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Which his awakening footstep trod.

Rout, ruin, panic, seized them all. And now the work of life and death

An earthquake could not overflow Hung on the passing of a breath;

A city with a surer blow; The fire of conflict burned within,

Thus Switzerland again was free; The battle trembled to begin;

Thus death made way for liberty. Yet while the Austrians held their ground,

JAMES MONTGOMERY. Point for assault was nowhere found; Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed, The unbroken line of lances blazed ;

THE HARP THAT ONCE That line 'twere suicide to meet,

THROUGH TARA'S And perish at their tyrants' feet.

How could they rest within their graves
To leave their homes the haunts of slaves ? UDHE harp that once through Tara's halls
Would they not feel their children tread,

The soul of music shed,
With clanking chains, above their head ? Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,
It must not be; this day, this hour

As if that soul were fled !
Annihilates the invader's power ;

So sleeps the pride of former days, All Switzerland is in the field,

So glory's thrill is o'er; She will not fly, she cannot yield,

And hearts, that once beat high for praise, She must not fall; her better fate

Now feel that pulse no more.
Here gives her an immortal date.
Few were the numbers she could boast,

No more to chiefs and ladies bright
Yet every freeman was a host,

The harp of Tara swells ; And felt as 'twere a secret known,

The chord alone, that breaks at night,

Its tale of ruin tells.
That one should turn the scale alone,
While each unto himself was he

Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
On whose sole arm hung victory.

The only throb she gives It did depend on one indeed;

Is when some heart, indignant, breaks,

To show that still she lives.
Behold him! Arnold Winkelried !
There sounds not to the trump of fame

The echo of a nobler name.
Unmarked he stood amid the throng,
In rumination deep and long,

THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD. Till you might see, with sudden grace,

(Written on the occasion of the removal of the remains

of the Kentucky soldiers who fell at Buena Vista to their The very thought come o'er his face,

native state.) And by the motion of his form,

JHE muffled drum's sad roll has beat Anticipate the bursting storm,

The soldier's last tattoo; And by the uplifting of his brow,

No more on Life's parade shall meet Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. That brave and fallen few;

On Fame's eternal camping-ground But 'twas no sooner thought than done;

Their silent tents are spread, The field was in a moment won.

And Glory guards, with solemn round, “Make way for liberty!” he cried;

The bivouac of the dead.
Then ran, with arms extended wide,
As if his dearest friend to clasp;

No rumor of the foe's advance
Ten spears he swept within his grasp;

Now swells upon the wind; “Make way for liberty!” he cried ;

No troubled thought at midnight haunts
Their keen points crossed from side to side; Of loved ones left behind;
He bowed amidst them, like a tree,

No vision of the morrow's strife
And thus made way for liberty.

The warrior's dream alarms; Swift to the breach his comrades fly;

No braying horn or screaming fife * Make way for liberty!” they cry,

At dawn shall call to arms.
And through the Austrian phalanx dart,
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart, Their shivered swords are red with rust;
While, instantaneous as his fall,

Their plumed heads are bowed :

Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,

Is now their martial shroud;
And plenteous funeral tears have washed

The red stains from each brow;
And the proud forms, by battle gashed,

Are free from anguish now.
The neighing troop, the flashing blade,

The bugle's stirring blast,
The charge, the dreadful cannonade,

The din and shout, are past.
Not war's wild note, nor glory's peal,

Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that never more may feel

The rapture of the fight.
Like the fierce northern hurricane

That sweeps his great plateau,
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain,

Comes down the serried foe.
Who heard the thunder of the fray

Break o'er the field beneath,
Knew well the watchword of that day

Was“ Victory, or death!"

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Full many a norther's breath has swept

O'er Angostura's plain,
And long the pitying sky has swept

Above its mouldered slain.
The raven's scream, or eagle's fiight,

Or shepherd's pensive lay,
Alone now wakes each solemn height

That frowned o'er that dread fray.

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Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground,

Ye must not slumber there,
Where stranger steps and tongues resound

Along the heedless air:
Your own proud land's heroic soil

Shall be your fitter grave;
She claims from War its richest spoil-

The ashes of her brave.

Thus, 'neath their parent turf they rest,

Far from the gory field,
Borne to a Spartan mother's breast

On many a bloody shield.
The sunshine of their native sky

Smiles sadly on them here,
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by

The heroes' sepulcher.
Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead !

Dear as the blood ye gave!
No impious footstep here shall tread

The herbage of your grave;

Nor shall your glory be forgot

While Fame her record keeps,
Or Honor points the hallowed spot

Where Valor proudly sleeps.

Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone

In deathless song shall tell,
When many a vanished year hath flown,

The story how ye fell;
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight,

Nor Time's remorseless doom, Can dim one ray of holy light That gilds your glorious tomb.




Yfotik pot helppontor weather

For ask yon despot, whether

His plumed bands

Could bring such hands
And hearts as ours together.

Leave pomps to those who need 'em,
Give man but heart and freedom,

And proud he braves

The gaudiest slaves
That crawl where monarchs lead 'em.

The sword may pierce the beaver,
Stone walls in time may sever,

'Tis mind alone,

Worth steel and stone,
That keeps men free forever.



(From "Marmion,” Canto VI.) ZAINTING, down on earth he sunk, • Supported by the trembling monk.

With fruitless labor, Clara bound,
And strove to staunch the gushing wound;
The monk, with unavailing cares,
Exhausted all the Church's prayers.
Ever, he said that close and near,
A lady's voice was in his ear,
And that the priest he could not hear

For that she ever sung: “ In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle with groans of

the dying !"
So the notes rung.

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with gloomy splendowe réellow

XXVIII spots Hinconnais pase Land Marmien slusel for fairer scene he neve survey at When seated with the martial show That people all their plain before

Spalio metalo iting glow


still on the spoti

And martak


(From "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.") ERUSALEM has derived some reputation from the number and importance of her memorable sieges. It was not till after a long and obstinate contest that Babylon and Rome could prevail against the obstinacy of the people, the craggy ground that might supersede

the necessity of fortifications, and the walls and towers that would have fortified the most accessible plain. These obstacles were diminished in the age of the crusades. The bulwarks had been completely destroyed and imperfectly restored: the Jews, their nation and worship, were for ever banished; but nature is less changeable than man, and the site of Jerusalem, though somewhat softened and somewhat removed, was still strong against the assaults of an enemy. By the experience of a recent siege, and a three years' possession, the Saracens of Egypt had been taught to discern, and in some degree to remedy, the defects of a place which religion as well as honor forbade them to resign. Aladin or Iftikhar, the caliph's lieutenant, was intrusted with the defence; his policy strove to restrain the native Christians by the dread of their own ruin and that of the holy sepulchre; to animate the Moslems by the assurance of temporal and eternal rewards. His garrison is said to have consisted of forty thousand Turks and Arabians; and if he could muster twenty thousand of the inhabitants, it must be confessed that the besieged were more numer

ous than the besieging army. Had the diminished strength and numbers of the Latins allowed them to grasp 'the whole circumference of four thousand yards about two English miles and a half—to what useful purpose should they have descended into the valley of Ben Himmon and torrent of Cedron, or approached the precipices of the south and east, from whence they had nothing either to hope or fear? Their siege was more reasonably directed against the northern and western sides of the city. Godfrey of Bouillon erected his standard on the first swell of Mount Calvary; to the left, as far as St. Stephen's gate, the line of attack was continued by Tancred and the two Roberts; and Count Raymond established his quarters from the citadel to the foot of Mount Sion, which was no longer included within the precincts of the city. On the fifth day the crusaders made a general assault, in the fanatic hope of battering down the walls without engines, and of scaling them without ladders. By dint of brutal force, they burst the first barrier, but they were driven back with shame and slaughter to the camp: the influence of vision and prophecy was deadened by the too frequent abuse of those pious stratagems, and time and labor were found to be the only means of victory. The time of the siege was indeed fulfilled in forty days, but they were rty days of calamity and nguish. A repetition of the old complaint of famine may be imputed in some degree to the voracious or disorderly appetite of the Franks, but the stony soil of Jerusalem is almost destitute of water; the scanty springs and hasty torrents were dry in the summer season; nor was the thirst of the besiegers relieved, as in the city, by the artificial supply of cisterns and aqueducts. The circumjacent country is equally destitute of trees for the uses of shade or building, but some large beams were discovered in a cave by the crusaders: a wood near Sichem, the enchanted grove of Tasso, was cut down: the necessary timber was transported to the camp by the vigor and dexterity of Tancred; and the engines were framed by some Genoese artists, who had fortunately landed in the harbor of Jaffa. Two movable turrets were constructed at the expense and in the stations of the Duke of Lorraine and the Count of Tholouse, and rolled forwards with devout labor, not to the most accessible, but to the most neglected parts of the fortification. Raymond's tower was reduced to ashes by the fire of the besieged, but his colleague was more vigilant and successful; the enemies were driven by his archers from the rampart; the drawbridge was let down; and on a Friday, at three in the afternoon, the day and hour of the Passion, Godfrey of Bouillon stood victorious on the walls of Jerusalem. His example was followed on every side by the emulation of valor; and about four hundred and sixty years after the conquest of Omar, the holy city was rescued from the Mohammedan yoke. In the pillage of public and private wealth, the adventurers had agreed to respect the exclusive property of the first occupant; and the spoils of the great mosque-seventy lamps and massy vases of gold and silver-rewarded the diligence and displayed the generosity of Tancred. A bloody sacrifice was offered by his mistaken votaries to the God of the Christians : resistance might provoke, but neither age nor sex could mollify their implacable rage; they indulged themselves three days in a promiscuous massacre, and the infection of the dead bodies produced an an epidemical disease. After seventy thousand Moslems had been put to the sword, and the harmless Jews had been burnt in their synagogue, they could still reserve a multitude of captives whom interest or lassitude persuaded them to spare. Of these savage heroes of the cross, Tancred alone betrayed some sentiments of compassion ; yet we may praise the more selfish lenity of Raymond, who granted a capitulation and safe conduct to the garrison of the citadel. The holy sepulchre was now free; and the bloody victors prepared to accomplish their vow. Bareheaded and barefoot, with contrite hearts, and in an humble posture, they ascended the hill of Calvary amidst the loud anthems of the clergy; kissed the stone which had covered the Savior of the world, and bedewed with tears of joy and penitence the monument of their redemption.




TWILIGHT ON THE BATTLE Their king, their lords, their mightiest, low, FIELD.

They melted from the field, as snow,

When streams are swoln and south winds (From Marmion," Canto VI.)

blow, Y this, though deep the evening fell, Dissolves in silent dew. Still rose the battle's deadly swell,

SIR WALTER SCOTT. For still the Scots, around their king, Unbroken, fought in desperate ring. Where's now their victor vanward wing,

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENWhere Huntly and where Home?

Oh, for a blast of that dread horn,

On Fontarabian echoes borne,
Which to King Charles did come,

THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on When Rowland brave, and Oliver,

the fold, And every paladin and peer

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and On Roncesvalles died !

gold; Such blast might warn them, not in vain, And the sheen of their spears was like stars To quit the plunder of the slain,

on the sea, And turn the doubtful day again,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep While yet on Flodden side,


II. Afar, the Royal Standard flies, And round it toils and bleeds, and dies Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is Our Caledonian pride!

green, In vain the wish, for, far away,

That host with their banners at sunset were While spoil and havoc mark their way,

seen: Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray.

Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn

hath blown,

That host on the morrow lay wither'd and But as they left the darkening heath,

strown. More desperate grew the strife of death. The English shafts in volleys hailed,

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on In headlong charge their horse assailed ;

the blast, Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep And breathed in the face of the foe as he To break the Scottish circle deep

pass'd; That fought around their king.

And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and But yet, though thick the shafts as snow,

chill, Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, And their hearts but once heaved, and forThough bill-men ply the ghastly blow,

ever grew still! Unbroken was the ring;

The stubborn spearmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,

And there lay the steed with his nostril all Each stepping where his comrade stood

wide, The moment that he fell.

But through it there roll'd not the breath of No thought was there of dastard flight;

his pride: Linked in the serried phalanx tight,

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,

turf, As fearlessly and well;

And cold as the spray of the rock-beating Till utter darkness closed her wing

surf. O'er their thin host and wounded king. Tben skillful Surrey's wise commands

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, Led back from strife his shattered bands ; With the dew on his brow, and the rust on And from the charge they drew,

his mail; As mountain-waves, from wasted lands, And the tents were all silent, the banners Sweep back to ocean blue.

alone, Then did their loss his foemen know;

The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.



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