Obrazy na stronie
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Where the towers rock and crumble from their

height,

As the earthquake, and the engines ply Like red Vesuvio; and where human might Confronts all this, and still brave hearts beat high, While scymetars ring loud on shivering panoply. LXXXIX.

Where art thou Constantine ?-Where Christian blood

Hath bathed the walls in torrents, and in vain! Where Faith and Valour perish in the flood, Whose billows, rising o'er their bosoms, gain Dark strength each moment: where the gallant slain

Around the banner of the cross lie strewed, Thick as the vine-leaves on the autumnal plain; Where all, save one high spirit, is subdued, And through the breach press on the o'erwhelming multitude.

XC.

Now is he battling 'midst a host alone, As the last cedar stems awhile the sway Of mountain-storms, whose fury hath o'erthrown Its forest-brethren in their green array! And he hath cast his purple robe away, With its imperial bearings; that his sword An iron ransom from the chain may pay, And win, what haply Fate may yet accord, A soldier's death, the all now left an empire's lord!

XCI.

Search for him now, where bloodiest lie the files Which once were men, the faithful and the brave! Search for him now, where loftiest rise the piles Of shattered helms and shields, which could not save;

And crests and banners, never more to wave In the free winds of heaven!-He is of those O'er whom the host may rush, the tempest rave, And the steeds trample, and the spearmen close, Yet wake them not!-so deep their long and last repose!

XCII.

Wo to the vanquished! thus it hath been still, Since Time's first march!-Hark, hark, a people's cry!

Ay! now the conquerors in the streets fulfil Their task of wrath! In vain the victims fly; Hark! now each piercing tone of agony Blends in the city's shrick !-The lot is cast. Slaves, 't was your choice, thus, rather thus, to die, Than where the warrior's blood flows warm and fast,

And roused and mighty hearts beat proudly to the last!

XCIII.

Oh! well doth freedom battle!-Men have made E'en 'midst their blazing roofs, a noble stand, And on the floors, where once their children played,

And by the hearths, round which their household band

At evening met; ay! struggling hand to hand, Within the very chambers of their sleep,

There have they taught the spoilers of the land, In chainless hearts what fiery strength lies deep, To guard free homes !--but ye! kneel, tremblers! kneel and weep!

XCIV.

'T is eve-the storm hath died-the valiant rest Low on their shields; the day's fierce work is done,

And blood-stained seas and burning towers attest Its fearful deeds. An empire's race is run! Sad, 'midst his glory, looks the parting sun Upon the captive city. Hark! a swell (Meet to proclaim Barbaric war-fields won) Of fierce triumphal sounds, that wildly tell, The Soldan comes within the Cæsars' halls to

dwell!

XCV.

Yes! with the peal of cymbal and of gong,
He comes, the Moslem treads those ancient
halls!

But all is stillness there, as Death had long
Been lord alone within those gorgeous walls.
And half that silence of the grave appals
The conqueror's heart. Ay, thus with Tri-
umph's hour,

Still comes the boding whisper, which recalls
A thought of those impervious clouds that lower
O'er Grandeur's path, a sense of some far mightier
Power!

XCVI.

"The owl upon Afrasiab's towers hath sung Her watch-song, and around th' imperial throne The spider weaves his web!"(21) Still darkly hung

That verse of omen, as a prophet's tone,
O'er his flushed spirit. Years on years have flown
To prove its truth: kings pile their domes in air,
That the coiled snake may bask on sculptured
stone,

And nations clear the forest, to prepare For the wild fox and wolf more stately dwellings there!

XCVII.

But thou! that on thy ramparts proudly dying, As a crowned leader in such hours should die,

Upon thy pyre of shivered spears art lying,
With the heavens o'er thee for a canopy,
And banners for thy shroud!-No tear, no sigh,
Shall mingle with thy dirge; for thou art now
Beyond vicissitude! Lo! reared on high,

The Crescent blazes, while the Cross must bow; But where no change can reach, there, Constantine, art thou!

XCVIII.

"After life's fitful fever thou sleepest well!" We may not mourn thee!-Sceptred chiefs, from whom

The earth received her destiny, and fell
Before them trembling-to a sterner doom

Have oft been called. For them the dungeon's gloom,

Thrill to the trumpet; and the tombs reply, With their ten thousand echoes, from each plain,

Far as Platea's, where the mighty lie, Who crowned so proudly there the bowl of liberty:(22)

CII.

Bright land with glory mantled o'er by song,
Land of the vision-peopled hills and streams,
And fountains, whose deserted banks along,
Still the soft air with inspiration teems;
Land of the graves, whose dwellers shall be
themes

To verse for ever; and of ruined shrines,
That scarce look desolate beneath such beams,
As bathe in gold thine ancient rocks and pines!

With its cold starless midnight, hath been made-When shall thy sons repose in peace beneath

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Note 3, page 181, col. 1.

From the Seven Towers, &c.

earth." Decius then, girding his robe around him, mounted his horse, and rode full speed into the thickest of the enemy's battalions. The Latins were, for a while, thunderstruck at this spectacle: but at length recovering themselves, they discharged a shower of darts, under which the consul fell.

Note 6, page 182, col. 1.

-Lo! Christian pennons streaming
Red o'er the waters! &c.

See Gibbon's animated description of the arrival of five Christian ships, with men and provisions, for the succour of the besieged, not many days before the fall of Constantinople.--Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. xii. p. 215. Note 7, page 183, col. 1.

-As when the wind hath blown
O'er Indian groves, &c.

The summits of the lofty rocks in the Carnatic, particularly about the Ghauts, are sometimes coThe Castle of the Seven Towers is mentioned vered with the bamboo tree, which grows in thick in the Byzantine history, as early as the sixth clumps, and is of such uncommon aridity, that in century of the Christian era, as an edifice which the sultry season of the year the friction occasioncontributed materially to the defence of Constanti-ed by a strong dry wind will literally produce nople; and it was the principal bulwark of the sparks of fire, which frequently setting the woods town on the coast of the Propontis, in the latter periods of the empire. For a description of this building see Pouqueville s Travels.

Note 4, page 181, col. 2.

With its long march of sceptred imagery. An allusion to the Roman custom of carrying in procession, at the funerals of their great men, the images of their ancestors.

Note 5, page 181, col. 2.

in a blaze, exhibit to the spectator stationed in a valley surrounded by rocks, a magnificent, though imperfect circle of fire.-Notes to Kindersley's Specimens of Hindoo Literature.

Note 8, page 184, col. 1.

-The snowy crown

Of far Olympus, &c.

Those who steer their westward course through the middle of the Propontis may at once descry the high lands of Thrace and Bithynia, and never lose sight of the lofty summit of Mount Olympus, covered with eternal snows.Decline and Fall,

Note 9, page 184, col. 2.

-Mohammed's face

Kindles beneath their aspect, &c.

Mahomet II. was greatly addicted to the study

The Roman cast his glittering mail away. The following was the ceremony of consecration with which Decius devoted himself in battle. He fc. vol. iii. p. 8. was ordered by Valerius, the pontifex maximus, to quit his military habit, and put on the robe he wore in the senate. Valerius then covered his head with a veil; commanded him to put forth his hand under his robe to his chin, and standing with both feet upon a javelin, to repeat of astrology. His calculations in this science led these words: "O Janus, Jupiter, Mars, Romulus, him to fix upon the morning of the 29th of May Bellona, and ye Lares and Novensiles! All ye as the fortunate hour for a general attack upon the heroes who dwell in heaven, and all ye gods who city. rule over us and our enemies, especially ye gods of hell! I honour you, invoke you, and humbly intreat you to prosper the arms of the Romans, and to transfer all fear and terror from them to their enemies; and I do, for the safety of the Roman people, and their legions, devote myself, and with myself the army and auxiliaries of the enemy, to the infernal gods, and the goddess of the

Note 10, page 185, col. 2.

Thy Georgian bride, &c.

Constantine Palæologus was betrothed to a Georgian princess; and the very spring which witnessed the fall of Constantinople had been fixed upon as the time for conveying the imperial bride to that city.

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It is said to be a Greek superstition that the plague is announced by the heavy rolling of an invisible chariot, heard in the streets at midnight; and also by the appearance of a gigantic spectre, who summons the devoted person by name.

Note 15, page 187, col. 2.

-Ye smiled on banquets of despair, &c. Many instances of such banquets, given and shared by persons resolved upon death, might be adduced from ancient history. That of Vibius Virius, at Capua, is amongst the most memorable.

Note 16, page 188, col. 1.

-Yon dome, the lode-star of all eyes.

For a minute description of the marbles, jaspers, and porphyries, employed in the construction of St. Sophia, see The Decline and Fall, &c. vol. vii. p. 120.

Note 17, page 188, col. 2.

Nor is the balmy air of dayspring torn

With battle-sounds, &c.

The assault of the city took place at day-break, and the Turks were strictly enjoined to advance in silence, which had also been commanded, on pain of death, during the preceding night. This circumstance is finely alluded to by Miss Baillie, in her tragedy of Constantine Palæologus:

"Silent shall be the march: nor drum, nor trump,
Nor clash of arms, shall to the watchful foe
Our near approach betray: silent and soft,
As the pard's velvet foot on Lybia's sands,
Slow stealing with crouched shoulders on her prey."
Constantine Palæologus, Act iv.

mours, which reached the ears of the watchmen on the towers."

Note 18, page 189, col. 1.

-The dark-browed ranks are risen. "After a conflict of two hours, the Greeks still maintained and preserved their advantage," says Gibbon. The strenuous exertions of the janizaries first turned the fortune of the day.

Note 19, page 189, col. 2.

From the Greek fire shoots up, &c.

"A circumstance that distinguishes the siege of Constantinople is the reunion of the ancient and modern artillery. The bullet and the batteringram were directed against the same wall; nor had the discovery of gunpowder superseded the use of the liquid and unextinguishable fire."-Decline and Fall, &c., vol. xii. p. 213.

Note 20, page 189, col. 2.

And stanch the blood-drops, Genoa's fallen son! ascribed to the bullet, or arrow, which pierced the "The immediate loss of Constantinople may be gauntlet of John Justiniani (a Genoese chief). The sight of his blood, and exquisite pain, appalled the courage of the chief, whose arms and counsels were the firmest rampart of the city."— Decline and Fall, &c., vol. xii. p. 229.

Note 21, page 190, col. 2.

The owl upon Afrasiab's towers hath sung
Her watch-song, &c.

Mahomet II., on entering, after his victory, the palace of the Byzantine emperors, was strongly impressed with the silence and desolation which reigned within its precincts. A melancholy reflection on the vicissitudes of human greatness forced itself on his mind, and he repeated an elegant distich of Persian poetry: "The spider has wove his web in the imperial palace, and the owl hath sung her watch-song on the towers of Afrasiab.'"-Decline and Fall, &c., vol. xii. p. 240.

Note 22, page 191, col. 2.

-The bowl of liberty.

Platea was annually commemorated was, to crown One of the ceremonies by which the battle of with wine a cup called the Bowl of Liberty, which was afterwards poured forth in libation.

Note 23, page 191, col. 2.

In the Comneni's halls, &c.

The Comneni were amongst the most distin"The march and labour of thousands" must, guished of the families who filled the Byzantine however, as Gibbon observes, "have inevitably throne in the declining years of the eastern emproduced a strange confusion of discordant cla- pire.

I.

Greek Songs.

THE STORM OF DELPHI.*

FAR through the Delphian shades
An Eastern trumpet rung!

And the startled eagle rushed on high,
With sounding flight through the fiery sky,
And banners o'er the shadowy glades,

To the sweeping winds were flung.

Banners, with deep-red gold
All waving, as a flame,

And a fitful glance from the bright spear-head
On the dim wood-paths of the mountain shed,
And a peal of Asia's war-notes told

That in arms the Persian came.

He came, with starry gems

On his quiver and his crest;

With starry gems, at whose heart the day
Of the cloudless orient burning lay,
And they cast a gleam on the laurel-stems,

As onward his thousands pressed.

But a gloom fell o'er their way,
And a heavy moan went by!

A moan, yet not like the wind's low swell,
When its voice grows wild amidst cave and dell,
But a mortal murmur of dismay,

Or a warrior's dying sigh!

A gloom fell o'er their way!
'T was not the shadow cast

By the dark pine-boughs as they passed the blue
Of the Grecian heavens with their solemn hue;
-The air was filled with a mightier sway,

-But on the spearmen passed!

And hollow to their tread,

Came the echoes of the ground,

And banners drooped, as with dews o'erborne,
And the wailing blast of the battle-horn
Had an altered cadence, dull and dead,
Of strange foreboding sound.

-But they blew a louder strain,

When the steep defiles were passed!
And afar the crowned Parnassus rose,

To shine through heaven with his radiant snows,
And in golden light the Delphian fane
Before them stood at last!

In golden light it stood,

'Midst the laurels gleaming lone,

See the account cited from Herodotus, in Mitford's Greece.

For the Sun-God yet, with a lovely smile, O'er its graceful pillars looked awhile, Though the stormy shade on cliff and wood Grew deep, round its mountain-throne.

And the Persians gave a shout! But the marble-walls replied, With a clash of steel, and a sullen roar Like heavy wheels on the ocean-shore, And a savage trumpet's note pealed out, Till their hearts for terror died!

On the armour of the God, Then a viewless hand was laid; There were helm and spear, with a clanging din, And corslet brought from the shrine within, From the inmost shrine of the dread abode, And before its front arrayed.

And a sudden silence fell Through the dim and loaded air. On the wild bird's wing, and the myrtle-spray, And the very founts, in their silvery way, With a weight of sleep came down the spell, Till man grew breathless there.

But the pause was broken soon!

'T was not by song or lyre;

For the Delphian maids had left their bowers, And the hearths were lone in the city's towers, But there burst a sound through the misty noon, That battle-noon of fire!

It burst from earth and heaven! It rolled from crag and cloud! For a moment of the mountain-blast, With a thousand stormy voices passed, And the purple gloom of the sky was riven, When the thunder pealed aloud.

And the lightnings in their play
Flashed forth, like javelins thrown;

Like sun-darts winged from the silver bow,
They smote the spear and the turbaned brow,
And the bright gems flew from the crests like spray,
And the banners were struck down!

And the massy oak-boughs crashed
To the fire-bolts from on high,
And the forest lent its billowy roar,
While the glorious tempest onward bore,

And lit the streams, as they foamed and dashed,
With the fierce rain sweeping by.

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