"Not unheard of, sweet mourner: his gallant young band

For ages will live, in the annals of Fame :

Will heave every heart in this generous land;
And the war-cry of Erin be form'd of his name.'

my

child! my beloved! what? and was he not mine? Ah! you were but his father.—She mark'd not the groan, Sad father! that told her, what anguish was thine :

An anguish, that only not rivall'd her own.

She hears not; she sees not; she clasps her wan boy :
Lo! his heart gives a flutter; she catches a sigh:
O that shriek! that wild shriek! was it madness, or joy?
Is the child to revive? Is the mother to die?

No; the trance that she lies in-is not her death-swoon :
Ah no! Lord of life! the late mourner shall live;
Shall piously, blissfully, weep o'er your boon;
And cherish anew, the rich treasure you give.

EXPLANATORY.*

"The person to whom the following letter was addressed, does not wish to betray confidence, and so will not mention names, though he may wish to do so. The letter, and the verses, in French and English, were written by a gentleman of some rank; a native of Ireland; but who appears to have the power of expressing himself with ease and correctness, in the

* What follows, introductory of the French letter, was, on one occasion, written by the person to whom that French letter was addressed.

French tongue. He was prevailed on to promise a copy of the French verses, for the inspection of a French gentleman, a friend of the person to whom this letter was sent ; and the sending of the letter was in performance of this promise. The allusion, towards the end of it, is to an extraordinary likeness of the talented child, whom it notices with such warm praise-to Napoleon Bonaparte. Painters have been very much struck by the closeness of this resemblance."

LETTER. *

Un poeme François, dont l'auteur entreprenant n'est ni François ni Poete (et moi par exemple je ne suis ni l'un ni l'autre,) doit s'attendre, ce me semble, à un peu d' indulgence. Ainsi je suis persuadé que des couplets que j'envoie, la critique que vous allez faire ne sera gueres impitoyable.

Au reste, fecit Indignatio versus. Je les ai faits, ou (s'il y a un tel môt) improvisés, du tems de la mort de Napoleon; indigné du ton meprisant dont on parloit de cette mort, et en general du triste sort, et de la chute precipitée et imprevue, d'un grand homme, devant qui tant de Rois avoient baissé leurs têtes couronnées. Mais telle est la nature de la plupart du genre humain. Leurs jugemens et leurs suffrages dependent de la Fortune. Tant qu' elle vous favorise, ils vous adorent; mais dés que cette puissance volage et capricieuse s'avise de vous abandonner et planter là, plus d'eloges !- Au contraire, dès ce moment, il faudra vous preparer à leurs huées. Le Vulgaire des Hommes tourne le dos aux revers d'un Heros, pour se prosterner au succés du plus meprisable des Mortels. Il est vrai qu' un Esprit sain et superieur veut poser ses jugemens sur une base plus ferme. Par exemple, avilir Napoleon-ne seroit ce pas fletrir les lauriers de Wellington? La gloire du Vainqueur n'est elle pas proportionnée à la renommée du Vaincu ? Mais à propos de Bonaparte, comment se porte-pas le grand—mais le petit Napoleon, apres ses jeux et ses exploits d' hier au soir,-ou dirai je de ce matin? Ces derniers ont fait chez nous une impression,-ou plutôt ont excité une admiration,—qui va jusqu'à l' etonnement. C'est un enfant fort extraordinaire, et tres aimable; dont si vous êtes un peu fier, il faut avouer que c'est à bien juste titre. Embrassez le donc, ce petit Napoleon-Joseph, de ma part, en lui disant que j'espere que sous peu de tems nous nous rencontrerons, si non pas à Philippi, du moins près de Philips -; je veux dire à N-t

Adieu mon cher Monsieur,

au revoir, &c. &c.

* Written by the Author of this collection.

+ Newtown.

Mort de Napoleon.

Il est mort; et l'on ose parler avec mepris

D'un Grand Homme, dont n'aguere L'Europe a fremi.
Soupire qui a du cœur, au cercueil d'un Heros;

Qui veut fouler ses cendres, est mechant, poltron, et sôt:
Vivant je l'ai combattu; vous l'avez craint:
Mort vous l' outragez ;-et moi,-je le plains.

His life-thread cut, and mortal anguish o'er,
Freed from affront, Napoleon is no more.
His drooping train, now ready to depart,
Crave, with a loyal tear, their Emperor's heart:*
But who shall covet thine,-ungenerous f―?
Or coveting,-where find it,-heartless — ?

P. S. Je crains que mes couplets Anglois ne valent pas même les François qui les precedent. Mais n'importe! je vous les ai promis; je tiens parole.

The following verses, Latin and English, may not prove anything, nor deserve to be approved by any ;—but they will DISPROVE something; viz. that the lines which have just been read, originated in-or were connected with. -any lurking prejudice in favour of Napoleon—the Despot of Europe, and Enemy of our Country.-The lines which I am introducing,

* They did request permission to carry back Napoleon's heart with them to France.

and, a certain riddle, if I add it, will shew that my Muse has a tribute for Wellington and Nelson.*

NELSON.

Qui latuere diu, Galli, sociique trementes,
Vix tandem egressi portu, delentur in ævum :
Empta sed, ah! nimium capité victoria caro ;
Fletibus atque piis mæsti maduere triumphi :
Extinctum belli fulmen lugete Britanni;

En! sparsit moriens fata, INTRA FULGURA, BRONTé.†

This-the following extracts will also serve to prove :

Listless and tame, though sorely gall'd,

Her fetters long fallen Europe eyed;
To arms! 'till Talavera call'd;

And Borodino's clash replied.

Then quick the fiery beacon rose;

And crash-and lustre"-heard, and seen

Shall rouse the nations from repose,

To start, and blush, at what they've been.

*

His horses pace before the door,
And blooming Edwin must be gone,

To seek, in arms, the laurel'd shore,

Where Victory waits on Wellington.

+ Intra fulgura-anagram of in Trafalguar.-Bronté means a thunderbolt. The last syllable of capité is rendered long, by cæsura; as occurs in the following line of Virgil.

Emicat Euryalus, et munere victor amici.

a From the burning of Moscow.

"And yonder deep portentous glow

Is a fair city, wrapp'd in flame."

Distich from same poem; and by the Author of this collection.

IMITATED.*

While dazzling honours crown the deathless name
Of England's Navy, and of Nelson's Fame,
With generous grief, her glory Britain hears;

And quenches half her triumphs in her tears:
Mourns her reft Bronte's heaven imparted fires ;—
Resistless bolt of war,-who, while he strikes, expires.†

THE RIDDLE.

Cereus in vitium flecti.

'Mid the gay blooms, that Flora's couch adorn,
And fan with gales of fragrance, I was born:
Where, in my gaudy cradle, as I lay,

A band of armed marauders forced away;

And, murmuring triumph, bore the precious load
A captive, to their restless, dark abode :

There, (for new spoil while others venturous roamed,)
Some in pure white arrayed me; neatly combed ;
And stuff'd with sweetmeats: yet, to cell confined,
What marvel, if for liberty I pined!

By the Author of the above Latin original.

In the Introduction to the first canto of the Tale of Flodden Field, an idea, much resembling this one, will be found. We need not rescue the Author of Marmion from the charge of having imitated our obscure author; but we can rescue this latter from the suspicion of having stolen from Sir Walter. The above lines appeared, before the publication of Marmion, in the newspapers, in 1805, and in the Athenæum in 1807.