HELLESPONT. (THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS, Canto ii.) THE winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormy water When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. Oh! when alone along the sky Her turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds, forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear, Or sound or sign foreboding fear; His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hail'd above; His ear but rang with Hero's song, "Ye waves, divide not lovers long!"That tale is old, but love anew May nerve young hearts to prove as true. The winds are high, and Helle's tide The desert of old Priam's pride; The tombs, sole relics of his reign, All-save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle ! TROY. (DON JUAN, Canto iv. Stanzas 76-78.) THERE, on the green and village-cotted hill, is All heroes, who, if living still, would slay us. High barrows, without marble, or a name, And old Scamander, (if 'tis he) remain ; A hundred thousand men might fight again With ease; but where I sought for Ilion's walls, The quiet sheep feeds, and the tortoise crawls ; Troops of untended horses; here and there Whom to the spot their school-boy feelings bear; Are what I found there-but the devil a Phrygian. THE DRACHENFELS. (CHILDE HAROLD, Canto iii.) THE castled crag of Drachenfels And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes, Walk smiling o'er this paradise ; Above, the frequent feudal towers Through green leaves lift their walls of gray, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers; I send the lilies given to me; The river nobly foams and flows, Nor could on earth a spot be found Could thy dear eyes in following mine Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine! WATERLOO. (CHILDE HAROLD, Canto iii. Stanzas 21-30.) THERE was a sound of revelry by night, The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! Did ye not hear it ?-No; 'twas but the wind, On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm! it is-it is—the cannon's opening roar ! Within a window'd niche of that high hall And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; |