Now for the fight-now for the cannon-peal – The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire; They shake-like broken waves their squares retire, On, hussars! - Now give them rein and heel; Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire; Earth cries for blood in thunder on them wheel! This hour to Europe's fate shall set the triumph-seal! CCXXXIV. THE MAIN TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE. LD Ironsides at anchor lay OLD In the harbor of Mahon; A dead calm rested on the bay, The waves to sleep had gone; A shudder shot through every vein, — No hold had he above, below; Alone he stood in air: To that far height none dared to go;· No aid could reach him there. We gazed, but not a man could speak! With horror all aghast, In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, We watched the quivering mast. As riveted unto the spot, Stood officers and crew. Körner. BA OCXXXV. CATILINE ON HIS BANISHMENT FROM ROME. ANISHED from Rome! What's banished, but set free "Tried and convicted traitor!"- Who says this? Banished?—I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain! I held some slack allegiance till But now my sword's my own. this hour; Smile on, my lords; But here I stand and scoff you: - here I fling Your consul's merciful. For this all thanks. He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. but I return. go This trial! Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. This day's the birth of sorrows! This hour's work G. Croly. CCXXXVI. APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN. THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is society where none intrudes, What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean - roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin - his control Stops with the shore! upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. His steps are not upon thy paths, thy fields Are not a spoil for him, thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise, The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Calm or convulsed in breeze, or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving;-boundless, endless, and sublime The image of Eternity- the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. Lord Byron. CCXXXVII. BATTLE OF WATERLOO. HERE was a sound of revelry by night; THERE And Belgium's capital had gathered then The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it? No: 't was but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street: On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago ! Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated. Who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise? And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, |