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The Battle of laterloo.
HERE was a sound of revelry by night,
Her beauty and her chivalry; and
The lamps shone, o'er fair women
and brave men:
A thousand hearts beat happily; and
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
And all went merry as a marriage-bellBut, hush, hark!-a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
Did ye not hear it? No-'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined!
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet,
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat;
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!
Arm! arm! it is-it is the cannon's op'ning roar!
Within a window'd niche of that high hall
Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone, with death's prophetic ear;
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
And when they smil'd because he deem'd it near,
And roused the vengeance, blood alone could quell :
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
While throng'd the citizens, with terror dumb,
Or whisp'ring with white lips-"The foe! they come! they come!"
And wild and high "the Cam'rons' gath'ring" rose!
The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes! How, in the noon of night, that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
Their mountain-pipes, so fill the mountaineers
The stirring mem'ry of a thousand years;
And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!
And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Over the unreturning brave—alas !
Ere ev'ning, 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-
Battle's magnificently stern array!
The thunder clouds close o'er it. And when rent,
The earth is cover'd thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover-heap'd and pentRider and horse-friend, foe-in one red burial blent.
[ALEXANDER POPE. For more than a century it has been in many circles a disputed point whether Pope was a poet, or merely a polished and elegant versifier; and the controversy seems likely to continue so long as tastes differ so completely as to what elements constitute poetic entity. If Miltonic grandeur, the humour of a Chaucer, or the inventive powers of Shakespeare, are indispensable, then was Pope no poet, for these he had not; but wit and fancy, elegance of diction, and power of satire, were his in no small degree; indeed, in satiric power he is unsurpassed, save by Dryden, the great model upon whom he formed his style. How marvellously he has expressed in the portraiture of Addison the stifled jealousy in the courtly critic, who is "so obliging that he ne'er obliged"—who can "just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike" -who, unable or loth openly to condemn, can "damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, and without sneering teach the rest to sneer.' The genius which produces such lines as these may not be of the highest order-but it is true genius still.]
On a certain Lady at Court.
KNOW the thing that's most uncommon;
(Envy, be silent, and attend!)
I know a reasonable woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a friend :
Not warp'd by Passion, awed by Rumour;
Not grave through Pride, nor gay through Folly; An equal mixture of good humour,
And sensible, soft melancholy.
"Has she no faults, then (Envy says), sir?'
When all the world conspires to praise her,
BATTLE OF WATERLOO,
lang, which instils
in each clansman's ears!
A Aave them her green leaves,
...ate er grieves—
berlin ke the grass
4th them, but above shall grow
g on the foe,
AC CAF&bye, Sall muller cold and low.
Last noon behold them full of lusty life-
The thunder clonds close o'er it. And when rent,
Which her own clay shall cover-heap'd and pent-