'Neath folds of blankness, monuments were raised O'er regiments. And History, amazed, Could not record the ruin of this retreat, Unlike a downfall known before or the defeat Of Hannibal--reversed and wrapped in gloom! Of Attila, when nations met their doom! Perished an army--fled French glory then, Though there the Emperor! he stood and gazed At the wild havoc, like a monarch dazed In woodland hoar, who felt the shrieking saw-- He, living oak, beheld his branches fall, with awe. Chiefs, soldiers, comrades died. But still warm love Kept those that rose all dastard fear above, As on his tent they saw his shadow pass-- Backwards and forwards, for they credited, alas! His fortune's star! it could not, could not be That he had not his work to do--a destiny? To hurl him headlong from his high estate, Would be high treason in his bondman, Fate. But all the while he felt himself alone, Stunned with disasters few have ever known. Sudden, a fear came o'er his troubled soul, What more was written on the Future's scroll? Was this an expiation? It must be, yea! He turned to God for one enlightening ray. "Is this the vengeance, Lord of Hosts?" he sighed, But the first murmur on his parched lips died. "Is this the vengeance? Must my glory set?" A pause: his name was called; of flame a jet Sprang in the darkness;--a Voice answered; "No! Not yet." Outside still fell the smothering snow. Was it a voice indeed? or but a dream? It was the vulture's, but how like the _sea-bird's scream._ TORU DUTT. THE OCEAN'S SONG. _("Nous nous promenions à Rozel-Tower.")_ [Bk. VI. iv., October, 1852.] We walked amongst the ruins famed in story Of Rozel-Tower, And saw the boundless waters stretch in glory And heave in power. O ocean vast! we heard thy song with wonder, Whilst waves marked time. "Appeal, O Truth!" thou sang'st with tone of thunder, "And shine sublime! "The world's enslaved and hunted down by beagles,-- To despots sold, Souls of deep thinkers, soar like mighty eagles, The Right uphold. "Be born; arise; o'er earth and wild waves bounding Peoples and suns! Let darkness vanish;--tocsins be resounding, And flash, ye guns! "And you,--who love no pomps of fog, or glamour, Who fear no shocks, Brave foam and lightning, hurricane and clamor, Exiles--the rocks!" TORU DUTT THE TRUMPETS OF THE MIND. _("Sonnez, clairons de la pensée!")_ [Bk. VII. i., March 19, 1853.] Sound, sound for ever, Clarions of Thought!