Accurs'd be the faggots, that blaze at his feet, With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale LOCHIEL. Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale: For never shall Albin a destiny meet, So black with dishonour, so foul with retreat. Tho' my perishing ranks should be strew'd in their gore, Like ocean weeds heap'd on the surf-beaten shore, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe! And, leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heav'n from the death-bed of fame. HOHENLINDEN. ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array'd, Each horseman drew his battle-blade, And furious every charger neigh'd, To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills, with thunder riven; Then flew the steed, to battle driven; And, louder than the bolts of Heaven, But redder yet that light shall glow, And bloodier yet, the torrent flow 'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few, shall part, where many meet! The snow shall be their winding sheet, And every turf, beneath their feet, Shall be a soldier's sepulchre! NOTES ON PART I. Note. And such thy strength-inspiring aid that bore The hardy Byron to his native shore. The following picture of his own distress, given by Byron in his simple and interesting narrative, justifies the description in p. 10. After relating the barbarity of the Indian Cacique to his child, he proceeds thus:-" A day or two after, we put to sea again, and crossed the great bay I mentioned we had been at the bottom of, when we first hauled away to the westward. The land here was very low |