'Tis the shout of delight, 'tis the millions that swear
His sceptre shall rule them alone.
Reverses shall brighten their zeal,
Misfortune shall hallow his name,
And the world that pursues him shall mournfully feel How quenchless the spirit and flame
That Frenchmen will breathe, when their hearts are on
For the hero they love, and the chief they admire.
Their hero has rush'd to the field :
His laurels are cover'd with shade
But where is the spirit that never should yield,
The loyalty never to fade!
In a moment desertion and guile
Abandon'd him up to the foe;
The dastards that flourish'd and grew at his smile,
Forsook and renounced him in wo;
And the millions that swore they would perish to save,
Beheld him a fugitive, captive, and slave!
The savage all wild in his glen
Is nobler and better than thou;
Thou standest a wonder, a marvel to men,
Such perfidy blackens thy brow!
If thou wert the place of my birth,
At once from thy arms would I sever;
I'd fly to the uttermost ends of the earth,
And quit thee for ever and ever;
And thinking of thee in my long after-years,
Should but kindle my blushes and waken my tears.
Oh, shame to thee, Land of the Gaul!
Oh, shame to thy children and thee!
Unwise in thy glory and base in thy fall,
How wretched thy portion shall be !
Derision shall strike thee forlorn,
A mockery that never shall die;
The curses of Hate, and the hisses of Scorn,
Shall burthen the winds of thy sky:
And proud o'er thy ruin for ever be hurl'd
The laughter of Triumph, the jeers of the World.
To a Youthful Friend.
Few years have pass'd since thou and I Were firmest friends, at least, in name, And childhood's gay sincerity
Preserved our feelings long the same.
But now, like me, too well thou know'st
What trifles oft the heart recall!
And those who once have loved the most,
Too soon forget they loved at all.
And such the change the heart displays,
So frail is early friendship's reign,
A month's brief lapse, perhaps a day's,
Will view thy mind estranged again.
If so, it never shall be mine
To mourn the loss of such a heart: The fault was Nature's fault, not thine, Which made thee fickle as thou art.
As rolls the ocean's changing tide,
So human feelings ebb and flow!
And who would in a breast confide
Where stormy passions ever glow?
It boots not that together bred,
Our childish days were days of joy,
My spring of life has quickly fled;
Thou, too, has ceased to be a boy.
And when we bid adieu to youth,
Slaves to the specious world's control,
We sigh a long farewell to truth;
That world corrupts the noblest soul.
Ah, joyous season, when the mind
Dares all things boldly but to lie;
When thought, ere spoke, is unconfined,
And sparkles in the placid eye.
Not so in man's maturer years,
When man himself is but a tool;
When interest sways our hopes and fears,
And all must love and hate by rule.
With fools in kindred vice the same,
We learn at length our faults to blend,
And those, and those alone may claim,
The prostituted name of friend.
Such is the common lot of man:
Can we then 'scape from folly free?
Can we reverse the general plan,
Nor be what all in turn must must be?
No, for myself, so dark my fate,
Through every turn of life hath been;
Man and the world I so much hate,
I care not when I quit the scene.
But thou, with spirit frail and light,
Wilt shine awhile and pass away;
As glow-worms sparkle through the night,
But dare not stand the test of day.
Alas! whenever folly calls
Where parasites and princes meet: (For cherish'd first in royal halls,) The welcome vices kindly greet.
Ev'n now thou'rt nightly seen to add
One insect to the fluttering crowd;
And still thy trifling heart is glad,
To join the vain, and court the proud.
There dost thou glide from fair to fair,
Still simpering on with eager haste,
As flies along the gay parterre,
That stain the flower they scarcely taste.
But say, what nymph will prize the flame Which seems, as marshy vapours move,
To halt along from dame to dame,
An ignis-fatuus gleam of love?
What friend for thee, howe'er inclined,
Will deign to own a kindred care?
Who will debase his manly mind,
For friendship every fool may share?
In time forbear; amidst the throng,
No more so base a thing be seen;
No more so idly pass along:
Be something, any thing, but-mean.
Without a stone to mark the spot,
And say what Truth might well have said, By all save one, perchance forgot,
Ah, wherefore, art thou lowly laid?
By many a shore and many a sea
Divided, yet beloved in vain;
The past, the future fled to thee,
To bid us meet-no-ne'er again
Could this have been-a word, a look
That softly said, "We part in peace,"
Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter sighs, thy soul's release.
And didst thou not, since Death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart,
Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see,
Who held, and holds thee in his heart?
Oh, who like him had watch'd thee here!
Or sadly mark'd the glazing eye,
In that dread hour, ere death appear,
When silent Sorrow fears to sigh,
Till all was past? But when no more
'Twas thine to wreck of human woe,
Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er,
Had flow'd as fast-as now they flow.
Shall they not flow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers,
Ere call'd but for a time away,
Affection's mingling tears were ours?
Ours too the glance none saw beside!
The smile none else might understand;
The whisper'd thought of hearts allied,
The pressure of the thrilling hand.
The kiss so guiltless and refined
That Love each warmer wish forbore; Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind, Even Passion blush'd to plead for more.
The tone that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine;
The song, celestial, from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine.
The pledge we wore-I wear it still,
But where is thine?-ah, where art thou? Oft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now!
Well hast thou left to life's best bloom
The cup of woe for me to drain,
If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thee here again.
But, if in worlds more blest than this,
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere,
Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mine anguish here.
|