Proud siren of the Nile! thy glance is fraught
With an immortal fire-in every beam
It darts, there kindles some heroic thought,
But wild and awful as a sibyl's dream;
For thou with death hast communed, to attain
Dread knowledge of the pangs that ransom from the

chain. (1)

And the stern courage by such musings lent,
Daughter of Afric! o'er thy beauty throws
The grandeur of a regal spirit, blent
With all the majesty of mighty woes!
While he, so fondly, fatally adored,

Thy fallen Roman, gazes on thee yet,
Till scarce the soul, that once exulting soar'd,
Can deem the day-star of its glory set;
Scarce his fond heart believes that power can be
In sovereign fate, o'er him, thus fondly loved by thee.

But there is sadness in the eyes around,

Which mark that ruin'd leader, and survey His changeful mien, whence oft the gloom profound Strange triumph chases haughtily away. "Fill the bright goblet, warrior guests!" he cries, "Quaff, ere we part, the generous nectar deep! Ere sunset gild once more the western skies,

Your chief in cold forgetfulness may sleep, While sounds of revel float o'er shore and sea, And the red bowl again is crown'd-but not for me.

"Yet weep not thus-the struggle is not o'er,
O victors of Philippi! - many a field
Hath yielded palms to us:-one effort more,
By one stern conflict must our fate be seal'd !

;

Forget not, Romans! o'er a subject world
How royally your eagle's wing hath spread,
Though from his eyrie of dominion hurl'd,
Now bursts the tempest on his crested head;
Yet sovereign still, if banish'd from the sky,
The sun's indignant bird, he must not droop-but die."

The feast is o'er. 'Tis night, the dead of night-
Unbroken stillness broods o'er earth and deep;
From Egypt's heaven of soft and starry light

The moon looks cloudless o'er a world of sleep:
For those who wait the morn's awakening beams,
The battle signal to decide their doom,
Have sunk to feverish rest and troubled dreams;
Rest, that shall soon be calmer in the tomb,
Dreams, dark and ominous, but there to cease,
When sleep the lords of war in solitude and peace.

Wake, slumberers, wake! Hark! heard ye not a sound
Of gathering tumult?-near and nearer still
Its murmur swells. Above, below, around

Bursts a strange chorus forth, confused and shrill.
Wake, Alexandria! through thy streets the tread
Of steps unseen is hurrying, and the note
Of pipe, and lyre, and trumpet, wild and dread
Is heard upon the midnight air to float;
And voices, clamorous as in frenzied mirth,
Mingle their thousand tones which are not of the

earth.

These are no mortal sounds-their thrilling strain
Hath more mysterious power, and birth more high;

And the deep horror chilling every vein
Owns them of stern, terrific augury.

Beings of worlds unknown! ye pass away,
O ye invisible and awful throng!
Your echoing footsteps and resounding lay
To Cæsar's camp exulting move along.
Thy gods forsake thee, Antony! the sky
By that dread sign reveals-thy doom-"Despair

and die!" (2)

ALARIC IN ITALY.

After describing the conquest of Greece and Italy by the German and Scythian hordes, united under the command of Alaric, the historian of "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" thus proceeds:-"Whether fame, or conquest, or riches, were the object of Alaric, he pursued that object with an indefatigable ardour, which could neither be quelled by adversity, nor satiated by success. No sooner had he reached the extreme land of Italy, than he was attracted by the neighbouring prospect of a fair and peaceful island. Yet even the possession of Sicily he considered only as an intermediate step to the important expedition which he already meditated against the continent of Africa. The straits of Rhegium and Messina are twelve miles in length, and, in the narrowest passage, about one mile and a half broad; and the fabulous monsters of the deep, the rocks of Scylla, and the whirlpool of Charybdis, could terrify none but the most timid and unskilful mariners: yet, as soon as the first division of the Goths had embarked, a sudden tempest arose, which sunk or scattered many of the transports: their courage was daunted by the terrors of a new element; and the whole design was defeated by the premature death of Alaric, which fixed, after a short illness, the fatal term of his conquests. The ferocious character of the barbarians was displayed in the funeral of a hero, whose valour and fortune they celebrated with mournful applause. By the labour of a captive multitude they forcibly diverted the course of the Busentinus, a small river that washes the walls of Consentia. The royal sepulchre, adorned with the splendid spoils and trophies of Rome, was constructed in the vacant bed; the waters were then restored to their natural channel, and the secret spot, where the remains of Alaric had been deposited, was for ever concealed by the inhuman massacre of the prisoners who had been employed to execute the work." See The Decline and Fall of the Roman

Empire, vol. v. p. 329.

HEARD ye the Gothic trumpet's blast?
The march of hosts, as Alaric pass'd?
His steps have track'd that glorious clime,
The birth-place of heroic time;
But he, in northern deserts bred,
Spared not the living for the dead, (1)
Nor heard the voice, whose pleading cries
From temple and from tomb arise.
He pass'd-the light of burning fanes
Hath been his torch o'er Grecian plains;
And woke they not-the brave, the free,
To guard their own Thermopylæ?
And left they not their silent dwelling,
When Scythia's note of war was swelling?
No! where the bold Three Hundred slept,
Sad Freedom battled not-but wept!
For nerveless then the Spartan's hand,
And Thebes could rouse no Sacred Band;
Nor one high soul from slumber broke,
When Athens own'd the northern yoke.

But was there none for thee to dare
The conflict, scorning to despair?
O city of the seven proud hills!
Whose name e'en yet the spirit thrills,
As doth a clarion's battle-call,
Didst thou too, ancient empress, fall?
Did not Camillus from the chain
Ransom thy Capitol again?