They took the rose-wreath'd lyres But now the morning star Crown'd Eta's twilight brow; And the Persian horn of war From the hills began to blow. Up rose the glorious rank, To Greece one cup pour'd high,— Then hand in hand, they drank "To Immortality!" Fear on King Xerxes fell, When, like spirits from the tomb, With shout and trumpet-knell, He saw the warriors come. But down swept all his power, They gather'd round the tent, To Greece one look they sent, Their King sat on the throne, While the flame rush'd roaring on, Thus fought the Greek of old! Bring forth the self-same men? THE STARS. Ye stars! bright legions that, before all time, What wonder if the o'erwrought soul should reel From that steep For ye behold the Mightiest. Lighting their lonely track with Hope's celestial dyes. On Calvary shot down that purple eye, Your incense to the Throne!-The Heavens shall burn: For all your pomps are dust, and shall to dust return. Yet look ye living intellects.-The trine The sign when empire's hour-glass downwards ran, 'Twas on that arch, graved on that brazen talisman. From Paris in 1815, Part II. * EXECUTION OF LOUIS XVI. The Guillotine.-It stood in that pale day A wain, that thro' the throng slow toil'd its weary way. "Tis done, the monarch on the scaffold stands; The headsmen grasp him!-Of the myriads there, That hear his voice, that see his fetter'd hands, Not one has given a blessing or a tear; But that old priest who answers him in prayer. He speaks: his dying thoughts to France are given, His voice is drown'd; for murder has no ear. The saint unmurmuring to the axe is driven. If ever spirit rose, that heart is calm in Heaven. THINGS TO COME. There are murmurs on the deep, Though no cloud the sign has given; Earth that sudden storm shall feel, 'Tis a storm of man and steel. Tribes are in their forests now, War of old has swept the world, Man hath shed Man's blood for toys, Earth in cureless crime grows old; Past destruction shall be tame To the rushing of that flame. When the clouds of Vengeance break, Folly shall be on the wise, Then the Martyr's solemn cry, That a thousand years has rung, Where their robes of crimson lie Round the Golden Altar' flung, Shall be heard,-and from the 'throne' The trumpet of the Judgment' blown. "Woe to Earth, the mighty, woe!" Yet shall Earth her conscience lull, Till above the brim shall flow The draught of gall.-The cup is full. Yet a moment!-Comes the ire,- First shall fall a Mighty one! Ancient crime had crown'd his brow, Then shall rush abroad the blaze On the Turk shall fall the blow THE ENTRY INTO JERUSALEM. The air is fill'd with shouts, and trumpets' sounding; Now is their van the Mount of Olives rounding; Twined with the palm and olives' emerald stem. The Pontiff from his battlement beheld The host, and knew the falling of his power: He saw the cloud on Sion's glory lour. Still down the marble road the myriads come, Spreading the way with garment, branch, and flower, And deeper sounds are mingling, "Woe to Rome! "The day of freedom dawns; rise, Israel, from thy tomb!" |