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WATERLOO. E'xtract Jram Mr. Walter Scott's Poem. THE FIELD OF BATTLE. I,OOK forth, once more, with soften'd heart, Ere from the field of fame w part; -Triumph ami sorrow border near, And joy oft melts into a tear. Alas what links of love that morn Has War's rude hand asunder torn For ne'er was field so sternly fought, And ne'er was conquest dearer bought. Here piled in common slaughter sleep Those whom affection long shall weep-; Here rests ihe sire, that ne'er shall strain His orphans to his heart again; Ttle son, whom, on his native shore Tfte parent's voice shall bless no more; The bridegroom, who has hardly press'd His blushing consort to his breast: The husband, whom through many a year liOng love and mutual faith endear. Thou can'st not name one tender tie But here dissolved its reliques lie! o when thou see'st some mourner's veil Shroud her thin form and visage pale, Or mark'st the matron's bursting tears Stream when the stricken drum she hears. Or see'st thou manlier grief, supprcss'd, Sit labouring in a father's breast,— With no enquiry vain pursue The cause, but think on IVaterlool Period of honour as of woes, What bright careers 'twas thine to close Mark'd on thy roll of blood what names To Britain's memory, and to Fame's, Laid there their last immortal claims Thou saw'st in seas of gore expire Redoubted PJCTON'S soul of fire- Saw" in iiie mingled carnage lie All that of PONSONBY could die— Ih: f, A V change Love's bridal wreath For laurels from the hand of Death- Saw'st gallant MILLER'S failing eye Still bent where Albion's banner's fly. And CAMERON, in the shock of steel, Die like the offspring of Loehiel And generous GORDON, 'mid ihe strife, Fall while he watch'd his leader's life— Ah though h'»r guardian angel's shield Fenc'd Britain's Hero through the field, Fate not the less her power made known, Through his friends' hearts to pierce his own I

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