The poem closes with the poetical apotheosis of Marco Bozzaris as
One of the few, the immortal names
That are not born to die.
It will be seen that these arrangements of the subject are
skillfully contrived- perhaps they are a little too evident, and we
are enabled too readily by the perusal of one passage, to anticipate
the succeeding. The rhythm is highly artificial. The stanzas are
well adapted for vigorous expression- the fifth will afford a just
specimen of the versification of the whole poem.
Come to the bridal Chamber, Death!
Come to the mother's when she feels
For the first time her first born's breath;
Come when the blessed seals
That close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wail its stroke,
Come in consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm;
Come when the heart beats high and warm,
With banquet song and dance, and wine;
And thou art terrible- the tear,
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear
Of agony, are thine.
Granting, however, to Marco Bozzaris, the minor excellences we
have pointed out we should be doing our conscience great wrong in
calling it, upon the whole, any more than a very ordinary matter.
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