"UBI MEL,

No. 17-NEW SERIES.]

SATURDAY, APRIL 27.

[TWOPENCE.

Upon that day, at five o'clock in the mornng, many of the inhabitants of Paris were at heir windows, hardly half-dressed, and coiffed their peaceful nightcaps One would have een tempted to laugh at certain grotesque gures who made themselves conspicuous mongst others, if the roaring of cannon heard t a distance in the direction of the canal de Ourcq, and the terror spread over the popu tion since the last evening, had not turned e thoughts of every one to that great event reparing, which infallibly must decide the rtunes of the empire. But the noise of the ums of the National Guard beating the asmbly through the streets, mixed with the ombing of cannon, which became more and ore distinct, had not closed every window, d this with the greater haste, as the atmohere was very gloomy and very cold. Durg this time endless groups were passing to d fro in the streets, the doors and shops of ich were every where shut. You would ve said that this eager multitude were imessed with but one sentiment-that of idle riosity. No indication of fear was expressed on the countenances of the people. The settes were gadding here and there as usual, king loud, and coquetting with those who voked them by their looks and gestures. all bodies of citizen militia were repairing haste to the places of their accustomed renvous. The greater part of the National ards had their loaves, or rather their wellked cakes, fixed to the ends of their bayets, and made a show especially before their y lasses of imitating the manners of our diers as closely as might be.

For the last eight days the capital had been hout any official intelligence from Napo

leon it was, however, well known that he was at this time in the neighbourhood of St. Dizier, but his absence, and the removal of the army, damped the hopes of a large proportion of the Parisians, and made them despair even of being succoured in time. The departure of the Empress. and her son, the King of Rome, gave the finishing blow to this discouragement, and the flight of the Ministers and heads of Departments, ended by turning every thing into disunion and tumult.

As soon as the more wealthy of the inhabitants knew with certainty that the allies were in full march upon the capital, nothing was thought of but capitulation; but the less rich, and those who had nothing to lose, desired to fight, for they had their glory at stake, which had been bought at the price of their chil. dren's blood thus the mechanics and workmen of the fauxbourgs had anxiously solicited for arms, which the others in especial took care should not be supplied them.

During this time Napoleon gave the enemy battle in the environs of St. Dizier. This last effort had the effect of rather hastening his downfall. Thinking he had sufficiently imposed upon the coalesced party, as to make them stationary for a time at least, he decided on leaving to his generals the care of covering Paris, while he himself undertook to manoeuvre on the rear divisions of Schwartzemberg. One intercepted despatch disclosed to the enemy his audacious and very bold project, and in consequence the allies lost no time in moving forward on Paris by forced marches, whither they had been invited by their agents, with whom they had kept up a constant correspondence.

On the 29th of March, being only a few days' march in rear of the enemy, he learnt at Doulevant, for the first time, by means of his scouts, of the danger with which Paris was threatened. He instantly ordered General Dejean, his aide-de-camp, to depart with all

speed to announce his arrival to his brother, Joseph Buonaparte. The General, besides his despatches, was the bearer of a private letter to King Joseph, together with several bulletins of the late events. In giving his instructions, Napoleon adds: "Aud, above all, recommend to my brother that all due precaution be had, lest my wife and child fall into the hands of the Cossacks." Then having chosen from among the best in his stables the fleetest horse, he set forward for Troyes, where he arrived at five o'clock, after having completed a journey of fifteen leagues, without having once unbridled his steed. On that day, and at that very hour, the battle was raging in all its fury under the walls of Paris.

The young soldiers of the Duke of Treviso (Mortier), and of Marshal Marmont, before giving up the capital to strangers, who were already in sight of it, were most desirous of making one last effort. A few thousand men formed the nucleus of the dépôts remaining in Paris; the pupils of the Polytechnic School formed in companies of artillery; the corps of sappers and miners, with five or six thousand brave Parisians, furnished from the National Guard, had gone out of the barriers that morning by break of day to take part in the combat. All these amounted to something less than 20,000, and yet not one amongst them despaired of making head against the enemy. The attack had began upon the wood of Romainville, by the advanced guard of the corps d'armée of Prince Schwartzemberg. The village of Pantin, taken and retaken several times, remained at length in possession of the French, and the allies had been so hard-pressed during the day as to be compelled to advance their reserves. The determined obstinacy and resistance of our troops multiplied the obstacles of the enemy to such a degree, that it was doubtful if the allies would gain possession of the heights that commanded Paris before nightfall.

From that time all was anxiety and speculation, for the approach of Napoleon, with his sudden presence among his troops (weak as they were), might still change the fortune of the day. But at twelve o'clock the plan of attack of the coalesced troops was entirely arranged and developed. Blucher arrived on the right, advanced with his Prussians along the plain St. Denis, directing his march on Montmartre; on the left the columns of Prince Wurtemberg were directing themselves upon Charron and Vincennes. From that moment our brave countrymen, surrounded on all sides, and more confined and restricted every hour, now lost all hope, and no longer fought but to die in the cause they had so well defended to the last. F. E.

(To be continued.)

LINES

WRITTEN BY LORD BYRON IN GREECE-BEING

THE LAST HE EVER COMPOSED.

Missolonghi, Jan. 22, 1824.

On this day I complete my 36th year.

"Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it has ceased to move;
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love.

My days are in the yellow leaf,

The flowers and fruits of love are gone,
The worm, the canker, and the grief,
Are mine alone.

The fire that in my bosom preys,
Is like to some volcanic isle,
No touch is kindled at its blaze ;-
A funeral pile.

The hopes, the fears, the jealous care,
The exalted portion of the pain,
And power of love I cannot share,
But wear the chain.

But 'tis not here-it is not here

Such thoughts should shake my soul;

nor now-

Where glory seals the hero's bier,

Ör binds his brow.

The sword, the banner, and the field,
Glory and Greece around us see;
The Spartan borne upon his shield-
Was not more free.

Awake! not Greece! she is awake!
Awake my spirit! think through whom
My life-blood tastes its parent lake—
And then strike home!

I tread reviving passions down,
Unworthy manhood-unto thee,
Indifferent should the smile or frown
Of beauty be.

If thou regret thy youth-why live?
The land of honourable death
Is here-up to the field, and give
Away thy breath.

Seek out-less often sought than found,
A soldier's grave, for thee the best,
Then look around and choose thy ground,
And take thy rest.

BYRON.

CHILDE HAROLD'S ADIEU TO ENG

LAND.

'Adieu, adieu! my native shore

Fades o'er the waters blue;

The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild seamew.
Yon sun that sets upon the sea

We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native land-good night.

"A few short hours and he will rise
To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,

Its hearth is desolate :
Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;
My dog howls at the gate.

"Come hither, hither, my little page!
Why dost thou weep and wail?
Or dost thou dread the billows rage?
Or tremble at the gale?

But dash the tear-drop from thine eye;
Our ship is swift and strong;
Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly
More merrily along."

'Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,
I fear not wave nor wind:
Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I
Am sorrowful in mind:

For I have from my father gone,
A mother whom I love,

And have no friend save these alone,
But thee-and One above.

'My father bless'd me fervently,
Yet did not much complain;
But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again.'
"Enough, enough, my little lad!
Such tears become thine eye;
If I thy guileless bosom had,

yeoman,

Mine own would not be dry.
"Come hither, hither, my staunch
Why dost thou look so pale?
Or dost thou dread a French foeman?
Or shiver at the gale?"
'Deem'st thou I tremble for my life?
Sir Childe, I am not so weak;
But thinking on an absent wife

Will blanch a faithful cheek.

'My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, Along the bordering lake,

And when they on their father call,
What answer shall she make ?'
"Enough, enough, my yeoman good,
Thy grief let none gainsay;
But I who am of lighter mood,

Will laugh to flee away.

"For who would trust the seeming sighs Of wife or paramour?

Fresh fears will dry the bright blue eyes
We late saw streaming o'er.
For pleasures past I do not grieve,
Nor perils gathering near;
My greatest grief is that I leave
No thing that claims a tear.

"And now I'm in the world alone,

Upon the wide, wide sea: But why should I for others groan, When none will sigh for me? Perchance my dog will whine in vain, Till fed by stranger hands; But long ere I come back again, He'd tear me where he stands. "With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go, Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves, And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves! My native land-Good night !" BYRON.