Like leviathans afloat, Lay their bulwarks on the brine; It was ten of April morn by the chime: There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath, But the might of England flushed And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak!" our captain cried; when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like the hurricane eclipse Their shots along the deep slowly boom : Then ceased-and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail; Or, in conflagration pale, Light the gloom.— Out spoke the victor then, As he hailed them o'er the wave; "Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save : So peace instead of death let us bring; But yield, proud foe, thy fleet, With the crews, at England's feet, To our King." Then Denmark blessed our chief, As Death withdrew his shades from the day. O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away. Now joy, Old England, raise! Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; By thy wild and stormy steep, Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Once so faithful and so true, On the deck of fame that died ; With the gallant good Riou ;' Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave! While the billow mournful rolls, And the mermaid's song condoles, Singing glory to the souls Of the brave! 1 Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by Lord Nelson, when he wrote home his despatches. MARCO BOZZARIS.' BY HALLECK. Ar midnight, in his guarded tent, In dreams, through camp and court, he bore In dreams his song of triumph heard; Then pressed that monarch's throne-a king; As Eden's garden-bird. 1 Marco Bozzaris was a leader of the Greeks in the late revolutionary war: he was killed in the assault of a Turkish camp. The circumstances of his fall are thus described by Mr. Gordon, in his admirable History of the Greek Revolution:-"In a council of war, held on the 20th, Mark Bozzaris pointed out the impossibility of keeping the foe in check by demonstrations; or of spinning out the campaign, because they were in want of provisions and ammunition; and he therefore insisted on the necessity of hazarding, without delay, a desperate attack: his generous proposition was approved, and the exccution fixed for the following night. Their troops being divided into three columns, Bozzaris undertook to lead the centre; George Kizzos, the two Tzavellas (uncle and nephew), the captains of Karpenisi, and the Khiliarch Yakis, headed one wing; the other, formed of the soldiers of Agrafa and Souvalakos, was intrusted to the command of a Souliote, named Fotos: the onset was to commence at five hours after sunset, and their watchword to be Stornari (or flint). Having waited a quarter of an hour beyond the appointed time, to allow the wings to come up, and perceiving no signs of them, Mark, with three hundred and fifty men, entered Jeladin Bey's camp, and finding the Scodrians asleep, made a terrible slaughter of them. If all the Greeks had behaved like the Souliotes, the result would have been a complete victory. .. The Souliotes, using their swords after their first discharge of fire-arms, drove the Mirdites from all their tambonrias, except one within an enclosure, which Bozzaris assaulted in vain. Wounded by a shot in the loins, he concealed that accident, and continued to fight, until a ball struck him in the face; he fell, and instantly expired. The action lasted for an hour and a half longer, but their leader's death becoming known, and day beginning to dawn, the Souliotes retreated to their original position at Mikrokhori, carrying off with them their general's body." At midnight, in the forest shades, There had the Persian's thousand stood, There had the glad earth drunk their blood And now there breathed that haunted air An hour passed on-the Turk awoke : "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!" "Strike-till the last armed foe expires, They fought-like brave men, long and well; Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won ; Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. Come to the bridal chamber, Death! Which close the pestilence are broke, The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, But to the hero, when his sword The thanks of millions yet to be. Greece nurtured in her glory's time, For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's- That were not born to die. |