Wert thou not peopled by some glorious race,
And was there power to smite them with decay?

Why, who shall talk of thrones, of sceptres riven?
Bow'd be our hearts to think of what we are,

When from its height afar

A world sinks thus-and yon majestic heaven
Shines not the less for that one vanish'd star!

THE SLEEPER ON MARATHON.

1 LAY upon the solemn plain

And by the funeral mound,

Where those who died not there in vain,
Their place of sleep had found.

"Twas silent where the free blood gush'd,
When Persia came array'd-

So many a voice had there been hush'd,
So many a footstep stay'd.

I slumber'd on the lonely spot,
So sanctified by Death-

I slumber'd-but my rest was not
As theirs who lay beneath.

For on my dreams, that shadowy hour,
They rose-the chainless dead-
All arm'd they sprang, in joy, in power,
Up from their grassy bed.

I saw their spears, on that red field,
Ilash as in time gone by-

Chased to the seas, without his shield
I saw the Persian fly.

I woke the sudden trumpet's blast
Call'd to another fight-

From visions of our glorious past,
Who doth not wake in might?

100

THE TRUMPET.

TROUBADOUR SONG.

THE warrior cross'd the ocean's foam,
For the stormy fields of war-
The maid was left in a smiling home,
And a sunny land afar.

His voice was heard where javelin showers
Pour'd on the steel-clad line;

Her step was 'midst the summer-flowers,
Her seat beneath the vine.

His shield was cleft, bis lance was riven,
And the red blood stain'd his crest;
While she the gentlest wind of heaven
Might scarcely fan her breast.

Yet a thousand arrows pass'd him by,
And again he cross'd the seas;
But she had died, as roses die

That perish with a breeze.

As roses die, when the blast is come,

For all things bright and fair-
There was death within the smiling home,
How had death found her there?

THE TRUMPET.

THE trumpet's voice hath rous'd the land,
Light up the beacon pyre !
-A hundred hills have seen the brand
And waved the sign of fire.

A hundred banners to the breeze

Their gorgeous folds have cast

And hark!-was that the sound of seas?
-A king to war went past.

The chief is arming in his hall,
The peasant by his hearth;
The mourner hears the thrilling call,
And rises from the earth.

The mother on her first-born son,
Looks with a boding eye-

They come not back, though all be won,
Whose young hearts leap so high.

The bard hath ceased his song, and bound
The falchion to his side;

E'en for the marriage altar crown'd,
The lover quits his bride.

And all this haste, and change, and fear,
By earthly clarion spread!-

How will it be when kingdoms hear

The blast that wakes the dead?

BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.

The celebrated Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, having made many ineffectual efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Saldana, who had been imprisoned by King Alfonso of Asturias, almost from the time of Bernardo's birth, at last took up arms in despair. The war which he maintained proved so destructive, that the men of the land gathered round the king, and united in demanding Saldana's liberty. Alfonso accordingly offered Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person, in exchange for his castle of Carpio. Bernardo, without hesitation, gave up his strong hold with all his captives, and being assured that his father was then on his way from prison,rode forth with the king to meet him. "And when he saw his father approaching, he exclaimed," says the ancient chronicle, "Oh! God, is the Count of Saldana indeed coming? Look where he is,' replied the cruel king, and now go and greet him whom you have so long desired to see." "The remainder of the story will be found related in the ballad. The chronicles and romances leave us nearly in the dark, as to Bernardo's future history after this event.

THE warrior bow'd his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,

And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprison'd sire; "I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive

train,

102

BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.

I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!-oh! break my father's chain!"

"Rise, rise! ev'n now thy father comes, a ransom❜d man this day;

Mount thy good horse, and thou and I will meet him on his

Way."

Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy

speed.

And lo! from far, as on they press'd, there came a glittering

band,

With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the

land;

Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is

he,

The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearn'd so long to

see.'

His dark eye flash'd,-his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and went.

He reach'd that gray-hair'd chieftain's side, and there dismounting bent,

A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he tookWhat was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook ?That hand was cold-a frozen thing-it dropp'd from his like lead

He look'd up to the face above, the face was of the deadA plume waved o'er the noble brow-the brow was fix'd and white

He met at last his father's eyes-but in them was no sight! Up from the ground he sprang and gazed-but who could paint that gaze?

They hush'd their very hearts that saw its horror and amazeThey might have chain'd him as before that stony form he stood,

For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood,

"Father!" at length he murmur'd low-and wept like child

hood then

Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!

He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young

renown

He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down.

Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mourn

ful brow,

"No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for

now

My king is false, my hope betray'd, my father-oh! the

worth,

The glory, and the loveliness are pass'd away from earth.

"I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire! beside thee yet

I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had

met

Thou wouldst have known my spirit then--for thee my fields

were won,

And thou hast perish'd in thy chains, as though thou hadst no

Son !"

Then starting from the ground once more, he siezed the monarch's rein,

Amidst the pale and wilder'd looks of all the courtier-train ; And with a fierce o'ermastering grasp the rearing war-horse led,

And sternly set them face to face-the king before the dead-"Came 1 not forth upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss? -Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what is this?

The voice, the glance, the heart I sought-give answer, where are they?

-If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay.

"Into these glassy eyes put light-be still! keep down thine

ire

Bid these white lips a blessing speak-this earth is not my sire

Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed

Thou canst not?-and a king!--his dust be mountains on thy head "!

He loosed the steed-his slack hand fell-upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turn'd from that sad place-

His hope was crush'd, his after-fate untold in martial strainHis banner led the spears no more amidst the hills of Spain.