On the Final IT was a moral end for which they fought; Submission Else how, when mighty Thrones were put to shame, of the Could they, poor Shepherds, have preserved an aim, Tyrolese 1809 A resolution, or enlivening thought?
Nor hath that moral good been vainly sought; For in their magnanimity and fame
Powers have they left, an impulse, and a claim Which neither can be overturned nor bought. Sleep, Warriors, sleep! among your hills repose! We know that ye, beneath the stern control Of awful prudence, keep the unvanquished soul : And when, impatient of her guilt and woes, Europe breaks forth; then, Shepherds! shall ye rise
For perfect triumph o'er your Enemies.
On the HAIL, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye Fall of We can approach, thy sorrow to behold, Saragossa Yet is the heart not pitiless nor cold; 1809
Such spectacle demands not tear or sigh. These desolate remains are trophies high Of more than martial courage in the breast Of peaceful civic virtue: they attest Thy matchless worth to all posterity.
Blood flowed before thy sight without remorse; Disease consumed thy vitals; War upheaved
The ground beneath thee with volcanic force: Dread trials! yet encountered and sustained Till not a wreck of help or hope remained, And law was from necessity received.
SAY, what is Honour ?—'Tis the finest sense Of justice which the human mind can frame, Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim, And guard the way of life from all offence Suffered or done. When lawless violence Invades a Realm, so pressed that in the scale Of perilous war her weightiest armies fail, Honour is hopeful elevation,-whence Glory, and triumph. Yet with politic skill Endangered States may yield to terms unjust; Stoop their proud heads, but not unto the dust- A Foe's most favourite purpose to fulfil : Happy occasions oft by self-mistrust Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill.
THE martial courage of a day is vain, An empty noise of death the battle's roar, If vital hope be wanting to restore, Or fortitude be wanting to sustain,
Armies or kingdoms. We have heard a strain Of triumph, how the labouring Danube bore A weight of hostile corses: drenched with gore Were the wide fields, the hamlets heaped with slain. Yet see (the mighty tumult overpast) Austria a Daughter of her Throne hath sold! And her Tyrolean Champion we behold Murdered, like one ashore by shipwreck cast, Murdered without relief. Oh! blind as bold, To think that such assurance can stand fast!
Brave Schill BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight 1809 From Prussia's timid region. Go, and rest With heroes, 'mid the islands of the Blest, Or in the fields of empyrean light.
A meteor wert thou crossing a dark night: Yet shall thy name, conspicuous and sublime, Stand in the spacious firmament of time, Fixed as a star: such glory is thy right. Alas! it may not be: for earthly fame Is Fortune's frail dependant; yet there lives A Judge, who, as man claims by merit, gives ; To whose all-pondering mind a noble aim, Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed;
In whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed.
The Royal CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate, Swede Who never did to Fortune bend the knee; 1809 Who slighted fear; rejected steadfastly
Temptation; and whose kingly name and state Have "perished by his choice, and not his fate!" Hence lives He, to his inner self endeared; And hence, wherever virtue is revered,
He sits a more exalted Potentate,
Throned in the hearts of men.
That this great Servant of a righteous cause Must still have sad or vexing thoughts to endure, Yet may a sympathising spirit pause,
Admonished by these truths, and quench all pain In thankful joy and gratulation pure.
Look now on that Adventurer who hath paid The Power His vows to Fortune; who in cruel slight Of virtuous hope, of liberty, and right, Hath followed wheresoe'er a way was made By the blind Goddess,-ruthless, undismayed; And so hath gained at length a prosperous height, Round which the elements of worldly might Beneath his haughty feet, like clouds, are laid. O joyless power that stands by lawless force! Curses are bis dire portion, scorn, and hate, Internal darkness and unquiet breath; And, if old judgments keep their sacred course, Him from that height shall Heaven precipitate By violent and ignominious death.
Is there a power that can sustain and cheer The captive chieftain, by a tyrant's doom, Forced to descend into his destined tomb- A dungeon dark! where he must waste the year, And lie cut off from all his heart holds dear; What time his injured country is a stage Whereon deliberate Valour and the rage Of righteous Vengeance side by side appear, Filling from morn to night the heroic scene With deeds of hope and everlasting praise :- Say can he think of this with mind serene And silent fetters? Yes, if visions bright Shine on his soul, reflected from the days When he himself was tried in open light.
Consolation in Captivity 1809
Palafox АH! where is Palafox? Nor tongue nor pen 1810 Reports of him, his dwelling or his grave! Does yet the unheard-of vessel ride the wave? Or is she swallowed up, remote from ken Of pitying human nature? Once again Methinks that we shall hail thee, Champion brave, Redeemed to baffle that imperial Slave,
And through all Europe cheer desponding men With new-born hope. Unbounded is the might Of martyrdom, and fortitude, and right. Hark, how thy Country triumphs!-Smilingly The Eternal looks upon her sword that gleams, Like his own lightning, over mountains high, On rampart, and the banks of all her streams.
A Biscayan In due observance of an ancient rite, Funeral The rude Biscayans, when their children lie Dead in the sinless time of infancy,
Attire the peaceful corse in vestments white; And, in like sign of cloudless triumph bright, They bind the unoffending creature's brows With happy garlands of the pure white rose: Then do a festal company unite
In choral song; and, while the uplifted cross Of Jesus goes before, the child is borne
Uncovered to his grave: 'tis closed,—her loss The Mother then mourns, as she needs must
But soon, through Christian faith, is grief subdued; And joy returns, to brighten fortitude.
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