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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,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;

And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,
Or whispering, with white lips-"The foe! They
come! they come !"

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,

Over the unreturning brave - alas!

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow

In its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valour, rolling on the foe

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and

low.

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay,
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife,
The morn the marshalling in arms,
Battle's magnificently-stern array!

the day

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay,

Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent Rider and horse-friend, foe, -in one red burial blent!

FRAGMENT.

HILLS of Annesley, bleak and barren,
Where my thoughtless childhood strayed,
How the northern tempests, warring,

Howl above thy tufted shade!

Now no more, the hours beguiling,
Former favorite haunts I see;
Now no more my Mary smiling,

Makes ye seem a heaven to me.

ODE.

[FROM THE FRENCH.]

We do not curse thee, Waterloo !

Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew;
There 't was shed, but is not sunk
Rising from each gory trunk,
Like the Water-spout from ocean,
With a strong and growing motion -
It soars, and mingles in the air,
With that of lost LABEDOYERE
With that of him whose honored grave
Contains the "bravest of the brave."
A crimson cloud it spreads and glows,
But shall return to whence it rose;
When 't is full 't will burst asunder-
Never yet was heard such thunder

As then shall shake the world with wonder

Never yet was seen such lightning

As o'er heaven shall then be bright'ning!

Like the Wormwood Star foretold

By the sainted Seer of old,

Show'ring down a fiery flood,

Turning rivers into blood.

The Chief has fallen, but not by you, Vanquishers of Waterloo!

1

When the soldier citizen

Swayed not o'er his fellow men—
Save in deeds that led them on
Where Glory smiled on Freedom's son
Who, of all the despots banded,

With that youthful chief competed?
Who could boast o'er France defeated,

Till lone Tyranny commanded?
Till, goaded by ambition's sting,
The Hero sunk into the King?
Then he fell:- - So perish all,
Who would men by man enthrall!

And thou too of the snow-white plume!
Whose realm refused thee ev'n a tomb;
Better hadst thou still been leading
France o'er hosts of hirelings bleeding,
Than sold thyself to death and shame
For a meanly royal name;
Such as he of Naples wears,

Who thy blood-bought title bears.
Little didst thou deem, when dashing

On thy war-horse through the ranks,
Like a stream which burst its banks,
While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing,
Shone and shivered fast around thee -
Of the fate at last which found thee:
Was that haughty plume laid low
By a slave's dishonest blow?

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Once as the Moon sways o'er the tide,
It rolled in air, the warrior's guide;
Through the smoke-creating night
Of the black and sulphurous fight,

The soldier raised his seeking eye
To catch that crest's ascendancy, —
And, as it onward rolling rose,

So moved his heart upon our foes,
There, where death's brief pang was quickest,
And the battle's wreck lay thickest,
Strewed beneath the advancing banner
Of the eagle's burning crest-
(There, with thunder-clouds to fan her,
Who could then her wing arrest —
Victory beaming from her breast?)
While the broken line enlarging,
Fell, or fled along the plain;
There be sure was MURAT charging!
There he ne'er shall charge again!

O'er glories gone the invaders march, Weeps Triumph o'er each levelled archBut let Freedom rejoice,

With her heart in her voice;

But, her hand on her sword,

Doubly shall she be adored;

France has twice too well been taught

The "moral lesson" dearly bought

Her safety sits not on a throne,

With CAPET or NAPOLEON!

But in equal rights and laws,

Hearts and hands in one great cause

Freedom, such as God hath given

Unto all beneath his heaven,

With their breath, and from their birth,

Though Guilt would sweep it from the earth:

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