When the pittance, which shame had wrung from the at last, And which found all his wants at an end, was return'd!* “Was this, then, the fate”—future ages will say, When some names shall live but in history's curse; When Truth will be heard, and these Lords of a day Be forgotten as fools, or remember'd as worse "Was this, then, the fate of that high-gifted man, "The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall, "The orator-dramatist-minstrel,-who ran (6 Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all! “Whose mind was an essence, compounded with art "From the finest and best of all other men's powers "Who ruled, like a wizard, the world of the heart, "And could call up its sunshine, or bring down its showers! * The sum was two hundred pounds-offered when Sh-r-d-n could no longer take any sustenance, and declined, for him, by his friends. "Whose humour, as gay as the fire-fly's light, "Play'd round every subject, and shone as it play'd— "Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright, "Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on-its blade ; "Whose eloquence-bright'ning whatever it tried, “Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave"Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide "As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave!" Yes-such was the man, and so wretched his fate ;— And thus, sooner or later, shall all have to grieve, Who waste their morn's dew in the beams of the Great, And expect 'twill return to refresh them at eve! In the woods of the North there are insects that prey On the brain of the elk till his last sigh; very * Oh, Genius! thy patrons, more cruel than they, * Naturalists have observed that, upon dissecting an elk, there was found in its head some large flies, with its brain almost eaten away by them.-History of Poland. VOL. V. 10 LINES Written on hearing that the Austrians had Carbone Notati! Ay-down to the dust with them, slaves as they are- 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 of Europe, and poison their shore! Let their fate be a mock-word-let 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, been free! Shame, shame--when there was not a bosom, whose heat Ever rose o'er the ZERO of —— -'s heart, That did not, like echo, your war-hymn repeat, And send all its prayers with your Liberty's start When the world stood in hope-when a spirit, that breathed The fresh air of the olden-time, whisper'd about, And the swords of all Italy, half-way unsheathed, But waited one conquering cry to flash out! When around you the shades of your Mighty in fame, Over Freedom's Apostles-fell kindling on you! Good God, that in such a proud moment of life, Worth the hist❜ry of ages-when, had you but hurl'd One bolt at your bloody invader, that strife world That then-oh disgrace upon manhood!—even then, You should falter-should cling to your pitiful breath, Cower down into beasts, when you might have stood men, And prefer the slave's life of damnation to 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 light, tread it out, And return to your empire of darkness once more. For, if such are the braggarts that claim to be free, |