Beneath the shade of thy golden wings,
The Roman legions bore,
From the river of Egypt's cloudy springs,
Their pride, to the polar shore.

For thee they fought, for thee they fell,
And their oath was on thee laid;
To thee the clarions raised their swell,
And the dying warriour prayed.
Thou wert, through an age of death and fears,
The image of pride and power,

Till the gathered rage of a thousand years
Burst forth in one awful hour.

And then, a deluge of wrath it came,
And the nations shook with dread;
And it swept the earth till its fields were flame,
And piled with the mingled dead.
Kings were rolled in the wasteful flood,
With the low and crouching slave;
And together lay, in a shroud of blood,

The coward and the brave.

And where was then thy fearless flight?
'O'er the dark mysterious sea,

To the lands that caught the setting light,
The cradle of Liberty.

There, on the silent and lonely shore,

For ages I watched alone,

And the world, in its darkness, asked no more Where the glorious bird had flown.

'But then came a bold and hardy few,
And they breasted the unknown wave;
I caught afar the wandering crew,

And I knew they were high and brave.
I wheeled around the welcome bark,
As it sought the desolate shore;
And up to heaven, like a joyous lark,
My quivering pinions bore.

And now that bold and hardy few
Are a nation wide and strong,

And danger and doubt I have led them through,
And they worship me in song;

And over their bright and glancing arms,

On field and lake and sea,

With an eye that fires, and a spell that charms,
I guide them to victory.'

CASABIANCA.-Mrs. Hemans.

[Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the battle of the Nile,) after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder.]

THE boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck,
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.

The flames rolled on-he would not go,
Without his father's word;

That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud-Say, father, say
If yet my task is done?'
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

'Speak, father!' once again he cried,
IfI may yet be gone!'-

And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair;

And looked from that lone post of death,
In still yet brave despair-

And shouted but once more aloud,

(

My father! must I stay?'

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroua, The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapped the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound-
The boy-oh! where is he?
-Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strow the sea!

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part-
But the noblest thing that perish'd there,
Was that young and faithful heart.

REGULUS.-Dale.

URGE me no more-your prayers are vain,
And even the tears ye shed:
When I can lead to Rome again,
The bands that once I led;
When I can raise your legion's slain
On swarthy Lybia's fatal plain,
To vengeance from the dead;

Then will I seek once more a home,
And lift a freeman's voice in Rome!

Accursed moment! when I woke From faintness all but death,

And felt the coward conqueror's yoke
Like venomed serpents wreath
Round every limb;-if lip and eye
Betrayed no sign of agony,

Inly I cursed my breath-
Wherefore of all that fought, was I
The only wretch who could not die?

To darkness and to chains consigned,
The captive's fighting doom,

I recked not; could they chain the mind,
Or plunge the soul in gloom?
And there they left me, dark and lone,
Till darkness had familiar grown;
Then from that living tomb

They led me forth-I thought, to die-
Oh! in that thought was ecstasy!

But no-kind Heaven had yet in store For me, a conquered slave,

A joy I thought to feel no more, Or feel but in the grave.

They deemed perchance my haughtier mood Was quelled by chains and solitude;

That he who once was brave-
Was I not brave-had now become
Estranged from Honour, as from Rome.

They bade me to my country bear
The offers these have borne;-
They would have trained my lips to swear,
Which never yet have sworn.
Silent their base commands I heard,
At length, I pledged a Roman's word
Unshrinking to return.

I go-prepared to meet the worst, But I shall gall proud Carthage first.

They sue for peace,-I bid you spurn The gilded bait they bear,

I bid you still, with aspect stern, War, ceaseless war, declare.

Fools as they were, could not mine eye,
Through their dissembled calmness, spy

The struggles of despair?
Else had they sent this wasted frame,
To bribe you to your country's shame?

Your land-(I must not call it mine;
No country has the slave;
His father's name he must resign,
And even his father's grave-

But this not now)-beneath her lies
Proud Carthage and her destinies:
Her empire o'er the wave

Is yours; she knows it well-and you,
Shall know, and make her feel it too.

Ay, bend your brows, ye ministers
Of coward hearts, on me;

Ye know no longer it is hers,
The empire of the sea-

Ye know her fleets are far and few,
Her bands, a mercenary crew;

And Rome, the bold and free,
Shall trample on her prostrate towers,
Despite your weak and wasted powers.

One path alone remains for me;-
My vows were heard on high;
Thy triumphs, Rome, I shall not see,
For I return to die.

Then tell me not of hope or life;

I have in Rome no chaste fond wife,
No smiling progeny;

One word concentres for the slave--
Wife, children; country, all—

THE GRAVE.

PITT ON AMERICAN AFFAIRS IN 1775.

WHEN your lordships have perused the papers transmitted us from America; when you consider the dignity, the firmness, and the wisdom with which the Americans have acted, you cannot but respect their cause. History, my lords, has been my favourite study; and, in the celebrated writings of antiquity, have I often admired the patriotism of Greece and Rome; but, my lords, I must declare and avow, that, in the master states of the world I know not the people, nor the senate, who, in such a complication of difficult circumstances, can stand in preference to the delegates of America, assembled in General Congress at Philadelphia.

I trust it is obvious to your lordships, that all attempts to impose servitude upon such men, to establish despotism over such a mighty continental nation, must be vain, must