bright upon his hopes-it sets upon his grave. This day he led the foremost rank of spears, that in their long row levelled when they had crossed their foe's dark line then death shouted in the onset! It was the last blow that reached him. He has conquered, though he shall not triumph in the victory. His breastplate is dinted. His helmet has the traces of well-dealt blows. The scarf on his breast_she would shrink but to touch it now who placed it there. Soldier, what will thy mistress say? She will say that the knight died worthily.

Aye, rouse thee, for the fight yet charges in the distance! Thy friends are shouting-thy pennon floats on high. Look on yon crimsoned field that seems to mock the purple clouds above it! prostrate they lie, drenched in their dark red pool; thy friends and enemies; the dead and dying! The veteran, with the stripling of a day. The nameless trooper, and the leader of a hundred hosts. Friend lies by friend. The steed with his rider. And foes, linked in their long embrace —their first and last-the gripe of death. Far o'er the field they lie, a gorgeous prey to ruin! White plume and steel morion; sabre and yataghan; crescent and cross; rich vest and bright corslet; we came to the fight, as we had come to a feasting; glorious and glittering, even in death, each shining warrior lies!

His last glance still seeks that Christian banner! The cry that shall never be repeated, cheers on its last charge. Oh, but for strength to reach the field once more! to die in the foe's front! Peace, dreamer! Thou hast done well. Thy place in the close rank is filled; and yet another waits for his who holds it.

Knight, hast thou yet a thought? bend it on Heaven! The past is gone; the future lies before thee. Gaze on yon gorgeous sky; thy home should be beyond it! Life, honour, love-they pass to Him that gave them. Pride, that came on like ocean's billows-see round thee how it lies mute and passive. The wealthy here are poor. The high-born have no precedence. The strong are powerless. The mean conThe fair and lovely have no followers. Soldier! she who sped thee on thy course to-day, her blue eyes shall seek thee in the conquering ranks to-morrow; but it shall seek thee in vain! Well! thus it is thou shouldst have died! -worth all to live for. Wouldst thou be base to have thy death a blessing? Proud necks shall mourn for thee.

tent.

Bright eyes shall weep for thee. They that live envy thee. Death! glory takes out thy sting!

Warrior! aye, the stream of that rill flows cool; but thy lip no more shall taste it. The moonlight that silvers its white foam, shall glitter on thy corslet, when thy eye is closed and dim. Lo! now the night is coming. The mist is gathering on the hill. The fox steals forth to seek his quarry, and the grey owl sweeps whirling by, rejoicing in the stillness. Oh, soldier! how sweetly sounds thy lady's lute! how fragrant are the dews! sprinkled flowers that twine round the casement from which she leans! that lute shall enchant thee, those flowers shall delight thee, no more!

One other charge! Soldier, it may not be. To thy saint and thy lady commend thee! Hark to the low trumpet that sounds the recall! Hark to its long note; sweet is that sound in the ears of the spent and routed foe!

The victor hears it not. When the breath rose that blew that note, he lived; its peal has rung, and his spirit has departed. Heath! thou shouldst be the soldier's pillow! Moon! let thy cold light this night fall upon him! But, morning, thy soft dews shall tempt him not! the soldier must wake no more. He sleeps in the sleep of honour. His cause was his country's freedom, and her faith. He is dead! The cross of a Christian knight is on his breast; his lips are pressed to his lady's token. Soldier, farewell!

WATERLOO.

Stop!-for thy tread is on an Empire's dust!
An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below!
Is the spot mark'd with no colossal bust?
Nor column trophied for triumphal show?
None; but the moral's truth tells simpler so.
As the ground was before, thus let it be.
How that red rain hath made the harvest grow!
And is this all the world has gain'd by thee,
Thou first and last of fields! king-making Victory?

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose, with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell ;-

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Did ye not hear it? No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street:
On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd;
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet-
But hark!—that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm!—it is !—it is!—the cannon's opening roar!

Within a window'd niche of that high hall
Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear
That sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear:
And when they smiled because he deem'd it near,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well
Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier,
And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell:
He rush'd into the field; and, foremost fighting, fell!

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness:
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon nights so sweet such awful morn could rise?

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;

While throng'd the citizens, with terror dumb,

Or whispering, with white lips-"The foe! they come! they come!"

And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose!
The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills
Have heard and heard too have her Saxon foes :-
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,
Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring, which instills
The stirring memory of a thousand years;

And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving-if aught inanimate e'er grieves-
Over the unreturning brave,-alas!

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,
Which now beneath them, but above shall
In its next verdure; when this fiery mass
Of living valour, rolling on the foe,

grow

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low!

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,

Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay;

The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife;
The morn the marshalling in arms; the day
Battle's magnificently-stern array!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent,
The earth is cover'd thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent,
Rider and horse,-friend, foe,—in one red burial blent!

BYRON.

A MILITARY EXECUTION AT GIBRALTAR.

At ten o'clock all the regiments received orders to prepare for marching. No drum was heard to give the signal, but messengers passed along, carrying their officer's orders to the troops. All the soldiers of the garrison turned out in silence. The bands of the different regiments were commanded not to play, though they took their stations as if going to parade.

No funeral procession ever moved in such slow and measured time as they did on their way to Mill Hill, the appointed place of execution. Each soldier looked down, instead of forward, as he marched along, and not a sound could be heard but the very slowly measured tramp of well-trained feet, as they ascended the side of the hill. Every officer was at his post. As the regiments arrived on the flat ground near the old Moorish ruins, they were formed into one vast square, with one side near the ruins blank. Towards the centre of the square were two posts, with one cross bar, against which rested twelve rifles, six on one side, six on the other. Near the centre of the blank side of the square was a large grave, newly opened, and capable of holding the ten bodies of the deserters.

The men were all drawn up in regular order of attention; the general and his staff at the head of the square.

The provost-marshal was seen in earnest conversation with the governor, and the troops remained stationary, and in dead silence, for nearly half an hour.

At length a single beat of a drum was heard, which was repeated once every minute, and the prisoners were seen descending along the high road from their rocky dungeons to the place of execution.

All the soldiers watched them as they came. The solemn drum, speaking the death-knell of the criminal, told the mournful tragedy which was now to be performed. They arrived at the appointed place, and saw their own grave open before their eyes. The priests of their different persuasions accompanied them to the fatal spot, the respected chaplain of the forces also being with them. The prisoners descended two and two. Dreadfully did they all look, their faces being more like those of corpses than of living men. A paleness, indeed, was visible in the countenances of the whole body of troops then assembled and well might even warriors turn pale at seeing ten young men, in the vigour of manhood, about to be cut off in a moment. He must be made of iron who could witness unmoved such a melancholy sight. There were some soldiers present whose limbs never trembled in the day of battle, that were compelled to retire from the ranks, and rest themselves upon the earth to prevent their fainting; and it was no disgrace to young Hewitt, whose position was near the end of the north side of the square, to find that he required the support of the drummajor of his