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g:-bag, beg, keg, egg, plague, vague, rogue, brogue, guide, gear, gird, gig, ragged, craggy, anger, finger.
Battle of Waterloo.
THERE was a sound of revelry by night;
And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose, with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again; And all went merry as a marriage-bell But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Did ye not hear it? No: 'twas but the wind,
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet: But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat;
And nearer, clearer, deadlier, than before!
Arm! arm! it is! - it is! the cannon's opening roar!
Within a windowed niche of that high hall,
Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain: he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; And, when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well,
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,
And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: He rushed into the field, and foremost fighting, fell.
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise?
And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar, And near, the beat of the alarming drum,
Roused up the soldier, ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens, with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips, "The foe! They come ! they come!"
And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose!
With the fierce native daring, which instils
And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Grieving if aught inanimate e'er grieves
Over the unreturning brave, alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow,
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass
Of living valor, rolling on the foe,
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low!
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life;
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, friend, foe, — in one red burial blent!
Rider and horse,
j:— age, cage, page, rage, wage, huge, jar, gem, june, refuge, divulge, exchange.
LOCHIEL, Lochiel, beware of the day
When the lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!
They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown;
Go preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!
Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?
From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the north?
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!
Heaven's fire is around thee to blast and to burn:
False wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan:
Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day!
For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,
Now in darkness and billows he sweeps from my sight:
But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where?