E'en now half mingled with the sky,
And all prepared-oh! not to die—
But, like the prophet, to aspire,
In heaven's triumphal car of fire.

He speaks-and from the throngs around
Is heard not e'en a whispered sound ;
Awe-struck each heart, and fixed each glance,
They stand as in a spell-bound trance:
He speaks-oh! who can hear nor own
The might of each prevailing tone?

"Chieftains and warriors! ye, so long
Aroused to strife by mutual wrong,
Whose fierce and far-transmitted hate
Hath made your country desolate ;
Now by the love ye bear her name,
By that pure spark of holy flame
On freedom's altar brightly burning,
But, once extinguished, ne'er returning;
By all your hopes of bliss to come,
When burst the bondage of the tomb ;
By Him, the God who bade us live
To aid each other, and forgive-
I call upon ye to resign

Your discords at your country's shrine,
Each ancient feud in peace atone,
Wield your keen swords for her alone,
And swear upon the cross, to cast
Oblivion's mantle o'er the past

No voice replies. The holy bands
Advance to where yon chieftain stands,
With folded arms, and brow of gloom
O'ershadowed by his floating plume.
To him they lift the cross-in vain :
He turns-oh! say not with disdain,
But with a mien of haughty grief,
That seeks not, e'en from heaven, relief.
He rends his robes-he sternly speaks-
Yet tears are on the warrior's cheeks.

"Father! not thus the wounds may close, Inflicted by eternal foes.

Deemest thou thy mandate can efface
The dread volcano's burning trace?
Or bid the earthquake's ravaged scene
Be smiling as it once hath been?
No! for the deeds the sword hath done
Forgiveness is not lightly won ;
The words by hatred spoke may not
Be as a summer breeze forgot!
'Tis vain-we deem the war-feud's rage
A portion of our heritage.

Leaders, now slumbering with their fame,
Bequeathed us that undying flame;
Hearts that have long been still and cold
Yet rule us from their silent mould;
And voices, heard on earth no more,
Speak to our spirits as of yore.
Talk not of mercy-blood alone
The stain of bloodshed may atone;
Nought else can pay that mighty debt,
The dead forbid us to forget."

He pauses-from the patriarch's brow
There beams more lofty grandeur now;
His reverend form, his aged hand,
Assume a gesture of command,

His voice is awful, and his eye

Filled with prophetic majesty.

"The dead!-and deemest thou they retain Aught of terrestrial passion's stain?

Of guilt incurred in days gone by,

Aught but the fearful penalty?

And sayest thou, mortal! blood alone
For deeds of slaughter may atone?

There hath been blood-by Him 'twas shed
To expiate every crime who bled;
The absolving God who died to save,
And rose in victory from the grave!
And by that stainless offering given
Alike for all on earth to heaven ;'
By that inevitable hour

When death shall vanquish pride and power,
And each departing passion's force
Concentrate all in late remorse;

And by the day when doom shall be
Passed on earth's millions, and on thee-
The doom that shall not be repealed,
Once uttered, and for ever sealed-
I summon thee, O child of clay !
To cast thy darker thoughts away,
And meet thy foes in peace and love,
As thou wouldst join the blest above."

Still as he speaks, unwonted feeling
Is o'er the chieftain's bosom stealing;
Oh! not in vain the pleading cries
Of anxious thousands round him rise;
He yields devotion's mingled sense
Of faith, and fear, and penitence,
Pervading all his soul, he bows
To offer on the cross his vows,
And thatbe st incense to the skies,
Each evil passion's sacrifice.

Then tears from warriors' eyes were flowing,
High hearts with soft emotions glowing;
Stern foes as long-loved brothers greeting,
And ardent throngs in transport meeting;
And eager footsteps forward pressing,
And accents loud in joyous blessing;
And when their first wild tumults cease,
A thousand voices echo "Peace!"

Twilight's dim mist hath rolled away,
And the rich Orient burns with day;
Then as to greet the sunbeam's birth,
Rises the choral hymn of earth-
The exulting strain through Genoa swelling,
Of peace and holy rapture telling.

Far float the sounds oe'r vale and steep,
The seaman hears them on the deep,
So mellowed by the gale, they seem
As the wild music of a dream.
But not on mortal ear alone
Peals the triumphant anthem's tone;
For beings of a purer sphere
Bend with celestial joy to hear.

["Not only the place of Richard's confinement" (when thrown into prison by the Duke of Austria), "if we believe the literary history of the times, but even the circumstance of his captivity, was carefully concealed by his vindictive enemies: and both might have remained unknown but for the grateful attachment of a Provençal bard, or minstrel, named Blondel, who had shared that prince's friendship and tasted his bounty. Having travelled over all the European continent to learn the destiny of his beloved patron, Blondel accidentally got intelligence of a certain castle in Germany, where a prisoner of distinction was confined, and guarded with great vigilance. Persuaded by a secret impulse that this prisoner was the King of England, the minstrel repaired to the place; but the gates of the castle were shut against him, and he could obtain no information relative to the name or quality of the unhappy person it secured. In this extremity, he bethought himself of an expedient for making the desired discovery. He chanted, with a loud voice, some verses of a song which had been composed partly by himself, partly by Richard; and to his unspeakable joy, on making a pause, he heard it re-echoed and continued by the royal captive.- (Hist. Troubadours. To this discovery the English monarch is said to have eventually owed his release."-See RUSSEL'S Modern Europe, vol. i. p. 369.]

THE Troubadour o'er many a plain
Hath roamed unwearied, but in vain.
O'er many a rugged mountain-scene
And forest wild his track hath been;
Beneath Calabria's glowing sky
He hath sung the songs of chivalry;

His voice hath swelled on the Alpine breeze,
And rung through the snowy Pyrenees;

From Ebro's banks to Danube's wave,

He hath sought his prince, the loved, the brave;

And yet, if still on earth thou art,

Oh, monarch of the lion-heart!
The faithful spirit, which distress
But heightens to devotedness,
By toil and trial vanquished not,
Shall guide thy minstrel to the spot.

He hath reached a mountain hung with vine, And woods that wave o'er the lovely Rhine: The feudal towers that crest its height

Frown in unconquerable might;
Dark is their aspect of sullen state-
No helmet hangs o'er the massy gate
To bid the wearied pilgrim rest,

At the chieftain's board a welcome guest;
Vainly rich evening's parting smile
Would chase the gloom of the haughty pile,
That 'midst bright sunshine lowers on high,
Like a thunder-cloud in a summer sky.

Not these the halls where a child of song
Awhile may speed the hours along;
Their echoes should repeat alone
The tyrant's mandate, the prisoner's moan,
Or the wild huntsman's bugle-blast,
When his phantom-train are hurrying past.
The weary minstrel paused-his eye
Roved o'er the scene despondingly:
Within the lengthening shadow, cast
By the fortress-towers and ramparts vast,
Lingering he gazed. The rocks around
Sublime in savage grandeur frowned;
Proud guardians of the regal flood,
In giant strength the mountains stood-
By torrents cleft, by tempests riven,
Yet mingling still with the calm blue heaven.
Their peaks were bright with a sunny glow,
But the Rhine all shadowy rolled below;
In purple tints the vineyards smiled,

But the woods beyond waved dark and wild ;
Nor pastoral pipe, nor convent's bell,
Was heard on the sighing breeze to swell;
But all was lonely, silent, rude,

A stern, yet glorious solitude.

But hark! that solemn stillness breaking,
The Troubadour's wild song is waking.
Full oft that song, in days gone by,
Hath cheered the sons of chivalry;

It hath swelled o'er Judah's mountains lone,
Hermon thy echoes have learned its tone;
On the Great Plain its notes have rung,
The leagued Crusaders' tents among ;
'Twas loved by the Lion-heart, who won
The palm in the field of Ascalon;
And now afar o'er the rocks of Rhine
Peals the bold strain of Palestinc.