Thus, with a solemn splendour and a sad glory, closed the career of a gallant but unfortunate commander.
We subjoin the beautiful Ode on the Death of Sir John, written by the Rev. Mr. Wolfe:—
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral-note,
As his corse to the ramparts
we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell-shot
O’er the grave where
our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets
turning,
By the straggling moonbeam’s misty
light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
Not in sheet or in shroud
we wound him,
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around
him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of
sorrow;
But we stedfastly gazed on the face that
was dead,
And we bitterly thought of
the morrow.
We thought, as we hallowed his narrow
bed,
And smoothed down his lonely
pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread
o’er his head,
And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit
that’s gone,
And o’er his cold ashes
upbraid him,—
But little he’ll reck, if they let
him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton
has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the
hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly
firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame
fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not
a stone—
But we left him alone with
his glory.
Persian Tyranny.
Sir R.K. Porter, in his travels in Persia, met with the sufferer from despotic tyranny and cruelty whose story is here related. He informs us, that the benignity of this person’s countenance, united with the crippled state of his venerable frame, from the effects of his precipitation from the terrible height of execution, excited his curiosity to inquire into the particulars of so amazing a preservation.
Entering into conversation on the amiable characters of the reigning royal family of Persia, and comparing the present happiness of his country under their rule, with its misery during the sanguinary usurpation of the tyrant Nackee Khan, the good old man, who had himself been so signal an example of that misery, was easily led to describe the extraordinary circumstances of his own case. Being connected with the last horrible acts, and consequent fall of the usurper, a double interest accompanied his recital, the substance of which was nearly as follows:—