Oh shame! when there was not a bosom, whose heat Ever rose 'bove the zero of Castlereaghi's heart, That did not, like echo, your war-hymn repeat,

And send all its prayers with your Liberty's start;

When the world stood in hope—when a spirit, that breath'd

The fresh air of the olden time, whisper'd about; And the swords of all Italy, half-way unsheath'd, But waited one conquering cry, to flash out!

When around you the shades of your Mighty in fame, FILICAJAS and PETRARCHS, seemed bursting to

view,

And their words, and their warnings, like tongues of bright flame

Over Freedom's apostles, fell kindling on you!

Oh shame! that, in such a proud moment of life, Worth the hist❜ry of ages, when, had you but hurl'd Ɔne bolt at your tyrant invader, that strife

Between freemen and tyrants had spread through the world

That then-oh! disgrace upon manhood-ev'n then, You should falter, should cling to your pitiful

breath;

Cow'r down into beasts, when you might have stood

men,

And prefer the slave's life of prostration to death.

It is strange, it is dreadful:- shout, Tyranny, shout Through your dungeons and palaces, "Freedom is

o'er;"

If there lingers one spark of her light, tread it out, And return to your empire of darkness once more.

For, if such are the braggarts that claim to be free, Come, Despot of Russia, thy feet let me kiss; Far nobler to live the brute bondman of thee,

Than to sully ev'n chains by a struggle like this!

SONGS

FROM

THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY

SONGS FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY

HERE AT THY TOMB.*

BY MELEAGER.

HERE, at thy tomb, these tears I shed,
Tears, which though vainly now they roll,
Are all love hath to give the dead,

And wept o'er thee with all love's soul;

Wept in remembrance of that light,

Which nought on earth, without thee, gives, Hope of my heart! now quench'd in night, But dearer, dead, than aught that lives.

Where is she? where the blooming bough
That once my life's sole lustre made?
Torn off by death, 't is with'ring now,
And all its flowers in dust are laid.

Oh earth! that to thy matron breast
Hast taken all those angel charms,
Gently, I pray thee, let her rest,
Gently, as in a mother's arms.

* Δάκρυα σοι και νερθε δια χθονος, Ηλιόδωρα.

Ap. BRUNCK