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Roll'd like a torrent o'er the rest.
Forms in his phalanx each Janizar; He sue for mercy! He dismay'd
Alp at their head; his right arm is bar By wild words of a timid maid !
So is the blade of his scimitar; He, wrong'd by Venice, vow to save The khan and the pachas are all at th Her sons devoted to the grave!
post; No—though that cloud were thunder's The vizier himself at the head of the he
When the culverin's signal is fired, then « And charged to crush him-let it burst ! Leave not in Corinth a living one
A priest at her altars, a chief in her hal
A hearth in her mansions, a stone on He look’d upon it earnestly,
walls. Without an accent of reply;
God and the prophet—Alla Hu! He watch'd it passing; it is flown :
Up to the skies with that wild halloo Full on his eye the clear moon shone, "There the breach lies for passage, And thus he spake—“Whate'er my fate,
ladder to scale I am no changeling—'tis too late:
And your hands on your sabres, and h The reed in storms may bow and quiver,
should ye fail Then rise again; the tree must shiver. He who first downs with the red cr What Venice made me, I must be
may crave Her foe in all, save love to thee :
His heart's dearest wish; let him ask But thou art safe: oh, fly with me!”
and have !" He turn'd, but she is gone!
Thus utter'd Coumourgi , the dauntl Nothing is there but the column-stone.
vizier; Hath she sunk in the earth, or melted in air? The reply was the brandish of sabre i He saw not, he knew not; but nothing is
spear, there. And the shout of fierce thousands in joy
ire : The night is past, and shines the sun Silence-hark to the signal--fire! As if that morn were a jocund one. Lightly and brightly breaks away The Morning from her mantle gray,
As the wolves, that headlong go And the Noon will look on a sultry day.
On the stately buffalo, Hark to the trump, and the drum,
Though with fiery eyes, and angry ri And the mournful sound of the barbarous He tramples on earth, or tosses on hi
And hoofs that stamp, and horns that go
horn, And the flap of the banners, that flit as
The foremost, who rush on his stren
but to die : they're borne, And the neigh of the steed, and the mul- Thus against the wall they went,
Thus the first were backward bent; And the clash, and the shout, “they come, Strew'd the earth like broken glass,
Many a bosom, sheath'd in brass,
they come!” The horsetails are pluck’d from the ground, The ground whereon they moved no m
Shiver'd by the shot, that tore
and the sword From its sheath ; and they form, and but Like the mower's grass at the close of
Even as they fell, in files they lay,
wait for the word. When his work is done on the leve Tartar, and Spahi, and Turcoman, Strike your tents, and throng to the van;
plain; Mount ye, spur ye, skirr the plain,
Such was the fall of the foremost slai That the fugitive may flee in vain, When he breaks from the town; and none As the spring-tides, with heavy plas
From the cliffs invading dash Aged or young, in the Christian shape; Huge fragments, sapp'd by the cease While your fellows on foot, in a fiery mass,
flow, Bloodstain the breach through which they Till white and thundering down they
Like the avalanche's snow The steeds are all bridled, and snort to the On the Alpine vales below :
Thus at length, outbreathed and wort Curved is each neck, and flowing each Corinth's sons were downward borne
By the long and oft renew'd White is the foam of their champ on the charge of the Moslem multitude.
In firmness they stood, and in masses i The spears are uplifted; the matches are lit;
fell, The cannon are pointed and ready to roar, Heap'd by the host of the infidel, And crush the wall they have crumbled Hand to hand, and foot to foot:
Nothing there, save death, was mute;
Stroke, and thrust, and flash, and cry Patroclus' spirit less was pleased
Than his, Minotti's son, who died Mingle there with the volleying thunder, Where Asia's bounds and ours divide. Which makes the distant cities wonder Buried he lay, where thonsands before How the sounding battle goes,
For thousands of years were inhumed on If with them, or for their foes ;
the shore; If they must mourn, or may rejoice What of them is left, to tell In that annihilating voice,
Where they lie, and how they fell? Which pierces the deep hills through and Not a stone on their turf, nor a bone in through
their graves; With a echo dread and new:
But they live in the verse that immortally Ton might have heard it, on that day,
saves. O Salamis and Megara; (We have heard the hearers say,)
Hark to the Allah shoui! a band Era uste Piraeus bay.
Of the Mussulman bravest and best is at
hand : From the point of encountering blades Their leader's nervous arm is bare,
to the hilt,
Swifter to smite, and never to spareSabres and swords with blood were gilt;
Uuclothed to the shoulder it waves them on; Bat the rampart is won, and the spoil Thus in the fight is he ever known:
Others a gaudier garb may show,
But none on a steel more ruddily gilt: burk to the haste of Aying feet,
Many a loftier turban may wear, That splash in the blood of the slippery Alp is but known by the white arm bare;
Look through the thick of the fight, 'tis But here and there, where 'vantage-ground
There is not a banner in Moslem war
It glances like a falling star!
The bravest be, or late have been ;
Vainly to the vengeful Tartar; But his veteran arm was full of might:
Or the hero, silent lying, Bugallantly bore he the brunt of the fray, Scorns to yield a groan in dying; the dead before him on that day
Mustering his last feeble blow ha semicircle lay;
'Gainst the nearest levell’d foe, kill he combated unwounded,
Though faint beneath the mutual wound, Theagh retreating, unsurrounded.
Grappling on the gory ground.
Still the old man stood erect,
Though the life of thy gift would last for May an Othman mother wept
ever.” bees that were unborn, when dipp'd is weapon first in Moslem gore, Ere his years could count a score.
“Francesca!-Oh my promised bride! Ofull he might have been the sire
Must she too perish by thy pride?”
“She is safe.”-“Where? where?"_“In His wrath made many a childless foe;
heaven, And since the day, when in the strait From whence thy traitor-soul is drivenHis only boy had met his fate,
Far from thee, and undefiled." His parent's iron hand did doom
Grimly then Minotti smiled,
As he saw Alp staggering bow
“Oh God! when died she?" – "Yester- Brief breathing-time! the turban'd h
With added ranks and raging boast, Nor weep I for her spirit's flight: Press onwards with such strength and he None of my pure race shall be
Their numbers balk their own retreat; Slaves to Mahomet and thee
For narrow the way that led to the spo Come on!”—That challenge is in vain- Where still the Christians yielded not; Alp's already with the slain!
And the foremost, if fearful, may vainly While Minotti's words were wreaking Through the massy column to turn and More revenge in bitter speaking
They perforce must do or die. Than his falchion's point had found, They die; but, ere their eyes could clo Had the time allow'd to wound,
Avengers o'er their bodies rose; From within the neighbouring porch Fresh and furious, fast they fill Of a long defended church,
The ranks unthinnd, though slaught Where the last and desperate few
still; Would the failing fight renew,
And faint the weary Christians wax The sharp shot dash'd Alp to the ground; Before the still renewid attacks: Ere an eye could view the wound
And now the Othmans gain the gate; That crashd through the brain of the insidel, Still resists its iron weight, Round he spun, and down he fell; And still, all deadly aim'd and hot, A flash like fire within his eyes
From every crevice comes the shot; Blazed, as he bent no more to rise, From every shatter'd window pour And then eternal darkness sunk
The volleys of the sulphurous shower Through all the palpitating trunk; But the portal varering grows and wea Nought of life left, save a quivering The iron yields, the hinges creakWhere his limbs were slightly shivering: It bends-it falls-and all is o'er; They turn'd him on his back ; his breast Lost Corinth may resist no more! And brow were staind with gore and
dust, And through his lips the life-blood oozed, Minotti stood o'er the altar-stone:
Darkly, sternly, and all alone,
Madonna's face upon him shone,
Painted in heavenly hues above, Sigh, nor word, nor struggling breath
With eyes of light and looks of love; Heralded his way to death ;
And placed upon that holy shrine Ere his very thotght could pray,
To fix our thoughts on things divine, Unaneal'd he pass'd away,
When pictured there, we kneeling see Without a hope from mercy's aid,
Her, and the Boy-God on her knee, To the last a renegade.
Smiling sweetly on each prayer
Still she smiled; even now she smiles. Fearfully the yell arose
Though slaughter streams along her ais Of his followers, and his foes;
Minotti lifted his aged eye, These in joy, in fury those :
And made the sign of a cross with a sig Then again in conflict mixing,
Then seized a torch which blazed there Clashing swords, and spears transfixing,
And still he stood, whilc, with steel Interchanged the blow and thrust,
flame, Hurling warriors in the dust.
Inward and onward the Mussulman can Street by street, and foot by foot, Still Minotti dares dispute
The vaults beneath the mosaic stone The latest portion of the land
Containd the dead of ages gone; Left beneath his high command ;
Their names were on the graven floor, With him, aiding heart and hand, But now illegible with gore; The remnant of his gallant band. The carved crests, and curious hues Still the church tenable,
The varied marble's veins diffuse, Whence issued late the fated ball
Were smeard, and slippery-stain'd, That half avenged the city's fall,
strown When Alp, her fierce assailant, fell : With broken swords, and helms o'erthro Thither bending sternly back,
There were dead above, and the dead be They leave before a bloody track; Lay cold in many a coffin'd row; And, with their faces to the foe,
You might see them piled in sable state Dealing wounds with every blow, By a pale light through a gloomy grat The chief, and his retreating train, But War had enter'd their dark caves, Join to those within the fane:
And stored along the vaulted graves There they yet may breathe awhile. Her sulphurous treasures, thickly sprei Shelter'd by the massy pile.
In masses by the fleshless dead;
Here, throughout the siege, had been Proclaim'd the desperate conflict o'er
All that mingled there below:
Scorch'd and shrivell’d to a span, The foe came on, and few remain
When he fell to earth again To strive, and those must strive in vain :
Like a cinder strew'd the plain:
Down the ashes shower like rain;
Some fell in the gulf, which received the With barbarous blows they gash the dead,
sprinkles And lop the already lifeless head,
With a thousand circling wrinkles;
Some fell on the shore, but far away,
Scatter'd o'er the isthmus lay;
Christian or Moslem, which be they? The silver vessels saints had bless'd.
Let their mothers see and say! To the high altar on they go;
When in cradled rest they lay, Od. but it made a glorious show!
And each nursing mother smiled On its table still behold
On the sweet sleep of her child, The cop of consecrated gold;
Little deem'd she such a day
Would rend those tender limbs away. Masy and deep, a glittering prize,
Not the matrons that them bore brightly it sparkles to plunderers' eyes : That morn it held the holy wine,
Could discern their offspring more ; Cerverted by Christ to his blood 'so divine, That one moment left no trace
More of human form or face Which his worshippers drank at the break
Save a scatter'd scalp or bone: To skrive their souls ere they join'd in the And down came blazing rafters, strown
Around, and many a falling stone, fray. kill a few drops within it lay;
Deeply dinted in the clay, And round the sacred table glow
All blacken'd there and reeking lay. Ivelte lofty lamps, in splendid row,
All the living things that heard fra the purest metal cast;
That deadly earth-shock disappear's : 1 mil—the richest, and the last.
The wild birds flew; the wild dogs fled,
The camels from their keepers broke;
And burst his girth, and tore his rein ; Teached with the torch the train
The bull-frog's note, from out the marsh,
Deep-mouth'd arose, and doubly harsh ; vaults, the shrine, the spoil, the slain, The wolves yell’d on the cavern’d hill, De turband victors, the Christian band, Where echo roll'd in thunder still; Al that of living or dead remain,
The jackal's troop, in gather'd cry, Horld on high with the shiver'd fane, Bay'd from afar complainingly, kige wild roar expired!
With a mix'd and mournful sound,
With sudden wing, and ruffled breast,
The clouds beneath him seem'd so dun;
Thus was Corinth lost and won!
P A R I SIN A.
THE FOLLOWING POEM IS
VALUED HIS FRIENDSHIP.
the facts on which the story is founded. T SCROPE BERDMORE DAVJES, ESQ. name of Azo is substituted for Nicholas,
INSCRIBED BY ONE more metrical.
“Under the reign of Nicholas III. Ferra
was polluted with a domestic tragedy. I January 22, 1816.
the testimony of an attendant, and his ov ADVERTISEMENT.
observation, the Marquis of Este discover
the incestuous loves of his wife Parisit The following poem is grounded on a and Hugo his bastard-son, a beautiful a circumstance mentioned in Gibbon's “Anti- valiant youth. They were beheaded in 1 quities of the House of Brunswick.” -I am castle by the sentence of a father and he aware that in modern times the delicacy band, who published his shame, and s or fastidiousness of the reader may deem vived their execution. He was unfortuna such subjects unfit for the purposes of poetry. if they were guilty; if they were inuoce The Greek dramatists, and some of the best he was still more unfortunate; nor is th of our old English writers, were of a differ- any possible situation in which I can ent opinion: as Alfieri and Schiller have cerely approve the last act of the justice also been, more recently, upon the con- a parent.”—Gibbon's Miscellaneous Wo1 tinent. The following extract will explain , vol. III. p. 470.
It is the hour when from the boughs And heedless as the dead are they The nightingale's high note is heard ; Of aught around, above, beneath ; It is the hour when lovers' vows
As if all else had pass'd away, Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; They only for each other breathe; And gentle winds, and waters near, Their very sighs are full of joy Make music to the lonely ear.
So deep, that did it not decay, Each flower the dews have lightly wet, That happy madness would destroy And in the sky the stars are met,
The hearts which feel its fiery sway: And on the wave is deeper blue,
Of guilt, or peril, do they deem And on the leaf a browner hue,
In that tumultuous tender dream? And in the heaven that clear-obscure, Who that have felt that passion's powe So softly dark, and darkly pure,
Or paused, or fear'd in such an hour? Which follows the decline of day,
Or thought how brief such moments I As twilight melts beneath the moon away. But yet, they are already past!
Alas! we must awake before
We know such vision comes no more. But it is not to list to the waterfall That Parisina leaves her hall, And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light With many a lingering look they 1 That the lady walks in the shadow of night; The spot of guilty gladness past ; And if she sits in Este's bower,
And though they hope, and vow, they gri 'Tis not for the sake of its full-blown flower-As if that parting were the last. She listens—but not for the nightingale- The frequent sigh-the long embrace Though her ear expects as soft a tale. The lip that there would cling for There glides a step through the foliage While gleams on Parisina's face
The Heaven she fears will not forgive And her cheek grows pale—and her heart As if each calmly conscious star
beats quick, Beheld her frailty from afar There whispers a voice through the rustling The frequent sigh, the long embrace
Yet binds them to their trysting-plac A moment more-and they shall meet- But it must come, and they must par 'Tis past- her lover's at her feet.
In fearful heaviness of heart,
With all the deep and shuddering ch And what unto them is the world beside, which follows fast the deeds of ill. With all its change of time and tide? Its living things--its earth and sky
And Hugo is gone to his lonely be Are nothing to their mind and eye. To covet there another's bride;