THE GLADIATOR.

I SEE before me the Gladiator lie :

He leans upon his hand-his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
And his droop'd head sinks gradually low-
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now

The arena swims around him- he is gone,

Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.

- his eyes

He heard it, but he heeded not
Were with his heart, and that was far away:
He reck'd not of the life he lost, nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There were his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother -he, their sire,
Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday

All this rush'd with his blood- Shall he expire, And unavenged? - Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!

BYRON.

THE FIELD OF WATERLOO.

STOP! for thy tread is on an empire's dust!
An earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below!
Is the spot mark'd with no colossal bust ?
Nor column trophied for triumphal show?
None: but the moral's truth tells simpler so.
As the ground was before, thus let it be. —
How that red rain-hath made the harvest grow!
And is this all the world has gained by thee,
Thou first and last of fields! king-making victory?

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her Beauty and her Chivalry; and bright

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose, with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell ; ·

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell !

Did ye not hear it? - No; - 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street:

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;

No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet

To chase the glowing hours with flying feet —
But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is! it is! the cannon's opening roar !

Within a window'd niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; And when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell!

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness;

And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess

If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise?

And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;

While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! they come, they come !"

And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose !

The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills,

Have heard

and heard too have her Saxon foes:

How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,
Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring, which instils

The stirring memory of a thousand years;

And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,

Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,

Grieving if aught inanimate e'er grieves

Over the unreturning brave

alas!

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow

In its next verdure; when this fiery mass

Of living valor, rolling on the foe,

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low!

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay;
The midnight brought the signal sound of strife;
The morn the marshalling in arms; the day
Battle's magnificently stern array!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which, when rent,
The earth is covered thick with other clay,

Which her own clay shall cover—heap'd and pent,
Rider and horse—friend, foe-in one red burial blent!

BYRON.

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.

THE Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen :
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride:

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

BYRON.

DARKNESS.

I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless; and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came, and went — and came and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread

Of this their desolation: and all hearts

Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light :

And they did live by watchfires- - and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings— the huts,

The habitations of all things which dwell,

Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain torch :
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire- - but hour by hour

-

They fell and faded — and the crackling trunks

Extinguished with a crash- and all was black.