Lo! they come, they come!
Garlands for every shrine!
Strike lyres to greet them home;
Bring roses, pour ye wine!
Swell, swell the Dorian flute
Thro' the blue, triumphal sky!
Let the Cittern's tone salute
The Sons of Victory!
With the offering of bright blood,
They have ransomed earth and tomb,
Vineyard, and field, and flood;--
Lo! they come, they come!
Sing it where olives wave,
And by the glittering sea,
And o'er each hero's grave,--
Sing, sing, the land is free!
Mark ye the flashing oars,
And the spears that light the deep!
How the festal sunshine pours
Where the lords of battle sweep!
Each hath brought back his shield,--
Maid, greet thy lover home!
Mother, from that proud field,
Lo! thy son is come!
Who murmured of the dead?
Hush, boding voice! we know
That many a shining head
Lies in its glory low.
Breathe not those names to-day!
They shall have their praise ere long,
And a power all hearts to sway
In ever-burning song.
But now shed flowers, pour wine,
To hail the conquerors home!
Bring wreaths for every shrine--
Lo! they come, they come!
The original engraving is by Edward Goodall, from a painting by William
Linton, Esq. It is altogether a rich and glorious composition, at
this moment too, glowing with more than pictorial interest; and the
_carmen triumphale_ of the poetess is a worthy accompaniment. Among
the other engravings the frontispiece and opposite page of this work
are extremely rich and beautiful: _Psyche borne by the Zephyrs to the
Island of Pleasure_, is full of languishing beauty; _Medora_, painted
by Pickersgill and engraved by Rolls, is a delightfully placid
moonlight scene; the _Declaration_, easy and graceful: there are,
however, in our opinion, two decided failures in the volume, which,
for the credit of the artists, had better been omitted. Our present
notices of the _literary_ department must be confined to the following
selection: