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" What, though all the world neglect me,
Shall my haughty soul repine ?
While this hallowed Lyre is mine?
Many a wrathful vial shed,
ON THE DOWNFALL OF POLAND.
Oh! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceased a while, And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, When leagued Oppression poured to Northern wars Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars, Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn; Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, Presaging wrath to Poland--and to man !
Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed, Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid, Oh! Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save! Is there no hand on high to shield the brave? Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, Rise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! By that dread name, we wave the sword on high ! And swear for her to live !-with her to die!
He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed
In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few! From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew :Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime; Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe! Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career ;Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, And Freedom shrieked- -as KOSCIUSKO fell !
The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there, Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air, On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below; The storm prevails, the rampart yields a way, Bursts the wide cry of horror and dismay ! Hark ! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call! Earth shook-red meteors flashed along the sky, And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry!
Oh! righteous Heaven ! ere Freedom found a grave, Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save? Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod That smote the foes of Zion and of God; That crushed proud Ammon, when his iron car Was yoked in wrath, and thundered from afar ? Where was the storm that slumbered till the host Of blood-stained Pharaoh left their trembling coast ; Then bade the deep in wild commotion flow, And heaved an ocean on their march below?
Departed spirits of the mighty dead !
Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone,
Yes! thy proud lords, unpitied land ! shall see That man hath yet a soul-and dare be free ! A little while, along thy saddening plains, The starless night of Desolation reigns ; Truth shall restore the light by Nature given, And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heaven ! Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurled, Her
name, her nature, withered from the world!
EDWIN AND ANGELINA.
TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
With hospitable ray.
With fainting steps and slow;
Seem lengthening as I go.'
"To tempt the dangerous gloom;
To lure thee to thy doom.
My door is open still ;
I give it with good will.
*Then turn to-night, and freely share
Whate'er my cell bestows; My rushy couch and frugal fare,
My blessing and repose.
To slaughter I condemn :
I learn to pity them:
side A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,
And water from the spring.
* Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
All earth-born cares are wrong: . Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.'
His gentle accents fell :
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obscure
The lonely mansion lay ;
And strangers led astray!
Required a master's care ;
Received the harmless pair.
To take their evening rest,
And cheered his pensive guest :
And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily prest and smiled ; And, skilled in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguiled.
Its tricks the kitten tries ;
The crackling faggot flies.
To soothe a stranger's woe;
And tears began to flow.
With answering care opprest: • And whence, unhappy youth,' he cried,
The sorrows of thy breast ?
Reluctant dost thou rove ?
Or unregarded love?
Are trifling, and decay;
More trifling still than they.
A charm that lulls to sleep ;
And leaves the wretch to weep?
The modern fair one's jest : On earth unseen, or only found
To warm the turtle's nest,