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Close his eyes; his work is done!

What to him is friend or formand,
Thise of morn or det of Sun,

I of man an kiss of winan?

and of

low, lay him how,

mm

In the clover on the snow!
What cares he? he cannot know,

Lay hin_low!

Gw.t

okers

POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR.

WAR.

WAR FOR THE SAKE OF PEACE. In darkness, and pure and spangling snow
FROM "BRITANNIA."

Gleams faiņtly through the gloom that gathers

round!" O FIRST of human blessings, and supreme !

Hark to that roary whoge swift, and deafening Fair Peace! how lovely, how delightful thou !

peals By whose wide tie the kindred sons of men

In countless echoes tlirough the mountains ring, Like brothers live, in amity combined

Startling pale midnight on her starry throne ! And unsuspicious faith ; while honest toil

Now swells the intermingling 'din' ; the'jar '.' Gives every joy, and to those joys a right

Frequent and frightful of the bursting bomb; Which idle, barbarous rapine but usurps.

The falling beam, the shriek, the 'gidan, the Pure is thy reign.

I shout,

The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men...' What would not, Peace! the patriot bear for

Inebriate with rage ;- loud, and more loud . thee?

The discord grows; till pale wheath shirts the What painful patience? What incessant care ?

scene, . . . . What mixed anxiety? What sleepless toil ?

And o'er the conqueror and the conquered draws E'en from the rash protected, what reproach ? :

His cold and bloody shroud. – Of all the men For he thy value knows; thy friendship he

Whom day's departing beam saw blooming there, To human nature : but the better thou,

In proud and vigorous health ; of all the hearts The richer of delight, sometimes the more

That beat with anxious life at siyset there, Inevitable war, — when ruffian force

How few survive, how few are beating now! Awakes the fury of an injured state.

All is deep silence, like the fearful calm E eu the good patient man whom reason rules,

That slumbers in the storni's portentous panise : Roused by bold insult and injurious rage,

Save when the frantic wail of widowed love With sharp and sudden check the astonished sons

Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint modul Of violence confounds ; firm as his cause

With which some soul bursts from the frame of His bolder heart; in awful justice clad ;

clay His eyes effulging a peculiar fire :

Wrapt round its struggling powers.
And, as he charges through the prostrate war,
His keen arm teaches faithless men no more

The gray morn To dare the sacred vengeance of the just. Dawns on the mournful scene; the sulpluirous

smoke Then ardent rise! O, great in vengeance rise! | Before the icy wind slow rolls away, O'erturn the proud, teach rapine to restore ; And the bright beams of frosty morning dance And, as you ride sublimely round the world,

| Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood Make 'every vessel stoop, make every 'state

Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, At once their welfare and their duty know. And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments

JAMES THOMSON.

Death's self could change not, mark the Jreadful

path

Of the outsallying victors ; far behind, . ,, , .WAR.,

Black ashes note where their prond. city'stood., Ah! 'whence yon glare, Within yon forest is a gloomy 'gle), — That fires the arch of heaven ? - that dark-red Each tree which guards its darkness from the smoke

day.. . Siri Blotting the silver moon? The stars are quenched / Waves o'er a warrior's tomb: .

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, And inextinguishable rage. All heaven
The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade, Resounded ; and had earth been then, all earth
And to those royal murderers whose mean thrones Had to her centre shook.
Are bought by crimes of treachery and gore,
The bread they eat, the staff on which they lean.

Deeds of eternal fame Guards, garbed in blood-red livery, surround Were done, but infinite : for wide was spread Their palaces, participate the crimes

That war, and various: sometiines on firm ground
That force defends, and from a nation's rage A standing tight, then, soaring on main wing,
Secure the crown, which all the curses reach Tormented all the air ; all air seemed then
That faniine, frenzy, woe, and penury breathe. | Conflicting fire.
These are the hired bravos who defend
The tyrant's throne.

Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power
Which God hath in his mighty angels placed !)
Their arms away they threw, and to the hills

(For earth bath this variety from heaven,
BATTLE OF THE ANGELS. | Of pleasure situate in hill and dale),

Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they FROM “PARADISE LOST," BOOK VI.

few, THE ARRAY.

From their foundations loosening to and fro,

They plucked the seated hills, with all their load, Now went forth the morn, I Such as in highest heaven, arrayed in gold

Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops

Uplifting bore them in their hands : amaze, Empyreal ; from before her vanished night,

Be sure, and terror, seized the rebel host, Shot through with orient beans; when all the

When coming towards them so dread they saw plain

The bottom of the mountains upward turned, Covered with thick em battled squadrons bright,

. . . . and on their heads Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,

Main promontories flung, which in the air Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view'.

Came shadowing, and oppressed whole legions

armed ; The apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat,

Their armor helped their harm, crushed in and Idol of majesty divine, enclosed

bruised With faming cherubim, and golden shields; Into their substance pent, which wrought them Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now I pain 'Twixt host and host but narrow space was left,

Implacable, and many a dolorous groan ; A dreadful interval, anul front to front

Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind Presented stood in terrible array

Out of such prison, though spirits of purest light, Of hideous length : before the cloudy van,

Purest at first, now gross by simning grown. On the rough edge of battle ere it joined,

The rest, in imitation, to like arms Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced, Betook them, and the neighboring hills uptore : Came towering, armed in adamant and gold.

So hills amid the air encountered hills,

Hurled to and fro with jaculation dire,
THE CONFLICT.

That underground they fought in dismal shade;
Michael bid sound

Infernal noise! war seemed a civil game The archangel trumpet; through the vast of To this uproar ; horrid confusion heaped heaven

Upon confusion rose.
It sounded, and the faithful armies rung
Hosanna to the Highest : nor stood at gaze

THE VICTOR.
The adverse legions, nor less hideous joined
The horrid shock. Now storning fury rose, So spake the Son, and into terror changed
And clamor, such as heard in heaven till now His countenance too severe to be lelield,
Was never ; arms on armor clashing brayed Anal full of wrath bent on his enemies.
Horrible discord, and the mailding wheels

At once the four spread out their starry wings Of brazen chariots raged ; dire was the noise | With drealful shade contiguous, and the orbs Of conflict ; overhead the dismal hiss

| Of his fierce chariot rolled, as with the sound Of fiery darts in flaning volleys flew,

Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host. And flying vaulted either host with fire.

He on his ini pious foes right onward drove, So under fiery cope together rushed

Gloomy as night : under lois burning wheel: Both battles main, with ruinous assault | The steadfast empyrean shook throughout.

Ana

All but the throne itself of God. Full soon For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the Among them he arrived ; in his right hand

blast, Grasping ten thousand thunders, which he sent And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; Before him, such as in their souls infixed And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and Plagues : they, astonished, all resistance lost

chill, All courage ; down their idle weapons dropt; And their hearts but once heaved, and forever O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he grew still !

rode of thrones and mighty seraphim prostráte,

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, That wished the mountains now might be again But through it there rolled not the breath of his Thrown on them, as a shelter from his ire.

pride : Nor less on either side tempestuous fell

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the His arrows, from the fourfold-visaged Four

turf, Distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels | And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. Distinct alike with multitude of eyes ; One spirit in them ruled ; and every eye

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, Glared lightning, and shot forth pernicious fire

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his Among the accursed, that withered all their

mail ;

And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, strength, And of their wonted vigor left them drained,

The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, Yet half his strength he put not forth, but

And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; checked

And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the His thunder in mid volley ; for he meant

sword, Not to destroy, but root them out of heaven :

Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! The overthrown he raised, and as a herd

LORD BYRON. Of goats or timorous flock together thronged, Drove them before him thunderstruck, pursued With terrors and with furies, to the bounds

CATILINE TO THE ROMAN ARMY. And crystal wall of heaven; which, opening wide, Rolled inward, and a spacious gap disclosed

FROM "CATILINE," ACT V. SC. 2. Into the wasteful deep: the monstrous sight Sound all to arins! (A flourish of trumpets.) Struck them with horror backward, but far worse Call in the captains, - (To an officer.) Urged them behind : headlong themselves they

I would speak with them! threw

(The officer goes.) Down from the verge of heaven ; eternal wrath

Now, Hope! away, - and welcome gallant Burnt after them to the bottomless pit.

Death!
Welcome the clanging shield, the trumpet's

yell, -
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. Welcome the fever of the mounting blood,
FROM "HEBREW MELODIES.'

That makes wounds light, and battle's crimson

toil The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the

Seem but a sport, - and welcome the colil bed, fold,

Where soldiers with their upturned faces lie, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and

" | And welcome wolf's and vulture's hungry throats, gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on

That make their sepulchres ! We fight to-night. the sea,

(The soldiery enter.) When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Centurions! all is ruined ! I disdain Galilee.

To hide the truth from you. The die is thrown !

And now, let each that wishes for long life Like the leaves of the forest when summer is Put up his sword, and kneel for peace to Rome. green,

Ye all are free to go. What ! no man stirs ! That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Not one! a soldier's spirit in you all ? Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath Give me your hands! (This moisture in my eyes blown,

Is womanish, -- 't will pass.) My noble hearts ! That host on the morrow lay withered and well have you chosen to die! For, in my mind, strown.

| The grave is better than o'erburdened life ;

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MILTON.

And for myself, quoth he,
This my full rest shall be ;
England ne'er mourn for me,

Nor more osteom me,
Victor I will remain,
Or on this earth lie slain ;
Never shall she sustain

Loss to redeem me.

Better the quiok velease of glorious wounds,
Than the eternal taunts of galling tongues ;
Better the spear-head quivering in the heart,
Than daily struggle against fortune's curse ;
Better, in manhood's muscle and high blood,
To leap the gulf; than totter to its edge
In poverty, dull pain, and base decay.
Once more, I say, - are ye resolved ?.

7 The soldiers shoul, “ All! All !") Then, each man to his tent, and take the arms That he would love to die in, - for, this hour, We storm the Consul's camp. A last farewell !

(He takes their hands.) When next we meet, - we'll have no time to look, How parting clouds a soldier's countenance. Few as we are, we'll rouse them with a peal That shall shake Rome! Now to your cohorts' heads; - the word 's —

Poitiers and Cressy tell,
When most their pride did swell,
Under our swords they fell;

No less our skill is
Than when our grandsire great,
Claiming the regal seat,
By many a warlike feat

Lopped the French lilies.

Revenge:!::

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The Duke of York so dread
The cager vaward led ;
With the main Henry sped,

Amongst his henchmen,
Excester had the rear, -
A braver man not there:
O Lord ! how hot they were

On the false Frenchmen !

THE BALĻAD. OF AGINCOURT.
Fair stood, the wind for France,
When we onr sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance

Longer will ťarry ;
But putting to the main,
At Kause, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train,

Landed King Harry,

They now to fight are gone ;
Armor on armor shone ;
Drum now to drum did groan, -

To hear was wonder ;
That with the cries they make
The very earth did shake;
Trumpet to trumpet spake,

Thunder to thunder.

Well it thine age became,
O noble Erringham !"
Which did the signal aim

• To our hid forces;
When, from a meadow by,
Like a storm, suddenly,
The English archery

Struck the French horses

And taking many a fort,
Furnished in warlike sort,
Marched towards Agincourt

In happy hour, -
Skirmishing day by day .
With those that stopped his way,
Where the French general lay

With all his power, ..
Which in his height of pride,
King Henry to deride,
His ransom to provide

To the king sending;
Which he neglects the while,
As from a nation vile,
Yet, with an angry smile,

Their fall portending,
And turning to his men, ji
Quoth our brave Henry then:
Though they to one be ten,' '

Be not amazed ; :::: Yet have we well begun, Battles so bravely won' Have ever to the sun

By fame been raised...ii.

With Spanish yew so strong, Arrows a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stung, · Piercing the weather ; None from his fellow starts, But playing manly parts, And, like true English hearts,

Stuck close together.

When down their bows they threw,
And forth their bilboes drew,
And on the French they few,

Not one was tardy ;

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