Yes, Talbot, I have known that hour, and yet,
As memory loves to court her fond regret,
O'er the warm cheek a glow of honest pride
Rises, to stay the tear-drop's bursting tide,
-Checks the soft yielding tribute ere it strays,
And the soul's grief half brightens into praise---

Oh had he fallen, when the doubtful ray
Of conquest paused o'er Britain's brighter day,
Then had his arm no scanty laurels won,

The Fight, the Conquest, as the Death, his own!
France then had mourned the proud memorial torn,
Fresh from her wreathe, to deck his youthful urn,
Had trembling marked his Eye's last fervid glow,
And bowed her Eagles to his dying Blow.---
Twined by no sparing hand the glittering prize
Had graced his brows, and cheered his closing eyes,
And the best feelings which on Friendship wait
Had smiled,--not sorrowed,---at so bright a Fate!---

Yet on that sacred spot, where yonder sod
Greets with a brighter green the Soldier's blood,
Shall the still fresh'ning Earth, in traces wild,
Write on her breast where died her gallant Child,
Weep in soft night-dews o'er his honoured head,
And deck with sweeter flowers his narrow bed.
Though nor the sculptured urn nor breathing Bust
Crown with their ponderous pomp our soldier's dust,
Though o'er him wild and free the bleak winds rave,
And humblest Nature brood o'er Valour's grave,
Yet rests he not unmarked;-that searching Eye
Which rules o'er Space, and scans Eternity,
Which views, unseen, the wayward fate of Man,
Marks the dread struggle in the Battle's Van,
Rests on fair Valour's crest in perif's day,
And gilds her lowering front with brightest ray,
Which can it's aid in viewless strength supply,
Point through the bloody fray, and lead to Victory,-
That Eye can pierce the mountain's deepest gloom,
With parent Influence watch his grass-green tomb,
And call with smiles to Honour's last abode,
Joy, and repose,-the bosom of his God!---

THE

THE EXPLOITS OF RUGGIERO.

[FROM RONCESVALLES. BY R. WHARTON, Esq. M. P. F.R.S.]

ELOV'D of Glory, Spain. ..ail, holy ground!

Ball bail! thou chosen scene of deeds renown'd,

By warriors wrought in each progressive age
Who struggled to repel th' oppressor's rage!
Thee not alone Numantia, wrapt in flame,
Stamps on the scroll of ever-living fame;
Thee nor Sentorius, who in freedom's cause
Brav'd haughty Rome and bade great Pompey pause;
Thee nor Pelagius, nor the trophies won

When the Moor trembled on Grenada's throne—
Tell thou the world, that on thy favour'd coast
Fought Wellington, and Gaul her sceptre lost.

O name rever'd! till human hearts are cold
Nor kindle at a tale of glory told :
The world he sav'd that matchless Chief shall hail,
And measure greatness by his giant scale.
Conquest, erewhile, beneath the burning ray
The partner of his long and toilsome way,
Soars o'er his tent and on his march attends,
When Lusitania's throne his arm defends;
And Gaul, too long by impious frauds upheld,
Scar'd at her sounding pinions, quits the field,
See, as he moves, the scorn of slavery spreads;
Her visionary hope of Empire fades ;
The long-forgotten fires of Spain revive,.
And the crush'd nations with their tyrant strive.
Nor shall that Hero's name one fortress gain'd,
One host o'erthrown, one tottering realm sustain'd,
To after-times in deathless lines record :-
Continuous triumphs all his paths afford,
And wheresoe'er his guardian banners wave.
Rapacious Gaul shall and her glory's grave.

As when internal sounds from Etna's womb
Have boded desolation soon to come,
When darkness overhangs the rifted head
By fits with intermitting flame o'erspread,
In dumb suspense the trembling swains attend
Whither the buruing stream its course will bend :
So did the world in anxious horror wait
The shock of two such hosts, oppos'd by Fate:
That shock, to which the whole of earthly race,
Born or unborn, their weal or woe might trace.

'N

Not on the eve of that eventful fray
Did youth or pride to confidence give way.
Close in each warrior's heart his valour glow'd,
Chasten'd by thoughts that little boast allow'd :
Regardful still that ne'er was war before
Wag'd for such prize, by Christian or by Moor.
No taunt, no menace any warrior flung :
Deep silence o'er th' approaching squadrons hung,
Save, ever and anon, a bow-string's twang,
Clatt'ring of horses hoofs, and iron's clang.
So near to nether earth Urganda lean'd,

That scarce her ambient fogs conceal'd the fiend:
Rack'd with a thousand hopes and doubts and fears,
From the foreseen events small joy was hers,
Lest what th' Almighty screen'd from Magick's eye
Might the short triumph of her schemes destroy.

Hors'd on a speckled steed, Biserta's King
Travers'd th' extended line from wing to wing.
To close the loose array he gave command-
Ten thousand, lances flam'd in every band;
And twice five squadrons in the van of war
With six behind that own'd Sobrino's care,
(All resolute, all practis'd, vigorous all)
Form'd Africk's hope t'avenge Troiano's fall:
While on the northern confine of the plain
Lay Pulian ambush'd and the wreck of Spain.
Less hope had Ferraù around him shed
If adamantine plates had cas'd his head;
That casqueless front inducing all to dwell
On aid, imparted by the secret spell,
And Magalon's prophetick word fulfill'd
In Him, who led them on the fated field.

But Agramant, howe'er his ardent mind
On the brave youth in confidence reclin'd,
Arous'd the latent sparks in every breast,
And thus the separate bands in turns addrest.
'Libyans! my part is done.---The promis'd Knight
Ye have: The Christian army glads your sight.
'What more remains for me? my single arm
'Needless, if genuine worth your bosoms warm.
'Yet shall ye see me War's whole terror dare;
The hottest brunt, the meanest labour share;
All confident, that none of Libyan name
'But burns to pass me in this race of fame.
Remember, Warriors! in yon hostile show,
Each man that combats is your deadly foe:
'Your flesh to wolves their rancorous hopes have giv'n,
And to your souls their faith inhibits Heav'n.

Slay, or be slain-The man is lost, that sparesHate sounds this charge, and Hate no warder bears. < "Tis mine, while your well-order'd front repels (Fierce as they are) you unsunn'd infidels, 'Tis mine, 'tis every knight's, Ruggiero's most, To quell the Paladin's o'erweening boast: • And much I err, and much the dying Seer Deceiv'd in this, who told the rest so clear, <If one of those who rides yon flags beneath 'The freshness of another morn shall breathe.'

With words like these from band to band he sped:
Such words in every heart new valour bred.

As when the dewy Evening forward steals
Stretching her arms athwart the western hills,
Silent, but quick, her dusky way she wins,
And Vesper in her front refulgent shines:
With like progression mov'd the squad:
Darkening the plain; so Agramante shone
Mail'd all in gold, and o'er his crest on high
A moon of gems that dazzled every eye.

cons on,

Oppos'd, the Christians stood the shock to wait:
Not less resolv'd in heart, but less elate.
Before their eyes no joyous omens play'd;
No Heav'n-appointed Knight their army led.
All at one risk they saw; their King, their faith-
They, but the first oblation claim'd by Death;
Since well they augur'd that th impending blow
Involv'd the World in universal woe.
Lost in a maze of cares, th' imperial Chief
In each new fancy found new cause of grief.
Unwilling then was Charles himself to lead
His squadrons to the charge, as erst he did;
For age had reft his limbs of active play
To rush at once wherever rag'd the fray
And catch the moments of a changetul day:
Nor could he fix to what inferior spear
A monarch might entrust a charge so dear.
As the bright stars that climb the midnight skies
Each after each to mortal vision rise,
So every knight, whose flag armorial stood
Join'd with th' imperial standard of the Rood,
Pass'd o'er his mind-The Babylonian pair,
Known in advent'rous peril much to dare,
But strangers to the rank and form of war;
Gismonda's offspring, brave alike, but young;
The strength of Otho by his wound unstrung,
And Desiderio's age; and Ottachier

And theamented bonds of Denmark's heir--

}

}

Of

H

Of all he thought; but every thought was cross'd
By sad remembrance of his kinsmen lost;
And in those mighty chiefs each short reflexion clos'd.
As when her dusky wings the falcon spreads
And soars incumbent o'er the vocal glades,
Wide though she range, her breast as instinct stirs
Homeward she wheels and to her young recurs;
Or as those worlds, that through extended space
In measur'd periods, measur'd orbits trace,
Seek the same point from which Almighty force
Gave the first impulse to their endless course :
So did the thoughts that fill'd the Monarch's breast,
Revolving, on his matchless warriors rest.

Not long his wisdom paus'd, if hands unskill'd
Should rule the chance of that eventful field
Or He, the King, regardless of his age,
Meet the first foam of Agramante's rage.
If Fate at Europe aim, 'tis mine,' he said,
To offer to its bolt th' imperial head.

'Tis mine, if Europe fall, to court my doom
And sink, an earnest of the fall to come.'---
Instant he bade th' attendant squires infold
His sinewy limbs in arms of burnish'd gold:
Then strode majestick forth. A purple stole
He wore, the emblem of supreme control.
His open helm the Sovereign's aspect show'd,
Where energy and awful grandeur glow'd,
Temper'd with something soft: on Calpe's height
The sun's last beam reflects a mellow light;
Tho' darkness soon that short-liv'd beam shall hide,
And Calpe's mighty form in gloom subside.

To Aquilant the pensive King consign'd
The central post, and Grifon with him join'd.
Much did he urge th' impetuous knights to sooth,
And much from single fight dissuade their youth:
Ah! vain precaution---When his hour is come,
Man deviates not, but hurries to the tomb.
All means which Chance objects his fate to foil
He deems a hindrance and surmounts with toil;
To meet th' uplifted shaft unconscious runs,
And seeks, what unbesotted Reason shuns.
These warriors' doom no counsel might delay-
Their elfin guardian turn'd her eyes away.
She stretch'd had seen o'er each devoted head
Death's fleshless arm: then wide her wings she spread
And dropp'd some tears that still'd the ambient air,
And sunk the courage of the knightly pair