Fast from his eyes the ruddy lightning broke,
To Heaven he rear'd his arm and thus he spoke :

'Woe, trebly woe to their slow zeal who bore Delusive comfort to Iberia's shore!

Who in mid conquest, vaunting, yet dismay'd,
Now gave and now withdrew their laggard aid;
Who when each bosom glow'd, each heart beat high,
Chill'd the pure stream of England's energy,

And lost in courtly forms and blind delay
The loiter'd hours of glory's short-lived day.

"O peerless island, generous, bold and free, Lost, ruin❜d Albion, Europe mourns for thee! Hadst thou but known the hour in mercy given To stay thy doom, and ward the ire of Heaven; Bared in the cause of man thy warrior breast, And crush'd on yonder hills the approaching pest, Then had not murder sack'd thy smiling plain, And wealth, and worth, and wisdom, all been vain! Yet, yet awake! while fear and wonder wait On the poised balance, trembling still with fate! If aught their worth can plead, in battle tried, Who tinged with slaughter Tajo's curdling tide; (What time base truce the wheels of war could stay, And the weak victor flung his wreath away ;)— Or theirs, who, doled in scanty bands afar, Waged without hope the disproportion'd war, And cheerly still, and patient of distress,

Led their forwasted files on numbers numberless! Yes, through the march of many a weary day, dark column toils its seaward way;

As

yon

D

As bare, and shrinking from the inclement sky,
The languid soldier bends him down to die;
As o'er those helpless limbs, by murder gored,
The base pursuer waves his weaker sword,
And, trod to earth, by trampling thousands press'd,
The horse-hoof glances from that mangled breast;-
E'en in that hour his hope to England flies,
And fame and vengeance fire his closing eyes.

"Oh! if such hope can plead, or his, whose bier
Drew from his conquering host their latest tear;
Whose skill, whose matchless valour gilded flight:
Entomb'd in foreign dust, a hasty soldier's rite;
Oh! rouse thee yet to conquer and to save,
And wisdom guide the sword which justice gave!

"And yet the end is not! from yonder towers
While one Saguntum mocks the victor's powers:
While one brave heart defies a servile chain,
And one true soldier wields a lance for Spain;
Trust not, vain tyrant, though thy spoiler band
In tenfold myriads darken half the land;
(Vast as that power, against whose impious lord
Bethulia's matron shook the nightly sword ;)
Though ruth and fear thy woundless soul defy,
And fatal genius fire thy martial eye :

Yet trust not here o'er yielding realms to roam,
Or cheaply bear a bloodless laurel home.

No! by His viewless arm whose righteous care Defends the orphan's tear, the poor man's prayer; Who, Lord of Nature, o'er this changeful ball Decrees the rise of empires, and the fall;

Wondrous in all His ways, unseen, unknown,
Who treads the wine-press of the world alone
And robed in darkness, and surrounding fears,
Speeds on their destined road the march of years!
No!-shall yon eagle, from the snare set free,
Stoop to thy wrist, or cower his wing for thee?
And shall it tame despair, thy strong controul,
Or quench a nation's still reviving soul?—
Go, bid the force of countless bands conspire
To curb the wandering wind, or grasp the fire!
Cast thy vain fetters on the troublous sea!
But Spain, the brave, the virtuous, shall be free."

THE

PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA.

WITH heat o'erlabour'd and the length of way,
On Ethan's beach the bands of Israel lay.
'Twas silence all, the sparkling sands along;
Save where the locust trill'd her feeble song,
Or blended soft in drowsy cadence fell
The wave's low whisper or the camel's bell.—
'Twas silence all!-the flocks for shelter fly
Where, waving light, the acacia shadows lie;
Or where, from far, the flattering vapours make
The noon-tide semblance of a misty lake:
While the mute swain, in careless safety spread,
With arms enfolded, and dejected head,
Dreams o'er his wondrous call, his lineage high,
And, late reveal'd, his children's destiny.—
For, not in vain, in thraldom's darkest hour,
Had sped from Amram's sons the word of power;
Nor fail'd the dreadful wand, whose god-like sway
Could lure the locust from her airy way;
With reptile war assail their proud abodes,
And mar the giant pomp of Egypt's Gods.

Oh helpless Gods! who nought avail❜d to shield
From fiery rain your Zoan's favour'd field !—
Oh helpless Gods! who saw the curdled blood
Taint the pure lotus of your ancient flood,
And four-fold night the wondering earth enchain,
While Memnon's orient harp was heard in vain !
Such musings held the tribes, till now the west
With milder influence on their temples prest;
And that portentous cloud which, all the day,
Hung its dark curtain o'er their weary way,
(A cloud by day, a friendly flame by night,)
Roll'd back its misty veil, and kindled into light!-
Soft fell the eve :-But, ere the day was done,
Tall waving banners streak'd the level sun;
And wide and dark along the horizon red,

In sandy surge the rising desert spread.—

Mark, Israel, mark!"—On that strange sight intent, In breathless terror, every eye was bent;

And busy faction's fast-increasing hum,

ર

And female voices shriek, They come, they come !
They come, they come ! in scintillating show
O'er the dark mass the brazen lances glow;
And sandy clouds in countless shapes combine,
As deepens or extends the long tumultuous line ;—
And fancy's keener glance ev'n now may trace
The threatening aspects of each mingled race :
For many a coal-black tribe and cany spear,
The hireling guards of Misraim's throne, were there.
From distant Cush they troop'd, a warrior train,
Siwah's green isle and Sennaar's marly plain :