblye sowcing the Englislı hath all three, as Due, True, Father, Rather,

as Plaise, Taise, but the Sdrucciola he hath not, where
Thre watrye clowds shymring to the craft they rampired hizzing,
Three wheru's tierd glystring, with south winds ruffered buffling. Motion, Potion, with much more, which might be said,
Now doo they rayse gastly lightnings, now grislye reboundings but that already I find the trifling of this discourse is
Of raffe raffe roaring, mens harts with terror afrysing,

too much enlarged.» With peale meale ramping, with thwick tbwack sturdilye thundering

The French attempted to introduce the ancient meStanihurst's Virgil is certainly one of those curiosities

tres some years before the trial was made in England. in our literature which ought to be reprinted. Yet notwithstanding the almost incredible absurdity of this Pasquier says, that Estienne Jodelle led the way in the version, Stanidurst is entitled to an honourable remein- year 1553, by this distich upon the poems of Olivier de brance for the part which he contributed to Rolinshed's Maigny, « lequel,» he adds, « est vrayement une petir

chef d'æuvre.» Collection of Chronicles. None of our chroniclers possessed a mind better stored, nor an intellect more per- Phæbus, Amour, Cspris, veut sauver, nourrir et orber

Top vers et chef, d'umbre, de flamme, de fleurs. petually on the alert.

Pasquier himself, three years afterwards, at the soli

citation of a friend, produced the following « essay de Sidney, who failed so entirely in writing hexameters,

plus longue haleine.» has written concerning them, in his Defence of Poesie, with the good sense and propriety of thought by which Rien ne mo plaist sinon de te chanter, et servir et order :

Rien ne te plaist mon bien, rien ne te plaist que ma mort. that beautiful treatise is distinguished. Let me not be

Plus je requiers, et plus je me tiens seur d'estre refusé, thought to disparage this admirable man and delightful

Et ce refus pourtant poivt ne me semble refus. writer, because it has been necessary for me to show trompeurs attraicis, desir ardent, proinple volonus, the cause of his failure in an attempt 'wherein I have Espoir, non espoir, aios miserable pipeur. now followed him. I should not forgive myself, were

Discours mensongers, trahistreur oeil, aspre cruauté,

Qui mu ruine le corps, qui me ruine le cerur. I ever to mention Sidney without an expression of re- Pourquoy cant de faveurs i'ont les cieux mis à l'abandon, verence and love.

Ou pourquoy dans moy si violente fureur ! « Of versifying,» he says, “there are two sorts, the si vaine est ma fureur, si vain est tout ce que des cieux

Tu tiens, s'en toy gist cette cruelle rigeur: one ancient, the other modern; the ancient marked

Dieux patrons de l'amour bannissez d'elle la beauté, the quantity of each syllable, and, according to that, Ou bien l'accouple, d'une amiable pitié ; framed his verse; the modern, observing only number, Ou si dans le miel vous meslez un venimeur fiel, with some regard of the accent; the chief life of it Vueillez Dieux que l'amour r'entre dedans le chaos :

Commandez que le froid, l'eau, l'Est, l'humide, l'ardeur: standeth in that like sounding of the words, which we

Brief que ce tout par tout tende à l'abisme de tous, call Rhyme. Whether of these be the more excellent, Pour tinir ma douleur, pour finir cette cruauté, would bear many speeches, the ancient, no doubt, more Qui me ruine le corps, qui me suine le cerur. fit for musick, both words and time observing quan

Von belas que ce rond soit tout un sans se rechanger, tity, and more fit, lively to express divers passions by rais quo ma Sourdo se change, et plus douce escule les rois,

Mai: que ma Sourde se change, on do face, ou de façons : the low or lofty sound of the well-weighed syllable. Voix que je seme criant, vois que je seme, riant, The latter likewise with his Rhyme striketh a certain Et que le fou du froid decormais puisse triompher, musick to the ear; and, in fine, since it doth delight, Ainsi s'assopira mon tourment

, et la cruauió

Et que lo froid au feu perde sa lente vigeur : though by another way, it obtaineth the same purpose,

Qui me ruine le corps, qui me ruine le caror. there being in either sweetness, and wanting in neither majesty. Truly the English, before any vulgar lan

« Je ne dy pas,» says the author, « que ces vers soient guage I know, is fit for both sorts ; for, for the ancient, de quelque valeur, aussi ne les mets-je icy sur la monthe Italian is so full of vowels, that it must ever be stre en intention qu'on les trouve tels; mais bien estimecumbered with elisions: the Dutch so, of the other je qu'ils sont autant fluides que les Latins, et à tant side, with consonants, that they cannot yield the sweet venx-je que l'on pense nostre vulgaire estre aucunesliding, fit for a verse. The French, in his whole lan- ment capable de ce subject.» Pasquier's verses were guage,

hath not one word that hath his accent in the not published till many years after they were written; Jast syllable, saving two, called Antepenultima; and

and in the meantime Jean Antoine de Bajf made the little more bath the Spanish, and therefore very grace attempt upon a larger scale, -« toutesfois,» says PasJessly may they use Dactyls; the English is subject 10 quier, «

«en ce subject si mauvais parrain que non seulenone of these defects. Now for Rhyme, though we do

nient il ne fut suivy d'aucun, mais au contraire desnot observe quantity, yet we observe the accent very couragea un chacun de s'y employer. D'autant que precisely, which other languages either cannot do, or

tout ce qu'il en fit estoit tant despourveu de cette naifwill not do so absolutely.

veté qui doit accompagner nos auvres, qu'aussi tost

que « That Cesura, or breathing-place, in the midst of the cette sienne poesie voit la lumière, elle mourut comme verse, neither Italian nor Spanish have; the French and

un avorton. The Abbé Goujet, therefore, had no reawe never almost fail of. Lastly, the very Rhyme itself son to represent this attempt as a proof of the bad taste Ilie Italian cannot put in the last syliable, by the French of the age: the bad taste of an age is proved, when vinamed the Masculine Rhyme, but still in the next to

cious compositions are applauded, not wben they are the last, which the French call the female, or the next unsuccessful. Jean Antoine de Baif is the writer of before that, which the Italian call Sdrucciola: the ex

whom the Cardinal du Perron said «qu'il étoit bon ample of the former, is Buono Suono : of the Sdruc-| homme, mais qu'il étoit méchant poëte François. ciola, is Femina Semina. The French, on the other

I subjoin a specimen of Spanish Hexameters, from an Eclogue by D. Esteban de Villegas, a poet of great and deserved estimation in his own country.

Que presto, inspirando Pean con amigo Coturno,
En trompa, que al Olimpo llegue por el ábrego suelta,
Tu fama llevaran los ecos del Ganges al Istro,
Y luego, torciendo el vuelo, del Aquilo al Austro.

Licidas y Coridon, Coridon el amante de Filis,
Pastor el uno de cabras, el otro do blancas ovejas,
Ambos á dos tiernos, mozos ambos, Arcades ambos.
Viendo que los rayos del Sol fatigaban al Orbe,

que vibrando fuego feroz la Canicula ladra,
Al puro cristal, que cria la fuente sonora,
Llevados del son alegre de su blando susurro,
Las plantas veloces mueven, los pasos animan,
Y al tronco de un verde enebro se sientan amigos.

Tú, que los ergaidos sobrepajas del hondo Timavo
Peüones, generoso Duque, con tu inclita frente,
Si acaso tocáre el eco de mi rústica a vena
Tus sienes, si acaso lle ;a á tu fértil abono,
Francisco, del acento mio la sonora Talia,
Oye pio, responde grato, censura severo :
No menos al caro hermano generoso retratas,
Que al tronco prudentu sigues, Generoso naciste
Héroe, que guarde el Cielo dilatando tus anos;
Licidas y Coridon, Coridon el amante de Filis,
Pastores, las Musas aman, recrearte desenn:
Tu, cuerdo, perdona entretanto la barbara Musa,

It is admitted by the Spaniards, that the fitness of their language for the hexameter lias been established by Villegas; his success, however, did not induce other poets to follow the example. I know not whom it was that he followed, for he was not the first to make the attempt. Neither do I know whether it was ever made in Portuguese, except in some verses upon St Ursula and the Eleven Thousand Virgins, which are Latin as well as Portuguese, and were written as a whimsical proof of the affinity of the two languages. I have found no specimens in Italian. The complete success of the metre in Germany is well known. The Bohemians have learnt the tune, and liave, like their neighbours, a translation of the Iliad in the measure of the original. This I learn accidentally from a Bohemian grammar; which shows me also, that the Bohemians make a dactyl of Achilles, probably because they pronounce the x with a strong aspirate.

Minor Poems.

Nos bæc novimus esse nihil.



The Subject of the following Poem may be found in the Third and Fourth Chapters of the First Book of Esdras.

Wira way-worn feet, a traveller woe-begone,
Life's upward road I journey'd many a day,
And framing many a sad yet soothing lay,

Beguiled the solitary hours with song.
Lonely my heart and rugged was the way,

Yet often pluck'd I, as I past along,
The wild and simple flowers of poesy;

And sometimes unreflecting as a child Entwined the weeds which pleased a random eye.

Take thou the wreath, Beloved! it is wild

And rudely garlanded; yet scorn not thou
The humble offering, where dark rosemary weaves

Amid gay flowers its melancholy leaves,
And myrtle gathered to adorn thy brow.

Glad as the weary traveller tempest-tost
To reach secure at length his native coast,
Who wandering long o'er distant lands bas sped,
The night-blast wildly howling round bis head,
Known all the woes of want, and felt the storm
Of the bleak winter pareh bis shivering form;
The journey o'er and every peril past
Beholds his little cottage-home at last,
And as he sees a far the smoke curl slow,
Feels his full eyes with transport overflow;
So from the scene where Death and Anguish reign,
And Vice and Folly drench with blood the plain,
Joyful I turn, to sing the Woman's praise
Avail'd again Jerusalem to raise,
Calld forth the sanction of the Despot's nod,
And freed the nation best beloved of God.



Tue lily cheek, the « purple light of love,»
The liquid lustre of the melting eye,-
MARY! of these the Poet sung, for these
Did Woman triumph ;-Wilt thou with a frown
Regard the theme unwortly ?--At that age
No MAID OF ARC had snatch'd from coward man
The avenging sword of freedom : woman-kind
Recorded then no Roland's martyrdom;
No Corde's angel and avenging arm
Had sanctified again the Murderer's name,
As erst when Cæsar perislid : and some strains
Haply may hence be drawn, befitting me
To offer, nor unworthy thy regard.

Darius gives the feast; to Persia's court, Awed by his will, the obedient throng resort : Attending Satraps swell their prince's pride, And vanquishid Monarchs grace the Conqueror's side. No more the Warrior wears the garb of war, Girds on the sword, or mounts the scythed car; No more Judæa's sons dejected go, And hang the head, and heave the sigh of woc. From Persia's rugged hills descend the train, From where Orontes foams along the plain,

From where Choaspes rolls his royal waves,

<< And while,» his friend replied, « in state alone, And India sends her sons, submissive slaves.

Lord of the earth, Darius fills the throne, Thy daughters, Babylon, for this high feast

Be yours the mighty power of Wine to sing, Weave the loose robe, and paint the flowery vest, My lute shall sound the praise of Persia's King.» With roseate wreaths they braid the glossy hair, They linge the cheek which nature form'd so fair, To them Zorobabel : « On themes like these Learn the soft step, the soul-subduing glance, Seek ye the Monarch of Mankind to please : Melt in the song, and swim adown the dance,

To Wine superior, or to Power's strong arms, Exalted on the Monarch's golden throne,

Be mine to sing resistless Woman's charms. In royal state the fair Apame shone;

To him victorious in the rival lays Her form of majesty, her eyes of fire,

Shall jusi Darius give the meed of praise ; Chill with respect, or kindle with desire.

The purple robe his honour'd frame shall fold, The admiring multitude her charms adore,

The beverage sparkle in his cup of gold; And own her worthy of the rank she bore.

A golden couch support his bed of rest,

The chain of honour grace his favour'd breast ; Now on his couch reclined Darius lay,

His the rich turban, his the car's array, Tired with the coilsome pleasures of the day;

O'er Babylon's high wall to wheel its way, Without Judæa's watchful sons await,

And for his wisdom seated on the throne, To guard the sleeping idol of the state.

For the King's Cousin shall the Bard be known.>> Three youths were these of Judal's royal race, Three youths whom Nature dower'd with every grace,

Intent they meditate the future lay, To each the form of symmetry she gave,

And watch impatient for the dawn of day. And haughty genius curs'd each favourite slave;

The morn rose clear, and shrill were heard the flute, These fill'd the cup, around the Monarch kept,

The cornet, sackbut, dulcimer, and lute; Served when he spake, and guarded while he slept.

To Babylon's gay streets the throng resort,

Swarm through the gates, and fill the festive court. Yet oft for Salem's hallow'd towers laid low High on his throne Darius tower'd in pride, The sigh would heave, the unbidden tear would flow; The fair Apame graced the Sovereign's side : And when the dull and wearying round of power

And now she smiled, and now with mimic frown Allow'd Zorobabel one vacant hour,

Placed on her brow the Monarch's sacred crown. lle loved on Babylon's high wall to roam,

In transport o'er her faultless form he bends,
And lingering gaze toward his distant home;

Loves every look, and every act commends.
Or on Euphrates's willowy banks reclined
Hear the sad Harp moan fitful to the wind.

And now Darius bids the herald call

Judæa's Bards to grace the thronging hall.
As now the perfumed lamps stream wide their light, Hush'd is each sound, the attending crowd are mute,
And social converse cheers the livelong night,

And then the Hebrew gently touch'd the lute:
Thus spake Zorobabel : « Too long in vain
For Zion desolate her sons complain;

When the Traveller on his way,
All hopelessly our years of sorrow flow,

Who has toil'd the livelong day; And these proud heathen mock their captives' woe.

Feels around on every side While Cyrus triumphed here in victor state

The chilly mists of eventide, A brighter prospect cheer'd our exiled fate;

Fatigued and faint his weary mind Our sacred walls again he bade us raise,

Recurs to all he leaves behind; And to Jehovah rear the pile of praise.

He thinks upon the well-trimm'd hearth, Quickly these fond hopes faded from our eyes,

The evening hour of social mirth. As the frail sun that gilds the wintry skies,

And her who at departing day And spreads a moment's radiance o'er the plain,

Weeps for her husband far away. Soon hid by clouds which dim the scene again,

Oh give to him the flowing bowl!

Bid it renovate his soul! Opprest by Artaxerxes' jealous reign,

Then shall sorrow sink to sleep, We vainly pleaded here, and wept in vain.

And he who wept no more shall weep; Now when Darius, chief of mild command,

For his care-clouded brow shall clear, Bids joy and pleasure fill the festive land,

And his glad eye will sparkle through the tear. Still shall we droop the head in sullen grief, And sternly silent shun to seek relief?

When the poor man heart-opprest What if amid the Monarch's mirthful throng

Betakes him to his evening rest, Our harps should echo to the cheerful song ?»

And worn with labour thinks in sorrow

Of the labour of to-morrow: « Fair is the occasion,» thus the one replied,

When sadly musing on his lot Now then let all our tuneful skill be tried.

He hies him to luis joyless cot,
While the gay courtiers quaff the smiling bowl,

And loathes to meet his children there,
And wine's strong fumes inspire the madden'd soul, The rivals for his scanty fare;
Where all around is merriment, be mine

Oh give to him the flowing bowl!
To strike the late, and praise the power of Wine.» Bid it renovate his soul!

The generous juice with magic power
Shall cheat with happiness the hour,

And with each warm affection fill
The heart by want and wretchedness made chill.

The rude gale wafts him o'er the main ; For him the winds of heaven subservient blow,

Earth teems for him, for him the waters flow, He thinks, and wills, and acts, a Deity below!

When, at the dim close of day,
The Captive loves alone to stray
Along the haunts recluse and rude
Of sorrow and of solitude ;
When he sits with mournful eye
To mark the lingering radiance die,
And lets distempered Fancy roam
Amid the ruins of his home;--
Oh give to liim the flowing bowl!
Bid it renovate his soul!
The bowl shall better thoughts bestow,
And lull to rest his wakeful woe,

And joy shall bless the evening hour, And make the Captive Fortune's conqueror.

Where is the King who with elating pride Sees not this Man, this godlike Man his slave? Mean are the mighty by the Monarch's side;

Alike the wise, alike the brave
With timid step and pale, advance,

And tremble at the royal glance;

Suspended millions watch bis breath, Whose smile is happiness, whose frown is death.

When the wearying cares of state
Oppress the Monarch with their weight,
When from his pomp retired alone
He feels the duties of the throne,
Feels that the multitude below
Depend on him for weal or woe;
When his powerful will may bless
A realm with peace and happiness,
Or with desolating breath
Breathe ruin round, and woe, and death :
Oh give to him the flowing bowl!
Bid it humanize his soul!
He shall not feel the empire's weight,
He shall not feel the cares of state,

The bowl shall each dark thought beguile, And Nations live and prosper from his sinile.

Why goes the Peasant from thai little cot, Where Peace and Love have blest his humble life?

In vain his agonizing wife
With tears bedews her husband's face,
And clasps him in a long and last embrace;
In vain his children round his bosom creep,

And weep to see their mother weep,
Feltering their father with their little arms!

What are to him the war's alarms?
What are to him the distant foes ?

He at the earliest dawn of day
To daily labour went his way;
And when he saw the sun decline,
He sate in peace beneath his vine-
The King commands, the peasant goes,

From all he loved on earth he flies,
And for his monarch toils, and fights, and bleeds,

and dies.

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Hush'd was the lute, the Hebrew ceased the song,
Long peals of plaudits echoed from the throng;
Each tongue the liberal words of praise repaid,
On every cheek a smile applauding play'd ;
The rival Bard approach'd, he struck the string,
And pour'd the loftier song to Persia's King.

Why should the wearying cares of state
Oppress the Monarch with their weight?

Alike to him if peace shall bless
The multitude with happiness;

Alike to him if frenzied War
Careers triumphant on the em battled plain

And rolling on o'er myriads slain,
With gore and wounds shall clog his scythed car.

What though the tempest rage! no sound
Of the deep thunder shakes his distant throne,
And the red flash that spreads destruction round,

Reflects a glorious splendour on the crown.

What though yon City's castled wall
Cast o'er the darkeu'd plain its crested shade?
What though her Priests in earnest terror call

On all their host of Gods to aid?
Vain is the bulwark, vain the tower!

In vain her gallant youthis expose
Their breasts, a bulwark, to the foes!

In vain at that tremendous hour,
Clasp'd in the savage soldier's reeking arms,
Shrieks to tame Heaven the violated Maid!

By the rude hand of Ruin scatter'd round,
Their moss-grown towers shall spread the desert ground.

Low shall the mouldering palace lie,

Amid the princely halls the grass wave high, And through the shatter'd roof descend the inclement


Where is the Man who with ennobling pride
Beholds not his own nature? where is he

Who without awe can see
The mysteries of the human mind,

The miniature of Deity?
For Man the vernal clouds descending

Shower down their fertilizing rain;

For Man the ripen'd harvest bending Waves with soft murmur o'er the plenteous plain.

He spreads the sail ou high,

Gay o'er the embattled plain

Moves yonder warrior train,
Their banners wanton on the morning gale!
Full on their bucklers beams the rising ray,
Their glittering helms give glory to the day;
The shout of war rings echoing o'er the vale;

Far reaches as the aching eye can strain
The splendid horror of their wide array.

Ah! not in vain expectant, o'er
Their glorious pomp the vultures soar!
Amid the Conqueror's palace high

Shall sound the song of victory;
Long after journeying o'er the plain

The traveller shall with startled eye
See their white bones then blanched by many a winter


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