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waves shall vassal Tiber roll； And Rome a slave forlorn； Her laurelled tresses shorn； Shall feel our iron in her inmost soul。 Who shall bid the torrent stay？ Who shall bar the lightning's way？ Who arrest the advancing van Of the fiery Ottoman？ As the curling smoke…wreaths fly When fresh breezes clear the sky； Passed away each swelling boast Of the misbelieving host。 From the Hebrus rolling far Came the murky cloud of war； And in shower and tempest dread Burst on Austria's fenceless head。 But not for vaunt or threat Didst Thou； O Lord； forget The flock so dearly bought； and loved so well。 Even in the very hour Of guilty pride and power Full on the circumcised Thy vengeance fell。 Then the fields were heaped with dead； Then the streams with gore were red； And every bird of prey； and every beast； From wood and cavern thronged to Thy great feast。 What terror seized the fiends obscene of Nile！ How wildly； in his place of doom beneath； Arabia's lying prophet gnashed his teeth； And cursed his blighted hopes and wasted guile！ When； at the bidding of Thy sovereign might； Flew on their destined path Thy messages of wrath； Riding on storms and wrapped in deepest night。 The Phthian mountains saw； And quaked with mystic awe： The proud Sultana of the Straits bowed down Her jewelled neck and her embattled crown。 The miscreants； as they raised their eyes Glaring defiance on Thy skies； Saw adverse winds and clouds display The terrors of their black array； Saw each portentous star Whose fiery aspect turned of yore to flight The iron chariots of the Canaanite Gird its bright harness for a deadlier war。 Beneath Thy withering look Their limbs with palsy shook； Scattered on earth the crescent banners lay； Trembled with panic fear Sabre and targe and spear； Through the proud armies of the rising day。 Faint was each heart； unnerved each hand； And； if they strove to charge or stand Their efforts were as vain As his who； scared in feverish sleep By evil dreams； essays to leap； Then backward falls again。 With a crash of wild dismay； Their ten thousand ranks gave way； Fast they broke； and fast they fled； Trampled； mangled； dying； dead； Horse and horsemen mingled lay； Till the mountains of the slain Raised the valleys to the plain。 Be all the glory to Thy name divine！ The swords were our's； the arm； O Lord； was Thine。 Therefore to Thee； beneath whose footstool wait The powers which erring man calls Chance and Fate； To Thee who hast laid low The pride of Europe's foe； And taught Byzantium's sullen lords to fear； I pour my spirit out In a triumphant shout； And call all ages and all lands to hear。 Thou who evermore endurest； Loftiest； mightiest； wisest； purest； Thou whose will destroys or saves； Dread of tyrants； hope of slaves； The wreath of glory is from Thee； And the red sword of victory。 There where exulting Danube's flood Runs stained with Islam's noblest blood From that tremendous field； There where in mosque the tyrants met； And from the crier's minaret Unholy summons pealed； Pure shrines and temples now shall be Decked for a worship worthy Thee。 To Thee thy whole creation pays With mystic sympathy its praise； The air； the earth； the seas： The day shines forth with livelier beam； There is a smile upon the stream； An anthem on the breeze。 Glory； they cry； to Him whose might Hath turned the barbarous foe to flight； Whose arm protects with power divine The city of his favoured line。 The caves； the woods； the rocks； repeat the sound； The everlasting hills roll the long echoes round。 But； if Thy rescued church may dare Still to besiege Thy throne with prayer； Sheathe not； we implore Thee； Lord； Sheathe not Thy victorious sword。 Still Panonia pines away； Vassal of a double sway： Still Thy servants groan in chains； Still the race which hates Thee reigns： Part the living from the dead： Join the members to the head： Snatch Thine own sheep from yon fell monster's hold； Let one kind shepherd rule one undivided fold。 He is the victor； only he Who reaps the fruits of victory。 We conquered once in vain； When foamed the Ionian waves with gore； And heaped Lepanto's stormy shore With wrecks and Moslem slain。 Yet wretched Cyprus never broke The Syrian tyrant's iron yoke。 Shall the twice vanquished foe Again repeat his blow？ Shall Europe's sword be hung to rust in peace？ Nolet the red…cross ranks Of the triumphant Franks Bear swift deliverance to the shrines of Greece And in her inmost heart let Asia feel The avenging plagues of Western fire and steel。 Oh God！ for one short moment raise The veil which hides those glorious days。 The flying foes I see Thee urge Even to the river's headlong verge。 Close on their rear the loud uproar Of fierce pursuit from Ister's shore Comes pealing on the wind； The Rab's wild waters are before； The Christian sword behind。 Sons of perdition； speed your flight； No earthly spear is in the rest； No earthly champion leads to fight The warriors of the West。 The Lord of Host asserts His old renown； Scatters； and smites； and slays； and tramples down。 Fast； fast beyond what mortal tongue can say； Or mortal fancy dream； He rushes on his prey： Till； with the terrors of the wondrous theme Bewildered； and appalled； I cease to sing； And close my dazzled eye； and rest my wearied wing。 。。。
THE LAST BUCCANEER。 （1839。） The winds were yelling； the waves were swelling； The sky was black and drear； When the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name Alongside the last Buccaneer。 〃Whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale； When all others drive bare on the seas？ Say； come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador； Or the gulf of the rich Caribbees？〃 〃From a shore no search hath found； from a gulf no line can sound； Without rudder or needle we steer； Above； below； our bark； dies the sea…fowl and the shark； As we fly by the last Buccaneer。 〃To…night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde； A loud crash； and a louder roar； And to…morrow shall the deep； with a heavy moaning； sweep The corpses and wreck to the shore。〃 The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride； In the breath of the citron shades； And Severn's towering mast securely now flies fast； Through the sea of the balmy Trades。 From St Jago's wealthy port； from Havannah's royal fort； The seaman goes forth without fear； For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight Of the flag of the last Buccaneer。 。。。
EPITAPH ON A JACOBITE。 （1845。） To my true king I offered free from stain Courage and faith； vain faith； and courage vain。 For him； I threw lands； honours； wealth； away。 And one dear hope； that was more prized than they。 For him I languished in a foreign clime； Grey…haired with sorrow in my manhood's prime； Heard on Lavernia Scargill's whispering trees； And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees； Beheld each night my home in fevered sleep； Each morning started from the dream to weep； Till God who saw me tried too sorely； gave The resting place I asked； an early grave。 Oh thou； whom chance leads to this nameless stone； From that proud country which was once mine own； By those white cliffs I never more must see； By that dear language which I spake like thee； Forget all feuds； and shed one English tear O'er English dust。 A broken heart lies here。 。。。
LINES WRITT