For the Swede, all unnerved, did succumb from fight, The Italian lay down by his fountain,
The bright star of Prussia was clouded by night,
The Switzer had fled to the mountain:
The Austrian struggled, yet bow'd to the yoke,
And Muscovy trembled before thee;
Till Frost, like a giant, the talisman broke,
And withering ruin came o'er thee!
Still the warrior's power was but subdued
For a season-more strength to gather;
Then forth to burst, like a torrent renew'd,
To spread like flame o er the heather.
And all was vain,-had not Wellington come,
His charger to thine opposing;
When Waterloo echoed the trump and drum,
And thy hosts with his were closing.
Then did the star of thy victories set,
And Night's black cloud came o'er thee,
And thy fate, all boastful and bright as yet,
To a human level bore thee.
Shame to the bard who would raise his voice,
One hostile feeling to cherish ;
Shame to the Briton that dare rejoice,
When the fallen and mighty perish!
For thou didst rise 'mid summer's skies,
Like an eagle all sunward soaring;
And thou stood'st the shock, unmoved as the rock,
When Adversity's storm was roaring.
No marble epitaph, no sculptured stone,
No monumental pillar needest thou ;
When Egypt's pyramids to Time shall bow,
Thy name will as a household word be known!
Thy sword was garlanded with olive wreath,
First in the field, and latest to depart;
Untamed and independent, throbb'd beneath
Thy peasant garments an heroic heart.
When palace homes were girt by magic charm,
And life was stagnant as a frozen lake,
Thine was the soul which Thraldom could not shake,
That bared for holy strife thy country's arm.
While shines the daily sun, and rolls the sea,
Heroic Hoffer! men must honour thee!
LET us not mock the olden time: behold,
Grey mossy stones, in each sequester'd dell,
Mark where the champions of the Covenant fell,
For rights of faith unconquerably bold!
Let us not mock them; at his evening hearth,
While burn all hearts, the upright peasant tells
For martyr'd saints what wondrous miracles
Were wrought, when blood-hounds track'd them
through the earth.
Let us not mock them; they, perhaps, might err
In word or practice; but, deny them not
Unwavering constancy, which dared prefer
Imprisonment and death to mental thrall;
Yea, from their cruel and unmurmuring lot,
Wisdom may glean a lesson for us all.
GENIUS creative, industry untired,
The power and the capacity of thought
Sublime, to mighty aspirations wrought,
Are thine, by thirst of great achievement fired.
I need not tell thee, Haydon, thou hast felt
The fears, the ecstasies, of daring art,
The heavings and the sinkings of the heart,
At obstacles that oft like vapours melt,
And oft like rocks oppose us. It is thine,
After a warfare silent, but most deep,
To triumph and o'ercome; thy name shall shine
In Fame's unfading record,-like a river
That, having toil'd o'er rocks, is left to sleep
'Mid everlasting hills, and gleams for ever!
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