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Alexander Mickle, being a minister of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland. There he passed his early days, finding his chief enjoyment in wandering by the side of Esk's crystal stream, and amongst the beautiful natural scenery through which this river flows. Though early called to leave these peaceful scenes, his memory appears ever to have hngered lovingly on the sunny braes around his childhood's home. « When he was about fifteen years of age his father removed to Edinburgh, where the education which was intended to prepare him for business was completed at the Edinburgh High School. Here, also, it is evident from his early productions that he found another edu- cator. Nature, under her grandest aspects, in the storm, and in the calm, of the ever changing ocean. The interest with which he regarded the sea would be heightened when his eldest brother left the parental home, in order to accompany the troops as surgeon on a voyage to the West Indies. This circumstance, no doubt, made a deep impression on his young mindj as, being of a kindly disposition, family relationships appear to have obtained from him an unusual share of regard. On leaving school at his father's desire, he endeavored to apply his mind to business, though much against his inchnation. The result, however, proved so unsatisfac- fAfV fVlof Via t^-.-.-^A l,:_^„_l^ 1 J 1 -il 1 T --.J vMi«v iic :.\jxx>.i\x iiiiiiscii uuruuiieu witn ODiigailOiib — 4— which, for some time, he wan unable to discharge. It was only after many years that he could fully meet his responsibilities and feel that he owed no man anvthin«' but good-will. The record of liis mental sufferin-s trom this cause is simply terrible. While engaged in business he occasionally contri- buted verses to the Scottish Magazine, but alwavs anonymously. It may be observed that Dr. Beattie who added several lines to the Scotch ballad, ♦' There's nae luck about the house," and who was distantly rela- ted to Miclde, contributed also to the Scottish Maga- zine during the same period. In 1763, having neariv completed his thirtieth year, he left Edinburgh and took his way to London. Soon after his arrival in England he sent to Lord Lyttleton (one of the literary authori- ties of the day), some poems which he proposed pub- lishing, asking his opinion and advice. Lord Lyttleton kindly undertook the requested criticism, and gave iiim much encouragement. A few years we find him in Oxford, employed as corrector of the Clarendon press, and writing for several popular magazines. While thus engaged, he met with a heavy trial and bitter disappointment, in the hnger- mg illness and early death of a much -loved brothel:-— one who had proved himself a faithful friend and a wise counsellor. Charles being about to go into business as a bookseller, the brothers had formed a plan of mutual helpfulness and their hopes of success were bright ; but, alas ! for earthly happiness, Charles' disease suddenly terminated fatally. Still pleasant " as the dew of Her- mon" is the memory of his devoted brotherly regard. In 1772 Mickle left Oxford, seeking the retirement and quiet necessary to carrying out his intention of pub- hehmg his translation of Camoens' ''Lusiade" froDi the original Portuguese ; at the same time he becam.e ac- — 5— quaiiited with the fauiily whoHe or.ly daughter was after- wards his wife. ^The trun.slutioii of tiie " Lusiade" was published in 1775, a second edition being required shortly after- wards. In 1770 he was appointed private secretary to his friend and relative, Commodore Johnston, and sail- ed with the squadron under the command of this able seaman, sharing in the dangers and excitements of this period. The squadron being ordered to the coast of Portugal, he had the opportunity of visiting Lisbon, the birthplace of Camoens. On landing, our modest poet found himself the object of unexpected attention.— Prince Don John of Braganza, Duke of Lafoens, who had previously accepted a copy of Mickle's translation of the "Lusiade," received him with the utmost polite- ness and respect, meeting him on the quay in order to welcome him to the native city of his favorite poet. The Duke not only honored him with his regard, but introduced him to many of the nobility, clergy and learned men of Portugal, who, during a residence of several months in that country, shewed him the greatest courtesy. "I have made the best use of my time," he says, "in seeing everything in my power, and I have had every assistance from the Portuguese noblesse and literati, many of whom understand Enghsh and are well acquahited with our literature, and who seem much plea- sed that a translation of their favorite poet has been well received in England." The Duke, as a token of his re- gard, presented him with his own portrait; he also had the honor of being admitted a mt-r >ber. of the Royal Academy of Lisbon, under the presidency of His Grace the Diike of Lafoens. In 1782 he was united in marriage to the daughter of Mr. Robert Tompkins, and took up his abode near Oxford. Here he passed the few remaining years of his —II— ^'uulun ,11, holds, oiijoyin- tlio society of /rien. earthly cm "e W11.S rnii. He aiGil m Hejjtembci- of thtit year. Sir Walter Kcott remarks, •• Mickle, with a vein of great facihty united a power of verbal melody wl oh m,«ht have been envied by bard, of much gl^rt " Tli^'l' ^'^' i",!''**, '''"Piropl'y of Mickle, observes — Mickle'sHw';' '^'1'"'' ^r'*''' <■'•"'» » knowledge' of onct intimated' !■"'' T™' 'T'^''^'' '"''I "'"'•e than onct intimated his readiness to g ve him ordination with a promise of some provision in the Chn ch but Wv L u^k'"" ""'^ ""* ?"•="'■■'"• ''octrines of Christl io2.f f "J^ *" "?P"""' '" interested motives or the nope of future emolument." . „„ ""j\'J'"y ^°" Ciiarlss, left at the early age of five .years to the care of his widowed mother, grew'^^ to r™ atYre'IX'o^ ^'"''''^ filial, tenderness Ind alection- ate regard. Occupying a position in the Librarv of th* Honourable East India Company, the languages of the Kast and subjects having reference to Britain's Iml an Empire, received a large share of his attention He 7826 n„W?.' 'r' t""' "^ *« A-"'^ JoUKNACand in inl'^f i^*^*^"" ^''*y °" *« Philosophy and Myth ology of Paganism, in which he sough to show Sat whkhX So^'^r "^ *'" 1'^*^' '^ the! ssential poTn on wK ?! ^7P'"«« »■•« at issue with all false religions ctfkiTt ™T"' "r'rivances invented with^ari! ous skill, for avoiding the demands of the moral law." fi,. i.'*^ *''?. ^S«o**'»li l>aUad, " There's nae luck about the house," has been claimed for Jean Adam, more pa? tioular yn, Tjtlor's"'.ouR.stio.,»e6of Scotlaii,], ■ « work wlucl, has ol, amed a larRc drculation, it nmv bo «^11 Kol-ert ]5,u„s, came first into uotie,^ i„ 1771 or 1772 Burns observes : " About the year 1771 or I772I came Early in the present century the Rev. John Sim A.B w nie carrying out Mieliles intention of i.ulhshm.; a collection of l,is poems, for wliich he had i a n ea sure prepared, found among thepoefsM.SS in h1so«^, handwritmg, the Scotch ballad, " There's naoW tttM^'uTY: '''■ «"" ''-"'g. no a: .bt, oh e ved that Mickle had been exceedingly careful to add to .fl quotations the name of the auta from vhot ^ork aZ X^:Z T" /r I'oumstance which ha^ j^a^i u! larly attracted the attention of those who have had an opportunity of studying these manuscripts) and iha his own compositions remained without sigia ur " nai rally, and reasonably, claimed it as Micklerown m' duction and published it as such, among others, in 1806: A A ^° ^^? ^^^'- Ciomek claimed the song for Jean she h;,lV^' g'-ound of Mrs. PuUaiton's asser ?oi, tla she had frequently heard her school mistress T»«, Adam, ,mg ''Nae luck" and claim it as hS own c'omno morT than lilr/'f *°" ^^ '"'"V »>"?" "' '"" ^S more tlian half a century earlier than the period in which Cromek received this statement. ^ Cromek, however, withdrew his claim for Jean Adam on learmng from Mr. Sim that he had found a corrected copy of "Nae luck" among Mickle's MSR r^''^!? t^^' .Mrs. Mickle had ass^edh^ that her husband had given her the »^,.„ .= i„„ ._r™ '" .. ."""^ ^ „u 4^(3 vnu uiiiitosinon, M — 8-- and explained to lier the Scotch words contained in it Mr bim, m a letter to Cromek, observes that " Mickle certainly had too much honour and inte-ritv to «ive the least occasion to the publishing of the works of an- other as his own production."— Athen.eum. The claim for Jean Adam has been more than once revived, but failed to make any decided impression, Mil l^ ^'^'"'''^ ^^^" P^^**.>^ generally ascribed to Mickle until very recently. Within the last few years however, Sarah Tytler. has undertaken to set public opinion right on the subject, taking as her authority a pamphlet pubhshed m Greenock by Alexander Rod4r In the hrst place she informs us that - no copv oflhe song 18 found either in Mickle's works or in Jean Adam's work printed while the;; lived." Mickle's works have never appeared collectively, either during his life or alter his aeath. It was his practice, while in Edin- burgh to allow his smaller pieces to appear anonymous- ly m the Scottish Magazine. His judicious brother, Charles, vainly remonstrated with him on the subject • while, on the contrary, it does not appear that Jean Adam ever allowed a smgle verse of hers to be printed without her name. I'^^ittJu Sarah Tytler observes : " Mrs. Mickle seems to im- ply that the song was written an^ given to her by her husband not earlier than the time of their marriage." Mr. Sim certainly did not understand Mrs. Mickle as i^^/r^^iv't- ^t',''^ ^^ *^^ ^^"^ ' ^»d«^d he was persuad- ed that Mickle's manuscript of " Nae luck" had not been written later tha* 1760, or, at any rate, soon after that period, and he was probably correct. Mr C Mickle, in an article in the Athen^um for January 27* 1877, ob8erve8:--«'An examination of W. J Mickle's manuscripts shows that the paper used by him at dates separated by intervals of various duration bore different — 9— water marks. The paper on which the first sketch of the song IS written bears the same watermark as the paper of a letter written by W. J. Mickle in Edinburgh not later than 1760." ^"uigii ^ ^^^''''^^- ^T?^' ^y*^^'" "'^^'■"^^'^ "« • " Between the time ot Mrs. Mickle s marriage and the time when she gave these answers to Mr. Sim's questions, more than twenty years had passed, and she liad suffered from an attack of paralysis." Mr. Sim, no doubt, was perfectly capable of judgmg concerning Mrs. Mickle's ability to give her evidence. To quote from the same article inthe Athen- ^i^i :~- The indisputable fact that Mrs. Mickle, though suttermg from paralysis, repeated even with ' very Httle assistance ' the ballad to Mr. Sim twenty-two years after her husband's death, does not betoken that mental inactivity and want of discernment which Sarah Tytler would imply. Had any such an insinuation reached her son, he would have been able, fr. his own recol- lections to have vindicated her ability to discern a Scoteh from an English baUad. Although Rodger in 1866, and Sarah Tytler afterwards, omit the eight hnes written by Beattie, yet Cromek had included them as Jean Adam's composition in 1809, and he (and presum- ably Mrs. FuUarton) was not aware that they were the production of Beattie, a distant relation of Mickle's un- til informed of it by Sim. And here it may be added i A '^/?^^; notwithstanding all his inquiries, Cromek ^ad obtained no evidence from those other pupils of Jean Adam, who in 1866 and afterwards are mentioned as affording corroborative testimony, but are not named. Notwithstanding Mr. Sim's assertion that Mrs Q ' u mT''*^^ *^'® ^''''^ ^^^^ ^ ^®^y little assistance,* Sarah Tytler says : - The Scotch song to which Mrs Mickle alluded, if it ever had an existence, might have —10— she actually mean that we are to suppose that Mr. Sim was under the delusion that Mrs. Mickle was repeating ♦* Naeluck," when she really was repeating a song which had no existence, or an old Enghsh ballad, or that he did not know " Nae luck" when he, heard it ? The dismgenuous manner in which Jean Adam's advocates have treated the subject becomes more fully evident when Sarah Tytler observes, quoting from Rodger :— ** There is hardly need to add the observa- tion of David Hume, that Mrs. Mickle was not a person whose evidence was of much consequence at any time." Now, as David Hume died before there was a Mrs. Mickle, viz., in 1776, and her marriage did not take place untill 1782, six years later, it is very evident that David Hume could have made no observation referring to Mrs. Mickle. Mr. Sim states that Mickle was the declared antagonist of David Hume's infidel opinions. To a knowledge of this circumstance we no doubt owe the baseless falsehood (unjust ahke to Hume and his opponent) which has been so lightly set in cu-culation. It has been said that Jean Adam was brought up at a seaport. Mickle was not ; but a youth in Edin- burgh must have had an excellent opportunity of be- coming acquainted with the sea, and matters relating thereto. His writmgs prove this, by the large share of his attention which such subjects received. One of his early poetical attempts contains the description of a shipwreck ; another poem describes the return of a sailor after years of absence ; in yet another we are carried back to theearhest days of navigation, when the Tyrian mariners gazed for the first time on the mountains of Spain, and reference to the sea is constantly recurring throughout his works. The name of th^ hero, CoHn, is also said to be much in Miss Adam's favor ihai. narrux Vtoinry na/>iii:»~ ^s —11— to the west coast of Scotland; but would not a name so common to a seafaring community be naturally used to designate a sailor elsewh- ?— and, be that as it may, the name was perfectly fa ^har to Mickle before he left Jidinburgh. An acquaintance of the name of Colin is mentioned in his correspondence with his brother in London, to which place this same Colin had gone, and was for some time in Mr. Strachan's !aw office, or law house, as it is styled in one of the letters in which he is mentioned. In this connection it may be observed that I outside stairs, to which some suppose allusion is made f m " Nae luck," were common in Edinburgh more than j a hundred years ago. I In pages 21, 22, 28 of Mr. Rodger's pamphlet the j attempt is made to prove that Mickle had not, in 1781 i Uie reqmsite command of Scotch phraseology. Mr! I Kodger appears to have forgotten that, on page 17, he 1 had remarked concerning the versions of the song found among Mickle's manuscripts: - The first of these is the oldest written version of it that we know of. Mr Mickle had penned it no doubt before his leaving Scot- land in 1764." That is seventeen years earher— seven years before it came on the streets as a ballad. To those who object that a classical scholar, wri- ting in the purest Enghsh, could never have been the author of -There's nae luck about the house," the words of a judicious friend may be quoted: ''By the same line of argument we should be obHged to conclude that the same pen did not write, because it could not have written, both the pohshed numbers of the "Lady ot the Lfike" and the broad Scotch of ''the Antiquary." ,}\^^y ^e asked, how do those who ascribe " Nae luck to Jean Adam account for the fact that it was not claimed for her until manv vpnra offm. i.«« ;i^„*i. n Concerning the last days of Jean Adam, we learn from i 1 —12— " Songstresses of Scotland " nupfi qfi «< Qi.^ 11 ^1 • •taken her foot in he.- ijrig'fo' t'oTd ^aff piteous, ha fscovnful proverb, and gone trud^Lt sun from farm town to laird's place wherevpr «L i ^i!.' hope to ' fend' by such work a's she w^^ stilT'aMe'to do""" Did she forget her little domestic song all thi, time, or did she bring it forward as her ow^"^ Had she Its very first appearance in print. Indeed her name and the song would have conte into notice togethT ?eJi f'*r' •"■" *''^ f""*^ «f 'he case. No word U heard of the song in connection with Jean AdZ fnv nearly fifty years after her death excent tLt »Z i K■^^Ltrk''"^'^'^^.°^^^^^^^^ DC Jier 3 m Oartsdyke and m the family of Mrs Fullft. ""• ^1"'. Wver, seem to have forgotten both son,; and Jean Adam for more than half a oentmv „Wo have considered the subject not worth mentionin;^ Moreover, can it be explained why it was never Z'^ ed for Jean Adam in Mickle's life time-a period of a-i years after her death ? penoa ot J3 In page 29, ' Songstresses of Scotland • if i« =*„t„j ■'Th:ZZ'^ ,*^ r"'t'"8 °^ Jean Adam's'oem ' Ihe list of subscribers shows no lack of friends inT,!; hyJLt^J''' '"'T' °^ «>^ Crawforrare ttere by scores. There are baronets and lau-ds of that ilk and their ladies; noble TemnlPR »«;i xr„„. "^"" Uk, minip'ors of the' Gospel an^^studel o? fe™- ' abundance, and mercfa^ts and tradesmen '' On t^! 84 of the same work we read • ** Thir.h Z^\ ■ i ^^^® man-her hair growmg gTz'led unKeVat 1^0:" having herself rowed up, wmd and tide in J^l f on a Wednesday half holiday or Satarday^trnorT' make searching enquiries as to thTl^I ^^l^Tj,.^?. (1 ere this B old half ng in sun village, he could e to do." all this Had she 3 hers at Br name ether. — word is dam for accord - ieved to Fullar- th song y, or to ning.— ' claim - »d of 23 —18— And yet we are asked to believe that, having composed a song aUowed to be far superior to any contained in her book she neglected to pubHsh and claun it, not withstandmg she hved in the midst of an intelligent oommunity and amongst those who had shown s°uch great wilhngness to assist encourge her. S.nf I?n/P^f ^'T ^"^ *^i? ^"*^^^ ^^ ' The Songstresses of f.^lr ' !?'}^' authority for some statements con- .Zlnli' ^^^t,^^^^' she kindly forwarded Kodger's pamphlet, at the same time observing, -I take the present opportunity of T.riting that, should any future edition of he book be caUed for, I shall of course omit DavidTume ' '^' "' ^'"^^ '"'"^ erroneously, to J stated )oem8 : in her e there lat ilk, aeries ; lity in npage Qe wo- JACE — avour, ►on, to ,„_!- >. // II I i «^Ta^^TS FROM rrnE i^OEmc^L ^^^oi^isra OP WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE. CUMNOR HALL -lo:- Tlie dews of summer night did fall, The moon, sweet regent of the sky, Silver'd the walls of Cumnor Hall, And many an oak that grew thereby. Now nought was heard beneath the skies The sounds of busy hfe were still, bave an unhappy lady's sighs That issued from that lonely pile. "Leicester," she cried, "is this thy love. That thou so oft hast sworn to me, To leave me in this lonely grove, Immured in shameful privity *? " No more thou com'st with lover's speed Thy once beloved bride to see ; Be she alive or be she dead, ^ ^vu,i ofcciii iz^-ciri s me same to tiiee. —15- '* Not so the usage I received When happy in my father's hall ; No faithless husband then me grieved, No chilhng fears did me appal. ** I rose up with the cheerful morn, No lark more bhthe, no flower more gay ; And like the bird that haunts the thorn, So merrily yung the hvelong day. "If that my beauty is but small, Among court ladies all despised. Why did'st thou rend it from that hall, Where, scornful Earl, it well was prized ? **And when you first to me made suit. How fair I was you oft would say ; And, proud of conquest, plucked the fruit, Then left the blossom to decay. "Yes ! now neglected and despised. The rose is pale, the lily's dead ; But he that once their charms so prized. Is sure the cause those charms are fled. "For know, where sick'ning grief doth prey And tender love's repaid with scorn. The sweetest beauty will decay,— What floweret can endure the storm ? "At court, I'm told, is beauty's throne, Where every lady's passing rare, That Eastern flowers, that shame the sun, Are not so glowing, not so fair. "Then, Earl, why did'st thou leave the bed Where roses and where lilies vie. To seek a primrose, whose pale shade Must sicken when those gauds are by ? —16— " 'Mong rural beauties I was one, Among the fields wild flowers are fair ; Some country swain might me have won, And thought my beauty passing rare. " But Leicester, (or I am much wrong), Or 'tis not beauty lures thy vows ; Rather ambition's gilded crown Makes thee forget thy humble spouse. •* Then, Leicester, why again I plead, (The injured surely may repine) — Why did'st thou wed a country maid, When some fair princess might be thine ? " Why did'st thou praise my humble charms, And, oh I then leave them to decay ? Why did'st thou win me to thy arms, Then leave to mourn the livelong day ? "The village maidens of the plain Salute me lowly as they go, Envious they mark my silken train Nor think a Countess can have wo. '* The simple nymphs ! they httle know How far more happy's their estate ; To smile for joy, than sigh for wo, — To be content, than to be great. "How far less blest am I than them ! Daily to pine and waste with care ! Like the poor plant that, from its stem Divided, feels the chilling air. " Nor, cruel Earl ! can I enjoy The humble charms of solitude ; Your minions proud my peace destroy, JBy suiien irowns or pratiiigs ruue. Ill' ; •e. ^) se. thine ? charms, 9 ay w Q —17— " Last niglit as sad I chanced to stray, The village deathbell smote my ear ; They wink'd aside and seem'd to say, * Countess, prepare, thy end is near !' ** And now, while happy peasants sleep, Here I sit lonely and forlorn ; No one to soothe me as I weep, Save Philomel on yonder thorn. "My spirits flag— my hopes decay — Still that dread death-bell smites my ear, And many a boding seems to say, * Countess, prepare, thy end is near I" Thus sore and sad that lady grieved, In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear ; And many a heartfelt sigh she heaved, And let fall many a bitter tear. And ere the dawn of day appeared, In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear, Full many a piercing scream was heard, And many a cry of mortal fear. The death-bell thrice was heard to ring. An BBrial voice was heard to call, And thrice the raven flapped its wing Around the towers of Cumnock Hall. The mastifif howled at village door, The oaks were shattered on the green ; Wo was the hour — for never more That hapless Countess ere was seen. And in that Manor now no more Is cheerful feast and sprightly ball ; Have spirits haunted Cumnor Hall. Illl v\ —18— The village maids with fearful glance Avoid the ancient mo8S-grown wall ; Nor ever lead the merry dance, Among the groves of Cumnor Hall. Full many a traveller oft hath sigh'd, And pensive wept the Countess' fall, As wandering' onwards they've espied The haunted towers of Cumnor Hall. > ■ » MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. A N E L E G Y. [Very various opinions have been expressed concerning the Poem from which these passages are taken. Lord Lyttleton refused to criticise it, considering the subject unsuitable for Poetry. With the renowned Dr. Johnson, on the contrary, it was a favorite piece. The author, after giving reasons for disbe- lieving the charges frequently brought against Mary, observes "That to express the indignation at the cruel treatment of Mary which history must ever inspire, and to drop a tear over her sufferings, is not unworthy of a writer, who would appear in the cause of virtue." Mary, the daughter of James V. of Scotland, was educated at the French court, and married to the son of the King of France, afterwards Francis II. On the death of her husband, which occurred when she was but nine- teen years of age, she returned to her native land, leaving France with tears, and the greatest reluctance, and on her landing in her native kingdom the different aspect of the country awakened all her regret.] ** For the cold north the trembling sails are spread; '* Ah, what drear horrors gliding thro' thy breast ! " While from thy weeping eyes fair GalUa fled, ** Thy future woes in boding sighs confest ! —19— '6-. g the Poem ton refused for Poetry. ry, it was a } for disbe- :y, observes reatment of a tear over ould appear James V. of married to II. On the is but nine- nd, leaving and on her pect of the ) spread ; ly breast ! led, t! *' A natiou stern, and stubborn to command, •• And now convuls'd with faction's fiercest rage, *' Commits its sceptre to thy gentle hand, •* And asks i bridle from thy tender age." As weeping tlius they sung, the omens rose. Her native sliores receives the mournful Queen ; November wind o'er the bare landscape bows. In hazy gloom the sea-wave skirts the scene. The House of Holy Rood, in sullen state. Bleak in the shade of rude pil'd rocks appears ; Cold on the mountain's side, ty]>)e of her fate. Its shatter'd walls a Romish chapel rears. No nodding grpve here waves the sheltering bough O'er the dark vale, prophetic of her reign : Beneath the curving mountain's craggy brow The dreary echoes to the gales complain. Beneath the gloomy clouds of rolling smoke, The high pil'd city rears her Gothic towers ; The stern brow'd castle from its loftv rock, Looks scornful down, and tixt defiance lowers. * * * * -^ ■^: :]: * (" Again the vision shifts the woeful scene," and Mary is re- presented taking refuge in the dominions of her cousin, the Queen of England. Elizabeth refusing to grant her the protection she sought, made her prisoner, and kept her in confinement for eighteen years, when, by Elizabeth's order, Mary was beheaded at Fotheringay Castle, Fobruary, 1687.) Again the vision shifts the woeful scene ; Again, forlorn, from rebel arms she flies. And, unsuspecting, on a sister Queen, The lovely, injur'd fugitive relies. When wisdom, baffled, owns th' attempt in vain, Heaven oft delights to set the virtuous free ; Some friend appears and breaks affliction's chain : But, ah, no generous friend appears for thee I Mi —20— A prison' ghastly walls and grated cells l)^(m'i' 1 if airy scenery as it past ; Tlw haul It , ee listleK*^ m<'lancholy dwells, Wii^V. " " Tho^rf ""* ™""""'' "'"tl^^^ «ie Indian soil " Thn' p ™ ' 'P'^y fi«'<'« embalm the ^if " AU Slfh' ''"' "''''"^'^«" harvest smlk' Aii, all these swppfo t,w+i,^„x ^v ''^""«, „,,^„,., 5^^g_ liought avail. (< ray, ^diance shed; il'd the day/ ion fled. «a« Frederic, the he dawn, green ; Queen. ovs, le dells •se blows, nent dwells, 3d, ;?roimd,) id, ms bound. ^e strain ; sky to sky, ?n. soil, Je, ■> it avail. <( (I (( (( —28-- The fainting native eyes with dumb despair "The sweUing clusters of the bending vine, The fruitful lawns confess his toilful care, " Alas ! the fruits his languid hopes resign ! On Tigris' banks still rise the palmy groves, ** And still Euphrates boasts his fertile plains • Ah ! vam the boast— 'tis there the murd'rer roves, ** 'Tis there wild terror sohtary reigns ! '' On Tadmore's site the lonely shepherd stands, •'And as he views the solemn waste around " With eager watch explores the Turkish bands, *♦ And dreads the plund'rer's rage in every sound. ** Return, Queen, patroness of joy! " With antient splendour to thy Greece return • " Ignoble slaves thy once lov'd seats destroy, " On Pindus, thee, the silent muses mourn ! " Nor Po's fair banks, nor Baia's sands invite; u^ Fallen Genius there her broken urns deplores ; a^u fairest landscapes please the sight,— " Thy dictates exil'd from her hostile shores. ''^^Xf^\.^^^ realms, whore thy mild influence beams, U er Britain's plains, the muse delighted roves, Delighted wanders o'er the banks of Thames "Or rests secure in Clifden's rural groves. " There by the dawn, elate with lightsome glee "The joyous shepherd and the hind are seen, Ihe voice of mirth, when evening shades the lea, Heard loud and nat'ral o'er the village-green. " No tyrant there the peasant's field invades " Secure the fold, his labor's all his own; ' "No ravisher nrnfan^s >iia na,*/.,. c,i,o.i^„ Ills labors wealth and independence crown." t !:»' II !j a —24— Ti, -R y°,. ^""^ ^^^^^ ^^^ sportive rov'd— 4 p'-? ^J^Phs in mournful pomp appear The Bnhsh nymphs to freedom best bdo^' Loose to the wind their snow-white vestments flow veSs^ipr:-!^^^-^^^^^^^^ Wkle thus w>th Fred-ric'spraise thryW their Queen " '"^tIT.m •™'" "'^ ^'^''^' ^^«"'<1 lii« breast ■.T?„,v -A *,° 7"'° *■* ^o^'d lii« heart to thee Fair midst thy heroes, sta ds his name coS The friend of men, the patron of thefrr " ^^r^' JF"'' "'"' '"'^ J°''ly l>«d adorns, .. V : > ,,?,*>' ®'"® ®^« »' '■'■e's bright noon he fell Yet shall the song, oft as this day JSZs ' At freedom's shrine his happy labors^eil. " T^R '^''"Tl^ ^P'"* «f a downward age. Beneath his smile with ancient splendor rose ''Sf^^ ""f ^''' "l'' ''■» virtuous rage '' And Britam triumph'd o'er her bosom foes. " "'Vn,T«'"^^'//I'r'''"' °''' *" "owsliP beds, .. oAjf i"'*?: t^'^liaunted dells of Mona glide ner silver light on Snowdon's hoary side. "Hither, ye British Muses, grateful come, ■.■T,»? -I fT 5"""^ ehoicest flowers on Fred'ric's biert WhUe er her Son the Goddess drops a tZ' " ^' W ^!f """u y°"' ''°'''« «^*ars raise ; «..^ .v-v.o .iic Muse wiiose deeds demand the song." —26— rear ov'd— appear, >elov'd. tnents flow, ksome green; 3ow, ailtlieir Queen da breast, to thee ; e confest, free. 1 he feU, ns, tell. A NIGHT PIECE, lor rose, foes, •eds, [lide, beds ide. Jd'ric's bier \ tomb, a tear. ains belong; se, i the song." M5tnV^5? v^^ Church-yard (now the principal street cf the oAV. mif ^Vl^K""^^""" ^^" famous Buchanan, and some °nter?ed ''^^^''^***'^ personages of his age and nation lie Behold how grand the lady of the night, The silver moon, with majesty divine. Emerges from behind yon sable cloud; Around her all the spacious heavens glow With living fires ! Iii the pale air sublime, 8t. Giles' column rears its ancient head. Whose builders many a century ago Were moulder'd into dust. Now, my soul. Be fiU'd with sacred awe ! I tread above The chiefs of ancient days, great in the works 01 pear-f., and dreadful in the ranks of war, Whose manly harness'd breasts and nervous arms bs.ood as the brazen bulwarks of the land ; But now, in death's blank courts, mixt with the sons K)\ basest deeds ; and now unknown as they. A ^ ?S^^"^ ^?^' y^ learned, the hope of all your rage And bitter spleen ? Ye statesmen, where the meed K)i ail your toils, and victims at the shrine Of wild ambition ? Active Moray's bones With Errol's dust in dreary silence rest ; The sly Buchanan and the zealous Knox Mingle their ashes in the peaceful grave With Komish priests, and hapless Mary's friends No quarrel now, no holy frauds disturb The slumber of the dead. Yet let me ask. And awful is the question, Where, oh, where Are the bright minds that once to mighty deeds ihe clay that now I tread above inspir'd ^ Ha I twas a flash of Are ! how bright it shone ! II liji ■ : i ■ 1 ' i ■'■! i t ! —26— How soon it was no more ' SupIi i» fi.^ iv xiaen in a little witli his mother earth Lies mixt, and known no morp P,.L i.- Forget his name; and ZmL souTd r^aTn ""^ Ah let ambition sicken at the though" i ' Dull as a twice-told tale it meets the ear In daWS^Ifc tt r '^^^^' ^~^' ^^ In fables «ild and vague. Our hoary sires Se f„.? f^ ^"^^ "^ *^"'''^«'« >*^ord decide The fate of Europe, and her trembMne kW? Mate his actions as a monkish We^ °^'' Without concern : and soon the days shall comp tL S-lf; ? ?v ^" •"•P^'ers, such as oft Tell tn h ■ ^''T?'"' ''y '>''"'«'•'« fi'-e, Khur'lnTv T? "i"**^"" "f *•>«' feats Ut Arthur and his knights, and Celtic wars. bay, ye who from old Nimrod 's days Down to the present, haye beheld the S Of emperors and kings, say. Which the life The eyer conscious shade 4ill hke to o™ * Does CiEsar boast of his immortal namr ' eZ'J^^ *'"■": '^' "°°d of "Millions; he Enslav d his country ? No : he drops the head And imprecates obliyion to enwrap ^ ""*' With eyerlastmg smiles he humbly owns The We that was a blessing to mankind Would Lrn'- '^^°«« ^conquerable souls Look It ht" '""•''T's interest never flinch ThltT ^'*'^,|^««' complacence on the re^ms Whol^Ti'^^t ^ ^'^"'"'«' P"*™* chief .. Betrav'/„ ^ ' '^^ """''''■■'''^ "S^t assert ; And ao„ ^ Tn™ ''^''y ''y "" ^"' thee. ' Ana tliou, great Bnine w^l'^ w,„^,. _ j. , .« , , "^^hmiffMM^- ■!■■ ii !■ ife, ihes, 8 own race main, v^iours, lie de eome, itell —27 For thy enslav'd and groaning country's sake, Stray'd o'er the soHtary hills of Lorn ; Say, what bold ecstacics, heroic joys, Your mighty souls inspire, when you behold A nation to this day bless'd by your arms ! The happy few, who truly great of soul Are masters of themselves ; who patient wait Till virtue's endless sabbath shall arrive, When vice shall reign no more, and virtue bleed And weep no more : when every honest pang Their hearts have felt, and mourn'd their efforts vain, Shall yield high joy, when God himself approves. ead, nch, ealms day, From POLLIO ; an Elegy. Written in the Woods near Boalin Castle, 1762. The following Elegy was first suggested, and the ideas contained in it raised, on revisiting the ruins and woods that had been the scene of the author's early amusements with a deserving brother, who died in his twenty-first year. The peaceful evening breathes her balmy store ; The playful school-boys wanton o'er the green ; Where spreading poplars shade the cottage- door, The villagers in rustic joy convene. The river murmurs, and the breathing gale Whispers the gently- waving boughs among ; The star of evening ghmmers o'er the dale, And leads the silent host of heaven along. How bright, emerging o'er yon broom-clad height, The silver empress of the night appears ! Yon limpid pool renects a stream of light, And faintly in its breast the woodland bears. Hiniii h 1 1 i ■f! ; 28 The lomly heartZ bl ';/^w r".^^" "«<»"«».■ The bal W-it^,: °W a%td August and hoary, o'er the eloping dale Dark soUiz^xrzx:^^''^' ^^'« ^ ^^lurr:if,orcr^,X^^ ''ff'''-^ ^^^^- A warlike mien, a sullen grandeur wear! And sRinfn/i «,^n i-_ , ^^".wn a witii pines. -" — ""ve lost their cheering powers : oimd ; rlade ; ground. tvers ; ^g gale ; ng shade, ira ' creep, 'S have led ; read. ig trees, ing. ide ; d. e; fvers : —29— For thou art gone— My guide, my friend, oh, where, Where. hast thou fled, and left me here behind? My tenderest wish, my heart to thee was bare, Oh, now cut off each passage to thy mind ! ' * How dreary is the gulph, how dark, how void, The trackless shores that never were repast*! Dread separation ! on the depth untry'd Hope faulters, and the soul recoils aghast. Wide round the spacious heavens I oast my eyes ; And shall these stars glow with immortal fire, ' Still shme the lifeless glories of the skies, And could thy bright, thy living soul exph-e ? Far be the thought the pleasures most sublime. The glow of friendship, and the virtuous tear, Ihe tow'rmg wish that scorns the bounds of time, Chill'd m this vale of death, but languish here : So plant the vine on Nor'way's wintery land, The languid stranger feebly buds, and dies ; Yet there's a clime where virtue shall expand,' With godhke strength, beneath her native skies. The lonely shepherd on the mountain's side. With patience waits the rosy opening day • The mariner at midnight's darksome tide. With cheerful hope expects the morning ray: Thus I, on hfe's storm-beaten ocean tost. In mental vision view the happy shore. Where PoUio beckons to the peaceful coast. Where fate and death divide the friends no more. Oh, that some kina, some pitying kindred shade. Who now, perhaps, frequents this solemn grove wo aid tell the awful secrets of the dead, And from my eyes the mortal film remove ! u —80— So to the dark-broWd wood, or sacred mount And tT"' ^'^'- "'<' ^"^y Seers retir'd ' * w', 'f '? 7'«'»». drank at Siloes fount WlnJe nsmg ecetacies their bosoms fir'd ; Eestor'd creation bright before them rose ' TO THE ffEI/iS OF RADNOR CASTLE. * thou, .riiose hopes these fair domains inspire The awful lesson here best»w'd attend ^ With pensive eve here let thy steps rS What t.me rapt fancy's shldot^Sdescend. ^mLfT T" i".*" "' ^^^'"''"g ^Mte purveys What Bachaiiahan revels loud resound ^' ^'11 1!^"! ?«« '^?. ""idnight windows blaze. ..--..v.ru tumult reels his giddy round. '" am 1 fire, Qiles at pain, sire. t^ine, Qploy ; be thine, noiint, It, 'd: plains, chose, H REIGNS !" —31— 'Tis past — the mansion owns another Lord, The ousted Heir, so riotous erewhile, Now sits a SuppHant at his wonted board. Insulted by the base-born menial's smile. By the base menials taunted from the door. With anguish'd heart resistless of his woe. Forlorn he strays those lawns, his own no more. Unknowing where, on trembling knees and slow : Till here, beneath an aged elm's bleak shade, Fainting he sinks— Ah ! let thy mind descry, On the cold turf, how low his humbl'd head. On yon fair dome how fixt his ghastly eye. By his mad revels, by his last heart sigh, Oh, thou, of these proud towers the promis'd heir. By every manly virtue's holy tie, By honor's fairest bloom, oh fortune's child, beware ! . KNOWLEDGE: an Ode. STLE. ispire. descend, irveys, azG. High on a hill's green bosom laid. At ease, my careless fancy stray'd, And o'er the landscape ran : Keviv'd, what scenes the seasons shew ; And weigh'd, what share of joy or woe Is doom'd to toiling man. The nibbling flocks around me bleat ; The oxen low beneath my feet, Along the clover'd dale ; —82— The golden sheaves the reapers bind Lfhrt^"'!^^''''^'' "^^^ behind, And breaks the new mown vale. m -Ev'n «^i r 'i?'' ^^^* of heaven,' I cried '' Co.^i^'i?V^^^^^^« beside, ' The blesemgs of the earth, and air ^ut godlike beings know. " How mean the short-Iiv'd iov« «^ Of w sdom'8 sacred lore ! Yet sUl can wisdom's piercing eve Tlieir mighty deeds explore " The wonders of the spacious sky She penetrates with Newton's eye ^' And marks the planets roll .^' Ihe human mmd with Locke she scans • And hits to heaven the soul. " How matter takes ten thousand forms Of metals, plants, of men and wormT •■ This fir? ^"■'"'' ^"'^ Boyle "'' —88— '• The lant two tenants of the j,TOiind, •' Of ancient times his liistory bound ; '• Alas ! it scarce goes higher : " In flrain to him is Maro's strain, •• And Shakspeare's magic powers in vain • " In vain is Milton's fire. ' *• Nor sun by day, nor stars by night, " Can give his soul the grand delight "To trace Almighty power : ** His team thinks just as much as he " Of nature's vast variety, " In animal and flower." <( As thus I sung, a solemn sound Accosts mine ear ; I look'd around, And lo ! an ancient sage, Hard by an ivy'd oak stood near. That fenc'd the cave, where many a year •Had been his hermitage. His mantle grey flow'd loose behind, His snowy beard wav'd to the wind. And addud solemn grace ; His broad bald front gave dignity. Attention mark'd his lively eye, And peace smil'd in his face. He beckon'd with his wrinkl'd hand ; My ear was all at his command, And thus the sage began : " Godlike it is to know, I own ; ••But oh ! how httle can be known, '*By poor short-sighted man. •* Go, mark the schools where letter'd pride, ** And star-crown'd science boastful guide. |r !■ —84— " There led by some pale meteor's ray. That loaves them oft. the sages stray And grope m endless night. ;; Hark, Bolingbroke his God arraigns • ^AtX"^:?" ''''' ^^^^'-'tes^naintains .1 a ^^^^^^^ passive cause : Would fondly fix on sceptic ground, And change, Truth, thy laws. ;; And, What the joy this lore bestows ? Alas no joy, no hope it knows Above what bestials claim • To quench our noblest native fire, That bids to nobler worlds aspire, la aU Its hope, its aim. (I Not Afne's wUds, nor Babel's waste, Where ignorance her tents hath plac'd, ! ^>Iore dismal scenes display . ^ ^' A scene where vhrtue sickening dies, Where vice to dark extinction flies And spurns the future day. Wisdom you boast, to you is given- And let thy mmd explore : bwift as the Mghtning let it fly Still, still are millions more. - tZ' ^h^ *^' self-same roots produce " Ar,^ ir^^'.^T^ ^^^ poisonous juice • And adders, balsams yield • ' How fierce the lurking tyger Glares ^ 7hetb *^^' ^1'" -th theeSs Ihe labors of the field ? —86— *• Why, growling to his den. retires *• The sullen pnrd, while joy inspires '* Yon happy sportive lambs ? '• Now scatter'd o'er the hJll they stray • *' Now w^ary of their gaiubling play, * '• All smgle out their lanis. ** A trunk first tioats along the deep, *' Long ages still improve the ship, ' " Till she commands the shore ; *• But never bird improv'd her nest, ** Each all at once of powers possest, " Which ne'er can rise to more. •' That down the steep the waters flow, *' That weight descends, we see, we know, ** But why, can ne'er explain ; Then humbly weighing nature's laws, To God's high will ascribe the cause, *' And own thy wisdom vain. Knowledge or wealth to few are given, But mark, how just the ways of heaven • " True joy to all is free : ' Nor wealth, nor knowledge grant the boon, 'Tis thine, conscience, thine alone, " It all belongs to thee. Blest in thy smiles the shepherd lives ; Gay is his morn ; his evening gives " Content and sweet repose : Without them— ever, ever cloy'd, To sage or chief, one weary void " Is all that Mfe bestows." 4( << —36— MA Y - D A Y : * OB, THE DBUIDICAL FESTIVAL, AN ODE. ^^''^'\^Vyli\^^::r:^^ Dr Stukely, was observed ^' A^rl'^ / gleaming o'er the eantern lawn : Already from their oaken bowerw " Scattenng magic herbs and flowe'rs, • .. TIr•i^^^^^^"* *^^^ morning gale, With white and purple blossomn crown'd, .. rru ""T •r'^J ^'" ^"^ ^«" around, ine Druids hasten to the sacred vnle." 'Twas thus while yet Monaeses liv'd While hoary Cadwell yet surviv'd ' Their solemn feasts the blameless Druids held • Ere human b bod their shrines distain d, Ere hell-taught rites their lore profan'd, sweU'd ' ^^^'"^^^'^ ^^^^ ^^'^^' «acred anthems Their chief, Moraeaes, march 'd before • Monaeses, sprung from Heber's Hne ' Who leaving Midian's fertile shore ' When scepter'd Belus challeng'd rites divine • When tyranny his native fields defac'd ' l^ar to the peaceful west ' T^ 1 where the groves of Albion rise, Where Snowdon's front ascends the skies, He bade lus mates thei'r Iuhit.,. ,».,>,..; i._'.-. T Al W —87— And now the sacred Morn appears, That through the depth of rolHug years To celebrate creation claims the lay ; The Morn that gave the heavens their birth, That saw the green, the beauteous earth All blooming rise beneath the smiles of May. " Then loud the hallo w'd anthem raise, '* And bid the mountain-summits blaze" The hallow'd song the Bards and Druids rais'd. Glad echo caught the sound; And on the mountain-tops far round, The sacred altars blaz'd. *' And, hail, auspicious Morn ! *• Still may the hvely pulse of joy " Confess thy glad return ; ' " Still maj- the harp and song employ *' The sacred hour when first thy trembling beams " The noddmg groves and purMng streams, *' And shady grots adorn." 'Twas thus the hoary Druids rais'd the song While by the sacred hill and grove, Where misletoe the oaks enwove, All clad in snowy white, august, they march'd along. "Wave, my sons, the misletoe ; '• Wave the sacred branch on high : " Bound our steps the spring-flowerg 'strew, ** 1^ lowers of bright and cheerful dye, *• Symbols of untainted youth, *• Of glowing love and holy truth. " Strew, my sons, the mystic grove." He spake— and instant roiind they spread Chaplets, where the yellow hue Was mix'd with flowers of lively blue r'i ff^ I —88— Where snow-white Hlhes with the blossoms red, The apple boughs enwove. '• All hail, ye venerable shades!" Thus rose the hallo w'd strain, ** Ye cloudy steeps, and winding glades, •• All hoil ! and by your silver rills, *• Your rosy dells, and thymy hills " Shall lasting freedom reign !" HEN GIST AND MEY . A BALLAD. HsBC novimus esse nihil. In ancient days when Arthur reign 'd, Sir Elmer had no peer ; And no young knight in all the land, The ladies lov'd so dear. His sister Mey, the fairest maid Of all the virgin train. Won every heart at Arthur's court ; But all their love was vain. In vain they lov'd, in vain they vow'd, Her heart they could not move ; Yet at ev'ning hour of prayer. Her mind was lost in love. The Abbess saw — the Abbess knew, And urged her to explain ; " name the gentle youth to me, " And his consent I'll gain." —so- Long urg'd, long tir'd, fair Mey reply'd, " His name — how can I say ? " An angel from the fields above " Has rapt my heart away. " But once, alas ! and never more, *♦ His lovely form I spied ; " One evening by the sounding shore, " All by the green wood side. ** His eyes to mine the love confest, "That glow'd with mildest grace ; " His courtly mien and purple vest, " Bespoke his princely race. *♦**♦♦#, The live-long year fair Mey bemoan'd Her hopeless pining love : But when the balmy spring return 'd. And summer cloth 'd the grove ; All round by pleasant Humber's side, The Saxon banners flew, And to Sir Elmer's castle gates The spearmen came in view. Fair blush'd the morn, when Mey look'd o'er The castle walls so sheen ; And h:^ I the warlike Saxon youth Were sporting on the green. There Hengist, Offa's eldest son, Lean'd on his burnish'd lance, And all the armed youth around, Obey'd his manly glance. And soon the lovely form of Mey Has caught his piercing eyes ; He gives the sign, the bauds retire, While big with love he sighs ; ; ill ■i I —40— *• Oh ! thou for whom I dar'd the seas, *' And came with peace or war • *' ^^^' ^Y *^^* o^oss that veils thy breast, " Keheve thy lover's care ! " ^^L^^.^^ ^'^ ^"^* ^y father's throne ; " With thee the wilds explore ; " Or with thee share the British crown ! "With thee the cross adore." Beneath the timorous virgin blush With love's soft warmth she glows • bo blushmg through the dews of morn, Appears the opening rose. 'Twas now the hour of morning pray'r, When men their sins bewail, And Elmer heard King Arthur's horn, ShrUl sounding thro' the dale. The pearly tears, from Mey's bright eyes, Tjike April dew-drops fell. When with a parting dear embrace Her brother bade farewell. The cross uith sparkhng diamonds bright. That veil'd her snowy breast, n ith prayers to heaven, her lily hands Have fixt on Elmer's vest. Now, with five hundred bowmen true. He's march'd across the plain ; Till with his gallant yeomandrie ' He join'd King Arthur's train. FuU forty thousand Saxon spears Game glittering down the hill, And with their shouts, and clang of arms. The distant valleys fill. —41— Oia Offa, drest in Odin's garb, Assum'd the hoary God ; And Hengist, like the warlike Thor, Before the horsemen rode. With dreadful rage the combat burns, ihe captains shout amain ; And Elmer's tall victorious spear Far glances o'er the plain. To stop its course young Hengist flew Like hgh^'iiino. o'er the field ; And soor hi^ eyes the well-known cross On Elmer's vest beheld. The slighted lover sweU'd his breast, His eyes shot living fire ; And all his martial heat before, To this, was mild desire. On his imagin'd rival's front, With whirlwind speed heprest, And glancing to the sun, his sword liesound's on Elmer's crest; "^^^r?^ P^® ^*y' *^^ princely youth ,m-n heedless rage pursued, im trembling in his cloven helm, bir Elmer's javelin stood. He bow'd his head— slow dropt his spear • Ahe reins shptthrough his hand. ' And stam'd with blood— his stately corse hay breathless on the strand. <( bear me off," Sir Elmer cried; i3efore my painful sight ** The combat swims— yet Heneiflt's v^uf "1 claim as victor's right." " ^'"' I> [ —42— rnu 1 »1^ in terror fled ; The bowmen to his castle gates ■The brave Sir Elmer led! " - r^iw-r'^o""^'' "^y «i«ter dear • ihat whizzmg from young Hengist's arm Has almost pierc'd my heart. Shall with the trophies of to-day Iheir solemn feasts adorn." ^^ Oh, MerL ." bud she cried, -^ S Jl7^' ^'' true-my slaughter'd love Shall have a breathless bride ! „ ^i»at low my Hengist hes I uM^^'^h '''^''^^ ^^« thine arm f "My brother bleeds and dies r Arid life 8 warm spirits fled • So nipt by winter's withering blasts, The snow-drop bows the head. ^'8h«* i^J^^ 1^' ?^' '^'''^Sle gave, She hfts her languid eyes; Return my Hengist, oh, return, Mj slaughter'd love," she cries. „j ^**^ all his grace he moves • u fl/^tr-^ «o^e ^liere bovr nor' spear ShaU more disturb our loves " ^ X m r — id — She spate-she died. The Saxon dart Was drawn from Elmer's side And thnce he caUed his sister mV, And thrice he groan 'd, and died Where in the dale, a moss-grown cross Oershades an aged thorn, ' \yere by the spear-men borne. And there, all clad in robes o'" white With many a sigh and tear, ' ■^■It^^ "^^^^^ *^ Hengist's grave Did Mey's fair body bear. ^ And there, at dawn and faU of day, All from the neighboring groves The turtles wail, in^ widowKes,' And smg their hap ss loves. THE PROPHECY OF QUEEN EMMA A BALLAD. O'er the hills of Cheviot beaming Itose the sUver dawn of May • Hostile spears and helmets gleaming SweU d along the mountains gray Edwin's warlike horn resounded rhrough the winding dales below, A .d the echoing hills rebounded Aii^ ^-•--^"'i^i^tr ui liie loe. li —44— O'er the downs like torrents pouring^ Edwin s horsemen riish'd along, From the hills like tempests lowering blowly march'd stern Edgar's throng. Spear to spear was now portended, w^" 1 %^^'^,^°'^' ^^^^ were drawn. When the female scream ascended, bhrilhng o'er the crowded lawn. While her virgins round her weeping Wr^^'lu ^^^f* ^i^eir snowy hands, ^ From the wood Queen Emma shrieking Kan between the dreadful bands. ■ Oh my sons, what rage infernal Bids you grasp th' linhallow'd spear ! .Heaven detests the war fraternal • UH, the impious strife forbear l' Ab how mild and sweetly tender J^ low d your peaceful eaxly days » Each was then of each defender, ' Each of each the pride and praise. my first-born Edwin, soften, Nor invade thy brother's right ; my Edgai^, think how often Edwin dar'd for thee the fight. Edgar, shall thy impious fury Dare thy guardian to the field 9 Oh my sons, let peace allure ye •' Thy stern claims, Edwin, yield. Ha what sight of horror waving, Sul en Edgar, clouds thy reaf- Brmg St thou Denmark's banners braving Thy msulted brother's spear f ^ —45— Midnight horror feor'ul howl'd, Thm fl' 7lves the Danish le^aon. ■ Ihro thy trembhng forests prowl'd ; When, unable of resistance And shaU Edwin's brave assistance Be repaid with Denmark's sword ? Wi^h that sword shsit thou assail him From whose point he set thee free While lis warHke sinews fail him ' Weak with loss of blood for thee ? Oh, my Edwin, timely hearken. And thy stern resolves forbear » bha 11 revenge thy councils darken, Oh, my Edgar, drop the spear ! Wisdom teUs and Justice offers How each wound may yet be balm'd • revere these holy proffers • Let the storms of heU be calm'd. ^^F,V J T'-~?^^ all her sorrows Frnf if* ''^P^''"^ ^^§^« *^e "lore : From the bow-s rings sprung the arrows • boon the .aUies reekt with gore. * Shrieking wild, with horror shiverirg. Fled the Queen aU stain'd with bloid In her purple bosom quivering ' Deep a feather'd arrow ^tood. Up the mountain she ascended fierce as mounts the flame in air • "^"ihf.ij^^^' *° heaven extended/ w«ai,i,ur a ner uprooted hair ; —46— ^^^TT^J s«>ns, how impious cover'd With each other's blood, she cried ; While the eagles round her hover'd, And wild scream for scream rephed— From that blood around you steaming. 1 urn my sons, your vengeful eyes • See what horrors o'er you streaming, Muster round th' offended skies. ^ wTk" ^?^^' ^^^yen^B lightning voUies Wither d is your strength ev'n now ; Idly weeping o'er your follies, boon your heads shall lowly bow. Soon the Dane the Scot, and Norman, O er your dales shall havoc pour Every hold and city storming ' Ii^very herd and field devour. Ha, what signal new arising Tif r' 1^^^ f^?^/^^^ g^oup prevails ? Tis the hand of Justice poising High aloft th' eternal scales Loaded with thy base aUiance, Kage and rancour all extreme, %l • ^^^^^2,«o«r's foul defiance, Ihme, Edgar, kicks the beam ! Opening mild and blue, reversing O er thy brother's wasted hills, A 5^.?""^^^' ^^^'^^"^ dispersing, And the fertile shower distUs ^"* o'er % devoted valleys iilacker spreads the angry sky • iJistant thunders groan and die. —47— *' Cursed be the cluy detested, " Wh^r n "'" ^'^'"'^ profound, Aiiio % streets shall loud reHound. ^ H^iV '"'t??^^^ P^'«"^^:>' boasted, Hapless Edgar, loud she cried- W th her wounds and woes exhausted l>own on earth she sunk and S ' AT ^ r^ 'THERE'S ^AE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE '''''^^::!::!'f^^:^^^--^ori,t, .., ^e found in the And are you sure the news is true ? And are ye sure he's weel '> m n *r' *^ «P^« ^ ^liread When Cohn's at the door '> And see him come ashore. For there's nae luck about the house, There is nae luck at a' • ml' little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa. My bishop's satin gown, • iii»b v>Oim 5 come to town. I —48— My Turkey slippers maun gae on, My stockings pearly blue ; lis aw to pleasure my gudeman i?or he 8 baith leal and true. For there's nae luck, &e. Kise lass, and mak a clean fire side ifut on the muckle pot Gie httle Kate her button gown, And Jock his Sunday coat • And mak their shoon as hhd as slaes, Iheir hose as white as snaw, It s aw to please my ain gudeman, -tor hes been langawa. For there's nae, Ac. There's twa fat hens upo' the bauk Been fed this month and mair, Mak haste and thraw their necks about, Ihat Cohnl^eel may fare • And mak the table neat and 'clean Let every thing look braw. For wha can tell how Colin fared When he was fir awa. Ah, there's nae, &c. 8ae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, His breath like cauler air, His very foot has music in't As he comes up the stair ! And shall I see his face again, And shall I he^x, him speak ? I ^downright dizzy wi' the thought. In troth I'm hke to greet. For there's nae, &c. I hat thrilled through my heart, Dr, -49-~ <( lili death we'll never imrt, IJie present moment is our ain, ine noist we never saw."='= For there's nae, &c. If Colin's weel, and weel content, 1 nae nae mair to crave— Tlf"/"^^*«^eephimHae, A ?^," f, '^^ ^^« f*«e a^^ain, And shall I hear liim speak 9 I m downright dizzy wi' the thought • III troth I'm like to greet. For therejs nae, &c. ESKDALE BRAES. By the banks of the crystal- stream d Esk Ana .iM ,„«„ a. .„.J,,,,7. J7i, ,^^ Maria, disconsolate maid, Oft sigh'd the still noon- tide awav Or by moonlight all desolate strav^d While woeful«ietun'd her love-ky. Or. JaT^e- fc,«°«Io8ed iu inverted nnma-, ^.•.- .-- • - - i —50-. Ah, no more from the banks of the Ewes My shepherd comes cheerly along, Broomholm and the Deansbanks refuse To echo the plaints of his song. No more from the echoes of Ewes, His dog fondly barking I hear • No more the tir'd lark he pursues, And tells me his master draws near. Ah, woe to the wars, and the pride, Thy heroes, Esk, could display. When with laurels they planted thy side, From France and from Spain borne away. Oh, why did their honors decoy My poor shepherd lad from the shore • Ambition bewitch 'd the vain boy. And oceans between us now roar. Ah, methinks his pale corse floating by, I behold on the rude billows tost ; Unburied his scatter'd bones lie, . Lie bleaching on some desert 'coast ! By this stream and the May-blossom'd thorn ^ That first heard his love-tale, and his vows My pale ghost shall wander forlorn. And the willow shall weep o'er my brows. With the ghosts of the Waas will I waU, In Warblaw woods join the sad throng. 10 HaUow E'en's blast tell my tale, As the spectres, ungrav'd, gHde along. ^*Jlii^ ^^®^ roUs her paly blu^tream, Old Esk still his crystal tide pours, btill golden the Wauchope waves gleam, And stm green, oh Broomholm, are thy bowers I —51-- No : blasted they seem to my view, The nvers m red floods combine ! The turtles their widow'd notes coo, And mix their sad ditties with mine ! Discolour'd in sorrow's dim shade, Strait the village-bells merrily play'd And announc'd her dear Jamie 'sVeturn. The woodlands all May-blown appear, And all eager sprung mto her arms. SONNET: From Petrarch, AnJ }ri ?y/^^^»d, has foul gorged luxurie Frnt Ir^'/f^^^'^ «« *h« slothful down ' kT^tllt. ^"^^^ ^" "^^^ly virtue th7o;n And slaved the age to custom's tyra^nie. The blessed lights so lost in darkness be Philosophy, ah ! thou art cold and poor Yet r" ^**«.^^ i^ee on thy lofty road ; • All, gentle spirit, labour on unfenent v.r«wn lily faar toils, and win the smile of God —52— ALMA DA HILL. m ^^^entiS'lwrH^i^^ ^r« from a poem bonfnihe wS?fr%mV9-80T"'' dunng a residence in^Lis- The river Tagus, opposite to Lisbon, is edged by steen cro h1X«fT?vf' P^^t^^^l'^^Jy on the south side. Upon one of the highest of these and directly opposite to Lisbon, remain the state i^d Z't^ '^^"l'?^t ?^ ^^^^^^- The finest prospecTof L bot and the Tagus (which is there about four miles broad) is from Al mada, which also commands the adjacent country from the rock mifes^ TWs m«T-i' ^^^ '^ of Palmela, an exteL of above fif?y miles. Ihis magnificent view is completed by the extensive rcre^rslh^^lKii^o?^^^^^^^^ ^^°^' *- -"- ^^^- wS and^s"p;|^ 'p\{To^J.k^^^^^^^^ rS^ King of Portugal haying gained several victories overthat people Ts wal'?f tT/H^?^''^°f> ^^'^ ^?^''^' ^^^^ °^ Glouces^eJfon dim ^A « f i ^ ^^'it' ^PP^a^^ed upon the coast of that king- dom. As the cause was the same, Robert was easily nersuaded fn make his first crusade in Portugal ^ persuaaed to •t To ancient English valour sacred still Remains, and ever shall, Almada hill ; The hill and lawns to Enghsh valour given What time the Arab Moors from Spain were driven iielore the banners of the Cross subdued, ' When Lisboa's towers were bathed in Moorish blood i5y Gloster's lance. A • J!f^®^® 1^^°^ ^'^^ "^^^^'s ^^^^ Almada lowers, Amid the solemn pomp of mouldering towers bupmely seated, wide and far around My eye delighted wanders. Here the bound Of fair Europa o'er the ocean rears Its western edge ; where dimly disappears The Atlantic wave, the slow descending day Mild beaming pours serene the gentle ray I tn a poem 3e in Lis- iteep gro- le of the bhe state- •f Lisbon from Al- the rock t)ove fifty ixtensive w, which Portugal the first fc people, ester, on at king- laded to lood I —68— Of Lusitania's winter, savering o'er I^applmg the lofty cliffs, that coldly throw Their sable horrors o'er the vales below? Far round the stately-shoulder'd river bends Is ^St Tu' ""'' 'T-^^' ^^'^<^ extend Its midland bays, with fertile islands crown'd And lawns for Enghsh valour stiU reno™"d Given to CornwalHa's gallant sons of yoTe ' ArsISm' "7". f' r"'"S PaBtureTbore ; F?om Mand fl^ ^" ^°.f ^^ ^"^''^^ ^oast WW s?,^ '/*°""" '" ^^^ <="''^'^de hosts. Where sea-ward narrower rolls the shining tide Through hills by hiUs embosom'd on e™h side Monastic walls in .very glen arise '^'■ Incoldest white fair glistening to the skies Amid the browu-brow'd rocks ; a^ i. far as qi^ht Uimb d er the steeps, and thro' the dusky green Z^mF^T'^^ •'■•^"S'' ' '^^'^ between! And Lisboa to-wermg o'er .ue lordly stream Her marble palaces and temples spreads ' Wildly magnific o'er the loaded heads The ?nr?? ^'"'' ^'"^S ^^"'^ ^^Sh-ViVd base Ihe port capacious, m a moon'd embrace Throws her mast-forest, wavmg on the gale The vanes of every shore that hoists the^stl ANOIENT SPAIN. [Carthage bemgsituated on the coast of A fv,v„ q • convenient fightinir otou ul for f? ?' Spam served as a CarthaginiantrmLsJurim /h«JL^ contending Roman and tions. ctlled the?unic wars"^ WhireThe s'e'SV''^'^^^ '^° "'^- m progre8s,Hanniba] th^ Pnr.fi,i • • ^®*^ond Punic war was over the Pyrenees on h'^^i*^^^^^^^^ ^^^,«^^'. l^^his armies The Durius and Boett, Svlrs oJ Snl^n^''^"' ^T "'^^^ ^°"^^' Duero and Guadalauiver 1 ^^^^^^ ''"^ ^""^^ »» the —54— What mighty deeds tho lofty hills of Spain . Of old have wit»ess'd-From the evening IZ Her mountain tops the Tyrian pilots saw 111 lightnings wrapt, and thrill'd with sacred awe riiro Greece the tales of gorgons, hydras ^rZal Ad Geryon dreadful with the triple head ; ^ ' The stream of Lethe, and the dread abodes ^t forms gigantic, and infernal gods Jiut soon, by fearless lust of gold impell'd, They min d the mountain, and ..xplor'd the field • Till Rome and Carthage, fierce for empire^strov^ As for their prey two famisb'd birds of Jove ^ lie rapid Durius then and B(Btis' flood Were dy'd with Roman and with Punic blood While oft the lengthening plams aift mountain sides Seem d moving on, slow rolling tides on tides When from Pyrene's summits Afric pour'd Her armies, and o'er Rome destruction lower'd '' THE BRA YE DA YS OF OLD, " But turn we now from chivalry diseas'd, 10 chivalry when honour's wreath she seiz'd From wisdom's hand. From Taurus' rugged steep And Caucasus far round with heedless sweep ^' -Kush d the devourmg bands of Saracen • Iheir savage genius, giant-like and blind Iramphng with sullen joy on human kind • Assyria lay its own uncover 'd grave ' And GaUia trembled to the Atlantic 'wave • In awful waste the fairest cities moan'd ' And human hberty expiring groan'd ' When chivalry arose.-As on the frowning tower The lightning volhes, on the crested power —66— aII tr™/^^ '^"S"'' '>«'• javelin's way And the wide-wastmg giant prostrate f^. Ani "y^°"S' degenerate Greece, iguoblv bJpd WhillW'*"'""" '"'"■'l *!■' i>^PerkI head • While Tago 8 iron race, m dangei-s steel'd " AU ardour, dar'd the horrors of the field Sd & "^.^'*°'l^ *'<"""''i "•e'-l'er flood And Pans gates aghast and open stood Low lay her peers on Fontarabia's plZ^ • As from the toUs the wounded lion bounds Aud tears the hunters and the sated hounds- So smarting with his wounds th' Iberian tore The ve. V,"r'"'"'"''^ ™gi°"« drove the Moor • rAI T^"' F"'"''' "■' '^o^otiS^ on their pfev ' And stems the fS^ r^'of AW 'X::e^'" So braved, so stood the Lusitanian bandl The southern bulwark of Europa's lands lit "TJ^'^f"'' ^y chivalr/repeird A^d "e^fJtlt'^cTr "'S' '''^"™ ^ ''«' shield. Ana as* what Christian Europe owes the hiffb And ardent soul of gallant chivalry, ^^ Ask, and let Turkish Europe's groans reply I Tb. t *^""8li the pictur'd abbey-windX gleams teS^=on«j-i-^-- ?LT'"''*S"'*ri by patriot kings caU^forth • That worth which rous'd the natl>n to eiiplore ' Old Ocean's wUdest waves and fnrH,'" 4„re Wfj —66— PORTUGAL S NAVAL POWER. Tlio promontory of Saf^rez, wiiere Henry, Duke of Vasco esfflf, tremely unpopular, as it was esteemed impractica^b e Gar« S«' Arl fofV,^ v*.'^'^- ^, ^" *"^ nextday, when tha adventurers march By human eye untempted, unexplor'd An awful solj^jde, old Ocean roar'd : As to the fearful dove's impatient eye Appears the height untry'd of upper sky • So seern'd the last dim wave, in boundless space luvolv d and lost, when Tago's gallant race As eagles fixmg on the sun their eyes, Ihrough gulphs unknown explor'd the morning skies And taught the wond'ring world the grand desfgn ' Of parent heaven, that shore to shore should join In bands of mutual aid, from sky to skv. And Ocean's wildest waves the chain supply. And here, my friend, how many a trophy wooes The Briton's earnest eye, and British muse ! ^ Here bids the youthful traveller's care forego ihe arts of elegance and polish'd shew : Bids other arts his nobler thoughts engage, And wake to highest aim his patriot rage : The W ' ^i^if .^^i«'^ tbat race of men, who shone The heroes of their age on Lisboa's throne. What mighty deeds in filial order flow'd, ER. isco, estab- P Portugal, 'f the East s), was ex- Gama, be- te crews of bhe chapel >ted them- 3rs march- the most ory. The . consider- nd offered iturers &8 iS rushing skies, n rooes bone —67— Its death ess boast ; and all oflater ?a^; And every breeze repeat the woefS talp ' How boWd, how fe/proud S/^a^al throne. mEPORTrnWESE INDIAN EMPIRE. That^G^lZdty rt"d':n 1 1^"^' '^' ^^W'™. Oniustice and betSrie'^^V"^"- Arose the dread demon of tyrannic dowpt Tliflri +1,^ t • 1^' ^ ^^^^ ^ *»^ foul profan'd ttrlKhTed' J'"^ .T'^'' jSeads, Was left, and ^of^lltTfr-^^.^"""^ "««^b. ^. ^ -rv iitiisi ^jivfcj piac^ —68— To lust of gold and self-devotion base • Deceitful art the chief's sole guide became, And breach of faith was wisdom ; slaughter, fame Soon through the rocks that crost his crooked way As a toil'd bull fiercely he stumbled on, ^' ^Tx. y* dishonour'd and o'erthrown w.u ,,??' without his valour or his art. With aU his interested rage of heart, ^ollow'd, as bhghting mists on Gama's toil. And undermm'd and rent the mighty pile • Convulsions dread its deep foundations tore • Its bendmg head the scath of lightning bore'- Its fallen turrets desolation spread • And from its faithless shade in horror fled Ihe native tribes— yet not at once subdued • Its pristine strength long storms on storms 'withstood • A Nunio's justice, and a Castro's sword ' Oft raised Its turrets, and its dread restored. . j^et, Jjke the sunshine of a winter's day On Norway's coa.t, soon died the transient ray A tyrant race, who own'd no country, came. Deep to intrench themselves their only aim • With lust of rapine fever'd and athirst. With the unhallow'd rage of gain accurst • Against each spring of action, on the breast ^or wisest ends, by nature's hand imprest * Stern war they waged ; and blmdly ween'd, alone On brutal dread, to fix their cruel throne. Ihe wise and good, with indignation fir'd BUent from their unhaUow'd board retired • The base and cunning staid, and, si ves avow'd Submiss to every insult smiling bow d Yet while they smil'd and bow'd th abject head, In chams unfelt their tyrant lords they led • Iheir avarice, watchmg as a hiid of prey ' U er every weakness, o'er each vice held sway —60— TiU secret art assum'd the thwartine face ti±f^^^ •"'W .; »°d ruin and ,f eg^acr Bene! tt""""'*V ''''">■ Now trampled low From i. •* "J""'! native, and the foe irom Belgia lured by India's costly prev Thy glorious structure. Gama, prostrSav ■ ^Ir !f ."J^f '"'^-l awful gloom, ^ ' Dread and mstructive as a rlun'd tomb. Of hiTan «Lf .'f ' ^°^ '"^ 'l-^ fairest boast v^i fluman pr.de ! how soon is Empire lost I The pUe by ages rear'd to awe the world By one degenerate race to ruin hurrd ! T//B EARTHQUAKE OF 1755. TreiaStt^r?^^^^^^^^^ ' «"« ^ Ah, what dreadful groan I the risine eJes ' From^ha? ^oJ^t "llt^^' ^^'•'' °^ """'We teU Beneath the roofless paJace waUs are seen WasZ.^'^^"'^; "^'^ *« t'^P'^Wed floor How mt J ™^^«%a"^ by kings before : ^Z n\^^'-}'^'' ^''^'^ empire's state f yZ;™ * ^^- f *J" '"'J *^' nation's fat^l i'omts to the domes that streti-h tl,.;- /-:-' — (JO— Through the brown ruins, lifting to the sky A loftier brow and mien of promise high • Pomts to the river-shore where wide and 'grand The courts of commerce and her waliis expand As an imperial palace* to retain The universal queen, and fix her reign • Where pleas'd she hears the groaning oar resound • ^y magazines and ars nals mounded round Whose yet unfinished grandeur proudly boasts The fairest hope of either India's coasts, And bids the Muse's eye in vision roam Through mighty scenes in ages long to come THE TAGUS. Tn wj'''^^^' *^''' Thames, the song of truth that pavs 10 iago s empress-stream superior praise • ' O'er every vauntful river be it thine To boast the guardian shield of laws divine • But yield to Tagus all the sovereign state ' By nature's gift bestow'd and partial fate, Ihe sea-hke port and central sway to pour fleets, by happiest course, on every shore. When from the sleep of ages dark and dread, lHy genius, commerce, rear'd her infant head Her cradle bland on Tago's lap she chose, ' And soon to wondering childhood sprightly rose • And when to green and youthful vigour grown ' On Tago s breast she fix'd her central throne • Jb ar fi:om the hurricane's resistless sweep ihat tears with thunderin g rage the Carib deep ; fv,» 1* '^^^ -P^^/a de Commercio, or Forum of Commerce is one of the largest and most magnificent squares in Europe^ Three Jides ed b? h°i T ' ^^«^«1?1« ?^ J the public ofBces ; the fourthfs fom ;ha'5\':i?tXU'lVrl^^ '^ - extensive and no^e % gl Beneath ^•^i'^bnonnTieTX sVm^e^Zir ''"™"' She g,ves the yenfrou. U etZ h fsl , • A«,i Af • -^ uisDOfis waves caresf • And Afric wooes and leadH h^r «aa,, ' To the fair regions of tt ritglir"' If Turkey 's drugs invite or sillfen pr de Froln* Tafc^t ?o E^"" ^ol' »!'»«' expands ama s coast to Europe's northem lands. ^^^r.,..^ ^o a Young Lady studious of Botany. Say, gentle Lady of the bower And known to thee is every flower Beneath our milder skies; Say which the Plant of modest dye, rpu f li"^^^^ "^®" combin'd. That fittest to the pensive eye -L>i8play8 the virtuous mind ? I sought the garden's boasted haunt, -out on the gay partere • Carnations glow, and tuhns flaunt ^ iiumbie flow'ret there II II II !• 11 J^2— The flower you seek," the Nymph replies, " Has bow'd the languid head ; For on its bloom tlie blazing skies " Their sultry rage have shed. 'Tis now the downward withering day " Of winter's dull p- sage, Then seek not where thr dog-star's ray " Has shed his fiercest rage. Yet search yon shade, obscure, forlorn, " Where rude the bramble grows ; There, shaded bv the humble thorn, " The lingering Primrose blows." PROM SYR MARTYN, One evening tide as with her crones she sate, Making sweete solace of some scandall new, A boistrous noise came thondring at the gate, And soon a sturdie boy approachd in view : With gold far glitteraund were his vestments blue And pye-shapd hat, and of the silver sheen An huge broad buckle glaunst in either shoe, And round his necke an India kerchiefe clean. And in his hand a switch : a jolly wight I ween. Farre had he saild, and round the foamy deepe. Where ruddie Phoebus slacks his firie team ; (With burnmg golde then flames th' ethereal steepe, And oceans waves like molten silver seem) Eke had he seen, with dimond glittering beam. — «8— The starre of morn awuke the roseate day While yet heneath the moone old NiluH akeam Pale through the and relleots the gleamy rav BeBprent with starres that Newton never red.^' Ihrough these outlandish shores and oceans Aiv^ For ten long seasons did the younkling toil '' * Through iTdThro'TJ: ''rT'^' ^'^ '^^'-''^^^ ^--e, inrougn cold, through heat, cheerd by th> ] ope rUe Of yet revisiting his natal soil ; ^ riV 1 And of . when flying in the monsoon gale, ' ^'' i3y iJi^thiopias coast or Javas ile When glauncing over oceans bosom pale. HnntZ^T ^^' rd« with broad and steadie sail • Hung on the winds as from his ayrie flight ' With wide-spred wing unmovd. the eagle befds When, on old Snowdons brow prepaid to light T&f^''i'^'"^ '^^' ^' sheer descends: ^ ' Ihus oft, when roving farre as wave extends The scenes of promist bliss would warm the boy • To meet his brother with each wish yblends ^ ' And now f fl!^' ^^""^^^^ ^°P"^ '^'^ *^««gi^t employ • And now at home arrivd his dilates with joy ^ To smJ'f^! f ' ^,^^,^«ws and the parke he looks, 10 spy the streamlett or the elm tree shade fcif ?-^V^'' >^^^^*^ *^« «^wing rooks' He wi h his feres m mery childhoode play'd ; A lli fT f^''^^ !-Unweetingly dismayd A cold forbodmg impulse thrills his breast And round the various lawnskepe raunge his eve^ • There stretch the corn^v ^auJ;^ t^^^Z ^'1 ^^^^ ' i^arre as the sight : there,"ti;Se;;eaS;^"' I id The darkning pines and dewy poplars rise : Behind the wood a dark and heathy lea, With sheep faire spotted, farre extended lies, With here and there a lonlie blasted tree. And from between two hills appears the duskie sea. ai,-i.x '^^^* through the fleeting clouds the sunny ray Shifts oer the fieldes, now gUds the woody dale. The flocks now whiten, now the ocean bay Beneath the radiance ghstens clear and pale ; And white from farre appears the frequent sail By traffick spread. Moord where the land divides, ihe British red-cross waving in the gale, Hulky and black, a gallant warre ship rides. And oyer the greene wave with lordly port presides. Fixt on the bulwark of the British powre Long gazd the knight, with fretful languid air ; Then thus, indulging the reflective houre, Pours fourth his soul : Oh, glorious happy care ! To bid Britannias navies greatly dare. And through the vassal seas triumphant reign, To either India waft victorious warre. To join the poles in trades unbounded chain, And bid the British throne the mighty whole sustain. With what superior lustre and command May steadfast zeal in Albions senate shine ! What glorious laurels court the patriots band ! How base the hand that can such meed decline I And was, kind fate I to snatch these honours mine ? Yes I greene they spred, and fayre they bloomd for me • Thy birth and duty bade the chief be thine ; Oh lost, vain trifler, lost in each degree ! Thy country never^turnd hei' hopeful eyes to thee. XT rf *•' ?°^ *^® ^ * ^® ^^ ^°^^ luxurious smiles ! Nor Africk yeilds, noi Chilys earth contain Such funds of wealth as crown the plowmans toils, And tmge with waving gold Britannias plains : Even on her mountains cheerful plentv reicns.* W>,n +v;~ wl ^^ lionest statesman ffains Who, founding Tn the nll^f'' ^^T"? ^'^^' = Her fleets the°«mp°re of Z\T^ V''^ '''^'' And spread y^er^sZ^lXl^^riTsTit TKANSLATED /^/?OM THE PORTUGUESE. Safe in the bay, the crew forget their cares And lifts her lovely head above the wave • The snowy splendors of her modest rav ' w May flowers crowding o'er the ,)«=;1^ i The canvas whitens in the silv^y beam '' The riltVf "-^ *'^eP-'tat gleam • ine masts tall shadows tremble o'er the deen ' Ihe watchman's carol eeho'd fr-^~ *i,. 1^_ Alone at t^mes awakes the'sti]rrel,oe7 *""""'' AN EPITHALAMIUM, Wr^Uenin Hebrew hy Ahram Depas, on the marriage of Jacob l^ranco. Esq; to Miaa Abigail D'Aguilar, daughter of the late Baron D'Aguilar^ The voice of joy this happy day demands • Resound the song and in our God conjfide : Beneath his canopy the hridegi-oom stands, in all her beauty shines the lovely bride! may their joys still blossom, ever new, Fair as a garden to the ravish'd view 'l ^®Jf ice, youth, and if thy thoughts aspire To heaven's pure bhss, the sacred law revere • -Lhe stranger's wants, the needy soul's desire ' Supply and humbly with thy neighbor bear • So shaJJ thy grateful father's grateful heart rejoice, And thy fair deeds inspire thy people's voice. ^'??^??xrY ^?^^''^' y^ daughters of the song, ±Jehold the bride with star-like glory shine • May each succeeding day stiU ghde along ' Fair as the first, begirt with grace divine; ± ar from her tent may care and sorrow fly While she o'erjoy'd beholds her numerous progeny. Ye happy parents, shout with happy voice, See, o'er your son the canopy unfold • ^^ *liou, hoiiry rev'rend Sire rejoice' May thy glad eyes thy grandson's son behold. The song of joy, ye youthful kindred raise. And let the people join, the living God to raise I ;a —67- ^0^^-BT TO VASCO DE GAMA FROM TASSO. Vasco le oui felici, &c. A»a?n;*'^^''' "^"'^ '"•<' ^"PPy bowsprit bore The wealth of IndiltX „r«ve'aho'r:t "' ''""'^" Never 8uch pomp of naval honorsTore! ^ ' onaii bear the dazzling splendour of t^- namp • And under manv a sVv fii^r o^*- name, Whilp T,-.v,r^ Yt? ^ *"y actions cro..a, While Time and Fame together glide aiong.