AMUSING CHRONICLE, a Weekly Repository for MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. No. X.] NOVEMBER 21, 1816. [VOL. I. Price only Four Pence. THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. We select from the Third Canto, just published, of LORD BYRON'S Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, the following picture of the Battle of Waterloo. Many beautiful passages will be found in it, but it is not free from many glaring defects. Its prin cipal viciousness is an inertness of feeling and a quaintness of expression little suited to the subject. There was a sound of revelry by night, The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave inen ; Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! 'Did ye not hear it ?-No; 'twas but the wind, But, hark!-that heavy sound breaks in once more, And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm, it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar! Within a windowed niche of that high hall Macpherson, Printer, Russell Court, Covent Garden. And when they smiled 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, Or whispering, with white lips "The foe! They come, they come!" And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose! Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes :- And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine; And his was of the bravest, and when shower'd There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring. I turn'd to thee, to thousands of whom each In his own kind and kindred whom to teach The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake Those whom they thirst for; though the sound of Fame The fever of vain longing, and the name So honoured but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim. They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling, mourn ; The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn ; The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall In massy hoariness; the ruined wall Stands when its wind-worn battlments are gone; The bars survive the captive they enthral; The day drags through though storms keep out the sun; And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on : Even as a broken mirror, which the glass In every fragment multiplies; and makes A thousand images of one that was, The same, and still the more, the more it breaks; Shewing no visible sign, for such things are untold. There is a very life in our despair, Vitality of poison-a quick root Which feeds these deadly branches; for it were Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit, Like to the appples on the Dead Sea's shore, Such hours 'gainst years of life,-say, would he name three-score? The Psalmist numbered out the years of man : They are enough; and if thy tale be true, Thou, who didst grudge him even that fleeting span, There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men, One moment of the mightiest, and again Extreme in all things! hadst thou been betwixt, Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou! Who deem'd thee for a time whate'er thou didst assert. Oh, more or less than man- Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of war, Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the turning tide When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, With a sedate and all-enduring eye ; When Fortune fled her spoil'd and favourite child, Sager than in thy fortunes; for in them That just habitual scorns which could contemn And spurn the instruments thou wert to use So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot who choose. THE LIFE OF H. M. DE LATUDE, (Continued from page 135.) The great work still remained, the rope ladder by which they might descend from the tower; they unravelled all their linen, shirts, cravats, night-caps, napkins, stockings, handkerchiefs every thing that could supply them with thread, or silk. No ropemaker could have made a better cord than what they produced from these materials; and the length of it altogether amounted to near fourteen hundred feet. They made the rounds of the ladder of wood, and covered them with some flannel, lest the noise of their striking against the wall should be heard. Some of the superfluous cord was to serve as an additional security in case the ladder should break, or their heads should turn giddy at the height. All these preparations occupied them eighteen months; but it was necessary to ensure some means of escaping from the Governor's garden, which was surrounded by a high wall, and they determined to do this by working through it with two bars of iron from the chimney, which they covered with flannel to prevent noise. At length all was ready, and on the night of the 25th of February, 1756, they got safe from this tremendous prison. Latude first climbed the chimney, the labour of which made his hands and knees perfectly raw, and gave him great pain. He then drew up the various articles necessary for their escape by a cord, and assisted the ascent of his companion. They were then on the platform of the Bastille, and fixed on the tower du Trésor, as most favourable for their purpose; they then fastened one end of the ladder to a cannon, and taking the precaution before-mentioned of fixing the spare cord round his body, Latude descended; but it was very difficult, the battlements overhung the wall so |