Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

Cheered by the voice you would have raised on high,
In bursts of British love and loyalty.
But, Britain ! now thy chies, thy people mourn,
And Claremont's home of lore is left forlorn :-
There, where the happiest of the happy dwelt,
The 'scutcheon glooms, and royalty hath felt
A wound that ev'ry bosom feels its own, -
The blessing of a father's heart o’erthrown-
The most beloved and most devoted bride
Torn from an agonized husband's side,
Who “ long as memory holds her seat” shall view
That speechless, more than spoken last adieu,
When the fixed eye long looked connubial faith,
And beamed affection in the trance of death.
Sad was the pomp that yesternight beheld,
As with the mourner's heart the anthem swelled ;
While torch succeeding torch illumed each high
And bannered arch of England's chivalry.
'the rich plumed canopy, the gorgeous pall,
The sacred march, and sable-vested wall-
These were not rites of inexpressive show,
But hallowed as the types of real wo!
Daughter of England ! for a nation's sighs,
A nation's heart went with thine obsequies !
And oft shall time revert a look of grief
On thine existence, beautiful and brief.
Fair spirit! send thy blessing from above
On realms where thou art canonized by love!
Give to a father's, husband's bleeding mind,
That

peace that angels lend to humankind;
To us who in thy loved remembrance feel
A sorrowing, but a soul ennobling zeal-
A loyalty that touches all the best
And loftiest principles of England's breast !
Still may thy name speak concord from the tomb ;
Still in the Muse's breath thy memory bloom !

They shall describe thy life—thy form portray
But all the love that mourns thee swept away,
'Tis not in language or expressive arts
To paint-ye feel it, Britons, in your hearts !

LINES,

On receiving a seal with the Campbell Crest, from

K. M.-before her marriage.

This wax returns not back more fair,

Th'impression of the gift you send,
Than stamped upon my thoughts I bear

The image of your worth, my friend !-
We are not friends of yesterday :-

But poet's fancies are a little
Disposed to heat and cool, (they say,)-

By turns impressible and brittle.
Well! should its frailty e'er condemn

My heart to prize or please you less,
Your type is still the sealing gem,

And mine the waxen brittleness. .

What transcripts of my weal and wo

This little signet yet may lock -
What utt'rances to friend or foe,

In reason's calm or passion's shock!

What scenes of life's yet curtained page

May own its confidential die,
Whose stamp awaits th' unwritten page

And feelings of futurity !

Yet wheresoe'er my pen

I lift
To date th' epistolary sheet,
The blest occasion of the gift

Shall make its recollection sweet;

Sent when the star that rules

your

fates
Hath reached its influence most benign-
When every heart congratulates,

And none more cordially than mine.
So speed my song-marked with the crest

That erst th' advent'rous Norman* wore,
Who won the Lady of the West,

The daughter of Macaillain Mor..
Crest of my sires ! whose blood it sealed

With glory in the strife of swords,
Ne'er may the scroll that bears it yield

Degenerate thoughts or faithless words !
Yet little might I prize the stone,

If it but typed the feudal tree
From whence, a scattered leaf, I'm blown

In Fortune's mutability.

No!—but it tells me of a heart,

Allied by friendship's living tie;
A prize beyond the herald's art,

Our soul-sprung consanguinity!
Katherine ! to many an hour of mine

Light wings and sunshine you have lent;
And so adieu, and still be thine

The all in-all of life-Content!

* A Norman leader, in the service of the king of Scotland, married the heiress of Lochow in the twelfth century, and from him the Camp bells are sprung.

[ocr errors]

STANZAS

To the memory of the Spanish Patriots latest killed in re

sisting the Regency and the Duke of Angouleme. BRAVE men who at the Trocadero fellBeside your cannons conquered not, though slain, There is a Victory in dying well For Freedom,—and ye have not died in vain ; For come what may there shall be hearts in Spain To honour, ay embrace your martyred lot. Cursing the Bigot’s and the Bourbon's chain, And looking on your graves, though trophied not, As holier, hallowed ground than priests could make the

spot! What though your cause be baffled-freemen cast In dungeons-dragged to death, or forced to flee; Hope is not withered in affliction's blast The patriot's blood's the seed of Freedom’s tree; And short your orgies of revenge shall be, Cowled demons of the Inquisitorial cell ! Earth shudders at your victory,for ye Are worse than common fiends from Heaven that fell, The baser, ranker sprung Autochthones of hell! Go to your bloody rites again-bring back The hall of horrors and the assessor's pen, Recording answers shrieked upon the rack; Smile o’er the gaspings of spine-broken men ;Preach, perpetrate damnation in your den ;Then let your altars, ye blasphemers ! peal With thanks to Heaven, that let you loose again, To practise deeds with torturing fire and steel No eye may search-no tongue may challenge or reveal !

Yet laugh not in your carnival of crime
Too proudly, ye oppressors !—Spain was free,
Her soil has felt the foot-prints, and her clime
Been winnow'd by the wings of Liberty;
And these even parting scatter as they flee
Thoughts—influences, to live in hearts unborn,
Opinions that shall wrench the prison-key
From Persecution-show her mask off-torn,
And tramp her bloated head beneath the fopt of Scorn!
Glory to them that die in this great cause !
Kings, Bigots, can inflict no brand of shame,
Or shape of death, to shroud them from applause:
No!-manglers of the martyr's earthly frame !
Your hangmen fingers cannot touch his fame.
Still in your prostrate land there shall be some
Proud hearts, the shrines of Freedom's vestal flame.
Long trains of ill may pass unheeded, dumb,
But vengeance is behind, and justice is to come.

LINES

INSCRIBED ON THE MONUMENT LATELY FINISHED BY

MR. CHANTREY,

Which has been erected by the widow of Admiral Sir G

Campbell, K. C. B. to the memory of her husband.

To him, whose loyal, brave, and gentle heart
Fulfilled the hero's and the patriot's part,-
Whose charity, like that which Paul enjoin'd,
Was warm, beneficent, and unconfined, -

« AnteriorContinuar »