stance, in some measure, anticipated by Buonaparte's having obtained possession of Cattaro. This co-operation would call off the Turks, and the road to Constantinople would be open to the Russians. This end obtained, any number of the Northern hordes might be brought down through the Dardanelles, and every position which France has in the Mediterranean would then be threatened. The number of gallant and ingenious men who have recently been in those countries, must long since have anticipated these circumstances. One of the strongest proofs of the fact is the establishment of Colonel (now General) Oswald's Greek Corps. With what other view could it have been formed than as the beginning of an army of Greeks to be raised at a subsequent period, for the purpose of avenging themselves on the infamous barbarians who have so long oppressed them? We have now to hope that the Lambro Canzianis* will lead them to victory, and the Pano Kiris* vindicate their real character to the whole world.

Such an introduction and notes, that, by an allusion to subsequent events, would have elucidated previous speculations, might have been added, had not the nature of a work of this sort imperiously forbidden a discussion in which the feelings of party might have been excited. The writer, therefore, is compelled to limit himself to a very few words. What were the objects of Loubtmirski's mission from St. Petersburgh, in the autumn of 1811?

Poetical Essays on Military Subjects.

ELEGIAC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL BROCK.
BY MR. UPTON.

THE laurel of glory eternal shall bloom,
Triumphant, and branch o'er the warrior's tomb !
O'er the patriot, that battled his country to save,
The laurel of glory shall circle his grave!

Nor climate, nor season, nor time's iron hand,
E'er injure or sap it in Britain's proud land;
O'er the manes of the soldier for ever shall wave
The laurel of glory, the meed of the brave!

Nor envy, nor faction's fell venom be seen

To wither a leaf of its beautiful green!

Like the life-buds of Spring, shall new verdure e'er find,
And wave o'er the worth of the hero enshrin'd!

Tho' age after ages may moulder away,

The fame of the patriot can never decay!

Like the oak of the forest, each tempest can brave,

And the laurel of glory wave over his grave.

For their characters see Mr. Eton's Survey.

Victoria.

BY MRS. JOHN PHILIPPART,

Author of "MUSCOVY," &c.

AWAKE! my soul, no longer tranquil lie

In pensive musing and lethargic ease: Awake! and list the tidings as they fly

On the swift pinions of the Southern breeze. Awake, my soul, and sing!

Impregnate every thought with martial fire,

And grace with warrior pride the warrior lay; The patriot muse shall smile upon my lyre, And bid the Delphic god accord a ray On every trembling string!

Now no more my pensive brows
Soporific garlands bind,
Every thought with fervour glows,
Warm, enraptured, unconfined !
Waked by great Apollo's beam,
Kindling at his mystic glance,
Let me dare the lofty theme,
Where the flushed battalions gleam,

By soft Zadora's gliding stream,

And Britons shook the throne of France!

Let me touch the battle shell,

Sing the bleeding battle's strain,

Haste the soldier's praise to tell,

In grateful pæans holy swell,

Or dirges, for the gallant slain !

High o'er the embattled thousands as they lay, In fair Zadora's vale, and by her stream, The wayward fates and furies urge the fray,

And tell the coming woe with frantic scream. But on the banners of blest England's powers The mighty soul of Variatus hung; And myriad genii, from celestial bowers, Raised their seraphic notes, and sungVICTORIA! VICTORIA! VICTORIA!

Then onward o'er the palsied lands
Pressed Britain's sons, in gallant bands,
With glowing heart, and ardent eye,
Steadfast to conquer or to die.
Yes, every Britain onward press'd,
To hurl his fire on Gallia's crest;
And Gallia's eagles, blanched and pale,
Before their fires were seen to quail;
For still the sullen fates appear,
Darken the van, and cloud the rear,
While overing o'er the British line,
In strains of melody divine,
The beatific train prolong,
High in mid air the battle song;
And swell the auspicious chorus glee,
Holy, prophetic minstrelsy!

Awhile the heavenly cadence bore,
Till sinking with the volley's roar,
On fair Zadora's battled shore;
And fervent, through the azure sky,
The soldiers raise the inspiring cry-

A WELLINGTON! A WELLINGTON! A WELLINGTON!

VICTORIA in the distance rears her spires,

And through the lengthened vale dark gleam the Gallic fires.

Along the lovely vale, and on the hill,

The Gallic bugles send their war notes shrill;

High on the mount, and through the verdant vale,

The Gallic trumpets fill the summer gale:

The clanging cymbal, and the marshal strain,

Awaken echo in the silent plain;

In rich refulgent fires the sun-beams dance
Upon the regal tents and lines of France:
The wheeling horse, and infantry were seen
In skilled mauœuvre on the velvet green;
Their burnished arms emit a transient glare,
And beam like gems upon the peopled air.
Here was a scene to fire the languid blood,
Swift through the veins to urge the vital flood,
To raise heroic thoughts within the mind,
And leave the baser passions far behind;

Not all the softest feelings, highest fires,
Its ardent wishes, and its warm desires,

Can yield so bright a glow as marshal fame
When Valour lights his torch with patriot flame.

Intrepid sons of England's darling soil,
Oh, ever ready for the martial toil,

How glow'd your hearts on that eventful day

When Puebla's heights beheld, and fertile lands,

The bold Cadogan cheer the bright array,
And marshal to the strife his gallant bands,
Leading the sanguinary way.

High beat each British and Castilian heart,

And every soldier seized the ready brand; Proud they advanced with life itself to part,

And grasped their weapons with a giant's hand. La Puebla's echoing hills their presence owned, Her sylvan shades and dells in murmurs moaned; And ruddy drops distained La Puebla's side, When great Murillo bled, and brave Cadogan died.

Raise the hymn, Iberian maids,

And deck the funeral pyre,

La Puebla's conscious dells and glades
Shall feed the grateful fire;
Weep her sounding woods among,
And sing the soldier's funeral song.

Graham, Dalhousie, Picton, Hill,
All Britannia's hopes fulfil;

Nanclaus and Tres Puentes saw

The gallant Chiefs conduct the war.

Abechuco, Gamarro Maior,
Wrapp'd in wreaths of Gallic fire,

Saw the Gaul's battalions reel,
And sink before the British steel,
From every well contested post
The Gauls are driven, the day is lost.
Oh, high and glorious was the toil,
Ponderous and rich the soldier's spoil;

For all the deadly engines lie
Within a Wellesley's conquering eye.
Trophies and banners, eagles bright,
With all the pageantry of fight,
The Marshal's Staff, and banners gay,
From Gallic hands are borne away
By British youths-that glorious day!
And all the war's collected store,
On glad Zadora's echoing shore,
The hardy victors make their prize,
And shouts of gladness fill the skies.
The foe is routed, o'er the lawn,
They fly they fly! like sylvan fawn;
And gallant Britons, bold and true,
Strain their firm nerves and quick pursue.
They fly they fly! o'er hill and dale,
Swift as the feet of morning gale;

But not so swiftly can they fly,
As to elude his eagle eye:

That gallant Chief, his country's sword,'
Her shield, her buckler, and her guard.
The word is given, they then pursue,
Each British heart to glory true.
Even to Alaba's province queen
The routed troops are flying seen;
Through every rich and busy street,
The Britons chase, the foes retreat,
Till driven like autumn leaves along,
No more is seen the vanquished throng.

Then on the warriors came again,
Broke loud and full the battle strain,
Triumphant rolls the deep-toned drum,
The warlike cymbals clash.

They come, the conquering heroes come,
And vollying muskets flash.-
The British banners proudly fly,
And British soldiers loudly cry,

VICTORIA! VICTORIA! VICTORIA!

July 6th, 1813.