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Swift canoes that from the fight
Aid their vanquish'd monarch's flight ;
Ambush'd in the reedy shade,
Them the stranger barks invade;
Soon thy lord a captive bends,
Soon thy far-fam’d empire ends;
Otomèca shares thy spoils,
Tlàscalà in triumphs smiles.
Mourn, devoted city, mourn !
Mourn, devoted city, mourn !

Cease your boast, О stranger band,
Conquerors of my fallen land!
Avarice strides your van before,
Phantom meagre, pale, and hoar !
Discord follows, breathing flame,
Still opposing claim to claim;
Kindred demons haste along !
Haste, avenge my country's wrong!'

Ceas'd the voice with dreadful sounds,
Loud as tides that burst their bounds;
Roll’d the form in smoke away,
Amaz'd on earth the exorcists lay;
Pondering on the dreadful lore,
Their course the Iberians downward bore;

Their helmets glittering o'er the vale,
And wide their ensigns fluttering in the gale.

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BEATTIE.

ODE TO HOPE.

O thou, who glad'st the pensive soul,
More than Aurora's smile the swain forlorn,
Left all night long to mourn
Where desolation frowns, and tempests howl;
And shrieks of wo, as intermits the storm,
Far o'er the monstrous wilderness resound,
And cross the gloom darts many a shapeless form,
And many a fire-eyed visage glares around.
O come, and be once more my guest :
Come, for thou oft thy suppliant's vow hast heard,
And oft with smiles indulgent cheer'd
And sooth'd him into rest.

Smit by thy rapture-beaming eye
Deep flashing through the midnight of their mind,
The sable bands combined,
Where Fear's black banner bloats the troubled sky,
Appa!ld retire. Suspicion hides her head,
Nor dares th’ obliquely gleaming eyeball raise ;
Despair, with gorgon-figured veil o'erspread,
Speeds to dark Phlegethon's detested maze.
Lo, startled at the heavenly ray,
With speed unwonted Indolence upsprings,
And, heaving, lifts her leaden wings,
And sullen glides away :
Ten thousand forms, by pining Fancy view'd,
Dissolve.-Above the sparkling flood
When Phæbus rears his awful brow,
From lengthening lawn and valley low

The troops of fen-born mist retire. Along the plain The joyous swain Eyes the gay villages again, And gold-illumined spire ; While on the billowy ether borne Floats the loose lay's jovial measure ; And light along the fairy Pleasure, Her green robes glittering to the morn, Wantons on silken wing. And goblins all To the damp dungeon shrink, or hoary hall, Or westward, with impetuous flight, Suoot to the desert realms of their congenial night. When first on childhood's eager gaze Life's varied landscape, stretch'd immense around, Starts out of night profound, Thy voice incites to tempt th' untrodden maze. Fond he surveys thy mild maternal face, His bashful eye still kindling as he views, And, while thy lenient arm supports his pace, With beating heart the upland path pursues ; The path that leads, where, hung sublime, And seen afar, youth's gallant trophies, bright In Fancy's rainbow ray, invite His wingy nerves to climb.

Pursue thy pleasureable way,
Safe in the guidance of thy heavenly guard,
While melting airs are heard,
And soft-eyed cherub-forms around thee play
Simplicity, in careless flowers array'd,
Prattling amusive in his accent meek ;
And Modesty, half turning as afraid,
The smile just dimpling on his glowing cheek !
Content and Leisure, hand in hand
With Innocence and Peace, advance, and sing;
And Mirth, in many a mazy ring,
Frisks o'er the flowery land.

Frail man, how various is thy lot below
To-day though gales propitious blow,
And Peace soft gliding down the sky
Lead Love along, and Harmony,
To.morrow the gay scene deforms;
Then all around

The thunder's sound
Rolls rattling on through Heaven's profound,
And down rush all the storms.
Ye days, that balmy influence shed,
When sweet childhood, ever sprightly,
In paths of pleasure sported lightly,
Whither, ah whither are ye filed ?
Ye cherub train, that brought him on his way,
O leave him not midst tumult and dismay;
For now youth's eminence he gains :
But what a weary length of lingering toil remains !

They shrink, they vanish into air,
Now Slander taints with pestilence the gale;
And mingling cries assail,
The wail of Wo, and groan of grim Despair.
Lo, wizard Envy from his serpent eye
Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance
Pride smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy,
Frowning Disdain, and haggard Hate advance ;
Behold, amidst the dire array,
Pale wither'd Care his giant-stature rears,
And lo, his iron hand prepares
To grasp its feeble prey.

Who now will guard bewilder'd youth
Safe from the fierce assault of hostile rage ?
Such war can Virtue wage,
Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth?
Alas ! full oft on Guilt's victorious car
The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne ;
While the fair captive, mark'd with many a scar,
In long obscurity, oppress'd, forlorn,
Resigns to tears her angel form.
Ill-fated youth, then whither wilt thou jy?
No friend, no shelter now is nigh,
And onward rolls the storm.

But whence the sudden beam that shoots along ?
Why shrink aghast the hostile throng?
Lo, from amidst affliction's night,
Hope bursts all radiant on the sight:
Her words the troubled bosom sooth.
• Why thus dismay'd ?
Though foes invade,
Hope ne'er is wanting to their aid,

Who tread the path of truth.
'Tis I, who smooth the rugged way,
I, who close the eyes of Sorrow,
And with glad visions of to-morrow
Repair the weary soul's decay.
When Death's cold touch thrills to the freezing heart,
Dreams of Heaven's opening glories I impart,
Till the freed spirit springs on high
In rapture too severe for weak mortality.'

THE HERMIT.

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove :
'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar,
While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began ;
No more with himself or with nature at war,
He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.

• Ah! why, all abandon'd to darkness and wo,
Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall ?
For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,
And sorrow no longer thy bosom inthral :
But, if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay,
Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn;
O soothe him, whose pleasures like thine pass away :
Full quickly they pass—but they never return.

• Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky,
The Moon balf extinguish'd her crescent displays :
But lately I mark’d, when majestic on high
She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.
Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue
The path that conducts thee to splendour again.
But man's faded glory what change shall renew?
Ah fool! to exult in a glory so vain !

• 'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more;
I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you ;
For morn is approaching, your charms to restore,
Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew:

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