But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves, I ask not the pleasures that riches supply, I love the fair face of the maid in her youth: Remember the moment when Previsa fell, I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear; He neither must know who would serve the Vizier; Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped, Let the yellow-hair'd* Giaours † view his horse-tail ‡ with dread; * Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians. Horse-tails are the insignia of a Pacha. + Infidel. When his Delhis* come dashing in blood o'er the banks, Selictar, † unsheath then our chief's scimitar: THE SULIOTE MOTHER. Mrs. Hemans. Various writers on Modern Greece have related the fate of those Suliote women, who threw themselves, with their infants, from the precipices of their mountainous territory, on the conquest and approach of Ali Pacha. One of those narrators adds, that a wild song was chaunted by the mothers before committing the act of desperation. SHE stood upon the loftiest peak, A bitter smile was on her cheek, "Dost thou see them, boy?-through the dusky pines Wouldst thou spring from thy mother's arms with joy? * Horsemen, answering to our forlorn bope. + Sword-bearer. N For in the rocky strait beneath, Lay Suliote sire and son; They had heap'd high the piles of death, "They have cross'd the torrent, and on they come! Woe for the mountain-hearth and home! There, where the hunter laid by his spear, There, where the lyre hath been sweet to hear, And now the horn's loud blast was heard, Till even the upper air was stirr'd, "Hark! they bring music, my joyous child! As if at a glimpse of thine armed sire? -Still!-be thou still!—there are brave men lowThou wouldst not smile couldst thou see him now!" But nearer came the clash of steel, "Hear'st thou the sounds of their savage mirth? And from the arrowy peak she sprung, And fast the fair child bore: A veil upon the wind was flung- WOMAN. Anonymous. GONE from her cheek is the summer bloom, And the spirit that sate on her soft blue eye And the smile that play'd on her lip hath fled, Like slaves they obey'd her in height of power, And the crowds that swore for her love to die, 'Tis woman alone, with a firmer heart, And love the more, and soothe, and bless OH, KEEP THE RING! To a Friend about to marry a second time. Anonymous. Oн, keep the ring one little year Keep poor Eliza's ring, And shed on it the silent tear, In secret sorrowing. Thy lips, on which her last, last kiss These haunts are sacred to her love, Beneath these elms you sate and talk'd, Beside that river's brink, At evening, arm-in-arm you walk'd,-] Here stopt to gaze and think. Thou'lt meet her when thy blood beats high In converse with thy bride, Meet the mild meaning of an eye That never learnt to chide. |