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ID. QWANDO, ACCIDERIT. NON. SATIS. A VDEO
EFFARI. SI QVIDEM. NON. CLARIVs. MIHI
PER. SACROS. TRIPODEs. CERTA. REFERT. DEVS N.E.C. SERVAT. PEN IT vs. FIDEMI
At that dread season when th’ indignant north
Poured to vain wars her tardy numbers forth,
When Frederic bent his ear to Europe's cry,
And fanned too late the flame of liberty;
By feverish hope oppressed,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
trode, And the far-distant fife that thrilled along the road. r
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.
O, song of hope, too long delusive strain.
And hear we now thy flattering voice again?
But late, alas, I left thee cold and still,
Stunned by the wrath of Heaven, on Pratzen's
O, on that hill may no kind month renew
The fertile rain, the sparkling summer dew.
Accursed 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
There Europe.soiled with blood her tresses gray,
And ancient Honor’s shield—all vilely thrown
Thus mused my soul, as in succession drear
Rose each grim shape of Wrath and Doubt and
Defeat and shame in grizzly vision passed,
And Vengeance, bought with blood, and glori-
ous 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 fleshed the maiden steel of Brunswic's
O! yet, I deemed, that Fate, by Justice led,
Might wreath once more the veteran's silver
That Europe’s ancient pride would yet disdain
The cumbrous sceptre of a single reign;
That conscious right would tenfold strength af.
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 the Eternal Mind
Care for a sparrow, yet neglect mankind
Why, if the dubious battle own his power,
And the red sabre, where he bids, devour,
Why then can one the curse of worlds deride,