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Let Burke, like a bat, from its splendour retire,

A splendour too strong for his eyes;
Let pedants and fools his effusions admire,

Entrapp'd in his cobwebs like flies.
Shall frenzy and sophistry hope to prevail

When reason opposes her weight, When the welfare of millions is hung in the scale,

And the balance yet trembles with fate? Ah! who mid the darkness of night would abide

That can taste the sweet breezes of morn? And who that has drunk of the crystalline tide

To the feculent flood would return ? When the bosom of beauty the throbbing heart

Ah! who would the transport decline? [meets, And who that has tasted of Liberty's sweets

The prize—but with life-would resign? But 'tis over, high Heaven the decision approves,

Oppression has struggled in vain ;
To the hell she had form’d Superstition removes,

And Tyranny gnaws her own chain.
In the records of Time a new era unfolds,

All nature exults in the birth,
His creation benign the Creator beholds,

And gives a new charter to earth. 0, catch its high import, ye winds, as ye blow !

0, bear it, ye waves, as ye roll ! From the nations that feel the sun's vertical glow

To the farthest extremes of the Pole. Equal rights, equal laws to the nations around,

Peace and friendship its precepts impart; And wherever the footsteps of man can be found,

May he bind the decree on his heart.

ROSCOE

THE HELOT'S SONG.

God of Armies, break my chain;
Lead me to the embattled plain,
Where thy daring sons advance,
Bend the bow, and wield the lance;-
Shafts are whizzing on the string !
Hark! the shouts of combat ring!
Nerve the limbs, the bosom steel;
Men their wounds no louger feel.

God of Armies, hear!
Long these eyes have pour'd a flood;
Others now shall weep in blood :
Now the fierce insulting foe
Shall partake the Helot's woe;
Gasping on the well fought field,
Tyranny her scourge shall yield.
Couch the javelin—urge the steed-
Try how gallant men can bleed.

God of Armies, hear!
Hear the proud exulting cry,
When the noble spirits fly,
Soaring from the mortal cage,
Only subject of your rage,
Baffled tyrants ! 'weep forlorn,
Break the scourge, your rage we scorn, -
Mars, receive our votive breath,-
Give us freedom, give us death!'

God of Armies, hear!
When the bones on earth shall lie,
Weltering to the summer's sky,
Though no sepulture they find,
Though they whiten to the wind,

Yet exult not, haughty foe,
Deem them not a sight of woe:
On the field they shall remain,
Trophies of the glorious slain!

God of Armies, hear!
Strains of war let clarions sing,
Let the shouts of battle ring,
Let the volley'd weapons fly,
Dust of combat dim the sky!
In the dread conflicting hour,
Freedom, let me own thy power;
Freedom, take my parting breath,
Godlike trance, ennobled death!-

God of Armies, hear!
Freedom now revives, though late;
Maid divine, to wed with Fate;
For the nuptial pomp, around
Banners wave, and trumpets sound,
Veins of men libations pour,
Sacred to the genial hour:
Be their offspring death or life,
Lead me to the generous strife.

God of Armies, hear!
Mid the din of mortal harms,
Fold me, Freedom, in thine arms :
Let me in thy lap be laid
When the final debt is paid.
Still the foe, possess’d with dread,
Shall confess A MAN lies dead :
Valiant Helots, never yield-
Follow, follow to the field!

God of Armies, hear! PRESTON.

SONG OF THE GREEKS.

AGAiN to the battle, Achaians!
Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance;
Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tret-
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free!
For the cross of our faith is replanted,
The pale dying crescent is daunted; (slaves
And we march that the foot-prints of Mahomet's
May be wash'd out in blood from our forefather's
Their spirits are hovering o'er us, [graves.
And the sword shall to glory restore us.
Ah! what though no succour advances,
Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances
Are stretch'd in our aid—be the combat our own!
And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone.
For we've sworn by our country's assaulters,
By the virgins they've dragg'd from our altars,
By our massacred patriots, our children in chains,
By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins,
That living, we shall be victorious !
Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious!
A breath of submission we breathe not;
The sword that we've drawn we will sheath not;
Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid,
And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade.
Earth may hide, waves engulf, fire consume us;
But they shall not to slavery doom us:
If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves;
But we've smote them already with fire on the

waves,
And new triumphs on land are before us.
To the charge! Heaven's banner is o'er us,

This day shall we blush for its story,
Or brighten our lives with its glory! [spair,
Our women -Oh, say, shall they shriek in de-
Or embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their
Accursed may his memory blacken, [hair?
If a coward there be that would slacken,
Till we've trampled the turban, and shown our-
selves worth

[earth.
Being sprung from, and named for, the godlike of
Strike home and the world shall revere us
As heroes descended from heroes,

Old Greece lightens up with emotion
Her islands, her isles of the ocean ; [ring,
Fanes rebuilt, and fair towns shall with jubilee
And the Nine shall new hallow their Helicon's
Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness, (spring.
That were cold and extinguish'd in sadness;
Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white

waving arms,
Singing joy to the brave that deliver'd their charms,
When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens
Shall have crimson'd the beak of our ravens !

CAMPBELL.

CHEROKEE DEATH SONG.

THE sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, But glory remains when their lights fade away; Begin, ye tormentors ! your threats are in vain, For the son of Alknomook shall never complain.

VOL. UI.

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