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(FROM THE FRENCH.)
FAREWELL to the land where the gloom of my glory
Farewell to thee, France !-when thy diadem crowned me,
Farewell to thee, France !—but when Liberty rallies
( FROM THE FRENCH.)
« All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish officer who
had been exalted from the ranks by Bonaparte. He clung to his master's knees, wrote a letter to Lord Keith, entreating permission to accompany him, even in the most menial capacity, which could not be admitted. »
Must thou go, my glorious chief,
Severed from thy faithful few?
Maddening o'er that long adieu ?
Dear as both have been to me--
With a soldier's faith for thee?
Idol of the soldier's soul !
First in fight, but mightiest now:
Thee alone no doom can bow.
Death; and envied those who fell,
Blessing him they served so well.
Since this hour I live to see; When the doubts of coward foes
Scarce dare trust a man with thee, Dreading each should set thee free.
Oh! although in dungeons pent, All their chains were light to me,
Gazing on thy soul unbent.
Would the sycophants of him
Now so deaf to duty's prayer, Were his borrowed glories dim,
In his native darkness share? Were that world this hour his own,
All thou calmly dost resign, Could he purchase with that throne
Hearts like those which still are thine ?
My chief, my king, my friend, adieu!
Never did I droop before; Never to my sovereign sue,
As his foes I now implore. All I ask is to divide
Every peril he must brave, Sharing by the hero's side,
His fall, his exile, and his grave.
(FROM THE FRENCH. )
We do not curse thee, Waterloo ! Though Freedoin's blood thy plain bedewi There 'twas shed, but is not sunkRising from each gory trunk, Like the Water-spout from Ocean, With a strong and growing motion It soars, and mingles in the air, With that of lost LABEDOYERE — With that of him whose honoured grave Contains the « bravest of the brave. » A crimson cloud it spreads and glows, But shall return to whence it rose; When 'tis full 'twill burst asunderNever yet was heard such thunder As then shall shake the world with wonderNever yet was seen such lightning, As o'er heaven shall then be bright’ning! Like the Wormwood Star foretold By the sainted Seer of old, Show'ring down a fiery flood, Turning rivers into blood.
The chief has fallen, but not by you,
When the soldier citizen
With that youthful chief competed ?
And thou too of the snow-white plume!
On thy war-horse through the ranks,
Like a stream which burst its banks, While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing, Shone and shivered fast around thee , Of the fate at last which found thee; Was that haughty plume laid low By a slave's dishonest blow? Once-as the Moon sways o’er the tide, It rolled in air, the warrior's guide ;