II.

THE LAND OF FABLE.

     ("L'Orient! qu'y voyez-vous, poëtes?")
     {PRELUDE, b.}
     Now, vot'ries of the Muses, turn your eyes,
       Unto the East, and say what there appears!
     "Alas!" the voice of Poesy replies,
       "Mystic's that light between the hemispheres!"

     "Yes, dread's the mystic light in yonder heaven—
       Dull is the gleam behind the distant hill;
     Like feeble flashes in the welkin driven,
       When the far thunder seems as it were still!

     "But who can tell if that uncertain glare
       Be Phoebus' self, adorned with glowing vest;
     Or, if illusions, pregnant in the air,
       Have drawn our glances to the radiant west?

     "Haply the sunset has deceived the sight—
       Perchance 'tis evening, while we look for morning;
     Bewildered in the mazes of twilight,
       That lucid sunset may appear a dawning!"

     G.W.M. REYNOLDS








THE THREE GLORIOUS DAYS.

     ("Frères, vous avez vos journées.")
     {I., July, 1830.}
     Youth of France, sons of the bold,
     Your oak-leaf victor-wreaths behold!
     Our civic-laurels—honored dead!
       So bright your triumphs in life's morn,
       Your maiden-standards hacked and torn,
     On Austerlitz might lustre shed.

     All that your fathers did re-done—
     A people's rights all nobly won—
     Ye tore them living from the shroud!
       Three glorious days bright July's gift,
       The Bastiles off our hearts ye lift!
     Oh! of such deeds be ever proud!

     Of patriot sires ye lineage claim,
     Their souls shone in your eye of flame;
     Commencing the great work was theirs;
       On you the task to finish laid
       Your fruitful mother, France, who bade
     Flow in one day a hundred years.

     E'en chilly Albion admires,
     The grand example Europe fires;
     America shall clap her hands,
       When swiftly o'er the Atlantic wave,
       Fame sounds the news of how the brave,
     In three bright days, have burst their bands!

     With tyrant dead your fathers traced
     A circle wide, with battles graced;
     Victorious garland, red and vast!
       Which blooming out from home did go
       To Cadiz, Cairo, Rome, Moscow,
     From Jemappes to Montmirail passed!

     Of warlike Lyceums{1} ye are
     The favored sons; there, deeds of war
     Formed e'en your plays, while o'er you shook
       The battle-flags in air aloft!
       Passing your lines, Napoleon oft
     Electrified you with a look!

     Eagle of France! whose vivid wing
     Did in a hundred places fling
     A bloody feather, till one night
       The arrow whelmed thee 'neath the wave!
       Look up—rejoice—for now thy brave
     And worthy eaglets dare the light.

     ELIZABETH COLLINS.

     {Footnote 1: The pupils of the Polytechnic Military School distinguished
     themselves by their patriotic zeal and military skill, through all the
     troubles.}








TRIBUTE TO THE VANQUISHED.

     ("Laissez-moi pleurer sur cette race.")
     {I. v.}
       Oh! let me weep that race whose day is past,
         By exile given, by exile claimed once more,
       Thrice swept away upon that fatal blast.
         Whate'er its blame, escort we to our shore
         These relics of the monarchy of yore;
     And to th' outmarching oriflamme be paid
     War's honors by the flag on Fleurus' field displayed!

     Fraser's Magazine








ANGEL OR DEMON.

     ("Tu domines notre âge; ange ou démon, qu'importe!")
     {I. vii.}
       Angel or demon! thou,—whether of light
       The minister, or darkness—still dost sway
       This age of ours; thine eagle's soaring flight
       Bears us, all breathless, after it away.
       The eye that from thy presence fain would stray,
       Shuns thee in vain; thy mighty shadow thrown
       Rests on all pictures of the living day,
       And on the threshold of our time alone,
     Dazzling, yet sombre, stands thy form, Napoleon!

       Thus, when the admiring stranger's steps explore
       The subject-lands that 'neath Vesuvius be,
       Whether he wind along the enchanting shore
       To Portici from fair Parthenope,
       Or, lingering long in dreamy reverie,
       O'er loveliest Ischia's od'rous isle he stray,
       Wooed by whose breath the soft and am'rous sea
       Seems like some languishing sultana's lay,
     A voice for very sweets that scarce can win its way.

       Him, whether Paestum's solemn fane detain,
       Shrouding his soul with meditation's power;
       Or at Pozzuoli, to the sprightly strain
       Of tarantella danced 'neath Tuscan tower,
       Listening, he while away the evening hour;
       Or wake the echoes, mournful, lone and deep,
       Of that sad city, in its dreaming bower
       By the volcano seized, where mansions keep
     The likeness which they wore at that last fatal sleep;

       Or be his bark at Posillippo laid,
       While as the swarthy boatman at his side
       Chants Tasso's lays to Virgil's pleased shade,
       Ever he sees, throughout that circuit wide,
       From shaded nook or sunny lawn espied,
       From rocky headland viewed, or flow'ry shore,
       From sea, and spreading mead alike descried,
       The Giant Mount, tow'ring all objects o'er,
     And black'ning with its breath th' horizon evermore!

     Fraser's Magazine








THE ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS.
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