Imagens das páginas

In dreams, through camp, and court, he bore | The trophies of a conqueror ; |

In dreams his song of triumph heard ;a |
Then, wore his monarch’sb sig net-ring; I
Then press'd that monarch's throne', ja king';,
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,

As Eden's gardeno-bird. ī
At midnight, in the forest-shades', /

?Bozza'ris rang’d his Suliote band, True as the steel of their tried blades', 1

Heroes in heart, and hand. I
There had the Persian's thousands stood;
There had the glad earth drunk their blood,

On old Platæ'a's day - 1
And now, there breath'd that haunted air, 1
The sons of sires who con quer'd there,
With arm to strike, , and soul to dare', i

As quick, as far as they. |
'An hour passid on | 'the Turk awoke

1 That bright dream was his last ; 1 He woke to hear his sentries shriek

ff" To arms'! they come ! the Greek! the Greek! He woke to die midst fame, and smoke', | And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke,

And death-shots falling thick, and fast,
As lightnings from the mountain-cloud ; |
And heard, with voice as trum pet-loud, i

Bozzaris cheer his band :
fff «« Strike till the last arm'd foe expires ; |
Strike for your altars, and your fires'; \
Strike for the green graves of your sires. — 1

God, and your native land" !" ancient Platæa, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words were - To die for liberty is a pleasure, and not a pain."

• Triumph heard ; not tri-um'furd. Món'nårks. Går'an. + Pass'd on; not pass-ton'.

They fought like brave men - long, and well'; 1

They pild that ground with Moslem slain. ; They con quer'd – but Bozzaris fell', Bleeding at every vein. I

" , His smile when rang their proud hurrah, ·

And the red field was won'; | Then saw in death his eyelids close, Calmly, as to a night's repose,

Like flowers at set of sun. | "Come to the bridal' chamber, 'Death!

Come to the mother's, when she feels | For the first time, her first-born's breath - 1

Come when the blessed seals | That close the pes'tilence, are broke, | And crowded cities wail its stroke, 1 Come in consumption's ghastly form, | The earthquake shock', , the ocean-storm?Come when the heart beats high, and warm, |

With ban quet-song, and dance, and wine – ! "And thou art ler rible -- | the tears, I The groan., | the knell', 1 the pall', i the bier. ; I And all we know', / or dream', / or fear' |

Of agony, are thine. *But to the hero, 'when his sword |

Has won the battle for the free, I *Thy voice sounds like a proph'et's word And in its hollow tones, are heard |

*The thanks of mill'ions yet to be. I
Come when his task of fame' is wrought - 1
Come with her lau'rel-leaf, | blood-bought — 1

Come in her crown'ing hour — and then
Thy sunken eye's unearthly light |
To him is welcome as the sight

Of sky, and stars to prison'd men : 1
Kôm'råd z , saw; not com'rades-saw. Bridal; not brl'dle.

3Thy grasp is welcome as the hand
Of brother in a foreign land ; |
Thy summons, welcome as the cry
That told the Indian Isles' were nigh

To the world-seeking Genoese,
When the land-wind, 1 from woods of palm,
And orange-groves, and fields of balm, i

Blew o'er the Haytian seas. ||

'Bozzaris !| with the stori'd brave, 1

Greece nurtur'd in her glo'ry's time, | . Res! thee - | 'there is no prouder grave, i

Even in her own proud clime. || She wore no funeral weeds for thee',

Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume 1 Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, In sorrow's pomp, and pa geantry, 1

The heartless luxury of the tomb. 1

But she remembers thee as one
Long lov'd', , and for a season gone ; 1
For thee her poet's lyre is wreath'd ; !
Her marble wrought', i her music breath'd ;!
For thee she rings the birth-day bells. ; !
Of thee her babes' first lisping tells : 1
For thine her evening prayer is said i
Al palace-couch, and cottage-bed ; 1
Her soldier, closing with the foe, 1
Gives, for thy sake, a deadlier blow. ; !
His plighted maiden, when she fears i
For him, the joy of her young years, 1
Thinks of thy fate, / and checks her tears - 1

And she, the mother of thy boy's', 1
Though in her eye, and faded cheek |
Is read the grief she will not speak, 1

The mem'ry of her buried joys, I And even she who gave thee birth', i Will. by their pilgrim-circled hearth, 1

Talk of thy doom without a sigh': 1 mf For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's ; 1 One of the few, the imınortal names, i

That were not born to die. I


(CAMPBELL.) Wizard and Lochiel.

WIZARD. Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day' || When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array !! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight', 1 And the clans of Culloden are scatter'd in fight : 1 They rally, they bleed', for their kingdom and crown ; ! Wo, wo 10 the riders that trample them down ! | Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain', i And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. I But hark !, through the fast-flashing lightning of war, i What steed to the desert flies frantic and far'? | "T is thine', Oh Glenullin! whose bride shall await ! Like a love-lighted watch'-fire, all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning - no ri der is there; But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. 1 Weep', Albin! to death, and captivity led! || ( weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead. :/ For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave', Culloden that reeks with the blood of the brave. I

LOCHIEL Go, preach to the cow'ard, thou death-telling seer!! Or, if gory Cullodrn so dreadful appear, ! Draw, dotaril, around thy old wavering sight, This man tle, , to cover the phantoms of fright. !

WIZARD. Ha ! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn'? || Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn.!!

Say', rush'd the bold eagle, exultingly forth', 1
From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the north'!
Lo! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding, he rode |
Compan ionless, bearing destruction abroad ; |
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high-!|
Ah! home' let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh.
Why flames the far sum mit? Why shoot to the blast
Those em bers, | like stars from the firmament, cast? |
"T is the fire-shower of ru'in, all dreadfully driven
From his ey'ry, that beacons the darkness of heav n.
O crested Lochiel!, the peerless in might, |
Whose banners arise on the battlements' height,
Heaven's fire is around thee to blast and to burn; }
Return to thy dwelling: all lonely return!
For the blackness of ash'es shall mark where it stood, 1
And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood !!

LOCHIEL. False Wizard, avaunt'! I have marshall'd my clan':| Their swords are a thou'sand ; | their bosoms are one :/ They are true to the last of their blood, and their breath, And like reap'ers, descend to the harvest of death. Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock! Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock' ! | But wo to his kindred, and wo to his cause', | When Albin her claymore indig nantly draws; I When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud ; 1 All plaided, and plum'd in their tartan array

WIZARD. Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day ! | For, dark, and despairing, my sight I may seal, 1 Yet man cannot cover what God would reveal,: 1 'T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. I I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring With the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive king. I

« AnteriorContinuar »