Antistrophe
Is it the wind from tower to tower
Low-murmuring at midnight hour?
Athwart the darkness light is stealing,
Portentous, red with unrelenting ire,
Inhuman deeds, and secrets dark revealing!
Ye guilty, who may quench the kindled fire!
Fall, city of the Czars, to rise
Ennobled by self-sacrifice,
Than tower and temple higher and more holy!
The wilful king appointed o'er mankind
To plague the lofty heart, and prove the lowly,
Is fled! — Avenger, mount the chariot of the wind!
Be thine, to guide the rapid scythe,
To blind with snow the frozen sun,
Against th' invader doomed to writhe,
To rouse the Tartar, Russ, and Hun!
Bid terror to the battle ride!
Indignant honour, burning shame,
Revenge, and hate, and patriotic pride!
But not the quick unerring aim
Of volley'd thunder winged with flame,
Nor famine keener than the bird of prey,
Nor death — avail the hard of heart to tame!
Blow wind, and pierce the dire array,
Flung, drifted by thy breath, athwart the frozen way!
Epode
Before the blast as flakes of snow
Drive blindly, reeling to and fro,
Or down the river black and deep
Melt — so the mighty sink to sleep!
Like Asshur, never more to boast!
Or Pharaoh, sunk with all his host!
So perish who would trample down
The rights of freedom, for renown!
So fall, who born and nurtured free
Adore the proud on bended knee!
Roll, Beresina, 'neath the bridge
Of death! rise Belgium's fatal ridge!
Rise, lonely rock in a wide ocean,
To curb each haughty mad emotion!
To prove, while force and genius fail,
That truth is great, and will prevail!
The hour is coming — seize the hour!
Divide the spoil, the prey devour!
Howl o'er the dead and dying, cry
All ye that raven earth and sky!
With beak and talon rend the prey,
Track carnage on her gory way,
To chide o'er many a gleamy bone
The moon, or with the wind to moan!
Benumb'd with cold, by torture wrung,
To winter leave the famine-clung,
O thou for whom they toil and bleed,
Deserted in their utmost need!
Hear, hear them faithful unto death
Invoke thee with the fleeting breath,
And feel (for human still thou art)
Ruth touch that adamantine heart!
Survive the storm and battle-shock,
To linger on th' Atlantic rock!
From ghastly dream, from death-like trance
Awake to woe, devoted France!
To care and trouble, toil and pain,
Till glory be acknowledged vain,
And martial pomp a mere parade,
And war, the bravo's bloody trade!
A beacon o'er the tide of time
Be thou, to point the wreck of crime!
The spoiler spoil'd, from empire hurl'd,
The dread and pity of the world!
O then, by tribulation tried,
Abjuring envy, hate, and pride,
Warn'd of the dying hour foretold
Of earth and heaven together roll'd,
Revering each prophetic sign
Of judgment and of love divine,
Bow down, and hide thee in the dust,
And own the retribution just;
So may contrition, prayer, and praise,
Preserve thee in the latter days!
E. Peel.
A RAMBLE IN MONTENEGRO
Few nations of Europe have been less known than the Montenegrians, and the name even of their country is seldom found on maps.[6 - An excellent map of Montenegro has been made by an Austrian officer of engineers, who resided there for the purpose — but I have not now the advantage of referring to it. This country is divided into twelve military departments; the natives reckon its extent about three days' journey in the longest, by two in the widest part. Those, of course, are foot or mule journeys.] Surrounded by great empires, they have always preserved the independence of their rugged mountains, and have even succeeded in wresting several rich plains from the sway of Turkey. With this power hostilities seldom cease; but such is the system with which her resources are managed, that while the Montenegrians are at peace with one pasha, they are enabled to concentrate their force against another — and all the while the Sublime Porte does not condescend to interfere. Not many years ago, they possessed the reputation of being a horde of robbers; and, in all probability, the pilgrim who ventured among them would have returned, if at all, as shirtless as themselves. But the breath of the spirit of the age, though faintly wafted to their mountains, has softened something of their character, without destroying in the least their independence or nationality. Bold, hardy, and free, ready and eager for the foray and the fray, a stranger is now as safe among them as in any part of her Majesty's kingdom.
Whoever wishes to make the acquaintance of this primitive people, will do well to embark on board the Austrian Lloyd's Company's steamer from Trieste to Cattaro. They will be well accommodated, at reasonable charges, and have an opportunity of seeing the principal towns of Dalmatia, a country little frequented by travellers. Such was the case with ourselves, (an English lady and gentleman,) who quitted Trieste on the 5th of November 1843. The voyage commenced pleasantly, and we had the good-luck to have the ladies' cabin to ourselves. The captain was a very gentlemanlike person, the steward attentive, and the passengers full of politeness. Zara, the capital of Dalmatia, where we stopped a day and a night, is a walled town of moderate extent, said to contain 8000 inhabitants. It possesses some antiquities. Over the gates of this, and all other of the Dalmatian seaports, the Lions of Saint Mark yet remain. It is best known for the excellence of its rosoglio. The next town we arrived at was Sebenico, now much decayed, and Spalatro, the most interesting of all, where the badness of the weather, during the short time we stayed, prevented our landing to see the extensive Roman remains. After anchoring off Curzola for a night, we came to Ragusa, where we stopped two days. At Zara and Sebenico we had opportunities of seeing the Morlaccian race. These are the rural inhabitants of Dalmatia, speaking a Sclavonic dialect, while in the towns they pride themselves on their Venetian origin and language. Amongst these peasants were the noblest specimens of the human kind I have ever seen. Of stature almost gigantic, and of the amplest development of chest, their symmetry of limb and elasticity of step would have called forth notice in a Scottish Highlander. Nor could a somewhat manifest omission to cares of the toilet disguise complexion and features almost faultless, and in which an expression of frankness and good-nature left one nothing to fear from their armed numbers. I speak not of a few among a crowd, but of nearly all I saw. It was from amongst these that the French, during their occupation, chose their finest grenadiers; but at present, in consequence of the scantiness of the population, the humanity of the Austrian government has suspended all conscription. Still it is possible, that, in the hour of danger, Austria might profit more from the devoted loyalty of this armed and stalwart peasantry, than if her ranks were filled with its forced recruits. Their dress consists of a coarse brown jacket, and a waistcoat of red cloth, both ornamented on the edges, and made to sit close on the shoulders, without any collar, and which advantageously display their well put on head and neck. They wear a small red skull-cap, round at top; but, when married, they usually surround this with a white turban. Their pantaloons are of blue, and fit close from the knee to the ankle, and below they wear the opunka— a species of sandal, made of sheepskin, and bound with thongs, which, as may be seen from their elastic step and upright carriage, are well fitted to their country; round their waist is a red sash, and in front a leather belt, in which is placed a yataghan and a smaller knife, and exhibiting usually the handsome pommels of silver or brass-mounted pistols. Over all is a long brown cloak, open in front, and fastening over the chest, forming a dress which, with their free and martial bearing, gives them the appearance of ready-made soldiers. The women are, comparatively, inferior to the men; but their countenances are cheerful, and a white napkin gracefully put on the head, had a very classical appearance. For the rest, they wore a coarse shirt — over that a coarser, without arms, neither coming much below the knee — a party-coloured apron and stockings, with opunkas, like the men. Near Zara is a small colony of Albanians, who still retain their national manners and dress, though settled time out of mind.
Ragusa — of old a republic, with its doge and senate — is a city whose glory has departed. This little state — consisting of the town, the promontory of Sabioncello, the island of Melida, with a few smaller ones — numbering about forty thousand inhabitants, had never been subject by Venice, and was governed on the most aristocratic principles. At the time of the late war, the inhabitants of the city owned about four hundred large vessels — and observing the profiting by neutrality, they traded every where, and acquired great wealth. But they were not destined to escape the storm which overthrew so many mightier states. In 1809 they became compulsory allies of the French. Their nominal independence lasted about two years longer. During the time the French occupied it, the city was attacked by the combined forces of the Russians and Montenegrians; the former by sea, while the latter conducted the operations on land. Luckily they failed to take it; but they burned and destroyed, without exception, every one of the numerous villas by which it was surrounded. Since the loss of her independence, the trade of Ragusa has ceased, and her wealth has departed; while many of her once haughty nobility have no other subsistence than a scanty pension, which the bounty of the government affords them. The town is interesting, and some of its buildings ancient and peculiar, though hardly to be called handsome — the scale being small. Of the country houses desolated by the Montenegrians, not one in twenty has been repaired; and they remain roofless and blackened, a lasting memorial of the ferocity of that people. The neighbourhood is beautiful, and appears more so after the stony desolation which the rest of Dalmatia exhibits. Though the houses still remain in ruins, the gardens continue to be cultivated. Olives, vines, figs, and carruba trees grow in them, and the tops of the hills are covered with stone pines and delightful evergreens, of heaths, junipers, cypress, and other plants, which at home we coax to grow in our greenhouses.
Quitting Ragusa, after having been once driven back by the badness of the weather, we at length entered the Bocca of Cattaro, after a passage of about nine hours. Both in its general and immediate position, few spots can be imagined so cut off from the rest of the world as Cattaro. Standing close on the sea, with stupendous mountains overhanging it on each side, it is deprived even of the light of the sun for the greater part of the day; and, towards the end of November — this is no boon. By land the Dalmatian coast-road (the only one, I believe, in the country) passes through it, but it would prove indifferent, I should think, to any but the pedestrian; and there is also the mountain-path, of three hours' ascent, which leads into Montenegro, and issues up from the gates of the town in a zigzag form, till it appears lost in the clouds. Any one wishing to quit Cattaro, has indeed, like the country waiter in England, but "three desperate alternatives." He must wait for the next steamer, a whole month if in winter, and return the way he came. Or he may attempt to pass through Albania to Greece or the islands, which would in all likelihood prove the last attempt he would ever make. Or he may hire one of the country trabacolos to take him where he likes. They are neither fast in their sailing nor luxurious in their accommodation — the price being any thing but cheap. In one thing the traveller has no difficulty, which is to discover the first hotel, as their number is strictly limited. Consequently in about half an hour, during which the steamer had taken her departure, we found ourselves the inmates of the principal salon in the Locanda della Corona. It is ever a comfort, when expectation is not at its highest, to find things better; and happy the mind that seeks it!