ODE.

[FROM THE FRENCH.]

I.

We do not curse thee, Waterloo!

Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew;

There 'twas shed, but is not sunk

Rising from each gory trunk,

Like the Water-spout from ocean,

With a strong and growing motion

It soars, and mingles in the air,

With that of lost LABEDOYERE

With that of him whose honoured grave

Contains the "bravest of the brave."

A crimson cloud it spreads and glows,

But shall return to whence it rose ;

When 'tis full 'twill burst asunder

Never yet was heard such thunder

As then shall shake the world with wonder

Never yet was seen such lightning,

As o'er heaven shall then be bright'ning!

The Chief has fallen, but not by you,

Vanquishers of Waterloo!

When the soldier citizen

Swayed not o'er his fellow men

Save in deeds that led them on

Where Glory smiled on Freedom's son

Who, of all the despots banded,

With that youthful chief competed?

Who could boast o'er France defeated,

Till lone Tyranny commanded?

Till, goaded by ambition's sting,

The Hero sunk into the King?

Then he fell ;-So perish all,

Who would men by man enthral!

III.

And thou too of the snow-white plume!

Whose realm refused thee ev'n a tomb; 2

Better hadst thou still been leading

France o'er hosts of hirelings bleeding,

Than sold thyself to death and shame

For a meanly royal name;

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 shivered 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 rolled in air, the warrior's guide;

Through the smoke-created night
Of the black and sulphurous fight,
The soldier rais'd 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!