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O World-God, give me Wealth !” the "O World-God, give me Power !” the Egyptian cried.

Roman cried. His prayer was granted. High as heaven His prayer was granted. The vast world behold

was chained Palace and Pyramid; the brimming tide A captive to the chariot of his pride. Of lavish Nile washed all his land with The blood of myriad provinces was drained gold.

To feed that fierce, insatiable red heart — Armies of slaves toiled ant-wise at his feet, Invulnerably bulwarked every part World-circling traffic roared through mart With serried legions and with close-meshed and street,

Code. His priests were gods, his spice-balmed Within, the burrowing worm had gnawed kings enshrined

its home: Set death at naught in rock-ribbed char- A roofless ruin stands where once abode nels deep.

The imperial race of everlasting Rome. Seek Pharaoh's race to-day, and ye shall

find Rust and the moth, silence and dusty sleep.

"O God-head, give me Truth!” the He

brew cried.

His prayer was granted. He became the “O World-God, give me Beauty!” cried slave the Greek.

Of the Idea, a pilgrim far and wide, His prayer was granted. All the earth be- Cursed, hated, spurned, and scourged with came

none to save. Plastic and vocal to his sense ; each peak, The Pharaohs knew him, and when Greece Each grove, each stream, quick with Pro- beheld, methean flame,

His wisdom wore the hoary crown of Eld. Peopled the world with imaged grace and Beauty he hath forsworn, and wealth and light.

power. The lyre was his, and his the breathing Seek him to-day, and find in every land. might

No fire consumes him, neither floods deOf the immortal marble, his the play

vour; Of diamond-pointed thought and golden Immortal through the lamp within his tongue.

hand. Go seek the sunshine race. Ye find to-day A broken column and a lute unstrung.


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When the British warrior queen,

Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien,

Counsel of her country's gods,

Sage beneath the spreading oak

Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke

Full of rage and full of grief.

“ Princess ! if our aged eyes

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'T is because resentment ties

All the terrors of our tongues.

“Rome shall perish — write that word

In the blood that she has spilt, — Perish, hopeless and abhorred,

Deep in ruin as in guilt.

“Rome, for empire far renowned,

Tramples on a thousand states ; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground, —

Hark! the Gaul is at her gates !

“ Other Romans shall arise,

Heedless of a soldier's name ; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize,

Harmony the path to fame.

FRIENDS! I come not here to talk. Ye know too well The story of our thraldom. We are slaves ! The bright sun rises to his course, and lights A race of slaves ! he sets, and his last beam Falls on a slave! Not such as, swept along By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads | To crimson glory and undying fame, But base, ignoble slaves ! — slaves to a honle Of petty tyrants, feudal despots ; lords Rich in some dozen paltry villages, Strong in some hundred spearmen, only great In that strange spell, – a name! Each hour,

dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder, Cries out against them. But this very day An honest man, my neighbor (pointing to Pa

OLO), – there he stands, Was struck - struck like a dog - by one who

wore The badge of Ursini ! because, forsooth, He tossed not high his ready cap in air, Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, At sight of that great ruffian ! Be we men, And suffer such dishonor ? men, and wash not The stain away in blood ? Such shames are com

mon. I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye. I had a brother once, a gracious boy, Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look Of Heaven upon his face which limners give To the beloved disciple. How I loved That gracious boy ! younger by fifteen years, Brother at once and son ! He left my side ; A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour The pretty, harinless boy was slain ! I saw The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried For vengeance ! Rouse ye, Romans ! · Rouse

ye, slaves ! Have ye brave sons ! --- Look in the next fierce

brawl To see them die! Have ye fair daughters ?- Look To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, Dishonored ; and, if ye dare call for justice, Be answered by the lash! Yet this is Rome, That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne Of beauty ruled the world ! Yet we are Romans ! Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman Was greater than a king! And once again – Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread Of either Brutus ! -- once again, I swear, The eternal city shall be free ; her sons shali

walk with princes.

“ Then the urogeny that springs

From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings,

Shall a wider world command.

“ Regions Cæsar never knew

Thy posterity shall sway ; Where his eagles never flew,

None invincible as they."

Such the bard's prophetic words,

Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords

Of his sweet but awful lyre.

She, with all a monarch's pride,

Felt them in her bosom glow ; Rushed to battle, fought, and died, —

Dying, hurled them at the foe.

Ruffians, pitiless as proud,

Heaven awards the vengeance due ;
Empire is on us bestowed,
Share and ruin wait for you!



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But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the war,

rock! What steed to the desert flies frantic and far? But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause, 'Tis thine, O Glenullin! whose bride shall await,

Clenullin I whose bride shall await. When Albin her claymore indignantly draws; Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the

When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, gate.

Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud, A steed comes at morning: no rider is there ; All plaided and plumed in their tartan array — But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. Weep, Albin ! to death and captivity led !

WIZARD. O, weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead ;

:1 – Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of the day ;
For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave,
Culloden ! that reeks with the blood of the brave.

For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,
But man cannot cover what God would reveal ;

"T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, LOCHIEL.

And coming events cast their shadows before. Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring seer!

With the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,

king. Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight

| Lo ! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrathi, This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. Behold where he flies on his desolate path !

Now in darkness and billows he sweeps from my WIZARD.

sight Ha ! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn ? Rise, rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight! Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be

'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the torn!

moors : Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth

Culloden is lost, and my country deplores, From his home in the dark rolling cionds of the But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where ! north?

For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forrode

lorn, ('ompanionless, bearing destruction abroad: Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! I torn ? Ah ! home let him speed, — for the spoiler is

_ for the spoiler is Ah no! for a darker departure is near ;

The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier ; Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the His death-bell is tolling : O mercy, dispel blast

Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell ! Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast ? | Life flutters conyulsed in his quivering limbs, "T is the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims. From his eyrie. that beacons the darkness of Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, heaven.

| Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to O crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,

beat, Whose banners arise on the battlements' height. With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale – Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn ; Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return !

LOCHIEL. For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it

1- Down, soothless insulter ! I trust not the tale ; stood,

For never shall Albin a destiny meet, And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing

So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat! brood.

Though my perishing ranks should be strewed

in their gore, LOCHIEL.

Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan,

Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are

While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, one !

Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, They are true to the last of their blood and their

With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe; breath,

And leaving in battle no blot on his name, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.

Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the

fame! shock !



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