When on thine hopes the cloud of battle lowers,
And frowns the vengeance of insulted powers;
When victory trembles in the doubtful scale,
And Death deals thick and fast his iron hail;
When all is stak'd, and the dread hazard known,
A rising scaffold, and a falling throne!

Then, can thy dastard soul some semblance wear

Of manhood's stamp--when fear hath conquer'd fear.

Canst thou be brave? whose dying prospects show

A scene of all that's horrible in woe!

On whose ambition, long by carnage nursed,

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Death stamps the greatest change, the last, the worst!

Death!--to thy view most terrible of things,

Dreadful in all he takes and all he brings!

--But, King of Terrors! ere thou seize thy prey,

Point with a lingering dart to Moscow's fatal day;
Shake with that scene his agonizing frame,

And on the wreck of Nations write his name!

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O when will conquerors from example learn,

Or truth from aught but self-experience earn?

How many Catos must be wept again?

How many Cæsars sacrific'd in vain ?

While Europe doz'd-too aged to be taught-
Th' historic lesson young Columbia caught,
Enraptur'd hung o'er that inspiring theme,
Conn'd it by wood, by mountain, and by stream,
Till every Grecian, Roman name, the morn
Of Freedom hail'd,-and Washington was born!

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I see thee redden at that mighty Name That fills the Herd of conquerors with shame: But ere we part, Napoleon, deign to hear

The bodings of thy future dark career;

Fate to the poet, trusts her iron leaf,

Fraught with thy ruin-read it and be brief-

Then to thy senate flee, to tell the tale

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Of Russia's full revenge, Gaul's deep indignant wail.

-It is thy doom false greatness to pursue,

Rejecting, and rejected by, the true;

A sterling name, thrice proffer'd, to refuse;
And highest means pervert to lowest views;

Till Fate and Fortune, finding that thou'rt still'

Untaught by all their good and all their ill,

Expell'd, recall'd, reconquer'd---all in vain,-
Shall sink thee to thy nothingness again.

Though times, occasions, chances, foes, and friends,
Urged thee to purest fame, by purest ends,

In this alone be great-to have withstood

Such varied, vast temptations to be good!
As hood-wink'd falcons boldest pierce the skies,
Th' Ambition that is blindest highest flies;

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And thine still wak'd by night, still dream d by day, To rule o'er Kings, as these o'er subjects sway; 290

Nor dar'd thy mitered Mentor set thee right,

Thou art not Philip's Son,--nor he the Stagyrite.

And lo, thy dread, thy hate! the Queen of Isles

Frowns at thy guilt, ând at thy menace smiles;

Free of her treasure, freer of her blood,

She summons all the brave, the great, the good.
But ill befits her praise my partial line,
Enough for me to boast that land is mine.---

And last, to fix thy fate and seal thy doom,

Her bugle note shall Scotia stern resume,

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Shall grasp her Highland brand, her plaided bonnet

plume:

From hill and dale, from hamlet, heath, and wood,

She pours her dark, resistless, battle-flood.

Breathe there a race, that from the approving hand

Of Nature, more deserve, or less demand?

So skill'd to wake the lyre, or wield the sword;
To achieve great actions, or achieved---record;

Victorious in the conflict, as the truce,

Triumphant in a Burns, as in a Bruce!

Where'er the bay, where'er the iaurel grows,

Their wild notes warble, and their life-blood flows.

There, Truth courts access, and would ALL engage,

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Lavish as youth-experienced as age;

Proud Science there, with purest Nature twined,

In firmest thraldom holds the freest mind;

While Courage rears his limbs of giant form,

Rock'd by the blast, and strengthen'd by the storm!
Rome Fell; and Freedom to her craggy glen

Transferr'd that title proud-The Nurse of Men,---
By deeds of hazard high, and bold emprize,

Train'd like their native eagle for the skies,

Untam'd by toil, unconquer'd till their slain,

Walls in their trenches,--whirlwinds on the plain.
This meed accept from Albion's grateful breath,
Brothers in arms' in victory! in death!

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