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Roll'd like a torrent o'er the rest. . | Forms in his phalanx each Janizar; He sue for mercy! He dismay'd
Alp at their head; his right arm is be By wild words of a timid maid !
So is the blade of his scimitar; He, wrong'd by Venice, vow to save The khan and the pachas are all at 1 Her sons devoted to the grave!
post; No-though that cloud were thunder's | The vizier himself at the head of the
When the calverin's signal is fired, then And charged to crush him-let it burst! Leave not in Corinth a living one
A priest at her altars, a chief in her hi
A hearth in her mansions, a stone on He look'd upon it carnestly,
walls. Without an accent of reply;
God and the prophet-Alla Hu! He watch'd it passing; it is flown :
| Up to the skies with that wild hallo Full on his eye the clear moon shone,
“There the breach lies for passage. And thus he spake_“Whate'er my fate,
ladder to scal I am no changeling—'tis too late :
And your hands on your sabres, and The reed in storms may bow and quiver,
should ye fai Then rise again; the tree must shiver.
He who first downs with the red What Venice made me, I must be
may crave Her foe in all, save love to thee :
His heart's dearest wish; let him asl But thou art safe: oh, fly with me!”
and have !" He turn'd, but she is gone!
Thus utter'd Coumourgi , the daunt Nothing is there but the column-stone.
vizier; Hath she sunk in the earth, or melted in air? | The reply was the brandish of sabre He saw not, he knew not; but nothing is
spear, there. And the shout of fierce thousands in joj
ire : The night is past, and shines the sun Sileoce-hark to the signal--fire! As if that morn were a jocund one. Lightly and brightly breaks away The Morning from her mantle gray,
As the wolves, that headlong go And the Noon will look on a sultry day.
On the stately buffalo, Hark to the trump, and the drum,
Thongh with fiery eyes, and angry r And the mournful sound of the barbarous
| And hoofs that stamp, and horns that 8 horn,
He tramples on earth, or tosses on hi And the flap of the banners, that flit as
The foremost, who rush on his stret they're borne,
but to die: And the neigh of the steed, and the mul
Thus against the wall they went, titude's hum,
Thus the first were backward bent; And the clash, and the shout, “they come,
Many a bosom, sheath'd in brass, they come!”
Strew'd the earth like broken glass, The horsetails are pluck'd from the ground,
| Shiver'd by the shot, that tore and the sword
| The ground whereon they moved no From its sheath ; and they form, and but
Even as they fell, in files they lay, wait for the word.
Like the mower's grass at the close of Tartar, and Spahi, and Turcoman,
When his work is done on the lev Strike your tents, and throng to the van;
s... Mount ye, spur ye, skirr the plain,
Such was the fall of the foremost sla That the fugitive may flee in vain, When he breaks from the town; and none. As the spring-tides, with heavy pl
From the cliffs invading dash Aged or young, in the Christian shape; Huge fragments, sapp'd by the ceas While your fellows on foot, in a fiery mass,
flow, Bloodstain the breach through which they Till white and thundering down they
Like the avalanche's snow The steeds are all bridled, and snort to the On the Alpine vales below :
Thus at length, outbreathed and wor Curved is each neck, and flowing each Corinth's sons were downward borne
By the long and oft renew'd White is the foam of their champ on the charge of the Moslem multitude.
In firmness they stood, and in masses The spears are uplifted; the matches are lit;
fell, The cannon are pointed and ready to roar, Heap'd by the host of the infidel, And crush the wall they have crumbled Hand to hand, and foot to foot:
| Nothing there, save death, was mute;
Stroke, and thrust, and flash, and cry P atroclus' spirit less was pleased
Than his, Minotti's son, who died
For thousands of years were inhumed on If with them, or for their foes;
the shore; If they must mourn, or may rejoice What of them is left, to tell In that annihilating voice,
Where they lie, and how they fell? Which pierces the deep hills through and Not a stone on their turf, nor a boue in through
their graves; With an echo dread and new:
But they live in the verse that immortally Tan might have heard it, on that day, O'er Salamis and Megara; (We have heard the hearers say,)
Hark to the Allah shout! a band Esca uste Piraeus bay.
of the Mussulman bravest and best is at
hand : From the point of encountering blades Their leader's nervous arm is bare, .
to the hilt, Swifter to smite, and never to spareSabres and swords with blood were gilt; Uuclothed to the shoulder it waves them on; Bat the rampart is won, and the spoil | Thus in the fight is he ever known:
Others a gaudier garb may show,
But none on a steel more ruddily gilt: Hard to the haste of flying feet,
Many a loftier turban may wear, That splash in the blood of the slippery Alp is but known by the white arm bare;
Look through the thick of the fight, 'tis But here and there, where 'vantage-ground
there! Against the foe may still be found,
There is not a standard on that shore Desperate groups, of twelve or ten, So well advanced the ranks before; Make a pause, and turn again
There is not a banner in Moslem war
It glances like a falling star!
The bravest be, or late have been ;
| There the craven cries for quarter white,
Vainly to the vengeful Tartar; But his veteran arm was full of might:
Or the hero, silent lying, gallantly bore he the brunt of the fray,
Scorns to yield a groan in dying; The dead before him on that day
Mustering his last feeble blow ba semicircle lay;
'Gainst the nearest levellid foe, $11 be combated unwounded,
Though faint beneath the mutual wound, Theragh retreating, unsurrounded.
Grappling on the gory ground. Many a scar of former fight worked beneath his corslet bright; . but of every wound his body bore,
Still the old man stood erect,
And Alp's career a moment check'd.
Though the life of thy gift would last for
“Francesca!- Oh my promised bride! Of all he might have been the sire
Must she too perish by thy pride ?”
“She is safe.”_"Where? where ?"_“In His wrath made many a childless foe;
heaven, And since the day, when in the strait From whence thy traitor-goul is drivenMis only boy had met his fate,
Far from thee, and undefiled.” His parent's iron hand did doom
Grimly then Minotti smiled, More than a human hecatomb.
As he saw Alp staggering bow If shades by carnage be appeased,
Before his words, as with a blow.
"Oh God! when died she?" -- "Yester-1 Brief breathing-time! the turban'd h
With added ranks and raging boast, Nor weep I for her spirit's flight:
Press onwards with such strength and h None of my pure race shall be
Their numbers balk their own retreat; Slares to Mahomet and thee
For narrow the way that led to the spo Come on!"_That challenge is in vain- Where still the Christians yielded not; Alp's already with the slain !
And the foremost, if fearful, may vainly While Minotti's words were wreaking Through the massy column to turn and More revenge in bitter speaking
They perforce must do or die. Than his falchion's point had found, They die; but, ere their eyes could clo Had the time allow'd to wound,
Avengers o'er their bodies rose; From within the neighbouring porch Fresh and furious, fast they fill Of a long defended church,
The ranks unthinn'd, though slaught Where the last and desperate few
still; Would the failing fight renew,
And faint the weary Christians wax The sharp shot dash'd Alp to the ground; Before the still renewid attacks: Ere an eye could view the wound
And now the Othmans gain the gate; That crash'd through the brain of the insidel, Still resists its iron weight, Round he spun, and down he fell;
And still, all deadly aim'd and hot, A flash like fire within his eyes
From every crevice comes the shot; Blazed, as he bent no more to rise,
From every shatter'd window pour And then eternal darkness sunk
The volleys of the sulphurous shower Through all the palpitating trunk; But the portal varering grows and wea Nought of life left, save a quivering The iron yields, the hinges creak-Where his limbs were slightly shivering: It bends it falls—and all is o'er; They turn'd him on his back ; his breast Lost Corinth may resist no more! And brow were staind with gore and
dust, And through his lips the life-blood oozed,
Darkly, sternly, and all alone, From its deep veins lately loosed;
Minotti stood o'er the altar-stone: But in his pulse there was no throb,
Madonna's face upon him shone, Nor on his lips one dying sob;
Painted in heavenly hues above, Sigh, nor word, nor struggling breath
With eyes of light and looks of love; Heralded his way to death;
And placed upon that holy shrine Ere his very thodght could pray,
To fix our thoughts on things divine, Unaneal'd he pass'd away,
When pictured there, we kneeling see Without a hope from mercy's aid,
Her, and the Boy-God on her knee, To the last a renegade.
Smiling sweetly on each prayer
Still she smiled; even now she smiles, Fearfully the yell arose
Though slaughter streams along her ais Of his followers, and his foes;
Minotti lifted his aged eye, These in joy, in fury those :
And made the sign of a cross with a sig Then again in conflict mixing,
Then seized a torch which blazed there Clashing swords, and spears transfixing,
And still he stood, while, with steel Interchanged the blow and thrust,
flame, Hurling warriors in the dust.
Inward and onward the Mussulman can Street by street, and foot by foot, Still Minotti dares dispute
The vaults beneath the mosaic stone The latest portion of the land
Containd the dead of ages gone; Left beneath his high command;
Their names were on the graven floor, With him, aiding heart and hand,
But now illegible with gore; The remnant of his gallant band.
The carved crests, and curious hues Still the church is tenable,
The varied marble's veins diffuse, Whence issued late the fated ball
Were smeard, and slippery-stain'd. 'That half avenged the city's fall,
strown When Alp, her fierce assailant, fell : With broken swords, and helms o'erthro Thither bending sternly back,
There were dead above, and the dead be They leave before a bloody track;
Lay cold in many a coffin'd row; And, with their faces to the foe,
You might see them piled in sable state Dealing wounds with every blow,
By a pale light through a gloomy gral The chief, and his retreating train, But War had enter'd their dark caves, Join to those within the fane:
And stored along the vaulted graves There they yet may breathe awhile, Her sulphurous treasures, thickly sprei Shelter'd by the massy pile.
In masses by the fleshless dend;
Here, throughout the siege, had been | Proclaim'd the desperate conflict o'er
On that too long afflicted shore:
All that mingled there below: Against the foe's o'erwhelming force. Many a tall and goodly man,
Scorch'd and shrivell’d to a span, The foe came on, and few remain
When he fell to earth again To strive, and those must strive in vain :
|Like a cinder strew'd the plain : For lack of further lives, to slake
Down the ashes shower like rain; The thirst of vengeance now awake,
Some fell in the gulf, which received the With barbarous blows they gash the dead, And lop the already lifeless head,
With a thousand circling wrinkles; And fell the statues from their niche,
Some fell on the shore, but far away, And spoil the shrines of offerings rich,
Scatter'd o'er the isthmus lay; And from each other's rude hands wrest
Christian or Moslem, which be they? The silver vessels saints had bless'd.
Let their mothers see and say ! To the high altar on they go;
When in cradled rest they lay, 01. but it made a glorious show!
And each nursing mother smiled On its table still behold
On the sweet sleep of her child, The cop of consecrated gold;
Little deem'd she such a day Haay and deep, a glittering prize,
Would rend those tender limbs away. Brightly it sparkles to plunderers' eyes :
Not the matrons that them bore That morn it held the holy wine,
Could discern their offspring more; Converted by Christ to his blood so divine,
| That one moment left no trace
More of human form or face Which his worshippers drank at the break of day,
Save a scatter'd scalp or bone: To shrive their souls ere they join'd in the
And down came blazing rafters, strown
Around, and many a falling stone, fray. Still a few drops within it lay;
Deeply dinted in the clay, land round the sacred table glow
All blacken'd there and reeking lay. velve lofty lamps, in splendid row,
All the living things that heard From the purest metal cast;
That deadly earth-shock disappear'u : spoil—the richest, and the last.
The wild birds flew; the wild dogs fled,
The camels from their keepers broke;
And burst his girth, and tore his rein ; Teachd with the torch the train
The bull-frog's note, from out the marsh,
Deep-mouth'd arose, and doubly harsh ; fire, vaults, the shrine, the spoil, the slain, The wolves yelld on the cavernd hill, Ile turband victors, the Christian band, Where echo roll'd in thunder still; al that of living or dead remain,
The jackal's troop, in gather'd cry, bul'd on high with the shiver'd fane, | Bay'd from afar complainingly, kige wild roar expired!
With a mix'd and mournful sound, la shatter'd town – the walls thrown Like crying babe, and beaten hound: down
With sudden wing, and ruffled breast, wares a moment backward bent | The eagle left his rocky nest, Ite bills that shake, although unrent, And mounted nearer to the sun, s if an earthquake pass'd -
| The clouds beneath him seem'd so dun; The thousand shapeless things all driven Their smoke assaild his startled beak,
lead and Name athwart the heaven, And made him higher soar and shriekBy that tremendous blast
| Thus was Corinth lost and won!
PA RISI N A.
the facts on which the story is founded. T SCROPE BERDMORE DAVIES, ESO. name of Azo is substituted for Nicholas, THE FOLLOWING POEM IS INSCRIBED BY ONE
more metrical. WHO HAS LONG ADMIRED HIS TALENTS AND
“Under the reign of Nicholas III. Ferra VALUED HIS FRIENDSHIP.
was polluted with a domestic tragedy. I January 22, 1816.
the testimony of an attendant, and his ov
observation, the Marquis of Este discover ADVERTISEMENT.
the incestuous loves of his wife Parisit The following poem is grounded on a and Hugo his bastard-son, a beautiful a circumstance mentioned in Gibbon's "Anti-) valiant youth. They were beheaded in quities of the House of Brunswick.”-I am castle by the sentence of a father and h aware that in modern times the delicacy band, who published his shame, and s or fastidiousness of the reader may deem vived their execution. He was unfortuna such subjects unfit for the purposes of poetry. if they were guilty; if they were inuoce The Greek dramatists, and some of the best he was still more unfortunate; nor is th of our old English writers, were of a differ- any possible situation in which I can & ent opinion: as Alfieri and Schiller have cerely approve the last act of the justice also been, more recently, upon the con- a parent." _ Gibbon's Miscellaneous Hot tinent. The following extract will explain /vol. III. p. 470.
It is the hour when from the boughs And heedless as the dead are they The nightingale's high note is heard ; Of aught around, above, beneath ; It is the hour when lovers' vows
| As if all else had pass'd away, Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; They only for each other breathe; And gentle winds, and waters near, Their very sighs are full of joy Make music to the lonely ear.
So deep, that did it not decay, Each flower the dews have lightly wet, That happy madness would destroy And in the sky the stars are met,
The hearts which feel its fiery sway: And on the wave is deeper blue,
Of guilt, or peril, do they deem And on the leaf a browner hue,
In that tumultuous tender dream? And in the heaven that clear-obscure, Who that have felt that passion's powe So softly dark, and darkly pure,
Or paused, or fear'd in such an hour? Which follows the decline of day,
Or thought how brief such moments I As twilight melts beneath the moon away. But yet— they are already past !
Alas! we must awake before
We know such vision comes no more. But it is not to list to the waterfall That Parisina leaves her hall, And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light! With many a lingering look they 1 That the lady walks in the shadow of night; The spot of guilty gladness past; And if she sits in Este's bower,
And though they hope, and vow, they gri Tis not for the sake of its full-blown flower-As if that parting were the last. She listens--but not for the nightingale- The frequent sigh-the long embrace Though her ear expects as soft a tale. The lip that there would cling for There glides a step through the foliage While gleams on Parisina's face
The Heaven she fears will not forgive And her cheek grows pale—and her heart As if each calmly conscious star
beats quick, Beheld her frailty from afar There whispers a voice through the rustling The frequent sigh, the long embrace,
Yet binds them to their trysting-plac A moment more--and they shall meet But it must come, and they must par 'Tis past- her lover's at her feet.
In fearful heaviness of heart,
With all the deep and shuddering ch And what unto them is the world beside,!
Which follows fast the deeds of ill. With all its change of time and tide? Its living things--its earth and sky
And Hugo is gone to his lonely be Are nothing to their mind and eye. ! To covet there another's bride ;