"Go back, ye wolves, to your dens," he cried, "And tell the nations abroad, How the fiercest of your herd has died That slaughter'd the flock of God. Gather him bone by bone, And take with you o'er the flood And I come in the name of the Lord A remnant was call'd together, A doleful remnant of the Gael, And the Saint in the ship that brought him hither Took the mourners to Innisfail. Unscathed they left Iona's strand, When the opal morn first flush'd the sky, Safe from their hiding-places came But, alas! when the search for Reullura spread, For the sea had gone o'er her lovely head, And her spirit was in heaven. THE TURKISH LADY. "Twas the hour when rites unholy Call'd each Paynim voice to prayer, And the star that faded slowly Left to dews the freshen'd air. Day her sultry fires had wasted, Even a captive spirit tasted Half oblivion of his woes. Then 'twas from an Emir's palace "Tell me, captive, why in anguish Foes have dragg'd thee here to dwell, Where poor Christians as they languish Hear no sound of Sabbath bell?" ""Twas on Transylvania's Bannat, "In that day of desolation, "Captive! could the brightest jewel 66 Say, fair princess! would it grieve thee 66 Now in heaven's blue expansion Rose the midnight star to view, When to quit her father's mansion Thrice she wept, and bade adieu! “Fly we then, while none discover! Tyrant barks, in vain ye ride !". Soon at Rhodes the British lover Clasp'd his blooming Eastern bride. THE WOUNDED HUSSAR. ALONE to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube Fair Adelaide hied when the battle was o'er:"Oh! whither," she cried, "hast thou wander'd, my lover? Or here dost thou welter and bleed on the shore? "What voice did I hear? 'twas my Henry that sigh'd!" All mournful she hasten'd, nor wander'd she far, When bleeding, and low, on the heath she descried, By the light of the moon, her poor wounded Hussar ! From his bosom, that heaved, the last torrent was streaming, And pale was his visage, deep mark'd with a scar! And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming, That melted in love, and that kindled in war! How smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the sight! How bitter she wept o'er the victim of war! "Hast thou come, my fond Love, this last sorrowful night, To cheer the lone heart of your wounded Hussar?" "Thou shalt live," she replied, "Heaven's mercy relieving Each anguishing wound, shall forbid me to mourn!" "Ah, no! the last pang of my bosom is heaving! No light of the morn shall to Henry return! "Thou charmer of life, ever tender and true! R |