would not be unacceptable, on my return to my native country, I would send the *tribute referred to, as an evidence of the feeling existing in America toward the memory of Marco Bozzaris. My offer was gratefully accepted; and afterward, while in the act of mounting my horse to leave Missolonghi, our guide, who had remained behind, came to me with a message from the widow and her daughters, reminding me of my promise.

12. I make no apology for introducing to the public, the widow and daughters of Marco Bozzaris. True, I was received by them in private, without any expectation, either on their part or mine, that all the particulars of the interview would be noted and laid before the eyes of all who choose to read. I hope it will not be considered invading the *sanctity of private life; but, at all events, I make no apology; the widow and children of Marco Bozzaris are the property of the world.

CXXIII.-MARCO BOZZARIS.

FROM HALLECK.

1. Ar midnight, in his guarded tent,

The Turk lay dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power.

In dreams, through camp and court, he bore
The trophies of a *conqueror;

In dreams, his song of triumph heard;
Then wore his monarch's signet-ring;
Then pressed that monarch's throne, a king;
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,
As Eden's garden bird.

2. At midnight, in the forest shades,
Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,
True as the steel of their tried blades,
Heroes in heart and hand.

There, had the Persian's thousands stood,
There, had the glad earth drunk their blood,
In old Platea's day:

And now, there breathed that haunted air,
The sons of sires who conquered there,
With arms to strike, and soul to dare,

As quick, as far as they.

3. An hour passed on; the Turk awoke;
That bright dream was his last:

He woke, to hear his sentries shriek,
"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!"
He woke, to die mid flame and smoke,
And shout, and groan, and saber-stroke,
And death-shots falling thick and fast
As lightnings, from the mountain-cloud;
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,
Bozzaris cheer his band;

"Strike-till the last armed foe expires;
Strike-for your altars and your fires;
Strike—for the green graves of your sires;
God-and your native land!"

4. They fought, like brave men, long and well; They piled the ground with Moslem slain; They conquered, but Bozzaris fell,

Bleeding at every vein.

His few surviving comrades saw

His smile, when rang their proud hurra,
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.

5. Come to the bridal chamber, Death!
Come to the mother, when she feels,
For the first time, her first-born's breath;
Come, when the blessed seals

Which close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wail its stroke;
Come, in consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake's shock, the ocean storm,
Come, when the heart beats high and warm,
With banquet-song, and dance, and wine,
And thou art terrible; the tear,

The groan, the knell, the *pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear

Of agony, are thine.

But to the hero, when his sword

Has won the battle for the free,

Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word.
And in its hollow tones are heard

The thanks of millions yet to be.

6. Bozzaris! with the storied brave,

Greece nurtured in her glory's time,
Rest thee; there is no prouder grave,
Even in her own proud clime.

We tell thy doom without a sigh,
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's
One of the few, the immortal names,
That were not born to die.

CXXIV.-SONG OF THE GREEK BARD.
FROM BYRON.

GEORGE GORDON BYRON, one of the most distinguished of English poets, was born in London, in 1788. His poems are numerous, and display astonishing skill in versification, a wonderful perception of the sublime and beautiful, and an intellectual power, perhaps never surpassed. Unfortunately, however, his great genius was exerted too much against all that is good, if not in favor of all that is evil. He embarked in the cause of the Greek revolution, and died at Missolonghi, in 1824.

A modern Greek is here supposed to compare the present +degeneracy of his country with its ancient glory, and to utter his lamentations in the words of the song. The KING referred to in the 4th stanza is Xerxes, king of Persia.

1. THE Isles of Greece! the Isles of Greece!
Where burning +Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose, and +Phoebus sprung!
+Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.

2. The Scian and the Teian muse,

The hero's harp, the lover's lute,
Have found the fame your shores refuse;
Their place of birth alone is mute
To sounds that echo further west,
Than your sires' "Islands of the Blest."

3. The mountains look on +Marathon,
And Marathon looks on the sea:

And musing there an hour alone,

I dreamed that Greece might still be free;

For, standing on the Persians' grave,

I could not deem myself a slave.

4. A king sat on the rocky brow

Which looks o'er sea-born +Salamis;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,

And men in nations,-all were his!
He counted them at break of day,

And when the sun set, where were they?

5. And where are they? And where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now,

The heroic bosom beats no more!
And must thy +lyre, so long divine,
+Degenerate into hands like mine?

6. Must we but weep o'er days more blest?
Must we but blush? Our fathers bled.
Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead!
Of the three hundred, grant but three,
To make a new +Thermopyla!

7. What, silent still? and silent all?
Ah! no! the voices of the dead
Sound like a distant torrent's fall,
And answer, "Let one living head,
But one arise,-
-we come, we come!"
'Tis but the living who are dumb.

8. In vain-in vain!-strike other chords;
Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
Leave battles to the Turkish +hordes,
And shed the blood of Scio's vine!
Hark! rising to the tignoble call,

How answers each bold +Bacchanal!

9. You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic *phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget

The nobler and the manlier one?
You have the letters Cadmus gave;
Think you he meant them for a slave?

10. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
We will not think of themes like these!
It made Anacreon's song divine:
He served, but served Polycrates,
A tyrant; but our masters then
Were still, at least, our countrymen.

11. The tyrant of the Chersonese

Was Freedom's best and bravest friend;
That tyrant was Miltiades!

Oh! that the present hour would lend
Another despot of the kind!

Such chains as his were sure to bind.

12. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
Our virgins dance beneath the shade;
I see their glorious black eyes shine;
But gazing on each glowing maid,
My own the burning tear-drop laves,
To think such breasts must pillow slaves.
13. Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,

Where nothing, save the waves and I,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die;
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine;
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!

CXXV.-ON THE REMOVAL OF THE BRITISH TROOPS.

EXTRACT from Lord Chatham's speech, in favor of the removal of the British troops from Boston, delivered in the House of Lords, January 20, 1775.

1. MY LORDS: when I urge this measure of recalling the troops from Boston, I urge it on the pressing principle, that it is necessarily preparatory to the restoration of your peace, and the establishment of your prosperity. It will then appear, that you are disposed to treat *amicably and 'equitably; and to consider, revise, and repeal those violent acts and declarations which have disseminated confusion throughout your empire.

2. Resistance to your acts was necessary, as it was just; and your vain declarations of the omnipotence of parliament, and your imperious doctrines of the necessity of submission, will be found equally impotent to convince, or to enslave your fellow-subjects in America, who feel, that tyranny, whether exercised by an individual part of the legislature, or by the bodies which compose it, is equally intolerable to British subjects. I therefore urge and conjure your lordships, immediately, to adopt this conciliating measure. I will pledge