Indite thy conscript code with iron pen,

That cancels crime, demoralizes men;

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Thy false and fatal aid to virtue lend,

And start a Washington, a Nero end;

And vainly strive to strangle in his youth
Freedom, th' Herculean son of Light and Truth.
Stepfather foul !---thou to his infant bed

Didst steal, and drop a changeling in his stead.

Yes, yes,---I see thee turn thy vaunting gaze, Where files reflect to files the o'erpowering blaze; Rather, like Xerxes, o'er those numbers sigh,

Braver than his, but sooner doom'd to die.

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Here! Number only courts that Death it cloys,

Here! Might is weakness, and herself destroys :

Lead then thy southern myriads lock'd in steel,

Lead on! too soon their nerveless arm shall feel

Those magazines impregnable of snow,

That kill without a wound, o'rewhelm without a foe.

I see thee,-'tis the bard's prophetic eye,
Blindly presumptuous Chief,-I see thee fly!
While breathing skeletons, and bloodless dead,
Point to the thirsting foe the track you tread.
To seize was easy, and to march was plain,
Hard to retreat, and harder to retain.

Reft of thy trappings, pomp, and glittering gear,
Dearth in thy van,-destruction in thy rear,---

Like foil'd Darius, doom'd too late to know
The stern ænigmas of a Scythian foe,---

Thy standard torn, while vengeful scorpions sting
Th' imperial bird, and cramp his flagging wing,-
The days are numbered of thy motley host,

Freedom's vain fear, Oppression's vainer boast.

And lo, the Beresyna opens wide

His yawning mouth, his wintry weltering tide!
Expectant of his mighty meal, he flows

In silent ambush through his trackless snows:

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There shall thy way-worn ranks despairing stand,
Like trooping spectres on the Stygian strand,
And curse their fate and thee,-and conquest sown

With retribution deep, in vain repentance moan!

Thy Veteran worn by wounds, and years, and toils,

Pilgrim of Honour in all suns and soils,

By thy ambition foully tempted forth

To fight the frozen rigours of the north,
Above complaint, indignant at his wrongs,
Curses the morsel that his life prolongs,

Unpierc'd, unconquer'd sinks, yet breathes a sigh,

-For he had hop'd a soldier's death to die.-

Was it for this that fatal hour he braved,

When o'er the Cross the conquering Crescent waved?

Was it for this he plough'd the western main,

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To weld the struggling Negro's broken chain,

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Fac'd his relentless hate, to frenzy fired,

Stung by past wrongs, by present hopes inspired,

Then hurried home to lend his treacherous aid,
And stain more deeply still the warrior's blade,
When spoil'd Iberia, rous'd to deeds sublime,
Made vengeance virtue-clemency a crime;
And 'scap'd he these, to fall without a foe?
The wolf his sepulchre? his shroud the snow!

"Tis morn!-but lo, the warrior-steed, in vain
The trumpet summons from the bloodless plain;
Ne'er was he known till now to stand aloof,
Still midst the slain was found his crimson hoof;
And struggling still to join that well-known sound.
He dies, ignobly dies, without a wound!

Oft had he hail'd the battle from afar,

And paw'd to meet the rushing wreck of war;

With reinless neck the danger oft had braved,
And crush'd the foe-his wounded rider saved;
Oft had the rattling spear and sword assailed
His generous heart, and had as often failed:

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That heart no more life's frozen current thaws,

Brave, guiltless champion, in a guilty cause!

One northern night more hideous work hath done,
Than whole campaigns beneath a southern sun.

Spoil'd Child of Fortune, could the murder'd Turk, Or wrong'd Iberian view thy ghastly work,

They'd sheathe their vengeful blade, and clearly see
France needs no deadlier, direr curse than thee.
War hath fed War!-such was thy dread behest

----Now view the iron fragments of the feast.--

O, if to cause and witness others grief

Unmov'd, be firmness--thou art Stoa's Chief!

Thy fell recorded boast, all Zeno said

Outdoes--" I wear my heart within my

head!---"

Caught in the Northern Net, what darest thou dare?

Snatch might from madness? courage from despair?

If courage lend thy breast a transient ray,

"Tis the Storm's lightning---not the beam of day:

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