The American Union Speaker Part 44

Dimond.

CCx.x.xII.

ON THE ENTRY OF THE AUSTRIANS INTO NAPLES.

Ay, down to the dust with them, slaves as they are!

From this hour let the blood in their dastardly veins, That shrunk from the first touch of Liberty's war, Be sucked out by tyrants or stagnate in chains!

On--on, like a cloud, through their beautiful vales, Ye locusts of tyranny!--blasting them o'er: Fill--fill up their wide, sunny waters, ye sails, From each slave-mart in Europe, and poison their sh.o.r.e.

May their fate be a mockword--may men of all lands Laugh out with a scorn that shall ring to the poles, When each sword that the cowards let fall from their hands, Shall be forged into fetters to enter their souls!

And deep, and more deep, as the iron is driven, Base slaves! may the whet of their agony be, To think--as the d.a.m.ned haply think of the heaven They had once in their reach,--that they might have been free.

Shame! shame! when there was not a bosom whose heat Ever rose o'er the zero of Castlereagh's heart, That did not, like Echo, your war-hymn repeat, And send back its prayers with your Liberty's start!

Good G.o.d! that in such a proud moment of life, Worth ages of history--when, had you but hurled One bolt at your b.l.o.o.d.y invader, that strife Between freemen and tyrants had spread through the world!

That then--O, disgrace upon manhood! e'en then You should falter--should cling to your pitiful breath, Cower down into beasts, when you might have stood men, And prefer a slave's life to a glorious death!

It is strange!--it is dreadful! Shout, Tyranny, shout Through your dungeons and palaces, "Freedom is o'er"-- If there lingers one spark of her fire, tread it out, And return to your empire of darkness once more.

For if such are the braggarts that claim to be free, Come, Despot of Russia, thy feet let me kiss, Far n.o.bler to live the brute-bondman of thee, Than sully even chains by a struggle like this.

T. Moore.

CCx.x.xIII.

THE BATTLE HYMN OF THE BERLIN LANDSTURM.

Father of earth and heaven! I call thy name!

Round me the smoke and shout of battle roll; Mine eyes are dazzled with the rustling flame; Father, sustain an untried soldier's soul.

Or life, or death, whatever be the goal That crowns or closes round this struggling hour, Thou knowest, if ever from my spirit stole One deeper prayer, 't was that no cloud might lower On my young fame!--O hear! G.o.d of eternal power!

Now for the fight--now for the cannon-peal-- Forward--through blood, and toils and cloud, and fire!

Glorious the shout, the shock, the crash of steel, The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire; They shake--like broken waves their squares retire,-- On, hussars!--Now give them rein and heel; Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire;-- Earth cries for blood--in thunder on them wheel!

This hour to Europe's fate shall set the triumph-seal!

Korner.

CCx.x.xIV.

THE MAIN TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE.

Old Ironsides at anchor lay In the harbor of Mahon; A dead calm rested on take bay,-- The waves to sleep had gone; When little Hal, the Captain's son, A lad both brave and good, In sport, up shroud and rigging ran, And on the main truck stood!

A shudder shot through every vein,-- All eyes were turned on high!

There stood the bop with dizzy brain, Between the sea and sky; No hold had he above, below; Alone he stood in air: To that far height none dared to go;-- No aid could reach him there.

We gazed,--but not a man could speak!

With horror all aghast, In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, We watched the quivering mast.

The atmosphere grew thick and hot, And of a lurid hue;-- As riveted unto the spot, Stood officers and crew.

The father came on deck:--he gasped, "Oh G.o.d! Thy will be done!"

Then suddenly a rifle grasped, And aimed it at his son: "Jump, far out, boy into the wave!

Jump, or I fire!" he said; "That only chance your life can save!

Jump, jump, boy!" He obeyed.

He sunk, he rose, he lived,--he moved,-- And for the s.h.i.+p struck out.

On board, we hailed the lad beloved, With many a manly shout.

His father drew, in silent joy, Those wet arms round his neck-- Then folded to his heart his boy, And fainted on the deck.

G. P. Morris.

CCx.x.xV.

CATILINE ON HIS BANISHMENT FROM ROME.

Banished from Rome! What's banished, but set free, From daily contact of the things I loathe?

"Tried and convicted traitor!"--Who says this?

Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head?

Banished?--I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain!

I held some slack allegiance till this hour; But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords; I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, To leave you in your lazy dignities.

But here I stand and scoff you: here I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face.

Your consul's merciful. For this all thanks.

He dares not touch a hair of Catiline.

"Traitor!" I go but I return. This trial!-- Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs, To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel.

This day's the birth of sorrows!--This hour's work Will breed proscriptions. Look to your hearths, my lords; For there henceforth shall sit, for household G.o.ds, Shapes hot from Tartarus!--all shapes and crimes; Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones; Till anarchy comes down on you like Night, And ma.s.sacre seals Rome's eternal grave!

G. Croly.

CCx.x.xVI.

APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely sh.o.r.e, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be or have been before, To mingle with the Universe and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean--roll!

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin--his control Stops with the sh.o.r.e!--upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

His steps are not upon thy paths,--thy fields Are not a spoil for him,--thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, s.h.i.+vering in thy playful spray And howling, to his G.o.ds, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth:--there let him lay.

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain t.i.tle take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into the yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy sh.o.r.es are empires, changed in all save thee-- a.s.syria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?

Thy watery wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their sh.o.r.es obey The stranger, slave or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts:--not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play-- Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow-- Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Gla.s.ses itself in tempests: in all time, Calm or convulsed--in breeze, or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving;--boundless, endless, and sublime-- The image of Eternity--the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.