 | Ephemeron |  |
Look in vain for further help.
Torn and bleeding—England rallies,
Bravely, her “unconquered whelp.”—
Fierce her Ape-and-Tiger allies—
Shrill Sardinia's terrier yelp.
Couched within his sullen cave,
Of the pack that round it rave;
Gather to the Grave of Men—
Soon, with doubt and dread, discerning,
As they near the horrid den,
All the footsteps inward turning—
None reverting forth agen.
By conscription's ruthless call,
Or enlistment's shallow knavery.
Trapped or hunted—one and all,
Come, with blind and brutal bravery,
Dash your heads against a wall!
Waste their lessons. Pelissier!
These are not the Caves of Ouled—
Furze and faggot boot not here.
The curious in vaticination are referred to some remarkable verses of Thomas Campbell, entitled “The Power of Russia.” Prompted by the final supression of Polish nationality, they predict the present conjuncture in terms so clear and eloquent as to afford a fresh illustration of the force of the ancient nomenclature, which applied the single epithet—Vates—alike to the poet and the prophet.
Few readers of these lines can have forgotten one of the most frightful incidents of modern warfare. On the 18th of June, 1846, a tribe of Arabs, pursued by the French, under Colonel Pelissier, took refuge in the intricate caverns of Ouled-Riah. Unable to compel a surrender, the savage commander resolved to burn or stifle them. For many hours, an immense fire, constantly fed with fresh combustibles, roared within the entrance. As it was permitted to subside, the French soldiery, at the hazard of their lives, dashed into the furnace, and drew forth the charred and contorted bodies of nine hundred victims—men, women and children. About two hundred still breathed—but all perished in the course of the day. For this piece of energy, the French commander was censured—and promoted. London journalism, which then foamed at the mouth, and exhausted the vocabulary of horror, is now seen complacently anticipating that he may find “some means equally efficient” for disposing of the defenders of Sevastopol. The Illustrated News (June 23d) suggests the propriety of putting them all to the sword—when the place is taken. Perhaps it would be as well to wait till that event occurs. Meanwhile, General Pelissier might profitably pass his time in conning a little treatise, quaint but sound, entitled “God's Revenge upon Murther.” If he is to be ennobled for his exploits, ancient or recent, a motto appropriate to either, will doubtless be selected—
“E fulgore fumum.” | Ephemeron | |