Alexandria Gazette & Advertiser

POETRY.

From the Richmond Compiler.

THE AGE OF BRONZE.

Lord Byron has published a singular
Poem under this singular name-in
which he takes occasion to make a hit
at the thousand topics of the day. He
touches on the ambition, genius, impri-
sonment and ignoble treatment of Na-
poleon-the gigantic sweep of his vic.
tories through Italy, Egypt, Austria,
Prussia and Russia; describes the des-
structive catastrophe of Moscow and the
still more destructive retreat:-having
spoken of him as
The king of kings, and yet of slaves the slave,
Who burst the chains of millions to renew
The very fetters which his arm broke through,
And crush the rights of Europe and his own
To diet between a dungeon and a throne.
He rapidly passes on to the still awa-
kening spirit in Greece, in South Ame-
rica and Spain. He sketches a very
strong and ridiculous picture of the
Royal Congress of Verona, assembled
to resist the spell of this noble spirit.
He lashes in particular with the most
indignant severity the Emperor of Rus-
sia-whom he describes as
the coxcomb Czar.
The autocrat of waltzes and of war!
As eager for a plaudit as a realm.
And just as fit for flirting as the helm-
He then portrays the situation of
France and of her king "good classic
Louis."
A scholar always, now and then a wit,
And gentle when digestion may permit-
But not to govern lands enslaved or free;
The gout was martyrdom enough to thee!
He then addresses himself to John
Bull: tax-ridden and debt-ridden, and
compliments Mr. Canning as a man.
Who, bred a statesman, still was born a wit,
And never, even in that dull house, could'st
tame
To unleavened prose thine own poetic flame.
He returns to the Congress--gives
hitat Metternich and Wellington, Cha-
teaubriand and Montmorency and final-
ly pictures forth Maria Louisa attend-
ing the Congress-
The imperial daughter, the imperial bride,
The imperial victim-sacrificed to pride.
The still pale shadow of the loftiest queen,
That earth has yet to see, or e'er hath seen :
She sits amid the phantoms of the hour,
The theme of pity, and the wreck of power;
Oh, cruel mockery! Could not Austria spare
A daughter? What did France's widow there?
Her fitter place was by St. Helen's wave,
Her only throne is in Napoleon's grave !
She comes!--the Andromache (but not Ra.
Nor Iphigenia's!) Lo, on Pyrrhus' arm she leans!
Yes, the right arm, yet red from Waterloo.
Which cut her lord's half shattered sceptre
through,
Is offered and accepted ! Could a slave
Do more? or less: and he in his new grave!
Finally he ends this strange poem by
the following significant lines :
Here, reader, we pause:-if there's no harm in
["Carmen."
This first--you'll have, perhaps, a second
Such is a brief sketch of the "Age of
Bronze." There are two passages in-
terspersed through it, which we reserv-
ed for the last. They relate to our own
countrymen. The first is a just and
beautiful compliment to our own Wash-
ington and Franklin-He passes off
from Bonaparte to our own country.
men :
Hear! hear! Prometheus from his rock appeal
To earth, air, ocean, all that felt or feel
His power and glory, all who yet shall hear
A name eternal as the rolling year :
He teaches them the lesson taught so long,
So oft, so vainly -learn to do no wrong!
A single step into the right had made
This man the Washington of worlds betrayed
A single step into the wrong has given
His name a doubt to all the winds of heaven :
The reed of Fortune, and of thrones the rod,
Of fame the Moloch or the demigod :
His country's Caesar, Europe's Hannibal,
Without their decent dignity of fall.
Yet Vanity herself had better taught
A surer path even to the fame he sought,
By pointing out on history's fruitless page
Ten thousand conquerors for a single sage.
While Franklin's quiet memory climbs to heav'n
Calming the lightning which he thence hath
riven,
Or drawing from that no less kindled earth
Freedom and peace to that which boasts his
birth
In e'er;
While Washington's a watch-word, such as
Shall sink while there's an echo left to air.
While even the Spaniard's thirst of gold & war
Forgets Pizarro to shout Bolivar!
The next passage is suggested by the
Congress at Verona.
But lo ! a Congress! What, that hallow'd name
Which freed the Atlantic? May we hope the
same
For outworn Europe? With the sound arise,
Like Samuel's shade to Saul's monarchic eyes,
The prophets of young Freedom, summoned far
From climes of Washington and Bolivar;
Henry, the forest-born Demosthenes,
Whose thunder shook the Philip of the seas;
And stoic Franklin's energetic shade,
Robed in the lightnings which his hand allay'd;
And Washington, the tyrant-tamer, wake,
To bid us blush for these old chains, or break.
But who compose this Senate of the few
That should redeem the many? Who renew
This consecrated name, till now assigned
To councils held to benefit mankind?
Who now assemble at the holy call !
The blest Alliance, which says three are all
An earthly Trinity ! which wears the shape
Of heaven's, as man is mimicked by the ape.
A pious unity ! in purpose one--
To melt three fools to a Napoleon