Such as he of Naples wears;
Who thy blood-bought title bears.
Little didst thou deem when dashing

On thy war-horse through the ranks,
Like a stream which burst its banks,
While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing,
Shone and shiver'd fast around thee-
Of the fate at last which found thee;
Was that haughty plume laid low
By a slave's dishonest blow?

Once-as the Moon sways o'er the tide,
It roll'd in air, the warrior's guide;
Through the smoke-created night
Of the black and sulphurous fight,
The soldier raised his seeking eye
To catch that crest's ascendancy,-
And, as it onward rolling rose,
So moved his heart upon our foes.

There, where death's brief pang was quickest,
And the battle's wreck lay thickest,
Strew'd beneath the advancing banner
Of the eagle's burning crest-
(There with thunder-clouds to fan her,
Who could then her wing arrest-
Victory beaming from her breast?
While the broken line enlarging
Fell, or fled along the plain;
There be sure was Murat charging!
There he ne'er shall charge again!


O'er glories gone the invaders march,
Weeps Triumph o'er each levell'd arch-

But let Freedom rejoice,

With her heart in her voice;

But, her hand on her sword,
Doubly shall she be adored;

France hath twice too well been taught
The "moral lesson" dearly bought-

Her Safety sits not on a throne,

With Capet or Napoleon!

But in equal rights and laws,

Hearts and hands in one great cause-
Freedom, such as God hath given
Unto all beneath his heaven,

With their breath, and from their birth,
Though Guilt would sweep it from the earth;
With a fierce and lavish band

Scattering nations' wealth like sand;

Pouring nations' blood like water,
In imperial seas of slaughter!


But the heart and the mind,
And the voice of mankind,

Shall arise in communion

And who shall resist that proud union?
The time is past when swords subdued-
Man may die-the soul's renew'd:
Even in this low world of care

Freedom ne'er shall want an heir;
Millions breathe but to inherit
Her for ever bounding spirit-
When once more her hosts assemble,
Tyrants shall believe and tremble-
Smile they at this idle threat?
Crimson tears will follow yet.


"All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish officer who had been exalted from the ranks by Buonaparte. He clung to his master's knees: wrote a letter to Lord Keith, entreating permission to accompany him, even in the most menial capacity, which could not be admitted."


MUST thou go, my glorious Chief,
Sever'd from thy faithful few?
Who can tell thy warrior's grief,
Maddening o'er that long adieu?
Woman's love and friendship's zeal,
Dear as both have been to me-
What are they to all I feel,

With a soldier's faith for thee?


Idol of the soldier's soul!

First in fight, but mightiest now:

Many could a world control;

Thee alone no doom can bow.

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Death; and envied those who fell,
When their dying shout was heard,
Blessing him they served so well.*.


Would that I were cold with those,
Since this hour I live to see;

When the doubts of coward foes

Scarce dare trust a man with thee,

Dreading each should set thee free.

Oh! although in dungeons pent,

"At Waterloo, one man was seen, whose left arm was shattered by a cannon ball, to wrench it off with the other, and throwing it up in the air, exclaimed to his comrades, Vive l'Empereur, jusqu a la mort.' There were many other instances of the like: this you may, however, depend upon as true."-A private Letter from Brussels.

All their chains were light to me,
Gazing on thy soul unbent.


Would the sycophants of him
Now so deaf to duty's prayer.
Where his borrow'd glories dim,
In his native darkness share?
Were that world this hour his own,
All thou calmly dost resign,
Could he purchase with that throne

Hearts like those which still are thine?


My chief, my king, my friend, adieu!

Never did I droop before; Never to my sovereign sue,

As his foês I now implore All I ask is to divide

Every peril he must brave; Sharing by the hero's side

His fall, his exile, and his grave.




STAR of the brave!-whose beam hath shed

Such glory o'er the quick and dead

Thou radiant and adored deceit!

Which millions rush'd in arms to greet,

Wild meteor of immortal birth!

Why rise in heaven to set on Earth!


Souls of slain heroes form'd tby rays;
Eternity flash'd through thy blaze;
The music of thy martial sphere
Was fame on high and honour here;
And thy light broke on human eyes,
Like a Volcano of the skies.


Like lava roll'd thy stream of blood, And swept down empires with its flood; Earth rock'd beneath thee to her base, As thou didst lighten through all space; And the shorn Sun grew dim in air, And set while thou wert dwelling there.


Before thee rose, and with thee grew, A rainbow of the loveliest bue

Of three bright colours,* each divine, And fit for that celestial sign;

For Freedom's hand had blended them, Like tints in an immortal gem.


One tint was of the sunbeam's dyes;
One, the blue depth of Seraph's eyes;
One, the pure Spirit's veil of white
Had robed in radiance of its light:
The three so mingled did beseem
The texture of a heavenly dream.


Star of the brave! thy ray is pale,
And darkness must again prevail!
The tri-colour.

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