Faint in his wounds, and shivering in the blast,
The Swedish soldier sunk—and groan'd his last!
File after file, the stormy showers benumb,
Freeze every standard-sheet, and hush the drum!
Horsemen and horse confess'd the bitter pang,
And arms and warriors fell with hollow clang!
Yet, ere he sunk in Nature's last repose,
Ere life's warm torrent to the fountain froze,
The dying man to Sweden turn'd his eye,
Thought of his home, and clos'd it with a sigh!
Imperial pride look'd sullen on his plight,

And Charles beheld - nor shudder'd at the sight!

Speech of the Host's Son in HERMAN and DOROTHEA. From the German.

(Original)

"Were base and heartless, whose obdurate breast
"Were steel'd against his fellow-creatures' wrongs,
"In these tempestuous times.-Senseless the wretch
"That for the welfare of his father's land
"Feels not, his anxious passions watch alarm'd-
"For me the actings and the sight to-day

Lay hold upon my soul-I walk'd abroad,

"And o'er the spacious plains beheld,
"Cluster'd with vines, the terminating hills;
"The sunny corn-field waved its granary
"Ripeness, that woo'd the sickle-and the trees
"Held out their loaded arms, with promise fair
"Of fruitful treasure for the harvest store.
"But woe to fruitful fields and peaceful plains,
"The spoiler is at hand-True, the broad Rhine
"Protects us with his flood-but what are floods,
"Or mountains, to the dreadful enemy-
"Whose coming is a whirlwind-Old and young
"The people rise-to battle thousands rush
"On thousands to resist th' invading foe,
"Reckless of death and danger-fits it now
"A German quietly to rest at home,
"Or hope the general danger to escape?
"Believe me, mother, I am griev'd to find,
"In the last levy of our gallant townsmen,

"Our trade extensive-but in such an hour,
"Oh, were it better tamely waiting here,
"A robber's yoke, a tyrant's confiscation,
"Than nobly fighting in the public cause,
"To guard our native borders?-Yes, my spirit
"Informs me of the power, and gives the will
"To live or perish for ny country's sake;
"That brave example I will teach to others.-
"Oh! could the flower of German gallantly,
"Our youth, assembled on our fair frontiers,
"Uphold an oath, that never hostile foot
"Should tread unpunish'd on our fertile fields,
"Then should no proud destroyer ever spoil
"Our land beneath the ruin'd owner's eyes* !"

WAR SONG OF THE R. EDINBURGH LIGHT DRAGOONS.

Ο

By WALLER SCOTT, Esq.

TO horse! to horse! the standard flies,
The bugles sound the call;

The Gallic navy stems the seas,

The voice of battles on the breeze,
Arouse ye, one and all!

From high Dunedin's towers we come,
A band of brother's true;

Our casques the leopard's spoils surround,
With Scotland's hardy thistle crown'd;
We boast the red and blue †.

Tho' tamely crouch to Gallia's power
Dull Holland's tardy train;

Their ravish'd toys tho' Romans mourn,
Tho' gallant Switzers vainly spurn,
And foaming, gnaw the chain:

O! had they mark'd th' avenging call
Their brethren's murder gave,
Disunion ne'er their ranks had mown,
Nor patriot valour, desperate grown,
Sought freedom in the grave!

*The above is a translation from the "Herman and Dorothea" of Goethe, one of the most popular productions of the present day in Germany. It is valuable as it expresses, in nervous and poetical language, the horror of the ravages of the French invaders, throughout the desolated country on the banks of the Rhine! What Herman (whose speech it is) wishes should be done in Germany, is actually the case in England at this moment. EDIT.

The royal colours.

Shall

But happier still should lovely Campbell sing
Thy plaintive numbers to the trembling string.
The Mermaids melting strains would yield to thee,
Though poured diffusive o'er the silver sea;
Go boldly forth-but ah! the listening throng,
Rapt by the Siren, would forget the song!
Lo! where they pause, nor dare to gaze around,
Afraid to break the soft enchanting sound,
While swells to sympathy each fluttering heart,
'Tis not the poet's, but the Syren's art.
Go forth, devoid of fear, my simple lay!
First heard returning from Iona's bay,

When round our bark the shades of evening drew,
And broken slumbers prest our weary crew;
While round the prow the sea-fire flashing bright,
Shed a strange lustre o'er the waste of night;
While harsh and dismal screamed the diving gull,
Round the dark rocks that wall the coast of Mull;
As through black reefs we held our venturous way,
I caught the wild traditionary lay.

A wreath, no more in black Iona's isle

To bloom-but graced, by high-born beauty's smile.