WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE? HAT constitutes a state? Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, Thick wall or moated gate; Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned; Not bays and broad-armed ports, Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride; Not starred and spangled courts, Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. No:- men, high-minded men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake or den, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude,— But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain; And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain,- And sovereign law, that state's collected will, Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill. The fiend, Dissension, like a vapor sinks; Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore! Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave T'S hame, and it's hame, hame fain wad I be, The lark shall sing me hame in my ain countree; There's naught now frae ruin my country can save The great now are gane, a' who ventured to save, E mariners of England YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze, Your glorious standard launch again And sweep through the deep, While the battle rages loud and long, The spirits of your fathers For the deck it was their field of fame, Britannia needs no bulwarks, Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below,— As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow; THOMAS CAMPBELL. A THE UNRETURNING BRAVE. ND Ardennes waves above them her green Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass; Over the unreturning brave;-alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. Their praise is hymned by loftier harps than mine; There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, I turned from all she brought, to those she could not bring. LORD BYRON. T WATERLOO. SHERE was a sound of revelry by night, men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it? No; 't was but the wind Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; 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! 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 evermore 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 "The Cameron's gathering" rose! The war-notes of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears! LORD BYRON. |