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His hands upraised, he cries, in raptured rage,
IX. « Belshazzar! Son of the morning,
How art thou fall’n !
To the waters art thou roll'n!
Flames are consuming.
I hear the mournful sound,
The spider's web hangs on thy panoply;
Owls in thy canopy.
XI. “ The earth is at rest, and breaks forth into singing, A wild bird untrammel'd to liberty springing. The cedars of Lebanon lift up their voice, And, waving their hundred arms, o'er thee rejoice. O! hills of Gilboa! now raise ye
the The harp, and the tabret, and young maiden throng. See! Jordan flows brightly, with merry waves leaping, And Carmel the smiling of thankfuloess wears. Fair daughter of sorrow! arise from thy weeping, Come forth in thy beauty, O! Salem of tears !"
XI. “ Thou—king of terrors ! lord of death and doom! Where shalt thou fly, from the curse of thy gloom? The bright lights of heaven are quench'd on thy path, Its angels anoint thee with vials of wrath! Earth trembles beneath thee, heaven totters on high, Where, wretched outcast! where wilt thou fly? Hell yawns to receive thee, it stirs up the deadAll griesly the spectre kings leap from their bed; · Art thou weak as we?' they ask in fell mirth, • Who didst scatter, like dust, the throne of the earth?
Go-King of Babel-this night is thy last,
THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE.
From the German of Schiller.
(FROM THE SALE-ROOM.)
In ancient times, when Genoa had rebell'd,
And from its walls the Prince expell’d,
Fiesco, at the insurgents' head,
The commons thus address'd, On their new state assembled to decide :“ With your good leave, I will relate to you What happend to the beasts, like you oppressid !"« Speak, speak, Fiesco," cry'd the motley crew.
-“ Weary with anarchy and civil broils, And sadly living on each others spoils,
In desperate hope to be protected,
* The animals, collected then like you,
To mould their government anew, Of the three forms presented to their choice, For which do you suppose they gave their voice?" _“O for the popular!” at once they cried.
“ You're in the right of it," replied
Fiesco; "a democracy they chose; And on whate'er their rulers should propose, Each was to have his vote.
« It chanced that Man Against their infant state a war began. Bull, Lion, Eagle, Tiger, Leopard, Bear,
For vigorous defence prepare ;
Goats, Pigeons, Sheep, and all the reptile race,
" Just what they did an aristocracy
The consequence–The general good
Asses, ambassadors were sent,
A Stag to lead their armies went ;
Till, with one voice, the indignant throng,
Rending the air with hideous shout,
OF A HIGHLAND CHIEF, EXECUTED AFTER THE REBELLION.
A literary friend of ours received these verses, with a letter of the following tenor:
“ A very ingenious young friend of mine has just sent me the enclosed on reading Waverley.- To you, the world gives that charming work, and if in any future edition you should like to insert the Dirge to the Highland Chief, you would do honour to
“ Your sincere Admirer."
The individual to whom this obliging letter was addressed, having no claim to the bo
nour which is there done him, does not possess the means of publishing the verses in the popular novel alluded to. But, that the public may sustain no loss, and that the ingenious author of Waverley may be aware of the honour intended bin, our correspondent has ventured to send the verses to our Register.
Son of the mighty and the free!
Oh, had'st thou slumber'd with the slain,
We then had mourn'd thee not !
But darkly closed thy morn of fame,
The watch-word of despair!
Last of a mighty line!
O'er thy own bowers the sunshine falls,
Are sleeping on thy tomb.
Not e'en thy dust is there!
On thy blue hills no bugle sound
Thou lead'st the chase no more.
And all is hush'd again.
Thy bárd his pealing harp has broke,
His saddest and his last :
Than lofty deeds of thine ;
Last of a mighty line!
VOL. VIII. PART II.
SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS;
THE QUEST OF SULTAUN SOLIMAUN.
From the Sale-Room.
That lighten'd on Bandello's laughing tale,
When Giam Battista bale her vision Thail !*
Given by the natives of that land canorous ;
We Britons have the fear of shame before us,
and grandeur like ;
But Despots must be stately, stern, and mute. * The bint of the following tale is taken from La Cumiscia Magica, a novel of Giam Battista Casti.