But Turkish force and Latin fraud Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Ex. CXIII.-NAPOLEON. J. PIERPONT. His falchion flashed along the Nile; Here sleeps he now, alone! Not one Of all the kings, whose crowns he gave, Behind this sea-girt rock, the star, High is his couch;-the ocean flood, As round him heaved, while high he stood, Alone he sleeps! The mountain cloud, That night hangs round him, and the breath Of morning scatters, is the shroud That wraps the conqueror's clay in death. Pause here! The far-off world, at last, Breathes free; the hand that shook its thrones, And to the earth its miters cast, Lies powerless now beneath these stones. Hark! comes there, from the pyramids, And Europe's hills, a voice that bids The only, the perpetual dirge That's heard there, is the sea-bird's cry,— The mournful murmur of the surge, The cloud's deep voice, the wind's low sigh. Ex. CXIV.-UNIVERSAL FREEDOM. HENRY WARE, JR, OPPRESSION shall not always reign: Then right shall over might prevail; Even now, that glorious day draws near, In earth and heaven its signs appear, Its dawn has flushed the eastern sky, It flashes on the Indian isles, So long to bondage given; Their faded plains are decked in smiles, Eight hundred thousand newly free, Pour out their songs of jubilee, That shout, which every bosom thrills, The waves reply on every shore, What voice shall bid the progress stay Of truth's victorious car? What arm arrest the growing day, Or quench the solar star? What dastard soul, though stout and strong, And freedom's morning bar? The hour of triumph comes apace, The day has come, the hour draws nigh, Send forth the glad, exulting cry, From every hill, by every sea, In shouts proclaim the great decree, "All chains are burst, all men are free!" Ex. CXV.-THE PILGRIMS AND THE PEAS. A BRACE of sinners, for no good, Were ordered to the Virgin Mary's shrine, Who at Loretto dwelt, in wax, stone, wood, And in a fair white wig looked wondrous fine. Fifty long miles had those sad rogues to travel, WOLCOT. With something in their shoes much worse than gravel: In short, their toes so gentle to amuse, Which Popish parsons for its powers exalt, The knaves set off on the same day, But very different was their speed, I wot: Swift as a bullet from a gun; The other limped, as if he had been shot. One saw the Virgin soon-peccavi cried— Made fit, with saints above, to live for ever. In coming back, however, let me say, His eyes in tears, his cheeks and brows in sweat, Deep sympathizing with his groaning feet. "How now," the light-toed, white-washed pilgrim broke, "You lazy lubber!" "Ods curse it," cried the other, "tis no jokeMy feet, once hard as any rock, Are now as soft as any blubber. "Excuse me, Virgin Mary, that I swear As for Loretto I shall not get there; No! to the devil my sinful soul must go, For hang me if I ha n't lost every toe. "But, brother sinner, pray explain How 'tis that you are not in pain: What power hath worked a wonder for your toes: While I just like a snail am crawling, Now swearing, now on saints devoutly bawling, "How is 't that you can like a greyhound go, Merry, as if that naught had happened, burn ye ?" "Why," cried the other, grinning, "you must know, That just before I ventured on my journey, To walk a little more at ease, I took the liberty to boil my peas." Ex. CXVI.-THE FATE OF GOLDAU. O SWITZERLAND! my country! 'tis to thee My country! nurse of Liberty, Home of the gallant, great, and free, Ye sleep beneath a mountain pall; Is now the only mourning plume That nods above a people's tomb. Of the echoes that swim o'er thy bright blue lake, In the swell of thy peaceable sky. They sit on that wave with a motionless wing, J. NEAL. And their cymbals are mute; and the desert birds sing As they stoop their broad wing, and go sluggishly by: As innocent, true, and as lovely a maid As ever in cheerfulness caroled her song, In the blithe mountain air, as she bounded along. The heavens are all blue, and the billow's bright verge |