Thus far have I proceeded in a theme
Renew'd with no kind auspices:—to feel
We are not what we have been, and to deem
We are not what we should be,-and to steel
The heart against itself; and to conceal,
With a proud caution, love, or hate, or aught-
Passion or feeling, purpose, grief, or zeal,-

Which is the tyrant spirit of our thought,
Is a stern task of soul:—No matter,-it is taught.


And for these words, thus woven into song,
It may be that they are a harmless wile,
The colouring of the scenes which fleet along,
Which I would seize, in passing, to beguile
My breast, or that of others, for a while.
Fame is the thirst of youth,—but I am not
So young as to regard men's frown or smile,

As loss or guerdon of a glorious lot;
I stood and stand alone,-remember'd or forgot


I have not loved the world, nor the world me;
I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd
To its idolatries a patient knee,–
Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles,-nor cried aloud
In worship of an echo; in the crowd
They could not deem me one of such; I stood
Among them, but not of them; in a shroud [could,

Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still Had I not filed (24) my mind, which thus itself subdued.


I have not loved the world, nor the world me,-
But let us part fair foes; I do believe,
Though I have found them not, that there may be
Words which are things--hopes which will not deceive,
And virtues which are merciful, nor weave
Snares for the failing: I would also deem
O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve; (25)

That two, or one, are almost what they seem,That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream.

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My daughter! with thy name this song begun-
My daughter! with thy name thus much shall end-
I see thee not, I hear thee not, but none
Can be so wrapt in thee; thou art the friend
To whom the shadows of far years extend:
Albeit my brow thou never should'st behold,
My voice shall with thy future visions blend,

And reach into thy heart,-when mine is cold,-
A token and a tone, even from thy father's mould.


To aid thy mind's development,—to watch
Thy dawn of little joys,-to sit and see
Almost thy very growth,—to view thee catch
Knowledge of objects,-wonders yet to thee!
To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee,
And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss,
This, it should seem, was not reserved for me;

Yet this was in my nature:-as it is,
I know not what is there, yet something like to this.


Yet, though dull Hate as duty should be taught,
I know that thou wilt love me; though my name
Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught
With desolation,—and a broken claim:
Though the grave closed between us,—’twere the same,
I know that thou wilt love me; though to drain
My blood from out thy being were an aim,

And an attainment,—all would be in vain,-
Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life



The child of love,--though born in bitterness,
And nurtured in convulsion. Of thy sire
These were the elements,—and thine no less.
As yet such are around thee,—but thy fire
Shall be more temper’d, and thy hope far higher.
Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea,
And from the mountains where I now respire,

Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee,
As, with a sigh, I deem thou might'st have been to me!


In pride of placehere last the eagle flew.

Stanza xviii. line 5. “ PRIDE of place" is a term of falconry, and means the highest pitch of flight.-See Macbeth, &c.

" An Eagle towering in his pride of place

Was by a mousing Owl hawked at and killed.”

Such as Harmodius drew on Athens' tyrant lord.

Stanza xx. line 9. See the famous song on Harmodius and Aristogiton.--The best English translation is in Bland's Anthology, by Mr. Denman,

“ With myrtle my sword will I wreathe," &c.

And all went merry as a marriage-bell.

Stanza xxi. line 8. On the night previous to the action, it is said that a ball was given at Brussels.

4, 5. And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears.

Stanza xxvi. line 9. Sir Evan Cameron, and his descendant Donald, the “gentle Lochiel" of the “ forty-five."


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And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves.

Stanza xxvii. line l.

The wood of Soignies is supposed to be a remnant of the “ forest of Ardennes,” famous in Boiardo's Orlando, and immortal in Shakspeare's “ As you like it.” It is also celebrated in Tacitus as being the spot of successful defence by the Germans against the Roman encroachments. I have ventured to adopt the name connected with nobler associations than those of mere slaughter.

7. I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring.

Stanza xxx, line 9. My guide from Mont St. Jean over the field seemed intelligent and accurate. The place where Major Howard fell was not far from two tall and solitary trees (there was a third cut down, or shivered in the battle) which stand a few yards from each other at a pathway's side.- Beneath these he died and was buried. The body has since been removed to England. A small hollow for the present marks where it lay, but will probably soon be effaced; the plough has been upon it, and the grain is.

After pointing out the different spots where Picton and other gallant men had perished; the guide said, “here Major Howard lay: I was near him when wounded.” I told him my relationship, and he seemed then still more anxious to point out the particular spot and circumstances. The place is on f the most marked in the field from the peculiarity of the two trees above mentioned.

I went on horseback twice over the field, comparing it with my recollection of similar scenes. As a plain, Waterloo. seems marked out for the scene of some great action, though this may be mere imagination: I have viewed with attention those of Platea, Troy, Mantinea, Leuctra, Chæronea, and Marathon; and the field around Mont St. Jean and Hougoumont appears to want little but a better cause, and that undefinable but impressive halo which the lapse of ages throws around a celebrated spot, to vie in interest with any or all of these, except perhaps the last mentioned.

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