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ADVANCE-come forth from thy Tyrolean ground,
FEELINGS OF THE TYROLESE.
The land we from our fathers had in trust,
THE FINAL SUBMISSION OF THE
It was a moral end for which they fought;
ALAS! what boots the long, laborious quest
ZARAGOZA. And is it among rude untutored dales, There and there only, that the heart is true ? And, rising to repel or to subdue, Is it by rocks and woods that man prevails? Ah, no! though Nature's dread protection fails, There is a bulwark in the soul. This knew Iberian burghers when the sword they drew In Zaragoza, naked to the gales Of fiercely. breathing war. The truth was felt By Palafox and many a brave compeer, Like him of noble birth and noble mind; By ladies, meek-eyed women without fear; And wanderers of the street, to whom is dealt The bread which without industry they find.
Hail, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye We can approach, thy sorrow to behold, Yet is the heart not pitiless nor cold; Such spectacle demands not tear or sigh, These desolate remains are trophies high Of more than martial courage in the breast Of peaceful civic virtue: they attest Thy matchless worth to all posterity. Blood flowed before thy sight without remorse ; Disease consumed thy vitals; war upheaved The ground beneath thee with volcanic force; Dread trials ! yet encountered and sustained Till not a wreck of help or hope remained, And law was from necessity received.
O'er the wide earth, on mountain and on plain, Dwells in the affections and the soul of man A godhead, like the universal Pan, But more exalted, with a brighter train.
And shall his bounty be dispensed in vain,
PALAFOX. Ah! where is Palafox? Nor tongue nor pen Reports of him, his dwelling or his grave! Does yet the unheard-of vessel ride the wave? Or is she swallowed up, remote from ken Of pitying human nature ? Once again Methinks that we shall hail thee, champion brave, Redeemed to baffle that imperial slave, And through all Europe cheer desponding men With new-born hope. Unbounded is the might Of martyrdom, and fortitude, and right. Hark, how thy country triumphs! Smilingly The Eternal looks upon her sword that gleams, Like his own lightning, over mountains high, On rampart, and the banks of all her streams.
Say, what is honour? 'Tis the finest sense
Suffered or done. When lawless violence
AUSTRIA. The martial courage of a day is vain, An empty noise of death the battle's roar, If vital hope be wanting to restore, Or fortitude be wanting to sustain, Armies or kingdoms. We have heard a strain Of triumph, how the labouring Danube bore A weight of hostile corses : drenched with gore Were the wide fields, the hamlets heaped with slain. Yet see, the mighty tumult overpast, Austria a daughter of her throne hath sold ! And her Tyrolean champion we behold Murdered like one ashore by shipwreck cast, Murdered without relief. Oh! blind as bold, To think that such assurance can stand fast!
SCHILL. BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight From Prussia's timid region. Go, and rest With heroes mid the islands of the blest, Or in the fields of empyrean light.