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, And near, the beat of the alarming drum 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, 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, Howl above thy tufted shade! Now no more, the hours beguiling, Makes ye seem a heaven to me. ODE. [FROM THE FRENCH.] We do not curse thee, Waterloo ! Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew; 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— With that youthful chief competed? Till lone Tyranny commanded? And thou too of the snow-white plume! Who thy blood-bought title bears. On thy war-horse through the ranks, Once as the Moon sways o'er the tide, The soldier raised his seeking eye So moved his heart upon our foes, 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: |