Even to the death: else wherefore should the eye

Of man converse with immortality?

ON THE FINAL SUBMISSION OF THE TYROLESE 1809. 1815

It was a moral end for which they fought; Else how, when mighty Thrones were put to shame,

Could they, poor Shepherds, have preserved an aim,

A resolution, or enlivening thought?
Nor hath that moral good been vainly
sought;

For in their magnanimity and fame
Powers have they left, an impulse, and a

claim

Which neither can be overturned nor bought.

Sleep, Warriors, sleep! among your hills repose!

We know that ye, beneath the stern control Of awful prudence, keep the unvanquished soul:

And when, impatient of her guilt and woes, Europe breaks forth; then, Shepherds! shall ye rise

For perfect triumph o'er your Enemies.

"HAIL, ZARAGOZA! IF WITH
UNWET EYE"
1809. 1815

HAIL, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye
We can approach, thy sorrow to behold,
Yet is the heart not pitiless nor cold;
Such spectacle demands not tear or sigh.
These desolate remains are trophies high
Of more than martial courage in the breast
Of peaceful civic virtue: they attest
Thy matchless worth to all posterity.
Blood flowed before thy sight without
remorse;

Disease consumed thy vitals; War upheaved

The ground beneath thee with volcanic force:

Dread trials! yet encountered and sustained

Till not a wreck of help or hope remained, And law was from necessity received.

With heroes, 'mid the islands of the Blest, Or in the fields of empyrean light.

A meteor wert thou crossing a dark night: Yet shall thy name, conspicuous and sublime,

Stand in the spacious firmament of time,
Fixed as a star: such glory is thy right.
Alas! it may not be: for earthly fame
Is Fortune's frail dependant; yet there lives
A Judge, who, as man claims by merit,
gives;

To whose all-pondering mind a noble aim,
Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed;
In whose pure sight all virtue doth suc-
ceed.

"IS THERE A POWER THAT CAN
SUSTAIN AND CHEER"
1809. 1815

Is there a power that can sustain and cheer
The captive chieftain, by a tyrant's doom,
Forced to descend into his destined tomb
A dungeon dark! where he must waste the
year,

And lie cut off from all his heart holds dear;

What time his injured country is a stage Whereon deliberate Valour and the rage Of righteous Vengeance side by side appear,

Filling from morn to night the heroic scene With deeds of hope and everlasting praise:

Say can he think of this with mind serene And silent fetters? Yes, if visions bright Shine on his soul, reflected from the days When he himself was tried in open light.

"AH! WHERE IS PALAFOX? NOR TONGUE NOR PEN" 1810. 1815

AH! where is Palafox? Nor tongue nor pen

Reports of him, his dwelling or his grave! Does yet the unheard-of vessel ride the wave?

Or is she swallowed up, remote from ken Of pitying human nature? Once again Methinks that we shall hail thee, Champion brave,

Redeemed to baffle that imperial Slave, And through all Europe cheer desponding

men

With new-born hope. Unbounded is the might

Of martyrdom, and fortitude, and right. Hark, how thy Country triumphs ! — Smilingly

The Eternal looks upon her sword that gleams,

Like his own lightning, over mountains high,

On rampart, and the banks of all her

streams.

"IN DUE OBSERVANCE OF AN

ANCIENT RITE"
1810. 1815

IN due observance of an ancient rite,
The rude Biscayans, when their children lie
Dead in the sinless time of infancy,
Attire the peaceful corse in vestments
white;

And, in like sign of cloudless triumph bright,

They bind the unoffending creature's brows With happy garlands of the pure white

rose:

Then do a festal company unite

In choral song; and, while the uplifted

cross

Of Jesus goes before, the child is borne Uncovered to his grave: 't is closed, — her

loss

The Mother then mourns, as she needs must mourn;

But soon, through Christian faith, is grief subdued;

And joy returns, to brighten fortitude.

FEELINGS OF A NOBLE BISCAYAN AT ONE OF THOSE FUNERALS

1810. 1815

YET, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our
Foes

With firmer soul, yet labour to regain
Our ancient freedom; else 't were worse

than vain

To gather round the bier these festal shows. A garland fashioned of the pure white rose Becomes not one whose father is a slave: Oh, bear the infant covered to his grave! These venerable mountains now enclose