ID. QVANDO. ACCIDERIT. NON. SATIS. AVDEO
EFFARI. SIQVIDEM. NON. CLARIVS. MIHI
PER. SACROS. TRIPODES. CERTA. REFERT. DEVS
NEC. SERVAT. PENITVS. FIDEM
QVOD. SI. QVID. LICEAT. CREDERE. ADHVC. TAMEN
NAM. LAEVVM. TONVIT. NON. FVERIT. PROCVL.
QVAERENDVS. CELERI. QVI. PROPERET. GRADV
ET. GALLVM. REPRIMAT. FEROX
PETRVS. CRINITVS. IN. CARMINE
Ar that dread season when th' indignant North
Pour'd to vain wars her tardy numbers forth,
When Frederic bent his ear to Europe's cry,
And fann'd too late the flame of liberty;
By feverish hope oppress'd, and anxious thought,
In Dresden's grove the dewy cool I sought.
Through tangled boughs the broken moonshine
And Elbe slept soft beneath his linden shade :-
Yet slept not all ;-I heard the ceaseless jar,
The rattling wagons, and the wheels of war;
The sounding lash, the march's mingled hum,
And, lost and heard by fits, the languid drum
O'er the near bridge the thundering hoofs that
And the far-distant fife that thrilled along the road.
Yes, sweet it seems across some watery dell
To catch the music of the pealing bell
And sweet to list, as on the beach we stray,
The ship-boy's carol in the wealthy bay:
But sweet no less, when Justice points the spear,
Of martial wrath the glorious din to hear,
To catch the war-note on the quivering gale,
And bid the blood-red paths of conquest hail.
Oh! song of hope, too long delusive strain !
And hear we now thy flattering voice again?
But late, alas! I left thee cold and still,
Stunn'd by the wrath of Heaven, on Pratzen's hill,
Oh! on that hill may no kind month renew
The fertile rain, the sparkling summer dew!
Accurs'd of God, may those bleak summits tell
The field of anger where the mighty fell.
There youthful Faith and high-born Courage rest,
And, red with slaughter, Freedom's humbled crest;
There Europe, soil'd with blood her tresses gray,
And ancient Honour's shield-all vilely thrown
away.
Thus mus'd my soul, as in succession drear Rose each grim shape of Wrath and Doubt and Fear;
Defeat and shame in grizzly vision passed,
And Vengeance, bought with blood, and glorious
Death the last.
Then as my gaze their waving eagles met,
And through the night each sparkling bayonet,
Still Memory told how Austria's evil hour
Had felt on Praga's field a Frederic's power,
And Gallia's vaunting train, and Mosco's horde,
Had flesh'd the maiden steel of Brunswic's sword.
Oh! yet, I deem'd, that Fate, by Justice led,
Might wreath once more the veteran's silver head;
That Europe's ancient pride would yet disdain
The cumbrous sceptre of a single reign;
That conscious right would tenfold strength afford,
And Heaven assist the patriot's holy sword,
And look in mercy through th' auspicious sky,
To bless the saviour host of Germany.
And are they dreams, these bodings, such as
Their lonely comfort o'er the hermit's bed?
And are they dreams? or can th' Eternal Min m'd
Care for a sparrow, yet neglect mankind?
Why, if the dubious battle own his
And the red sabre, where he bids, devou'
Why then can one the curse of worlds deride,
And millions weep a tyrant's single pride?
Thus sadly musing, far my footsteps stray'd,
Rapt in the visions of th' Aonian maid.
It was not she, whose lonely voice I hear
Fall in soft whispers on my love-lorn ear;
My daily guest, who wont my steps to guide
Through the green walks of scented even-tide,
Or stretch'd with me in noonday ease along,
To list the reaper's chaunt, or throstle's song:
But she of loftier port; whose grave control
Rules the fierce workings of the patriot's soul;
She, whose high presence, o'er the midnight oil,
With fame's bright promise cheers the student's
That same was she, whose ancient lore refin'd
The sober hardihood of Sydney's mind.
Borne on her wing, no more I seem'd to rove
By Dresden's glittering spires, and linden grove;
No more the giant Elbe, all silver bright,
Spread his broad bosom to the fair moonlight,
While the still margent of his ample flood
Bore the dark image of the Saxon wood
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