immortal gods. Should we by our valour recover only Sicily and Sardinia, which were ravished from our fathers, those would be no inconsiderable prizes. Yet, what are these? The wealth of Rome, whatever riches she has heaped together in the spoils of nations, all these, with the masters of them, will be yours. You have been long enough employed in driving the cattle upon the vast mountains of Lusitania and Celtiberia; you have hitherto met with no reward worthy of the labours and dangers you have undergone. The time is now come to reap the full recompense of your toilsome marches over so many mountains and rivers, and through so many nations, all of them in arms. This is the place which fortune has appointed to be the limits of your labours; it is here that you will finish your glorious warfare, and receive an ample recompense of your completed service. For I would not have you imagine, that victory will be as difficult as the name of a Roman war is great and sounding. It has often happened that a despised enemy has given a bloody battle, and the most renowned kings and nations have by a small force been overthrown. And if you but take away the glitter of the Roman name, what is there wherein they may stand in competition with you? For from the very pillars of Hercules, from the ocean, from the utmost bounds of the earth, through so many warlike nations of Spain and Gaul, are you not come hither victorious? And with whom are you now to fight? With raw soldiers, an undisciplined army, beaten, vanquished, besieged by the Gauls the very last summer; an army unknown to their leader, and unacquainted with him. Or shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul, and not only of the Alpine nations, but which is greater yet, of the Alps themselves, shall I compare myself with this half-year captain? A captain! before whom should one place the two armies without their ensigns, I am persuaded he would not know to which of them he is consul! I esteem it no small advantage, soldiers, that there is not one among you, who has not often been an eye-witness of my exploits in war; not one of whose valour I myself have not been a spectator. On what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all full of courage and strength; a veteran infantry, a most gallant cavalry; you, my allies, most faithful and valiant; you, Carthaginians, whom not only your country's cause, but the justest anger impels to battle. With hostile banners displayed, you are come down upon Italy; you bring the war. Grief, injuries, indignities fire your minds, and spur you forward to revenge. First, they demanded me, that I, your general, should be delivered up to them; next, all of you, who had fought at the siege of Saguntum; and we were to be put to death by the extremest tortures.Proud and cruel nation! Every thing must be yours, and at your disposal! You are to prescribe to us with whom we shall make war, with whom we shall make peace! You are to set us bounds; to shut us up within hills and rivers; but you-you are not to observe the limits which yourselves have fixed! Pass not the Iberus. What next? Touch not the Saguntines; Saguntum is upon the Iberus. Move not a step towards that city. Is it a small matter, then, that you have deprived us of our ancient possessions, Sicily and Sardinia: you would have Spain too? Well, we shall yield Spain, and then-you will pass into Africa! Will pass, did I say? This very year they ordered one of their consuls into Africa, the other into Spain. No, soldiers, there is nothing left for us but what we can vindicate with our swords. Come on, then! Be men! The Romans may with more safety be cowards. They have their own country behind them-have places of refuge to flee to, and are secure from danger in the roads thither; but for you there is no middle fortune between death and victory. ALP.-THE BATTLE FIELD. Byron. He wandered on, along the beach, Till within the range of a carbine's reach Of the leaguer'd wall; but they saw him not, Did traitors lurk in the Christian's hold? Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts wax'd cold? I know not, in sooth; but from yonder wall There flash'd no fire, and there hiss'd no ball, Tho' he stood beneath the bastion's frown, As his measured step on the stone below And he saw the lean dogs, beneath the wall, Hold o'er the dead their carnival; Gorging and growling o'er carcass and limb, From a Tartar's skull they had stripp'd the flesh, As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh; And their white tusks crunch'd o'er the whiter skull, As it slipp'd through their jaws, when their edge grew dull; As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead, When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed, With those who had fallen for that night's repast. And Alp knew, by the turbans that roll'd on the sand, All the rest was shaven and bare : The scalps were in the wild dog's maw, But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf, Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away, Alp turn'd him from the sickening sight: But he better could brook to behold the dying, Scorch'd with the death-thirst, and writhing in vain- But when all is past, it is humbling to tread, O'er the weltering field of the tombless dead; All regarding man as their prey ; All rejoicing in his decay. THE FARMER'S WIFE AND THE GASCON. AT Neufchatel, in France, where they prepare But as salt-water made their charms increase, This damsel had, to help her in the farm, In fact a gaby; And such a glutton, when you came to feed him, That Wantly's Dragon, who ate "barns and churches," Scarcely could exceed him. One morn she had prepared a monstrous bowl Of cream like nectar, And would not go to church (good careful soul!) So she gave strict injunction to the Gascon And doubled up his fist to keep the flies off, Like my Lord Salisbury, he heav'd a sigh, And cried-" Oh happy, happy fly, How I do envy you your lot!" Each moment did his appetite grow stronger; At length he could not bear it any longer, But on all sides his looks he turn'd, And finding that the coast was clear, he quaff'd Scudding from church, the farmer's wife Flew to the dairy; But stood aghast, and could not for her life One sentence mutter, Until she muster'd breath enough to utter- And shortly, with a face of scarlet, The vixen (for she was a vixen) flew Upon the varlet, Asking the when, and where, and how, and who, Had gulph'd her cream, nor left an atom? But, with a look of excellent digestion, One answer made to every question, "The flies!" "The flies! you rogue! the flies! you guttling dog, Behold your whiskers still are cover'd thickly; Thief!-villain !-liar!-gormandizer!-hog! I'll make you tell another story quickly!' So out she bounc'd, and brought, with loud alarms, Two stout gens-d'armes, Who bore him to the judge-a little prig, With angry bottle-nose, Like a red cabbage-rose, While lots of white ones flourished in his wig! Looking at once both stern and wise, He turn'd to the delinquent, And 'gan to question him, and catechise, Still the same dogged answers rise, "Pshaw!" quoth the judge, half peevish, and half pompous, "Why you're a non-compos! You should have watch'd the bowl, as she desir'd, And killed the flies, you stupid clown!" "What! is it lawful, then," the dolt inquir'd, "To kill the flies in this here town?" "This man's an ass!-a pretty question this! Lawful? you booby! to be sure it is. You've my authority, where'er you meet them, If yonder blue-bottle (I know his face) That stole the cream ;-let me come near it." For the same catapult completely smash'd New Monthly Magazine. THE DIRGE OF WALLACE. Campbell. THEY lighted a taper at dead of night, But her brow and her bosom were damp with affright, And the lady of Elderslie wept for her lord, When a death-watch beat in her lonely room, When her curtain had shook of its own accord, And the raven had flapped at her window-board, To tell of her warrior's doom! Now sing ye the death-song, and loudly pray Yet knew not his country that ominous hour, On the high-born blood of a martyr slain, And his heart was rent in twain. |