Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

HOHENLINDEN

(1802)

On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

5 But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 10 Each horseman drew his battle blade, And furious every charger neighed, To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steed to battle driven, 15 And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flashed the red artillery.

20

But redder yet that light shall glow,
On Linden's hills of stainèd snow,

And bloodier yet the torrent flow

Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,

Shout in their sulphurous canopy.

25 The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few, shall part where many meet!
30 The snow shall be their winding sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC

(1809)

Of Nelson and the North

Sing the glorious day's renown,
When to battle fierce came forth

All the might of Denmark's crown,

5 And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand

In a bold determin'd hand,

And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.

10 Like leviathans afloat

Lay their bulwarks on the brine,
While the sign of battle flew

On the lofty British line:

It was ten of April morn by the chime;

15 As they drifted on their path,

There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

But the might of England flushed

20 To anticipate the scene,

And her van the fleeter rushed

O'er the deadly space between

"Hearts of oak," our captains cried, when each

gun

From its adamantine lips

25 Spread a death-shade round the ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

Again! again! again!

And the havoc did not slack,

30 Till a feeble cheer the Dane

To our cheering sent us back;

Their shots along the deep slowly boom:-
Then ceased-and all is wail,

As they strike the shattered sail, 35 Or in conflagration pale

Light the gloom.

Out spoke the victor then,
As he hailed them o'er the wave;
"Ye are brothers! ye are men!
40 And we conquer but to save;

So peace instead of death let us bring:
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet

With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet

45 To our King."

Then Denmark blest our chief,
That he gave her wounds repose;
And the sounds of joy and grief,
From her people wildly rose,

50 As death withdrew his shades from the day; While the sun looked smiling bright

O'er a wide and woeful sight,

Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

55 Now joy, old England, raise For the tidings of thy might, By the festal cities' blaze,

While the wine cup shines in light;

And yet amidst that joy and uproar,

60 Let us think of them that sleep,
Full many a fathom deep,

By thy wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore!

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride 65 Once so faithful and so true,

On the deck of fame that died,-
With the gallant good Riou,

Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! While the billow mournful rolls, 70 And the mermaid's song condoles, Singing glory to the souls

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

Rights that cost your sires their blood,
Men whose undegenerate spirit

Has been proved on land and flood:

5 By the foes ye've fought uncounted,
By the glorious deeds ye've done,
Trophies captured-breaches mounted,
Navies conquered-kingdoms won!

10

Yet, remember, England gathers
Hence but fruitless wreaths of fame,
If the patriotism of your fathers
Glow not in your hearts the same.

What are monuments of bravery, Where no public virtues bloom? 15 What avail in lands of slavery,

Trophied temples, arch and tomb?

20

Pageants!-Let the world revere us
For our people's rights and laws,
And the breasts of civic heroes
Bared in Freedom's holy cause.

Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory,
Sydney's matchless fame is yours,-
Martyrs in heroic story,

Worth a hundred Agincourts!

25 We're the sons of sires that baffled
Crowned and mitred tyranny:

They defied the field and scaffold
For their birthrights-so will we!

SONG

TO THE EVENING STAR

Star that bringest home the bee,
And sett'st the weary labourer free!
If any star shed peace, 'tis thou,
That send'st it from above,

5 Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow,
Are sweet as her's we love.

10

Come to the luxuriant skies,

Whilst the landscape's odours rise,
Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard,
And songs, when toil is done,

From cottages whose smoke unstirred
Curls yellow in the sun.

Star of love's soft interviews,
Parted lovers on thee muse;
15 Their remembrancer in Heaven
Of thrilling vows thou art,
Too delicious to be riven
By absence from the heart.

« AnteriorContinuar »