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The Desolator desolate!

The Victor overthrown!
'Expende Annibalem :-quot libras in duce sunimo

The Arbiter of others' fate
JUVENAL, Sat. x.

A Suppliant for his own!
'The Emperor Nepos was acknowledged by the Is it some yet imperial hope
Senate, by the Italians, and by the Provincials of
Gaul ; his moral virtues and military talents were

That with such change can calmly cope ?
luudly celebrated; and those who derived any private Or dread of death alone?
benefit from his government announced in prophetic To die a prince-or live a slave-
strains the restoration of public felicity. * * By
thi shameful abdication, he protracted his life a few

Thy choice is most ignobly brave! years, in a very ambiguous state, between an Emperor and an Exile, till-GIBBON'S Decline and Fall, He who of old would rend the oak, vol. vi. p. 220.

Dream'd not of the rebound; 'Tis done-but yesterday a King !

Chain'd by the trunk he vainly broke

Alone-how look'd he round!
And arm'd with Kings to strive-
And now thou art a nameless thing :

Thou, in the sternness of thy strength,
So abject-yet alive!

An equal deed liast done at length,
Is this the man of thousand thrones,

And darker fate hast found:

He fell, the forest prowlers' prey;
Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones,

But thou must cat thy heart away!
And can he thus survive?
Since he, iniscall'd the Morning Star,

The Roman, when his burning heart
Nor man nor fiend hath fallen so far.

Was slaked with blood of Rome,

Threw down the dagger-dared depart,
Ill-minded man! why scourge thy kind
Who bow'd so low the knee?

In savage grandeur, home :
By gazing on thyself grown blind,

He dared depart, in utter scorn

Of men that such a yoke had borne,
Thou taught'st the rest to see.

Yet left him such a doom !
With might unquestion'd.-power to save,-
Thine only gift hath been the grave,

His only glory was that hour

Of self-upheld abandon'd power.
To those that worshipp'd thee;
Nor till thy fall could mortals guess

The Spaniard, I wlien the lust of sway,
Ambition's less than littleness!

Had lost its quickening spell,

Cast crowns for rosaries away,
Thanks for that lesson--it will teach
To after-warriors more

An einpire for a cell ;

A strict accountant of his beads,
Than high Philosophy can preach,
And vainly preach'd before.

A subtle disputant on creeds,

His dotage trified well :
That spell upon the minds of men

Yet better had he neither known
Breaks never to unite again,
That led them to adore

A bigot's shrine, nor despot's throne.
Those Pagod things of sabre sway,

But thou-from thy reluctant hand
With fronts of brass, and feet of clay.

The thunderbolt is wrung-
The triumph, and the vanity,

Too late thou leav'st the high command
The rapture of the strife-

To which thy weakness clung;
The earthquake voice of Victory,

A!1 Evil Spirit as thou art,
To thee the breath of life ;

It is enough to grieve the heart

To see thine own unstrung;
The sword, the sceptre, and that sway

To think that God's fair world hath been
Which man seem'd made but to obey,
Wherewith renown was rife-

The footstool of a thing so mean!
All quellid !--Dark Spirit! what must be
The madness of thy memory!

• Milo Crotoniensis.
+ Sylla.

i Charles V., son of Juana of Spain and Philip the "Certaminis gaudia'--the expression of Attila in Handsome, succeeded his grandfather Ferdinand in his harangue to his army, previous to the battle of 516; became Emperor of Germany in 1519; abdicated Chalons, given in Cassiodorus.

in 1555

And Earth hath spilt her blood for hiin,

Or, like the thief of fire from heaven,
Who thus can hoard his own!

Wilt thou withstand the shock ?
And Monarchs bow'd the trembling limb,

And share with him, the unforgiven,
And thank'd him for a throne !

His vulture and his rock?
l'air Freedom! we may hold thee dear,

Foredoom'd by God-by man accurst, When thus thy mightiest foes their fear

And that last act, though not thy worst,
In humblest guise have shown.

The very Fiend's arch mock;
Oh ! ne'er may tyrant leave behind

He in his fall preserved his pride,
A brighter name to lure mankind :

And, if a mortal, had as proudly died !
Thine evil deeds are writ in gore,

There was a day--there was an hour,
Nor written thus in vain

While earth was Gaul's-Gaul thine
Thy triumphs tell of fame no more,

When that immeasurable power
Or deepen every stain:

L'nsated to resign,
If thou hadst died as honour dies,

Had been an act of purer fame,
Some new Napoleon might arise,

Than gathers round Marengo's name,
To shame the world again-

And gilded thy decline,
But who would soar the solar height,

Through the long twilight of all time,
To set in such a starless night?

Despite some passing clouds of crime.
Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust

But thou, forsooth, must be a king,
Is vile as vulgar clay ;

And don the purple vest !
Thy scales, Mortality! are just

As if that foolish robe could wring
To all that pass away:

Remembrance from thy breast.
But yet methought the living great

Where is that faded garment? where
Some higher sparks should animate,

The gewgaws thou wert fond to wear,
To dazzle and dismay:

The star, the string, the crest ?

Vain froward child of empire I say,
Nor deem'd Contempt could thus make mirth
Of these, the Conquerors of the earth.

Are all thy playthings snatch'd away?
And she, proud Austria's inournful flower, *

Where may the wearied eye repose
Thy still imperial bride,

When gazing on the Great ,
How bears her breast the torturing hour?

Where neither guilty glory glows,
Still clings she to thy side ?

Nor despicable state?
Must she, too, bend: must she, too, share,

Yes-one-the first--the last-the best

The Cincinnatus of the West,
Thy late repentance, long despair,
Thou throneless Homicide ?

Whom envy dared not hate,
If still she loves thee, hoard that gein, -

Bequeath'd the name of Washington,

To make man blush there was but one ! 'Tis worth thy vanish'd diadem!


Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle,

And gaze upon the sea;
That element may meet thy smile-

It ne'er was ruled by thee!
Or trace with thine all idle hand,
In loitering mood upon the sand,

That Earth is now as free!
That Corinth's pedagoguet hath now
Transferr'd his byword to thy brow,


Thou Timour ! in his captive's cage,

What thoughts will there be thine,
While brooding in thy prison'd rage,

But one-The world was mine!'
Unless, like he of Babylon,
All sense is with thy sceptre gone,

Life will not long confine
That spirit pour'd so widely forth-
So long obey'd--so little worth!

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 waterspout from ocean,
With a strong and growing motion :
It soars and mingles in the air,
With that of lost I.abedoyère-
With that of him whose honour'd 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 brightning!

• Maria Louisa.

Dionysius of Sicily, who, after his full, kept a school at Corinth.

The cage of Bajazet, by order of Tamerlane.

• Prometheus, said to have stolen fire from heaveri. Like the Wormwood Star foretold

Victory beaming from her breast?)
By the sainted Seer of old,

While the broken line enlarging
Showering down a fiery flood,

Fell, or fled along the plain ;
Turning rivers into blood. *

There be sure was Murat charging !

There he ne'er shall charge again!

The chief has fallen! but not by you,
Vanquishers of Waterloo !

O'er glories gone the invaders marchi,
When the soldier-citizen

Weeps Triumph o'er each levell'd arch-
Sway'd not o'er his fellow-men-

But let Freedoin rejoice,
Save in deeds that led them on

With her heart in her voice;
Where Glory siniled on Freedom's son

But her hand on her sword,
Who, of all the despots banded,

Doubly shall she bc adored ;
With that youthful chief competed ?

France hath twice too well been taught
Who could boast o'er France defeated,

The 'moral lesson' dearly bought-
Till lone Tyranny commanded ?

Her safety sits not on a throne,
Till, goaded by ambition's sting,

With Capet or Napoleon
The Hero sunk into the King ?

But in equal rights and laws,
Then he fell :
-o perish all,

Hearts and hands in one great cause--
Who would men by man enthrall !

Freedom such as God hath given

Unto all beneath His heaven, 111.

With their breath, and from their birth, And thou, too, of the snow-white plume,

Though Guilt would sweep it from the earth;
Whose realm refused thee even a tomb;

With a fierce and lavish hand
Better hadst thou still been leading

Scattering nations' wealth like sand ;
France o'er hosts of hirelings bleeding,

Pouring nations' blood like water,
Than sold thyself to death and shame

In imperial seas of slaughter!
For a meanly royal name;

Such as lie of Naples wears,
Who thy blood-bought title bears.

But the heart and the mind,
Little didst thou deem, when dashing

And the voice of mankind,
On thy war-horse through the ranks,

Shall arise in communion
Like a stream which burst its banks,

And who shall resist that proud union!
While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing,

The time is past when swords subdued-
Shone and shiver'd fast around thee

Man inay die-the soul's renew'd :
Of the fate at last which found thee!

Even in this low world of care
Was that haughty plume laid low

Freedom ne'er shall want an heir;
By a slave's dishonest blow?

Millions breathe but to inherit
Once-as the moon sways o'er the tide,

Her for ever bounding spirit-
It roll'd in air, the warrior's guide;

When once inore her hosts assemble,
Through the smoke-created night

Tyrants shall believe-and tremble:
Of the black and sulphurous fight,

Smile they at this idle threat?
The soldier raised his seeking eye

Crinison tears will follow yet.
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-

MUST thou go, my glorious Chief,*
(There with thunder clouds to fan her,
Who could then her wing arrest-

Sever'd from thy faithful few!
Who can tell thy warriors' grief,

Maddening o'er that long adieu?

Woman's love, and friendship's zeal, * See Rev. viii. 7, etc., . The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled" with blood,'

Dear as both have been to meetc. Ver. 8, . And the second angel sounded, and as

What are they to all I feel, it were a great mountain burning with fire was cast

With a soldier's faith for thee? into the sea : and the third part of the sea became blood,' etc. Ver. 10, 'And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp ; and it fell upon the third part of the * All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish rivers, and upon the fountains of waters, Ver. 11. officer, who had been exalted from the ranks by

And the name of the star is called Wormwood ; and Bonaparte. He clung to his master's knees; wrote the third part of the waters became wormwood; and a letter to Lord Keith, entreating perniission to acmany men died of the waters, because they were company him, even in the most menial capacity, which inade bitter.'

could not be admitted,

Idol of the soldier's soul!

And the shorn Sun grew dim in air,
First in fight, but mightiest now;

And set while thou wert dwelling there.
Many could a world control ;

Before thee rose, and with thee grew,
Thee alone no doom can bow.

A rainbow of the loveliest hue.
By thy side for years I dared
Death ; and envied those who fell,

of three bright colours, each divine,
When their dying shout was heard,

And fit for that celestial sign ;

For Freedom's hand had blended them,
Blessing him they served so well.

Like tints in an immortal gem.
Would that I were cold with those,

One tint was of the sunbeam's dyes;
Since this hour I live to see;

One, the blue depth of Seraph's eyes;
When the doubts of coward foes

One, the pure Spirit's veil of white
Scarce dare trust a man with thee,

Had robed in radiance of its light:
Dreading each should set thee free!
Oh! although in dungeons pent,

The three so mingled did beseem
All their chains were light to me,

The texture of a heavenly drean.
Gazing on thy soul unbent.

Star of the brave! thy ray is pale,

And darkness must again prevail !
Would the sycophants of him
Now so deaf to duty's prayer,

But, O thou Rainbow of the free!

Our tears and blood must flow for ther.
Were his borrow'd gloties dim,

When thy bright promise fades away,
In his native darkness share?

Our life is but a load of clay.
Were that world this hour his ow!,
Al thou calmly dost resign,

And Freedom hallows with het treadt
Could he purchase with that throne

The silent cities of the dead;
Hearts like those which still are thine ! For beautiful in death are they
My chief, my king, my friend, adieu !

Who proudly fall in her array ;

And soon, O Goddess ! may we be
Never did I droop before ;

Fot evermore with them or thee!
Never to my sovereign sue,

As his foes I now implore :
All I ask is to divide

Every peril he must brave;

Sharing by the hero's side
His fall, his exile, and his grave.

FAREWELL to the Land where the gloom of my glory
Arose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her name-
She abandons me now--but the page of her story,

The brightest or blackest, is fill'd with my fame.

I have warrd with a world which vanquish'd me only HONOUR.

When the meteor of conquest allured me too far; FROM THE FRENCH

I have coped with the nations which dread me thus

STAR of the brave !-whose beam hath shed The last single captive to millions in war.
Such glory o'er the quick and dead-
Thou radiant and adored deceit, Farewell to thee, France ! when thy diadem crown'd
Which millions rush'd in arms to greet,-
Wild meteor of immortal birth ;

I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth;
Why rise in Heaven to set on Earth But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found

Souls of slain heroes form'd thy rays; Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth.
Eternity flash'd through thiy blaze; Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted
The music of thy martial sphere

In strife with the storm, when their battles were won:
Was fame on high and honour here ; Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was
And thy light broke on human eyes,

Like a volcano of the skies.

Had still soard with eyes fix'd on victory's sun !
Like lava rolld thy stream of blood, Farewell to thee, France !--But when Liberty rallies
And swept down empires with its flood; Once more in thy regions, remember me then,
Earth rock'd beneath thee to her base, The violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys;
As thou didst lighten through all space : Though wither'd, thiy tear will unfold it again.

Yet, yet I may baffle the hosts that surround us, ** At Waterloo, one man was seen whose left arm And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voicewas shattered by a cannon ball, to wrench it off with There are links which must break in the chain that has the other, and throwing it up in the air, exclaimed to

bound us, his comrades, "Vive l'Empereur, jusqu'à la mort !"

There were many other instances of the like. This, Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy choice! however, you may depend on as true. - Private Letter from Brussels,

* The tricolour,

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