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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CHEVY CHASE, 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 FOUNDED Oir 
 
 S!)e ^ndfnt iSaUaDi. 
 
 WITH OTHER POEMS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOK CADEI^L & DAVIES, STRAND; J. A A. ARCH, 
 CORNHILL; HAYWARD A ROSCOE, ORANGE STREKT, RED 
 1.ION SQUARE; W.BLACKWOOD, EDINBLIIGH: AND W. 
 ROBINSON A SONS, LIVRRPOOL. 
 
 1820.
 
 
 P R E F A C E. 
 
 The ancient lieroic ballad of Chevy Chase has long 
 been an universal favourite. The union which it 
 presents of the sports of the field with the more 
 striking incidents of warfare, the personal nature of 
 the quarrel which leads to the catastrophe, the cele- 
 brity of its principal characters, and the domestic 
 scene of its transactions, all contribute to give it a 
 degree of interest far superior to that excited by 
 most productions of a similar kind. 
 
 Hut independent of these consideratiuus, a poem 
 which for so many centuries has been the delight of 
 the British nation, which is repeated by infancy, and 
 retulncd in agCj and which has equal attractions for 
 
 1)22000
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 all ranks of society, mast have a considerable de- 
 gree of poetical merit. It is this that obtained for it 
 the high approbation of Sir Pliilip Sydney, who decla-r 
 red " that he never heard the old song of Percie and 
 Douglas that he found not his heart moved more than 
 with a trumpet j" and that induced Addison to devote 
 two of his Spectators to a critical examination of 
 its beauties, in which he has raised it to the rank 
 of an English Epic, and compared it with the cele- 
 brated productions of Greece and Rome. 
 
 It must not, however, be understood, that the 
 approbation thus expressed by these eminent men, 
 was applied to the same composition. Addison was 
 mistaken in attributing the language of Sir Philip 
 Sydney to the modern ballad of Chevy Chase, of 
 which he has himself given a critique. It might in- 
 deed have occurred to him that the poem which en- 
 gaged his attention was not so obsolete in its lan- 
 guage as to have been considered even in the reign 
 of Elizabeth, as "evil apparelled in the dust and 
 cobweb of an uncivill age." It is to Di\ P^rcy, the
 
 PREFACE. vil 
 
 Editor of the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, 
 that we are indebted for the recover)', or at least 
 for the republication, of the original poem which 
 moved the heart of Sir Philip Sydney, though " sung 
 by some blind crowder with no rougher voice than 
 rude style ;" and which induces him to ask " what 
 it would work trimmed in the gorgeous eloquence of 
 Pindare ?" 
 
 It is not indeed improbable, as Dr. Percy conjec- 
 tures, that the modern ballad was written in conse- 
 quence of the eulogium of Sir Philip Sydney upon 
 the ancient poem. At all events he is not incliued 
 to consider it as of higher antiquity than tiic time 
 of Elizabeth, whilst he has given sufficient reasons 
 to presume, that the antient ballad cannot be placed 
 later than the time of Henry VI.; " as on the other 
 hand, the mention of James, the Scottish king, for- 
 bids us to assign it an earlier date." 
 
 That a contest between the two jjowerful border 
 nobles, similar to that described in the poem artti-
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 ally occurred, may reasonably be conjectured, al- 
 though the particular circuinstances attending it are 
 not authenticated by any historical records ; unless 
 we should consider it as having taken its origin from 
 the Battle of Otterbourne, and been written subse- 
 quent to the Ballad on that subject, to which it 
 bears a strong resemblance. However this may be, 
 much must have been left to the invention of the 
 writer to describe as he might think fit. Of this 
 liberty the authors of the ballads have freely availed 
 themselves, nor has the writer of the second thought 
 himself bound to adhere very closely to the autho- 
 rity of the first. The early poem bears indeed 
 much stronger marks of authenticity than the mo- 
 dern imitation. The circumstances are more strongly 
 conceived, and more clearly described. It displays 
 a greater air of sincerity and a deeper feeling, and 
 at the same time it is free from several mistakes 
 and anachronic ins which appear in the more modern 
 work. 
 
 In some respects, the following attempt to mo-
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 dernize this ancieBt and favourite poem will l)e 
 found materially to differ from the original ballad. 
 One of the circumstances that seems to have con- 
 tributed greatly to its interest, is the representation 
 It gives of a kind of sylvan war, in which the hila- 
 rity of the sports of the field is interrupted and ter- 
 minated by a serious and destructive battle. I 
 have therefore availed myself of the opportunity thus 
 afforded, of describing the preparations for the ex- 
 pedition, and the pleasures of the Chase, at some 
 lengtli ; and for this part of my attempt, as I owe 
 little to my predecessors, so I cannot plead their 
 example as niy excuse. That discrimination of ciia- 
 ractcr in the principal leaders, which is but slightly 
 indicated in the ancient ballad?, I have endeavoured 
 to draw forth, , as far as the brief nature of such a 
 poem will admit ; nor has itescaped my observation, 
 that those ballads are indebted for a great portion 
 of the high estimation in which they are held, to 
 the generous sentiments which, amidst the heat and 
 animosity of national and individual rivalship, are 
 occasionally displayed by the two chieftains, and
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 which, although I am aware that they cannot be 
 improved upon^ I have done all in my power to 
 preserve. 
 
 There are too points in which I have deviated 
 from the original ballad, which may require some 
 explanation. The time, which in the latter com- 
 prises only a single day, is extended to two days ; 
 and the part which Witherington acts in breaking 
 off the single combat between the Earls, is transfer- 
 red to Sir Hugh Montgomery. There is the less 
 occasion for apology, with regard to the extension 
 of the time, as the modernized ballad is guilty of a 
 great oversight in this respect, which is not found 
 in the ancient one. The former narrates, 
 
 " This fight did last from break of day 
 " To setting of the sun." 
 Although it has before described the Hunt as taking 
 place in'the forenoon of the same day. It would 
 have been quite correct if it had followed the ancient 
 copy, which very consistently says,
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 *' This battell began Id Cheviat 
 
 "An owar befor the none, 
 " And when evensong bell was rung 
 
 " The battell was nat half done. 
 
 ** They took on, on ethar hand 
 " By the light of the moon }'* &c. 
 
 The fight, according to the latter, which nearly 
 agrees in this respect with the circumstances of the 
 Battle of Otterbourne, was begun at noon and con- 
 tinued by moonlight. But as the battle is the prin- 
 cipal feature of the poem, and as the hunting of the 
 one baron, and the journey of the other, may be 
 reasonably supposed to occupy one day, it seemed 
 preferable to postpone the final meeting, and the 
 decision of the quarrel, to the following morning. 
 The interference, too, of a chieftain of influence 
 and reputation, accounts more satisfactorily than 
 that of a simple attendant, for the disobedience of 
 the vassals in interrupting the duel between their 
 lords 5 and from the nature of the arms which the
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 two parties carried, it is more honourable and manly 
 that this chieftain should be a Scot than an English- 
 man. An attack from the English archers would 
 have been insidious and cowardly, as many of the 
 enemy must have perished before they had notice of 
 hostilities, whereas the advance of the spearmen 
 was of itself a sufficient warning to their antagonists. 
 
 With these exceptions, I have adhered as strictly 
 as possible to the facts and words of the ballad.
 
 CHEYY CHASE. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 O'ER covert green and tufted oak 
 The first faint beam of morning broke ; 
 On every vale and woodland dell 
 Its dewy lustre softly fell ; 
 And, startled at the glimpse of dawn. 
 The fleet hart bounded o'er the lawn. 
 Midst thorny brake and tangled bow'r, 
 To linger till the ev'ning hour. 
 But yellow broom and holly green 
 Not long shall shelter him, I ween. 
 Beneath their shadows, cool and dark, 
 From the hoarse stag-hound's cclioing I)ark,
 
 CFIEVY CHASE. 
 
 That soon with clamorous note shall rouse 
 Tlie herded red-deer, as they browse. 
 Or at those clear streams drink their fill. 
 That murmur down the Cheviot Hill, 
 
 On Alnwick's walls the day-beams shonC;, 
 And massy turrets, ivy-grown ; 
 Yet thro' the casement's narrow space 
 Scarce stole one faint and early trace. 
 Athwart that mighty depth of wall. 
 To light the gloom of Percy's hall. 
 But glanc'd that beam on Percy's brow. 
 When sunk in peaceful slumber ' No ! 
 Ere this, to hunt the Scottish deer. 
 The Earl had grasp'd his ashen spear 5 
 His good yew-bow behind was slung. 
 And load his crowded quiver rung, 
 As firmly to his manly side 
 His staunch and sturdy blade he tied. 
 And now before his castle gate. 
 In pride of feudal pomp and state. 
 Impatient for their Lords command. 
 Full thrice five hundred vassals stand :
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 3 
 
 Horsemen approv'd and archers true. 
 And hunters gay, a gallant crew ; 
 And lightly clad in garb of green. 
 The prickers of the deer were seen. 
 From Alnwick, and from Allondalc, 
 From Belford, Blythe, and Morpeth's vatle, 
 And Tyne's romantic banks that came. 
 All merry rousers of the game. 
 
 Whose is yon steed, whose hauglity boimd 
 Scarce deigns to touch the echoing ground. 
 On whose datk coat his gleaming eyes 
 Seem meteors in the midnight skies. 
 Whom two tall grooms with tighten'd rein. 
 And triple curb-chain scarce restrain ? 
 One stately form alone, I guess, 
 That courser's stubborn loins may press ; 
 And now impatient stands he there 
 The princely Percy's weight to bear j 
 Whilst closely thronging all around. 
 Howls in the tumult many a hound : 
 The savage wolf-dog, gaunt and grim, 
 Of asiHJct stern, and strong of limb }
 
 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 The vigorous stag-hound's long array. 
 Sure in the chase and bold at bay; 
 And those that urge the wily hare. 
 Harrier and beagle all were there. 
 
 Have I not number'd in my song 
 One dog, the chiefest of the throng ? 
 Shame were it to the idle lays 
 That, generous Luath, sunk thy praise : 
 Thy lofty mien, thy matchless force. 
 Thy speed, unequall'd in the course. 
 Thy faithful zeal, thy courage^ tried. 
 Had made thee long the Percy's pride. 
 He lov'd thy form; for, Luath, thine 
 Was trac'd in beauty's favorite line ; 
 The keenness of thy tapering face. 
 Thy slender body's arching grace. 
 Bespoke thee best and first in fame 
 Of all that bore the grey-hound's name. 
 
 In silken jesses held, and hood. 
 On many a wrist the falcon stood ; 
 Or screaming o'er the busy field 
 Around his master slowly wheel'd.
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 With russet wing and "beak of blue. 
 The fierce Gyr-falcon leaves his mew. 
 Whose fearless heart and eagle size 
 Dispute the empire of the skies. 
 Scarce heard amid the various yell, 
 The Gentil chimes his silver bell; 
 And hardiest spoiler of the air, 
 Tho' smallest, cower'd the Merlin tlicrc. 
 
 Hark ! from the universal crew 
 That sudden cheer and loud halloo ; 
 And the clear bugle's merry peal. 
 And frequent clash of martial steel. 
 And the hot charger's piercing neigh. 
 And the hound's deep redoubled bay. 
 And hawks, whose silver cliimc-bclls ring 
 To their shrill shriek and sounding wing. 
 Scarce may the leashes now restrain. 
 The struggling hounds that throng the plain ; 
 That crouching round his honour'd feet, 
 With fawning love their master greet j 
 And high yon steed his dark main throws. 
 As forth the stout Earl Percy goes.
 
 6 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 To horse ! to horse ! raov'd man and steed 
 With hurrying haste and eager speed 3 
 While Percy, clad in arms complete. 
 Sprung lightly to his saddle-seat, 
 Check'd his proud chargers angry course, 
 And summoned loud * To horse ! to horse ! 
 
 * Already dawns the morning ray, 
 
 ' And Scottish woods lie far away; 
 
 * AVhere I, three summer days, have sworn 
 
 * To drive the deer with hound and horn, 
 
 * And range their hills from morn to night, 
 ' In Scotland's, and Earl Douglas' spite. 
 
 * To-day, my merry archers, bring 
 
 * Your sharpest shaft and toughest string j 
 
 * And bend to-day your strongest bow, 
 
 * (Well may we need its aid, I trow) 
 ' And to each yeoman's stalwart side 
 
 ' Be sure his trusty blade be tied ; 
 ' For well 1 hope a worthier foe 
 ' Than fallow deer and flying doe, 
 ' And better blood the turf may stain 
 ' That circles in the roe-buck's vein 
 ' To horse ! to horse ! we lose the day, 
 
 * March, merry archers, march away.'
 
 THE CHASE. 
 
 How sweet, beneath the noontide beam. 
 To shelter near that mountain stream ! 
 Along its mossy bank recline, 
 Midst forest shade of oak and pine, 
 And mark it shoot with foamy shock, 
 In many a fall from rock to rock; 
 Till chance its stiller, broader wave. 
 Sleep in some grot or sylvan cave. 
 Its roof eraboss'd with crj-stal bright. 
 Rich ore and sparkling stalactite ; 
 Where couch'd on moss and scented fern. 
 The eye of fancy might discern. 
 Reposing by the sacred fount, 
 Some virgin lady of the mount, 
 Such form as be of yore descrie<l, 
 The hunter yonth, who saw and died ! 
 
 How freshly rolls the murmuring flood ! 
 The tir'd heart heard the sound, and stood
 
 8 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 A moment stood the next, his side 
 Was plunged beneath the cooUng tide. 
 The wearied wretch must drink or die 
 For scarce the sun^ that rides so high. 
 Had warm'd the misty morning air^ 
 When Percy rous'd him from his lair. 
 The chieftain loud his bugle rung. 
 Eight gallant grey-hounds forward sprung, 
 Impetuous as the lightning Hash 
 Thro' wood and bush and brake they dash. 
 O'er hill and stream and rocky steep. 
 With headlong plunge and desperate leap. 
 And vanish from the gazer's sight 
 Swift as a vision of the night; 
 But still by shatter'd branch is seen 
 Where late their whirlwind course has been 
 Lo! whilst they follow on the track. 
 Seven panting hounds come slowly back j 
 The eighth ^ye well may guess his name 
 Alone pursued the noble gam6. 
 In that Hart-Royal's rapid race 
 Vain was each rival's tardier pace;
 
 THE CHASE. 
 
 Nor deem it shame to those who fail'd. 
 Where Luath's swiftness scarce avail'd 
 To cross his onward path of fear. 
 Or hang upon his harrass'd rear. 
 Thrice had he foil'd their utmost speed, 
 And harbour'd thrice in bower or mead. 
 And thrice the hunter's loud recheat 
 Had rous'd him from his close retreat 
 And hark! again the forest rings. 
 Again from transient rest he springs. 
 And still maintains the hopeless chase 
 With stiffen'd limbs and faltering pace ; 
 The big round tear steals down his cheek. 
 His mottled hide, once soft and sleek. 
 Now dark with heat and foul with stain. 
 His black'ning mouth and swelling vein. 
 Betray his fears and inward pain. 
 Tam'd is his pride, and humbled low 
 The branching honours of his brow. 
 His glory once, a burden now, 
 As on he wanders, sad and slow.
 
 10 CIIEVY CHASE. 
 
 In vain he flies tho' many a year 
 He pac'd those lawns without a peerj 
 Knows every hill, its streams and springs. 
 And all the forest's ancient rings; 
 Threading secure its wild-wood maze. 
 Thro' grassy lanes and winding ways j 
 Yet now his restless feet may rove 
 The live-long day thro' Cheviot grove. 
 Or e'er within its precincts green 
 He gain one still and lonely scene, 
 Unstartled by the loud report 
 Of princely Percy's generous sport 
 That sport (which babes unborn shall rue) 
 How wide and varied to the view ! 
 Here mark how rang'd in order'd row 
 The sturdy drovers slowly go. 
 And rouse the deer with strange surprise 
 From out their green- wood galleries; 
 There, listening to his coming foes. 
 The stag aloft his antlers throws. 
 And, proud in strength and ripen'd years. 
 Would fain defy the sound he fears;
 
 THE CHASE. 11 
 
 And see ! where at his utmost need. 
 Vain every art and vain his speed. 
 He turns to meet the peril nigh. 
 And gathers all his strength to die. 
 Before yon oak, whose aged form 
 Still mocks the raving of the storm, 
 He firmly plants his desperate stand. 
 And menaces the Hunter-band. 
 How w^ild his eye-ball's fiery glare ! 
 Let man, and hound, and horse beware! 
 While sore beset from head to heel. 
 The clamorous pack around him wheel ; 
 Now fiercely urge their joint attack. 
 Now reel rcpuls'd and wounded back ; 
 Till, hark! the treble mort is blown. 
 That drowns the victim's dying groan. 
 And the loud whoop to hill and plain 
 Proclaims the stout Hart-Royal slain. 
 
 Where towering hills, with heath imbrown'd. 
 O'er Cheviots iomost fastness frown'd. 
 Skirted with ranks of gloomy fir. 
 And fring'd with [Kjintcd juniixjr.
 
 12 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 Darksome and deep a valley lay. 
 
 Where scarce the fervid noontide ray 
 
 Illumines many a cool alcove, 
 
 By shrubs and clustering branches wovej 
 
 So clearly where the river stream 
 
 Reflects the scene, you well might deem 
 
 It shew'd not on its polish'd face 
 
 An image of terrestrial grace ; 
 
 But to the favour'd vision gave 
 
 A paradise beneath the wave j 
 
 Some blissful bower, or fairy reign, 
 
 Envelop'd long from eyes profane. 
 
 To that bright stream's romantic shore 
 
 Their various game the yeomen bore ; 
 
 Sad spoils of that ill-fated day, 
 
 A hundred deer together lay; 
 
 The chiefest head of hart and hind. 
 
 That roam'd o'er Cheviot's hills of wind. 
 
 'Twas there, to view the tender game. 
 
 Earl Percy to the quarry came; 
 
 And mustering there from side to side. 
 
 The jolly hunters gladly hied ;
 
 THE CHASE. 13 
 
 With loitering march and merry dia 
 The weary throngs came trooping in, 
 And sought with speed the pleasant screca 
 Of shady grove and arbour green j 
 Beneath their canopy of boughs. 
 To share the feast and gay carouse, 
 Till quickening gales refresh the day 
 And call them to their sylvan prey 
 Thro* fields and forests far away.
 
 THE FEAST. 
 
 J* AIR art thou, midst thy realms of air. 
 Son of the morning ! thou art fair ; 
 As rolling back the mists of nighty 
 With conquering floods of crimson light. 
 Thou marchest forth, in godlike state. 
 From out thy golden eastern gate. 
 Like a strong giant, flush'd with wine. 
 To rnn that heavenly race of thine. 
 What hand may veil thy living rays. 
 What eye endure thine ardent blaze. 
 Against thy might what heart rebel. 
 And where thou art can darkness dwell? 
 Already, lo! the stormy west 
 Discloses wide her teeming breast. 
 And pours abroad a death-like shroud, 
 A growing mass of gloomy cloud j 
 The murky volumes dim the skies; 
 Thy splendor fades, tliy glory dies !
 
 THE FEAST. 15 
 
 How art thou fallen now, and shorn 
 Thy radiant beams, thou son of morn ! 
 
 So fickle life's uncertain state, 
 So low the proud, so weak the great! 
 So human foresight's steadiest views 
 Are frail and faint as morning hues ! 
 So the full tide of bliss runs high; 
 What foe alarms ? What storm is nigh ? 
 We see no storm we fear no foe 
 And perish, ere we feel the blow. 
 
 Who's he that speaks of foe or fear ? 
 Such warning sound where slighted here ; 
 Here yeomen whistle in the shade. 
 Plying the woodman's hardy trade | 
 Here round the bulky forest-king 
 A hundred keen-edg'd axes ring; 
 The biting metal rends his side, 
 Start the thick splinters far and wide ; 
 And soon his broad colossal form 
 Shivers before tlie driving storm. 
 Thro' all its arms and branches grey, 
 From solid trunk to slender spray.
 
 16 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 Still stands he firm Another blow ! 
 Scarce seen to move, reluctant, slow. 
 With all his weight of wood he bends ; 
 That treacherous weight its succour lends. 
 And drags him groaning to the ground. 
 With jarring crash and thundering sound. 
 Full many a time, from oak or ash. 
 That day was heard the thundering crash. 
 And thro' the valley thickets broke 
 Full many a wreath of eddying smoke. 
 Athwart the forest vistas came 
 The fitful glare of ruddy flame ; 
 Now quench'd in smothering clouds awhile. 
 Now fiercely shooting from the pile. 
 Where the blithe hunters of the deer 
 Prepare their rude and hasty cheer. 
 Oft has the sharp autumnal blast 
 Brush'd from those woods the ripen'd mast. 
 And many a denizen of air 
 Has hung his wicker eyrie there. 
 And many a dun deer scoop'd his lairj
 
 THE FEAST. H 
 
 But never such unwonted guest, 
 
 Usurp'd before the cushat's nest} 
 
 Nor e'er before such foe deterr'd 
 
 From their lov'd seats the dappled herd 
 
 For where the wood-dove brcath'd her note, 
 
 The Percy's banner'd streamers float. 
 
 Unfolded on the topmost tree, 
 
 In full baronial blazonry } 
 
 And tall steeds fill in scattcr'd files, 
 
 The deer's deserted domiciles. 
 
 Unrein the steed, unstring the bow, 
 Fling the light bonnet from your brow ; 
 Your couch is dress'd, your feast is spread ; 
 The hunter's feast, the warrior's bed. 
 What feast so fit for hunter's cheer. 
 As forest fruit and haunch of deer? 
 What couch or pillow meet is found 
 For warriors slumbers, but the ground ? 
 Come then, and strctch'd along the mead. 
 Quaff the full draught and freely feed 
 While roam the st<ig and brinded boar. 
 Can hunger waste your ample store? 
 
 D
 
 18 CIIEVY CHASE. 
 
 Or can your healthy goblets fail. 
 
 While yonder waters wash the vale ? 
 
 Then share the feast, while faint with heat. 
 
 Your staunch hounds slumber at your feet; 
 
 With sudden start and stifled bay. 
 
 Pursue their visionary prey; 
 
 And thro* their cheerful dreams retrace 
 
 The recent triumphs of the chase. 
 
 Yes ! tranc'd to-day in social joys. 
 
 Feast, till the liberal banquet cloys. 
 
 And teach these savage scenes of earth 
 
 To echo with your clamorous mirth. 
 
 To-morrow no obtrusive sound 
 
 Shall violate their awful bound. 
 
 Save some gigantic pine, that waves 
 
 His mournful boughs o'er new-made graves, 
 
 Or warrior, lingering still to weep 
 
 O'er scenes where all his comrades sleep. 
 
 Hence, boding fears! be ours to-day. 
 And speed the morrow as it may 
 Throbs the warm pulse with fainter heat 
 At tale of love or martial feat.
 
 THE FEAST. 19 
 
 Because, ere ode short glass be told. 
 
 That throb may cease, that pulse be cold? 
 
 Or who would shun in bower or hall 
 
 Gay song and melting madrigal, 
 
 Altho' perchance its final breath 
 
 May vibrate in the ear of death ? 
 
 Vain terrors all ! be ours to-day, 
 
 Tho' ere the morrow wrapt in clay; 
 
 And tho' our latest strain, be ours 
 
 The song that rings thro' Cheviot bow'rs.
 
 THE RECOiJNTER. 
 
 ' irLEDGE, hunters, pledge our noble host,' 
 The Percy cried, with scornful boast. 
 As midst his gallant company 
 The beechen bowl he lifted high 
 ' How perfect were our festive cheer, 
 ' Were but its bounteous master here ! 
 
 * But good Earl Douglas, well I deem, 
 
 * Holds his fat bucks in light esteem, 
 ' Content to let the bravest bleed 
 
 ' At will of friend or foeman's need. 
 
 * And much I fear, that warlike lord 
 ' Forfeits for once his plighted word, 
 
 * On honour of a true-born knight 
 
 ' To meet me here ere fall of night : 
 
 * For well it might my purpose suit 
 ' To challenge here his brisk salute, 
 
 ' And welcome him with greeting warm, 
 ' As best becomes a soldier's arm.'
 
 THE RECOUNTER. 21 
 
 He paus'd At once his hand was laid 
 Instinctive on his battle-blade ; 
 Half from his grassy seat uprais'd. 
 Each hunter on bis comrade gaz'd; 
 Check'd on the startled speaker's tongue. 
 The half-form'd phrase unutter'd hung ; 
 Hush'd song, and jest, and light dispute. 
 Breathless, and motionless, and mute. 
 They catch each rising sound they hear 
 The quiet river murmuring near ; 
 They hear the busy zephir stir 
 Thro' the deep shade of pine and fir 
 Hear they no doubtful sound beside ? 
 'Tis not the river's quiet tide 
 Singing along its pebbled bed; 
 But near approach of hostile tread ; 
 Not the fresh breeze that sways the larch ; 
 But heavy tramp of hasty march. 
 Growling and doubling on the ear 
 Scarce had the Percy seiz'd his speer. 
 When o'er the green a horseman spnr'd, 
 Ere yet in view, his voice was heard ;
 
 22 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 And as he from the wood emerg'd. 
 His straining steed he fiercely urged 
 And clamour'd his alarum cry 
 ' The Douglas comes the foe is nighj 
 
 * Behind yon hill their power appears, 
 ' Full twenty hundred Scottish spears ! 
 
 ' Their arms, that in the sun-beam shine, 
 ' Mark thro' the woods their winding hne j 
 Where round that cliff the river flows 
 
 * Their course is bent.' ' Then take your bows,* 
 Cried Percy, 'for a nobler game 
 
 ' Steady your hand, and sure your aim ! 
 
 * Your arrows, steep'd in red-deer's blood, 
 ' Shall shortly drink a richer flood : 
 
 * Broad is that red-deer's velvet flank, 
 
 * From which your shafts the life-blood drank, 
 
 * But full as broad a Scottish breast 
 
 * Ring out a signal to the rest j 
 
 * And let us forth, my merry-men, 
 
 * To hunt these rovers home again.' 
 
 As Percy ceas'd, the bugles blewj 
 Strait to the sound his yeomen flew ;
 
 THE RECOUNTER. 2:3 
 
 The slumbering stag-hound heard the note, 
 And starting, bay'd with answering throat. 
 Then lightly bounded on before; 
 While thronging fast, with Ipud uproar. 
 From hill and glen, o'er bank and brook. 
 Their bows the ready archers took ; 
 Ere rang the bugle's second blast, 
 Their scattcr'd force, so widely cast 
 Thro' the long alleys of the wood. 
 In one embodied phalanx stood ; 
 And when again was beard the peal. 
 With knee advanc'd and steady heel. 
 Each bowman bent his trusty yew. 
 An arrow frqm his broad belt drew. 
 And ere he fix'd it on the string, 
 Twang'd the strong cord, and prov'd its spring. 
 
 Proudly advanc'd before the rest. 
 His coal-black steed the Percy prestj 
 And scarce his warlike ranks array'd. 
 When from the neighbouring forest-shade. 
 Borne on a charger, white as snow, 
 With stcel-spcrth at his saddle-bow.
 
 24 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 And milk-white plume and visor shut, 
 
 Sheath'd in bright arms from head to foot, 
 
 A stately warrior rode amain j 
 
 Behind, a long imbroken train 
 
 Thro' the deep pass in silence wound. 
 
 Save that along the hollow ground 
 
 Ran their quick footsteps' sullen roar j 
 
 Two thousand chosen spears and more. 
 
 Whose banners floated on the gale. 
 
 All men of pleasant Tivydale. 
 
 Thro' that long line, from rear to van 
 
 No whisper'd voice or murmur ranj 
 
 Still as the sultry calms that bode 
 
 The brooding tempest, on they strode j 
 
 Nearer they march'd, and yet more near. 
 
 Nor sound of voice nor sign of fear 
 
 In either host was heard or seen; 
 
 But each, with eye intent and keen. 
 
 Bent on his foe a sidelong glance; 
 
 Levell'd each Scot his pointed lance. 
 
 And half each English bowman strain'd 
 
 His stubborn yew, and half refraiu'd.
 
 THE RECOUNTER. 25 
 
 Three paces more, amidst the throng 
 A thousand whistling shafts had sung; 
 Bat three short steps, the Scottish spear 
 Had charg'd the foe in full career. 
 With quicker foot the spearman tread 
 The space between drawn to the head. 
 The arrow in the archer's hand 
 Leaps to the flight scarce either band 
 Witholds awhile the iiot assault 
 Earl Douglas speaks; his warriors halt. 
 ' And who are ye,* the Baron cried, 
 ' Who ravage thus our Cheviot side; 
 ' WTio dare within this border bound 
 ' To wind a horn or cheer a hound ; 
 ' To slay at will our chiefest game, 
 * And waste our woods with fire and flame ? 
 ' Fools! think ye free from deadly scath, 
 ' To meet the Douglas in his wrath? 
 ' Think ye his spear a willow wand, 
 ' His arm a lady's lilly hand, 
 ' His helmet turn'd to friar's hood, 
 ' Or cool as yonder stream his blood, 
 
 K
 
 26 UUJiVY CHASE. 
 
 ' That tlius ye come, with hostile train, 
 
 * To beard him on his own domain, 
 ' And rashly rouse him to the war? 
 
 ' Tell, if ye dare, whose men ye are ! ' 
 
 Then Percy first his silence broke j 
 His hasty accents, as he spoke. 
 Trembled with rage and boiling spleen j 
 ' What we have acted thou hast seen j 
 ' What we may further dare to do, 
 ' Thou mayst perchance more dearly rue. 
 ' What boots it whence or how we came, 
 
 * Whose men we be, or what our name? 
 ' Our errand to these woods is clear j 
 
 ' We come to drive thy tender deer, 
 
 * Amidst thy parks to sport our fill, 
 
 * And freely wander where we will ; 
 
 ' And whilst within our throbbing veins 
 ' One drop of living blood remains, 
 
 * Our steady purpose will we hold, 
 ' Against thyself, a chieftain bold, 
 
 ' With all thy forces, ten times tdd.'
 
 THE RECOUNTER. 27 
 
 With rising wrath Earl Douglas heard ; 
 Hot choler in his bosoin stirr'd, 
 And kindled in his swarthy eye; 
 With armed hand he smote his thigh} 
 On Percy turn'd a deadly look. 
 Then swore him by the holy book, 
 ' Ere thus the Dooglas thou defy, 
 ' One of us two full sure shall die. 
 ' I know thee well an Earl thou art 
 ' Lord Percy, so am 1. Apart 
 ' Stand all our men 'twere shame to sj)ill 
 
 * Their blood, for they have done no ill : 
 
 * But thou ! there is mine honour's pledge ) 
 ' Pll prove it with my sword's keen edge, 
 
 ' For life or death.' with angry frown. 
 He dash'd his heavy gauntlet down. 
 That warlike gage, as soon as flung, 
 The Percy seiz'd. ' Accurs'd the tongue, 
 ' Accurs'd the recreant hand,' he cried, 
 
 * By which thy proffer is denied.' 
 
 Nor more but wheel'd his courser round 
 To gain the stretch of tilting ground -,
 
 28 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 Then for the onset threw the rein 
 Loose on his charger's sweeping mane. 
 And struck his spurs, and levell'd low 
 His spear, and stoop'd to meet his foe 
 But marvell'd sore and stay'd his race 
 Earl Douglas held the self-same place, 
 . Lifted the helmet from his head 
 As Percy came, and calmly said, 
 
 * Pei'cy, thou wilt not say that fear 
 ' Has fix'd me thus inactive here: 
 
 ' Where lives the man whose hand may wave 
 
 * The steel that Douglas fears to brave? 
 
 * Who ever saw him hold aloof 
 
 ' From hardy act of battle proof? 
 
 * With equal fortune, face to face, 
 
 ' He takes no vantage, asks no grace; 
 
 * With tir'd or renovated limb, 
 
 * At morning dawn or twilight dim, 
 
 * The battle comes alike to him. 
 
 * Yet if thou dost not say me nay, 
 
 ' We will not break the spear to day.
 
 THE RECOUNTER. '2*) 
 
 * With many toils forespent aud slack, 
 
 * Their mettled sjjced our coursers lackj 
 ' The waniug day is well nigh past 
 
 ' A day to one or both the last} 
 ' Give we to rest and peace the night ; 
 ' To-morrow, fresh as morning light, 
 ' With the first ray that gilds our steel 
 ' I meet thee in my just appeal.' 
 He said, but chufd by pride and ire. 
 His utterance chok'd with smother'd fire, 
 Percy not one short word replied. 
 But bow'd his head and turn'd aside. 
 Silent and stern, in gloomy mood. 
 To distant sojourn thro* the wood 
 From parley pass'd the cheiftains bold j 
 Their gathcr'd powers behind them roU'd. 
 Reposing on the level west. 
 The sun had sought his couch of rest j 
 Yet still his last rays lightly play'd 
 On the dark pine's sepulchral shadg ; 
 A moment on the topmost spire 
 Quivcr'd tlie faint dccavini; fire.
 
 30 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 Then slow in reddening cloud went down ; 
 The forest lower'd with darker frown j 
 Beneath its melancholy arch 
 The chieftains led their dusky march ; 
 In mist and shadow half obscur'd^ 
 Thro' the lone woods their vassals pour'd ; 
 Their wearied limbs promiscuous threw 
 Where mountain heath and wild fern grew. 
 There snatch'd short sleep and troubled dream. 
 Or mus'd around the watch-fire's gleam. 
 The watch-fire's dying gleam alone 
 Thro' the night's settled darkness shone} 
 Nor aught disturb'd its calm profound. 
 Save deep-ton'd bark of answering hound, 
 Scar'd by the raven's luckless croak j 
 Or night-wind moaning thro' the oak. 
 Or wakeful courser's distant neigh. 
 Impatient for the spring of day.
 
 THE REPULSE. 
 
 1 HRO' skies of chaste and cloudless l)lue 
 
 His temper'd rays the young sun threw ; 
 
 And nature, starting forth from shade, 
 
 The homage of her gladness paid ; 
 
 Like a fond parent, sweetly mild. 
 
 On all her wide creation smil'd. 
 
 Leading it on with calm delight 
 
 To peace and joy, to life and liglit. 
 
 Already bath'd in reeking show'rs 
 
 Of fragrant dew, the forest flowers 
 
 Unfold their blossoms to the mom ; 
 
 The linnet carols from the thorn j 
 
 From tufted lieath the roe-bucks spring ; 
 
 The wild bee murmurs on the wing. 
 
 In airy circles wandering on. 
 
 Humming his morning orison. 
 
 Those forest flowers, with night-dews damp, 
 
 Shrivel beoenth the iron stamp
 
 32 ^ CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 Of prancing chargers ; -on his- spray 
 The linnet hears, and flits away ; 
 The wild-bee's hum in distance dies ; 
 Thro' the thick wood the roe-buck flies. 
 To lurk in more secure retreat 
 Whilst face to face the Barons meet. 
 
 Short courtesy was theirs and mute, 
 One stubborn bend, one stern salute ; 
 Disdainful homage, proudly spurn'd ; 
 Then Percy to his archers turn'd : 
 ' Where yonder thickets guard your flanks, 
 ' Archers, arrange your lengthen'd ranks ; 
 
 * There take your stations, each his own, 
 
 * Silent and motionless as stone. 
 
 ' AVho moves a limb, with dark design 
 ' Of hostile vengeance, meets with mine; 
 ' Nor yet secure and listless stand, 
 ' But keen of eye and prompt of hand, 
 ' With bow-string fitted to the grooves, 
 ' Silent and still ^he dies who moves ; 
 ' And now upon this rising mound 
 ' Again my lion-banner ground ;
 
 THE REPULSE. 33 
 
 ' Whence never shall it more be borne, 
 ' Till from its height yon Heart be torn, 
 ' And down to dust this arm shall bring 
 ' Its crested crown and soaring wing.' 
 
 Array'd .in valour's smiling signs. 
 Earl Douglas rode along his lines; 
 His courteous greeting gave to each 
 With joyous mien and cheering speech : 
 ' And here,' he cried, 'my friends, set down 
 ' The Heart that bears the wings and crown, 
 
 * That Heart, beneath whose holy shade 
 
 ' My sires have drawn their conquering blade, 
 ' Nor ever with dishonour sheath'd, 
 ' Since royal Bruce his heart bequeath'd, 
 ' And gallant James of Douglas swore 
 ' To bear it from his native shore, 
 
 * And yield it up in Palestine, 
 
 * Within his dear Redeemer's shrine. 
 ' Now plant it here, for hence I go 
 ' With whirlwind fury on my foe; 
 
 * But mark, whatever fate betide, 
 
 ' I charge you, by your coura<,'c tried.
 
 34 CIIEVY CHASE. 
 
 ' And as my knightly love you prize, 
 ' To rest in peace who moves, he dies. 
 ' Now sound a summons to the fight, 
 * Douglas for Scotland and the right.* 
 
 As grey-hounds leash'd that view their prey 
 Stretching o'er level plains away. 
 Await, with strain'd and trembling hope, 
 Tlie toucli that gives their vigour scope. 
 And launches forth their sinewy speed ; 
 So keen, so eager, man and steed. 
 The Barons, point to point oppos'd. 
 Stood for one moment ere they clos'd. 
 The space that yet between them lay 
 Each champion mark'd with short survey, 
 His coursers loins more firmly prest. 
 And right against his foe-man's breast 
 His spear with deadly level laid 
 Spurning the soil, their chargers neigh'd. 
 Gave back by turns the shrill retort. 
 And dar'd the fight with fiery snort. 
 Breathless the vassals view'd the scene j 
 The bugles blew when right between.
 
 THE REPULSE. ^3 
 
 Ere yet the war-steeds felt the goad. 
 
 An armed knight of Scotland rode : 
 
 * Here let him stay,' he cry'd aloud 3 
 
 ' Here, comrades, let the dastard shroud 
 
 ' His head, who tamely stands to stare 
 
 ' At perils which he fears to share. 
 
 ' Scots! who would rather act than view 
 
 ' The valiant feats that others do, 
 
 ' Whose hearts are sounds whose words are deeds, 
 
 ' March forward where Montgomery leads.' 
 
 A moment's doubt their spirit awes, 
 A chilling momentary pause j 
 In thunder burst the quick reply 
 ' Montgomery! Douglas!* was the crj'; 
 ' Douglas ! Montgomery !' hill and glen 
 And rocks and woods return'd again ; 
 But stung with passion to the heart, 
 Earl Douglas saw his vassals thwiirf 
 The ransom of his honour's gage. 
 And gnash'd his teeth, and foam'd with rage ; 
 On the rash knight his red eye glar'd 
 111 had it with Moutgomer)' far'd ;
 
 36 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 By Douglas' hand his friend had died ; 
 When as blown in by wind and tide, 
 Down ancient Deva's narrow bed 
 The sea-flow rears its foaming head. 
 Bearing along, with conflict hoarse. 
 The current backward to its source j 
 So rush'd the host of spears along. 
 Shouldering the Barons down the throng j 
 Sweeping them both asunder far. 
 As on the foe they pour'd their war. 
 
 Firm and compact, man driv'n on man. 
 Right down upon the archer claa 
 With shouts the bold battalion pass; 
 At every step the rapid mass 
 Bears on its way with gathering weight 
 How may those lines its shock await ? 
 How shall those light-arm'd hunters reel 
 Before its strength of charging steel ! 
 "What hand may save, what human power? 
 What, but that hissing arrowy shower. 
 Incessant, thick as rattling hail. 
 That drives before the winter gale ?
 
 THE REPULSE. 37 
 
 So well with feather'd shafts supplied. 
 So well their bows the archers plied. 
 Ere one broad shaft had reacb'd its aim. 
 From the same hand another came ; 
 And hark ! that fatal twang, that rings 
 Continual from the bounding strings ; 
 Respite or intermission none 
 He walks to death who ventures on ; 
 Who bravely meets the deadly flight. 
 Gives the winged weapon half its might. 
 Appall'd and fear-struck as tliey stand. 
 With rapid strides death tbios the band: 
 At the first flight that left the bow. 
 Fall seven score gallant Scots lay low 3 
 And at the next, as many more 
 Fell breathless, weltering in their gore. 
 Each faithful shaft, so shrewdly aim'd. 
 Or slew outright or sorely maim'd j 
 Dissolv'd the life or gall'd the limbj 
 And vain the mad attempt of him 
 On whom the piercing plagues descend. 
 To wrench away the barbed end.
 
 38 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 That firm array, that manly shout. 
 Are chang'd to groans and hasty routj 
 ' Tis death to stop 'tis shame to fly 
 Retreat and live or stay to die. 
 But where to turn ? What refuge find r 
 The murd'rous volley streams behind. 
 Back, o'er the dying and the dead. 
 To the near wood the bravest fled. 
 With headlong haste an J havoc strange; 
 Till far beyond the arrow's range. 
 Broken, discomfited, and wet 
 With kindred blood, again they met.
 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 To every feature mounted high 
 The burning blush each spearman's eye 
 On earth with conscious shame was bent. 
 As down the lines Earl Douglas went. 
 Sullen and mute he pass'd along, 
 Marshal'd by signs the rallying throng. 
 Nor word of threat or cheering deign'd ; 
 Till their close battle-ranks regain'd. 
 Forward he stalk'd before his band 
 With surly stride for near at hand, 
 Stretch'd on the plain, his gallant grty 
 Transfix'd with many an arrow layj 
 ' Once when I charg'd yoo to be still, 
 
 * Once have you cross'd my earnest will ; 
 
 * Now, when I bid you march like men, 
 ' Gainsay my orders once again ; 
 
 * Here hide, and let your Chieftain go, 
 ' To prove what peasant's puny bow 
 
 ' From this good axe shall guard my foe.
 
 40 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 He said, and rush'd across the field * 
 That ponderous axe, which few might wield. 
 Whose temper cleft the bedded stone. 
 In his broad grasp temfic shone. 
 Impatient of their honour's stain. 
 Perils forgot, and wounds and pain, 
 In silent and determin'd mood 
 His clan their rapid charge renew'd. 
 
 Secure in arms, without a fear. 
 The hunters saw the storm draw near j 
 One single pace advanc'd their stride. 
 And fast again their death-bolts plied 3 
 Drawing their bows with might and main. 
 Till the tough yew's elastic grain 
 Splinter'd beneath the vigorous strain. 
 Thick fall again the pointed reeds. 
 Again each foremost warrior bleeds. 
 Again the ground their life blood drinks j 
 In vain ! for where a spearman sinks. 
 Prompt to avenge his comrade's fate. 
 Breathing despair and double hate, 
 A fiercer foe succeeds. In vain ! 
 No shafts that giant form restrain j
 
 THE BATTLE. 41 
 
 While with a shout that chills their hearts. 
 Earl Douglas on the bowmen darts 
 Backward, as from a tigress spoil'd 
 Of her lov'd young, the ranks recoil'd 
 Before his steel, that falling prone. 
 Cut sheer the flesh and crash'd the bone> 
 To right, to left, with deadly sweep. 
 Thro' the dismay'd and staggering lieap 
 An ample path of blood he hew'd ; 
 Nor less his clan their charge pursued 3 
 Down on the arrow's point they bore. 
 And bath'd their spears in English gore. 
 On earth, disabled and unstrung. 
 The useless bow away was flung. 
 And many a hand, whose boasted craft 
 Sped from its string the certain shaft. 
 Its cunning lost, and cold as clay. 
 Beside it on the green turf lay. 
 
 Then fiercer rag'd the equal strife, 
 Man match'd to man and life to life; 
 Then strongly rose the battle's tide ; 
 Full fast they clos'd on every sidci
 
 42 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 The deafening clamour rent the sky. 
 The dying shriek, the victor crvj 
 Screaming above the loud uproar. 
 Aloof the frighted falcons soarj 
 The stag-hound hears the din, and cow'rs 
 . Trembling within the darkest bow'rs. 
 Push'd by the spear and disarray'd. 
 The archers draw their trusty blade. 
 Plunge desperate on the outstretch'd pike. 
 Grapple the foe and fiercely strike j 
 Or where the press forbids their blows. 
 Upon the nearest foeman close. 
 Together twin'd, the wrestlers gasp 
 Beneath the strong athletic grasp. 
 Till writhing on the blood-stain'd ground. 
 With shorten'd blade they fix the wound. 
 Wounds, perils, death, were held at nought ; 
 No wavering doubt, no lurking thought 
 Of flight or fear in either band ; 
 Firmly they fought with heart and hand. 
 
 Nor vulgar blood alone was spilt. 
 But joust was there and tourney-tilt ;
 
 THE BATTLE. 43 
 
 With fiery shock together ran 
 
 Full many a gallant gentleman : 
 
 The brittle spears in shivers broke ; 
 
 Stagger'd the steeds ; beneath the stroke 
 
 The dizzy warriors backward bent. 
 
 There, on the turf, his bvckler rent, 
 
 Down from his furious charger thrown. 
 
 Lay the brave Lord of Aggerstoncj 
 
 And long shall Berwick's woods bewail 
 
 His fall ! But warlike Delavale 
 
 A deep revenge and deadly, vow'd; 
 
 Spurring across the thickest crowd. 
 
 The Murray from his seat he tlirew j 
 
 Him, by the spur entangled, drew 
 
 Thro* the wide woods his madd'niog horse. 
 
 And spurn'd at speed the breathless corse. 
 
 Nor strength nor blooming youth could save 
 
 Thee, Heron, from an early grave; 
 
 Tho' many a foe thine arm defied. 
 
 Beat down to earth Lord Maxwell's pride, 
 
 And Scottish LiddcU captive led ; 
 
 There, too, the valiant Hartley bled;
 
 44 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 And still the bard delights to tell 
 How Ralph the Rokeby fought and M\; 
 Nor yet with passing years is gone 
 The fame of gallant Widdrington, 
 Who, tho' dismeraber'd, scorn'd to yield, 
 But bravely knelt and kept the field. 
 
 But who, thro' mingled sword and spear. 
 Drives his dark charger's mad career, 
 Cover'd with blood and foam and dust; 
 With downright stroke and sidelong thrust> 
 Whirling around his glittering brand ? 
 Who but the stout Northumberland? 
 ' Douglas! come forth! Does Douglas hide 
 
 * His crest in war ? Come forth !' he cried j 
 ' My sword is cloy'd with meaner worth ; 
 
 * Douglas ! the Percy calls come forth !' 
 Resounding from his manly throat. 
 
 Far o'er the field the accents float. 
 Loud as the trumpet's brazen breath. 
 Where Douglas wrought the work of death. 
 The axe, that o'er his shoulder swung. 
 For the swift downfall ready hung.
 
 THE BATTLE. 45 
 
 Ere the doom'd victim felt its sway, 
 He check'd in air, and turn'd away; 
 Straight through the thickest press he bore ; 
 As plunging from the lofty shore. 
 Some hardy swimmer stems the tide. 
 Dashing the boisterous surf aside. 
 So rnsh'd Earl Douglas in his wrath 
 Thro' yielding crowds, so clear'd his path 
 Thro' men and steeds, thro' arms and blood. 
 Till where Earl Percy fought, he stood. 
 High on his coal-black charger rais'd. 
 Lord Percy o'er the combat gaz'd. 
 Seeking his noble foe in vain ; 
 ' Douglas, come forth !' he cried again, 
 Where lurks he, like a stricken deer r' 
 ' Turn, Percy, turn ; behold him here ; 
 ' Forego thy search the deer is found.' 
 Lord Percy saw, and leap'd to ground ; 
 Loose thro' the forest ran his steed; 
 Together, with the lightning's speed, 
 The knights, like angry lions, rush'd 
 Their weapons fell the warm blood gash'd.
 
 46 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 No feign'd advance, no quick recoil. 
 No fence was there, or artful foil. 
 But stiflfly foot to foot they close. 
 And give and take a storm of blows. 
 At once they strike, at once they bend 
 Beneath the griding blades, that rend 
 Tlie polish'd mail, like folds of wax ; 
 Swiftly descends the ponderous axe. 
 Nor, wav'd by Percy's warlike hand. 
 Less fiercely falls the temper'd brand. 
 Firm as a rock on ocean's shore 
 Amidst the breakers' stormy roar. 
 Awhile the warrior's stand the shock j 
 But, as the waters round that rock 
 Recede in silence from its base. 
 Ere long, their vigour ebbs apace. 
 Thick heaves their labouring breath and scant. 
 Their strong knees shake they reel they pant ; 
 Scarce their weak arm avails to lift 
 The blade, that falls with random drift j 
 Gasping for breath, all pale and spent 
 With toils and wounds, with one consent
 
 THE BATTLE, 47 
 
 They drop their blades, their helms unloose. 
 And claim and give a common truce. 
 
 Long pause and silent interven'dj 
 Each Baron on his weajion Ican'd, 
 Bar'd to the cooling gale his head, 
 And freshly breath'd. Then Douglas said: 
 ' Well hast thou fought this stubborn field; 
 
 * Enough ^yield, valiant Percy, yield ! 
 
 * To one that bears the Douglas' name 
 
 * Percy may yield, nor deem it shame : 
 ' No common captive, thou shalt find 
 
 ' No common bonds to thee assign'd ; 
 
 * The ransom sums the victor claims 
 ' I freely give, and princely James, 
 
 ' Our Scottish King, with worthy grace, 
 ' At his right hand shall give thee place: 
 
 * And more throughout his gallant court 
 ' Thus will I spread my true report : 
 
 ' Of all the knighthood, far and near, 
 
 * That wear the spur and break the sixiar, 
 ' And well fulfil their honour's vow, 
 
 * The bravest and the best art thou I'
 
 48 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 Smil'd Percy then with bitter scorn : 
 ' Nay, never yet the Scot was born 
 
 * Shall live to boast on Scottish land, 
 ' He won the Percy, hand to hand. 
 
 * Wouldst thou our stern debate shoidd cease ? 
 
 * Yield thou, proud Lord ! I grant thee peace 
 ' Is mortal battle thine award ? 
 
 * 'Tis well Lord Douglas ! watch thy guard !' 
 He said, and stood for fight prepar'dj 
 
 Nor Douglas aught replied, but rear'd 
 His axe, and aim'd a weighty blow : 
 That instant, from an English bow. 
 The hand unknown, its flight unseen. 
 An arrow struck him, quick and keen y 
 Straight to his heart its passage tore. 
 And quiver'd in its very core. 
 As falls some oak's gigantic trunk. 
 With a deep groan to earth he sunk> 
 Half falter 'd out a feeble cry 
 
 * Fight on, my merry-men ! I die 
 
 ' Fight on.' In pangs he bit the ground^ 
 And breath'd his spirit in the sound.
 
 THE BAITLE. 49 
 
 Lord Percy sau- the death-shaft pierce 
 The Baron's broast.-His heart, tho* fierce. 
 Of moody temper, harsh, and stern, 
 \\'ith manly grief began to yearn; 
 In his ,lark rye the big drop dwelt j 
 Down on the bloody turf he knelt. 
 And took the dead man l,y the hand .- 
 ' O ! Avoidd that I had lost my land 
 ' Ere I had seen this cursed deed ; 
 ' O Christ ! my very heart doth bleed 
 ' ^Vitli sorrow, Douglas, for thy sake ; 
 ' For never did mischance o'ertake 
 ' A nobler knight, or ,on; renown'd 
 ' Or in whose constant breast was found 
 ' ^"'^ %I fHith, and fair degree 
 ' Of high and valorous chivalry.* 
 
 Down his brown cheek the teai-s ran fasf 
 More had he spoke-but spoke bi last. 
 AU on the dcathful scene intent, 
 As unaware and sad he b.i.t 
 O'er his fHll'n foe, and to his breast 
 The clay-cold hand in pi{y pr....st,
 
 r>0 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 Borne thro' the fight in full career. 
 The false Montgomery drove liis spear 
 Right thro' the Earl's unguarded side; 
 With his life-blood the shaft was dy'd 
 lieneath tlie tree Lord Percy fell 
 The green-wood tree he lov'd so well. 
 
 Not unavcng'd. Within the wood, 
 Behind an oak, a bowman stood ; 
 Whence, safely hid from hostile sight. 
 He aim'd his mortal shafts aright ; 
 And saw, with mingled rage and grief. 
 How basely fell his noble chief. 
 Against MontgoKicry's breast he drevr 
 With subtlest skill his trusty yew ; 
 Lent all his force and loos'd the string-, 
 Tlie arrow flew the grey goose-wing 
 That on its slender shaft was set. 
 In the false Knight's heart-blood was wet. 
 
 Fast died away the battle's din; 
 The wasted fight wax'd faint and thin ; 
 O'er the wild field was heard alone 
 The murmur'd plaint, the parting moan ;
 
 THE BATTLE. 51 
 
 Save when a distant shout arose 
 
 And transitory strife, of those 
 
 Who wandering midst that scene of woe, 
 
 Encounter'd with a casual foe ; 
 
 And saw along their dismal path, 
 
 Heap'd like the mower's copious swath. 
 
 In undistinguished carnage blend 
 
 The slaughter'd files of foe and friend. 
 
 They found, the green-wood shade beneath. 
 Where laid the Barons, join'd in death ; 
 And soon a sad surviving few. 
 In silent woe, together drew; 
 No longer foes for grief had wrought 
 A gentler mood, and every thought 
 Was leagued in sorrow's sad accord 
 Bending around each dear-lov'd lord, 
 And o'er the corpses pouring warm 
 Their faithful tears, the lifeless form 
 From earth they rais'd, and parting slow 
 With wailings of funereal woe.
 
 52 CHEVY CHASE. 
 
 The Cheviot's fatal wood they leave ; 
 Thick, as they past, the darkening eve 
 Clos'd on their steps j abrupt and cold 
 The night-gale rose j and faintly toll'd 
 With many a pause, the vesper bell. 
 That seem'd to ring a parting knell. 
 
 Soft dropt the dews of heaven on those. 
 The fallen brave, and sweet repose 
 Upon their heavy eyelids be. 
 Who sleep beneath the green-wood tree ! 
 Sweet rest and deep to-night is theirs j 
 To-morrow, soon as matin prayers ^ 
 Awake the morn, and convent song. 
 Shall weeping widows hither throng j 
 On boughs of birch and hazel gray 
 Shall bear their lov'd remains awayj 
 Hang fresh-wove garlands on their biers. 
 Wash their deep wounds with brinish tears. 
 With long embrace their relics fold. 
 And place in earth their sacred mould.
 
 THE BATTLE 53 
 
 There, when the shades of evening close. 
 The hunter of the mountain roes 
 On the low mound shall often sit 
 And while the night-jars round him flit. 
 And the quick bat his prey pursues. 
 On times of old shall fondly muse. 
 And sigh the mouldering heaps to trace. 
 That mark the scene of Chevy Chase !
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 The fierce Gyr-falcon leaves his mew. 
 
 P. 5. 
 (jiiRFALCus est avis rapax, major quam falco, et est magnee 
 virtutis et potentiae mirabilisque audaciae, adeo ut invcnti sunt 
 aliqui, audaci spiritu, aquilas insultasse." 
 
 P. Crescentius de^griculturii. 
 " The Gyr-falcon is a rapacious bird, larger than the falcon, 
 strong and courageous, and of such wonderful audacity, that 
 some of them have been known to attack the eagle himself." 
 
 In that Hart Royal's rapid race. 
 
 P. 8. 
 Properly, a Hart Royal is one that has been hunted by the 
 King. *' If he escape, and proclamation be made for his safe 
 return without let or detriment, he is then called a Hart Royal 
 proclaimed." 
 
 Gentleman's Recreation, p. fi, Loud. 1677. 
 I
 
 58 NOTES. 
 
 ^7id thrice the hunter's loud recheat. 
 
 V.9. 
 A recheat, in tlic huntsman's phraseology, is a lesson which 
 the huntsman winds on the horn, when the hounds have lost 
 their game, to call them back from pursuing a counter-scent. 
 
 From out their green-wood galleries. 
 
 P. 10. 
 The tracks and openings made by the deer through the woods 
 and thickets are called their galleries. Thus, " if you would know 
 the height and thickness of the hart, observe his entries and 
 galleries into the thickets, and what boughs he hath overstrid- 
 deii, and mark from them the height of his belly from the 
 ground." 
 
 Gent. Recr. p. 68. 
 
 Till hark! the treble mart is bloum. 
 
 P. 11. 
 " If a buck, a double, if a stag, atreble mort is blown by one, 
 and then a whole recheat in concert by all that have horns ; and, 
 that finishea, immediately a general whoo-whoop." 
 
 Ge7it. Recr. p. 80- 
 The chief est head of hart and hind. 
 
 P. 12. 
 " Some may here object and say, why should the hart and 
 hind, being both of one kind, be accounted two several beasts ? 
 To this I answer, that though they are beasts of one kind, yet 
 that they are of several seasons ; for the hart hath his season In 
 summer, and the sejison of the hind begins when the hart's is 
 ever. 
 
 Gent. Recr. p. S.
 
 notes: 59 
 
 Think ye his tpear a willow wand. 
 
 P. 25. 
 This passage istakea from a ballad called " Kinmont Willie," 
 published in Mr. Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. 
 i. p. 1 1 1, in which the Laird of Buccleuch exclaims 
 O is my basnet* a widow's curch,-f- 
 
 Or my lance a wand of the willow tree, 
 Or my arm a lady's lilly hand. 
 
 That an English lord should lightly me } 
 
 ^gain my lion-banner ground. 
 
 P. 32. 
 One of the ancient badges or cognizances of the Percy family 
 was a white lion stataut. 
 
 The heart that hears the wings and crown. 
 
 P. 33. 
 The heart crowned and winged is the ancient crest of the 
 Douglas family. The circumstances from which it took its rise, 
 are narrated in his usual minute and entertaining manner by 
 Froissart, and their insertion here, from the excellent transla- 
 tion of Mr. Jobnes, can stand in need of no apology. ' During 
 this truce," says Froissart, " it happened that King Robert of 
 Scotland, who bad been a very valiant knight, waxed old, and 
 was attacked with so severe an illness, that he saw his end was 
 
 approaching." "He therefore called to him the gallant Lord 
 
 James Douglas, and said to him, 'My dear friend Lord James 
 Douglas, you know that I have had much to do, and have suf- 
 fered many troubles, during the time I have lived, to support 
 
 Helmet. f Coif.
 
 60 NOTES. 
 
 the rights of my crown : at the time that I was most occupie(3, 
 I made a vow, the non-accomplishment of which gives me much 
 uneasiness. I vowed, that, if I could finish my wars in such a 
 manner, that I might ha%'e quiet to govern peaceably, I would 
 go and make war against the enemies of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and the adversaries of the Christian faith. To this point my 
 heart has always leaned ; but our Lord was not willing, and 
 ga%'e me so much to do in my life-time, and this last expedition 
 has lasted so long, followed by this heavy sickness, that, since 
 my body cannot accomplish what my heart wishes, I will send 
 my heart in the stead of my body to fulfil my vow. And, as I 
 do not know any one knight so gallant or enterprising, or bet- 
 ter formed to complete my intentions than yourself, I beg and 
 entreat of you, dear and special friend, as earnestly as I can, 
 that you would have the goodness to undertake this expedition 
 for the love of me, and to acquit my soul to our Lord and Sa- 
 viour; for I have that opinion of your nobleness and loyalty, 
 that, if you undertake it, it cannot fail of success and I shall 
 die more contented : but it must be executed as follows 
 
 ' I will, that, as soon as I shall be dead, you take my heart 
 fiom my body, and have it well embalmed ; you will also take as 
 much money from my treasury as will appear to you sufficient to 
 perform your journey, as well as for all those whom you may 
 choose to have accompany you, to deposit it at the Holy Sepul- 
 chre of our Lord, where he was buried, since my body cannot 
 go there. You will not be sparing of expence ; and provide 
 yourself with such company and such things suitable to your 
 rank; and wherever you pass, you will let it be known, that 
 you bear the heart of King Robert of Scotland, which you are
 
 NOTES. 61 
 
 carrying beyond seas by his commaud, since his body cannot go 
 thither.' 
 
 " All those present began bewailing bitterly j and when the 
 Lord James could speak, he said, * Gallant and noble king, I 
 return you a hundred thousand thanks for the high honour you 
 do me, and for the valuable and dear treasure witii which you 
 entrust me ; and I will most willingly do all that you command 
 me with the utmost loyalty in my power; never doubt it, how- 
 ever I may feel myself unworthy of such a high distinction.' 
 
 " The king replied, ' Gallant knight, I thank you. You 
 promise it me then ?' 
 
 ' Certainly, Sir, most willingly,' answered the kniglit. He 
 then gave his promise upon his knighthood. 
 
 " The king said, * Thanks be to God ! for I shall now die in 
 peace, since I know that the most valiant and accomplished 
 knight of my kingdom will perform that for me, which I am 
 unable to do for myself.' 
 
 "Soon after, the valiant Robert Bruce, king of Scotland, 
 departed this life, on the 7th of November, 1327. His heart 
 was embalmed, and his body buried in the monastery of Dun- 
 fermline." 
 
 This honourable mission, however, Douglas did not live to 
 accomplish. After the necessary preparations, he set out with 
 a splendid retinue, and, " hearing that Alphonso king of Spain, 
 was waging war against the Saracen king of Granada, he ton-
 
 62 KOTES. 
 
 sidered, that if he should go tliitber he should employ his time 
 and journey according to the late king's wishes ; and when he 
 should have finished there, he would proceed further, to complete 
 that with which he was charged. He made sail, therefore, to- 
 wards Spain, and landed first at Valentia ; thence he went 
 straight to the King of Spain, who was with his army on the 
 frontiers, very near the Saracen king of Granada. 
 
 " It happened, soon after bis arrival, that the king of Spain 
 issued forth into the fields, to make his approaches nearer the 
 enemy ; the king of Granada did the same ; and each king could 
 easily distinguish the other's banners, and they both begun to 
 set their armies in array. 
 
 " The Lord James placed himself and his company on one 
 side, to make better work, and a more powerful effect. 
 
 " When he perceived that the battalions on each side were 
 fully arranged, and that of the king of Spain in motion, he 
 imagined they were about to begin the onset ; and as he always 
 wished to be among the first rather than the last on such occa- 
 sions, he and all his company stuck spurs into their horses, until 
 they were in the midst of the king of Granada's battalion, and 
 made afurious attack on the Saracens. They fled, and Douglas, 
 with bis companions, eageily pursued them. Taking the casket 
 from his neck, which contained the heart of Bruce, be threw it 
 before him, and cried, 'Now pass thou onward as thou wast 
 wont, and Douglas will follow thee, or die.' The fugitives ral- 
 lied Surrounded and ovenvhclmed by superior numbers, Doug- 
 las fell. His few surviving companions found his body in the 
 field, together with the casket, and reverently conveyed them
 
 NOTES. 63 
 
 to Scotland. The remains of Douglas were interred in the se- 
 pulchre of his fathers, in the cliurch of Douglas, and the heart 
 of Bruce was deposited at Melros." 
 
 See Johties's Froissart, vol. i. p. 48, 51. 
 
 Tfhat, but that hissing arrowy show'r, 
 
 P. 3ff. 
 The universal use of the long-bow amongst the English, and 
 its formidable effects, in ancient times, are well known. Many 
 instances of this may be collected from the narrations of Frois- 
 sart. " Upon this," says he on one occasion, " the English 
 archers began to use their bows, and so well, tiiat none dared 
 to come within the reach of their arrows." " The English ar- 
 chers then advanced one step forward, and shot their arrows 
 with such force and quickness, that it seemed as if it snowed. 
 When the Genoese felt these arrows, which pierced their arm", 
 heads, and through their armour, some of them cut the strings 
 of their cross-bows, others flung them on the ground, and all 
 turned about, and retreated quite discomfited." 
 
 Johnes's Froissart, vol. i. p. 514, 325. 
 
 Together twin'd, the wrestlers gasp, 
 
 P. 42. 
 " There was much hacking ar>d cirtting of each other, with 
 lances and battle-axes, seizing each other by main strength and 
 wrestling. They were so much intermixed together, they en- 
 gaged man to man, and behaved with a valour it was marvellous 
 to see." 
 
 Johnes's Froissart, vol. i p. fJ32.
 
 C4 NOTES. 
 
 Nor vulgar blood alojie was spilt. 
 
 P. 42. 
 In enumerating the persons of rank who are supposed to have 
 fallen in this encounter, I have prefeiTed the authority of the 
 more ancient ballad, which differs considerably in this respect 
 from the other. The notices which follow of the different fami- 
 lies of distinction, to which they belonged, are taken from Dr^ 
 Percy's notes to the ancient ballads of Chevy Chase, and the 
 Battle of Otterbourne. 
 
 Lay the brave Lord of Aggerstene, 
 
 P. 43. 
 The family of Haggerstone, of Haggerstone near Berwick, 
 has been seated there for many centuries, and still remains. 
 Thomas Haggerstone was amongst the commissioners returned 
 for Northumberland, in 12 Hen. VI. 1433. (Fuller's Worthies, 
 p. 310). The name is spelt Agerstone in Leland's Itinerary' 
 Vol. VII. p. 54. 
 
 But warlike Delavale, 
 
 P. 43. 
 In the ancient ballad he is termed " Sir Jor^, the worthe 
 Lovele." Joh. De Lavale was sheriff of Northumberland, 34 
 Hen. VII. In Nicholson, this name is spelt Da Lovel, p. 304. 
 This seems to be the ancient family of Delaval, of Seaton 
 Delaval, in Northumberland, whose ancestor was one of the 
 twenty-five barons appointed to be guardians of Magna Cbarta. 
 
 The Murray from his seat he threw. 
 
 P. 43. 
 The person here meant was probably Sir Charles Murray of
 
 NOTES. 65 
 
 ofCockpoole, who flourished at that time, and was ancestor of 
 the Murrays, sometime Earls of Annandale. 
 
 See Douglas' Peerage. 
 
 Thee, Heron, from an early grave. 
 
 P. 43. 
 This family, one of the most ancient, was long of great con- 
 sideration in Northumberland. Sir William Heron of Ford Cas- 
 tle was summoned to parliament, 44 Edw. III. Ford Castle has 
 descended by heirs general to the family of Delaval, mentioned 
 in a preceding article. The Herons of Chip-Chase are another 
 branch of the Herons of Ford Castle. 
 
 Beat down to earth Lord Maxwell's pride, 
 
 P. 43. 
 The family of Maxwell, Lord of Maxwell, was always very 
 powerful on the borders. I cannot find that any chief of this 
 family was named Sir Hugh, but Sir Herbert Maxwell was, 
 about this time, much distinguished. This might have been 
 originally Written Sir H.Maxwell, and by transcribers converted 
 into Sir Hugh. The ancient ballad says, " Sir Hugh Maxwell, 
 a lorde be was." Maxwell, Earls of Nithsdale, belonged to 
 this family. 
 
 ^nd Scottish Liddell captive led, 
 
 P. 43. 
 The ancient family of the Liddells were originally from Scot- 
 land, where they were Lords of LiddeU castle, and of the barony 
 of Buff (See Collins's Peerage). The head of this family is 
 Lord Ravensworth of Ravensworth Castle, in the county of 
 Durham. 
 
 K
 
 6G NOTES. 
 
 There too the valiant^ Hartley bled. 
 
 P. 43. 
 Hartley is a village near the sea, in the barony of Tinemouth, 
 about seven miles from North Shields. It probably gave name 
 to a family of note at that time. 
 
 How JRalph the Rokehy fought and fell. 
 
 P. 44. 
 Mr. Scott's last publication has rendered the name of Rokeby 
 familiar to every ear. Although this name is, in the ballad, 
 spelt Rugb^, it seems to belong to the same family which gives 
 the title to Mr. Scott's poem ; where ample information respect- 
 ing it is to be found. Its head, about the time when this ballad 
 was written, was Sir Ralph, a common name of the Rokebys. 
 It will not be wondered that the Percies should be thought to 
 bring followers out of Yorkshire, where they themselves were 
 "originally seated, and had always such extensive property and 
 influence. 
 
 The fame of gallant Widdringlon. 
 
 P. 44. 
 About lour miles to the south-west of Felton, is Widdrington 
 Castle, which " standeth (says Leland) within half a mile of the 
 shore, somewhat as touching against Coket island." This cas- 
 tle belonged from the reign of Edward I. to the Widdringtons, 
 of whom Rpg. de Widdrington was sheriff of Northumberland} 
 in 36 Edw. III. (Fuller, p. 3U), and many others of the same 
 name afterwards. In 1643, Sir William was created Baron 
 Widdrington, and was slain soon after at Wigan ; and in the 
 year 1715, the estate was forfeited by his grandson. Of this 
 family was the late Lord Witherington.
 
 NOTES. 67 
 
 The false Montgomery 
 
 P. 68, 
 Sir Hugh Montgomery was son of John, Lord Montgomery, 
 the lineal ancestor of the Earls of Eglintoun. The very ungra- 
 cious part assigned to him in the ballad, raises a strong prejudice 
 against his character, which does not appear to be justified by 
 what can be collected from history. He behaved very gallantly, 
 and according to some accounts, was slain by an arrow, at the 
 battle of Otterbourne, in which his father. Lord Montgomery, 
 took prisoner Harry Percy himself, the renowned Hotspur, who, 
 for his ransom, built the castle of Penoon in Ayrshire, belong- ' 
 ing to the Earls of Eglintoun. This exploit is celebrated in the 
 Scottish ballad of the battle of Otterbourne, published in the 
 Minstrelsy of the Scottish border, vol. i. p. 25 , and it is not 
 unlikely that the spleen and prejudice of the old English bard 
 may have revenged the heroism of the father on the son, by at- 
 tributing to him the dishonourable action narrated in the ballad. 
 
 And while the night-jars roicnd him flit. 
 
 P. 72. 
 This singular bird is better known by the name of the goat- 
 sucker. It is of the swallow species, and is the largest of that 
 tribe known in England. It is most frequently seen towards 
 Autumn, and always in the dusk of the evening. Its motions 
 are irregular and rapid, sometimes wheeling in quick succession 
 round a tree or other object, diving at intervals, as if to catch 
 its prey ; when perched, it sits usually on a bare twig, its liead 
 lower than its tail, and in this attitude utters its jarring note. 
 It is a solitary bird, two being seldom seen together, but sitting 
 at a little distance from each other. 
 
 Bewick's British Birds, vol. i. p. 2C2.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 SONNETS, 
 Sfc.
 
 POEMS, SONNETS, &c. 
 
 TO TIME. 
 
 oTILL dost thou urge thy pinions, hoary Time ! 
 With speedy sweep, and still, from day to day. 
 Restless as wont, winging thine onward way. 
 Hast sunk another year in swift decline ! 
 And not as yet that ancient frame of thine 
 Hath waxed weak, nor yearned for repose 
 That frame, which erst the Architect sublime 
 Will'd into being, and forthwith arose 
 A noble form, and one whose god-like force 
 Promis'd to run an everlasting course 
 Then thou exulted'st in thy glad career. 
 Young Time ! and sportive leading on the year
 
 n POEMS AND SONNElo 
 
 Burden'd with bliss, thou in thy boundless flight 
 Fed'st the fresh-springing fountains of delight 
 That gush'd eternal in each golden sphere 
 But now full long, they say, thy wrinkled brow 
 Hath loveless been and bare ; full long hath lost 
 Its tressed beauties, or what few still flow 
 Are blancJi'd and faded with a thawless frost. 
 And better were it now that thou should'st fold 
 Thy flagging wings in everlasting rest 
 So never more in chronicles unblest 
 Man's foul misdeeds should be by thee enroll'd ; 
 So should thy guilty records never more 
 Blush deep with sins and shames unknown before. 
 O ! for the might of him at whose command 
 In the raid heaven the sun imprisoned lay. 
 And bent on earth a strange and fixed ray j 
 Or her of Endor's charms, or sorcerer's wand ! 
 That I might strive, tho' with unlawful force. 
 Relentless Time ! to stay thy fatal course. 
 And bid with thee the fiends of war to stand 
 And death for earth herself is drunk with blood 
 That from the pall'd and sicken'd ground doth rise.
 
 TO TIME. 73 
 
 Like the thick-curling smoke of sacrifice; 
 While ravenous murder and her haggard brood. 
 With liungry liowlings crave for fresh supplies. 
 And banish from the world all peaceful interlude. 
 Why should'st thou journey further ? They are 
 gone, 
 The god-like comrades of thine earlier way. 
 Suns, that around thee beam'd a glorious day. 
 And sped thy course majestically on. 
 
 read thine hoary locks, and lower bend 
 That head, age-bow'd already ! for the fire 
 Of former things hath shone, and on my lyre 
 The spirit of past ages doth descend ! 
 
 1 see them rise around me ! Shall I gaze 
 Unpunish'd ? Should my vision, tho' endued 
 With more than eagle keenness, unsubdued 
 Endure the force of that unrivall'd blaze ? 
 
 Lo ! first and fairest of the heavenly train. 
 The light of freedom shines, such as of yore 
 Ere yet her brilliancy was taught to wane. 
 She rose on elder Greece, or that fam'd shore. 
 The Eden of the world, sweet Itilv
 
 Z4 POEMS AND SONNETS, 
 
 And with her they, who dwell but with the free. 
 Twin-born, immortal sisters. Peace and Truth, 
 Advancing hand in hand. Unfading youth 
 Preludes their steps an angel troop behind 
 Resplendent virtue. Majesty of mind. 
 Justice, and she whose look her wrath beguiles. 
 Benignant Mercy, milder than the dove ; 
 Magnanimous valour, pity link'd with love. 
 Fresh joys, and graces, and perennial smiles. 
 
 Sad and forsaken, melancholy Time ! 
 What darken'd path may yet remain, pursue 
 For these, the bright attendants of thy prime. 
 Tempestuous fortunes and obscuring crime 
 Long since have quench'd or but a distant view 
 Of scanty glory thro' the gloom is thrown 
 Yet when this mournful task of thine is o'er. 
 And thou, before the Great Eternal Throne 
 Shall render up thy mission, there once more 
 Expect to meet their beautiful array 
 Perfect, and cloth'd with never-ending day. 
 Meanwhile, not wholly dark one starry gem 
 That dawn'd upon thy birth, for ever new.
 
 TO THE SEA BIRD. 75 
 
 Shall teach thee happier chances to iufer 
 Unsetting Hope and sweetly light thee through. 
 Like that bright eastern star of Bethlehem, 
 By which at night the wisemen guided were 
 With psalms of joy, and frankincense and myrrh. 
 To greet the heav'n-born babe, the braoch of Jesse's 
 stem. 
 
 .1808. 
 
 TO THE SEA BIRD. 
 
 JtvOW on thy stormy way. 
 
 Thou lonely bird ! above the deep-hung cloud ; 
 
 Above the dashing spray 
 
 Of ocean roaring loud. 
 
 In the storm's gloomiest depth thyself ensluoud- 
 
 For it rejoices thee 
 
 When in his might the tempest sallies forili 
 
 From the wide portals of the thundering north^ 
 
 And travels on the struggling sea
 
 76 POEMS AND SONNETS. 
 
 With footsteps of intoleriible wrath. 
 
 Then floating on the fierceness of his breath, 
 
 High over the abyss 
 
 That heaves its billowy cataracts beneath. 
 
 Sole comrade of his path. 
 
 Thou, like a dauntless mariner, 
 
 Laughest at the hideous stir 
 
 Of watery gulph and precipice : 
 
 While the scar'd dwellers of the hoary deep 
 
 Shrink from the vehement uproar; 
 
 And rous'd indignant from his sleep. 
 
 Unwieldy Behemoth 
 
 Forsakes his oozy couch of sloth 
 
 For the calm sheltei' of the sedgy shore. 
 
 Or rather, gentle bird ! 
 Thou hast forsaken thy resounding cave 
 To watch the ravage of the merciless wave, 
 And bring the hopeless seaman ^ord 
 How safest he may steer 
 From whirlpool far aloof and ambush'd rock 
 His vessel's tempest-winged career. 
 Or when his barH has yielded to the shock.
 
 TO THE SEA BIRD. 77 
 
 And never heard by other ear. 
 
 From the vex'd deep his dying shrieks arise. 
 
 Floating on his unquiet bier. 
 
 Unseen by other eyes. 
 
 When the pale victim of the waters lies. 
 
 His shroud is the wliite- foaming surge. 
 
 And his aerial dirge 
 
 The hollow scream of thy funereal cries. 
 
 In thine unbounded flight, 
 Tell me, bold bird ! what wonders hast thou seen ? 
 Whether thy uever-wearied course liath l)een, 
 To realms of ancient night. 
 Tracking the tempest to his northern den, 
 When, from the desolated haunts of men, 
 The unwilling monster goes 
 Back to his lair in polar darkness hid. 
 Beset with icy pyramid, 
 And undiscoverable snows ; 
 Or to whatever else of strange or rare, 
 Unlikely to presage. 
 Thou, thorough the light air. 
 Hast steer'd thy devious pilotage ;
 
 78 POEMS AND SONNETS. 
 
 Or whether it perchance be thine 
 
 To search the secrets of the main. 
 
 And view, deep plung'd beneath the ocean brioe. 
 
 The uncouth scenery 
 
 And the forbidden mysteries that lie 
 
 Beyond the threshold of the watery plain. 
 
 O traverser of earth. 
 And universal air, and circling sea ! 
 Dear are the fountains of the deep to thee, 
 And dear their barrier girth 
 Of broad unshaken rock, 
 Storm-brac'd, and teraper'd to the ocean shock. 
 In that wide range of sea and earth and air. 
 Hast thou not found some quiet seat 
 Untrod by human feet, 
 And unprofan'd by human crime or care ? 
 O gentle wanderer, tell me where ! 
 So may'st thou safely reach that happy coast 
 Where thou art wont to sit and hear 
 The unremitting roar 
 
 Of waters round the high and cavern'd shore. 
 And lull thy slumbers with that music drear j
 
 TO THE SEA BIRD. 79 
 
 So shall thy paths to me be ever dear. 
 Whether it please thee most 
 Upon the moaning blast, in ciirv'd career, 
 Earthward to wheel thine ominous way. 
 Herald of tempests, from the salt sea spray, 
 While dark o'er heav'n the hurrying cloud-racks fly ; 
 Or for some brighter sky . 
 
 To spread thy white wings o'er the billowy foam, 
 And far away on easy pinion steer 
 O'er stranger realms qj' earth, and untried seas to roam . 
 
 TO MY LYRE. 
 
 -L<OXG lime, my lyre, on thine unused string 
 The voice of music hath forgot to dwell. 
 Since I forsook thee in the laurel shade, 
 Wliere oft with thee at evening hour I stray'U, 
 And bade each hill and shelter'd valley ring 
 AVith the loud harping of thine artless shell; 
 Since that unblest farewell
 
 80 POEMS AND SONNETS. 
 
 When on the shatter'd l)ough aloft iiphung 
 I left thee to the bleak hibernal gale. 
 Shunning advancing winter's aspect pale 
 Whose chilling influence all thy chords unstrung -, 
 And with its stormy and unsparing waste 
 From the dear walks of Poesy awhile 
 Perforce my much unwilling footstep chac'd 
 And yet I thought with the first conquering smile 
 Of Spring, to greet thee in thy budding bow'r. 
 And woo thee there to waken once again 
 If so I might, a somewhat loftier strain 
 With worthier numbers of maturer pow'r. 
 
 A.nd I am come ! But not in vernal prime. 
 Forsaken Lyre ! and I am come to thee ! 
 But not with high-built rhyme. 
 And practis'd sound of skilful psaltery ; 
 Nor purposing to dwell 
 With thee henceforward in thy myrtle maze : 
 But with unwonted step, thi"o' mossy dell. 
 O'er wind-swept hills and sohtary ways, 
 I have come forth unto thee for a while. 
 And with uncertain finger fain would raise
 
 TO MY LYRE. 81 
 
 At best a short and desultory strain. 
 And henceforth all in vain 
 From forest depth, or valley's dark defile. 
 Or sylvan cave, or river's haunted bed. 
 Those hidden symphonies shall win my ear 
 Which erst with guidance strange have often led 
 My startled progress to thy lov'd retreat } 
 When I have wander'd far away to meet 
 Descending Eve in some sequester'd glade. 
 And swept thy strings amid the tempest's beat 
 And rush of souftding winds, and growing shade. 
 Henceforth in vain ! full many an hour has roll'd 
 Its tedious current to the dark abyss, 
 The unreclaim'd, untold, 
 Eternal Past, since to my mortal goal 
 I travel darkly through a world of pain, 
 Where visible Nature, with her goodly train 
 Of beauties, and the gardens of the soul 
 Alike have faded, with their bowers of bliss j 
 Since I have pass'd with melancholy brow 
 The disregarded boundaries of time 
 Wearied and wcatiicr-worn. For in my prime
 
 82 POEMS AND SONNETS. 
 
 Sickness hath touch'd mc with a withering charm. 
 
 And with her languid breath unnerv'd the arm, 
 
 My Lyre ! tliat trembles as it grasps thee now. 
 
 But to my daily vow 
 
 Attemper'd airsj and kinder suns may bring, 
 
 (So let me still believe) 
 
 Restoring virtue on their balmy wing. 
 
 Then will I once again, thrice-hallow'd Eve ! 
 
 Tho' with a weak and tuneless tongue. 
 
 And with a simple song. 
 
 Tuneless and weak, my faltering voice intrude 
 
 On the deep stillness of thy solitude ; 
 
 And thou wilt deign to hear the lowly lay 
 
 Floating by fits upon thy dewy gales. 
 
 And bid thy blue hills, and deep-cavern'd vales. 
 
 Where the coy echo shuns the garish day. 
 
 Its humble notes in sweeter sounds to dress 
 
 And waft their murmurs through the wilderness ; 
 
 Heard only by the loitering village hinds ; 
 
 And then, while westlin winds 
 
 Along iny pathway gently strew 
 
 The russet mantle of the dying grove,
 
 TO MY LYRE. 83 
 
 While all its wreathed labyrinths I rove 
 
 And ravag'd bow'rs, some dim autumnal eve. 
 
 While o'er my path the rapid bat shall weave 
 
 His giddy circles, and his sober friend 
 
 The dark-sheath'd beetle from his horn shall send 
 
 A long and surly note that seems to tell 
 
 To the slow-parting day a last farewell j 
 
 then, my long lost Lyre ! 
 
 1 yet may throw my venturous hand anew 
 With steadier touch along thy darling wire ; 
 Yet once again cnamour'd o'er thee bend. 
 
 And call thy music forth Till then, my Lyre ! adieu
 
 po;ems and sonnets. 
 
 WALCHEREN. 
 
 Hark l what lamentable wail 
 
 Floats upon the ocean gale. 
 
 What mourning voice, whose distant swell 
 
 Comes deepening like a dying knell. 
 
 And speaks with cold and sullen breath 
 
 A full-fraught tale of lingering death ? 
 
 Wafted by indignant waves 
 
 It travels from the Isle of Graves, 
 
 Wliere sadly marshall'd, side by side. 
 
 Sleep the ranks of England's pride ; 
 
 Couch'd full many a fathom deep. 
 
 Comrades in eternal sleep ! 
 
 From that island's peopled ground 
 
 Bursts the deep and solemn sound ; 
 
 Every dweller of the tomb 
 
 Murmurs from his hollow home. 
 
 In language of unearthly mood. 
 
 The strong appeal of guiltless blood.
 
 WALCHEREN. 85 
 
 England's last and mightiest host 
 Gather'd on the darken'd coast ; 
 Trooping to the field of fame. 
 Her warrior sons impatient came ; 
 Every hero's eye displays 
 Valour's fix'd and steady blaze, 
 A star that shiives with keener light. 
 On danger's black and stormy night. 
 Amidst the bold and stately throng 
 Hope chaunted loud her towering song, 
 While every pulse and bounding vein 
 Revell'd to the lofty strain. 
 Swiftly o'er the billowy flood 
 Rode the martial brotherhood. 
 On the blue waters floating far 
 In mighty plenitude of war ; 
 And curbing in their strength of speed 
 The ocean, like a foaming steed. 
 Honour, Glory, guide the way 
 Thro* the sea-wave's cloudy spray. 
 To promis'd fields of gallant name 
 And the rich heritage of fame ;
 
 86 POEMS AND SONNETS. 
 
 Where the bold soldier's dauntless pride 
 May woo the battle, as a bride ; 
 Where, borne on gay or fatal hours. 
 Honour still, with fadeless flow'rs. 
 May strew the path of glad return. 
 Or wreathe them round his funeral urn. 
 
 No human hand no hostile blow. 
 Laid those banded thousands low ! 
 On them no battle equipage 
 \'oUied forth its iron rage ; 
 Nor wide confronted, life to life, 
 Fail'd they in successless strife. 
 O'er that island's baneful soil 
 Death had stretch'd his secret toil. 
 And built within its yawning breast 
 The chambers of eternal rest. 
 "With manly step, and mien elate. 
 The warriors trod the Land of Fate, 
 Where the death-envenom'd ground 
 Breath'd destroying vapours round. 
 And all her sadden'd realms array'd 
 In one blue robe of deadly shade.
 
 WALCHEREN. 87 
 
 Then^ with each unconscious breath, 
 Was quafi"'d the bitter draught of death. 
 And every slow-consuming frame 
 Fed with life a quenchless flame. 
 Then hurl'd to earth the strong man lay 
 Groaning his struggling soul away. 
 And mourn'd in vain the wretched doom 
 That gave him an ignoble tomb. 
 Then like an exhalation rose 
 The mingled voice of many woes. 
 And stifled moans of deep despair 
 Hung upon the labouring air. 
 Till one universal grave 
 Clasp'd at length the martyr'd brave ; 
 And silence on the guilty plain 
 Sat in undisputed reign. 
 Surveying from her dismal throne 
 The dying and the dead alone. 
 
 Thou ! whose eye of Justice reads 
 The volume of recorded deeds ! 
 Thou ! whose ear receives the sound 
 That seeks for judgment from the ground.
 
 88 POEMS AND SONNETS. 
 
 And clamours, like an ocean-flood. 
 For the dread recompence of blood ! 
 Thou bast mark'd the ruthless train 
 Who smote those bonds of life in twain. 
 Whose hearts of indurated stone 
 Remorseless heard the parting groan. 
 And laugh'd to scorn the sacred pray'r 
 Of grief and anguish and despair ; 
 Thou hast mark'd the daring hand 
 That rent fair nature's holy band. 
 That taught the babe an orphan's fears. 
 That stain'd the widow's cheek with tears. 
 And brav'd with desperate design 
 That vengeance which is surely thine.
 
 TRANSLATION 
 
 FROM THE GREEK OF TYRT.EUS. 
 
 fr HO are they who nobly stand 
 The bulwarks of their native land ? 
 They who combat> man to man. 
 Foremost in the battle's van j 
 They whom neither flight nor fear 
 Startle in their stern career j 
 They who die in conquering pride 
 By their dying comrade's side j 
 They before whose wasting hand 
 Falls or flies the hostile band ; 
 That hand which ranging wide and fur 
 Strongly rules the wave of war. 
 These are they who nobly stand 
 The bulwarks of their native land. 
 They die but in the foremost line 
 Every warrior lies supine. 
 And on his mangled bosom shews 
 The honours of a thousand blows.
 
 90 POEMS AND SONNETS. 
 
 They fall but o'er his valiant boy 
 Each white-hair'd father weeps for joy. 
 Virgin youth and avvful sires 
 Mourn around their funeral fires. 
 And over their victorious bier 
 Their grateful country drops a tear. 
 What their trophies ? Not alone 
 Piles of monumental stone. 
 But before a nation's eyes 
 Long their children's children rise, 
 And in successive pride maintain 
 The glories of the gallant strain. 
 Tho' beneath the turf they lie. 
 Their name, their virtue cannot die. 
 Tho' the earth enfold their clay. 
 Ever young and deathless they. 
 
 But what the honours and applause 
 Of those who in their country's cause 
 From the flying battle bear 
 The purple triumphs of the spear ? 
 Youth and age in eager throng 
 Hail them as they march along,
 
 IMITATION. 91 
 
 From their ranks the old retreat 
 And yield to them the envied seat ; 
 Honour'd by a rescued land 
 Distinct above the crowd they stand. 
 Till fading in mature decay 
 Their manly tresses turn to gray. 
 And evei-y joy that nature knows 
 Soothe them to a late repose. 
 
 IMITATION 
 
 OF THE 12th ODE OF HORACE. 
 
 AD REMPUBLICAM. 
 
 Ah ! woe is thee, ill-omen'd bark ! once more 
 Redoubling surges drift thee to the main. 
 
 Amid whose tides of gore 
 Warm-reeking, burdcn'd with unnumbcr'd slain,
 
 92 POEMS AND SONNETS. 
 
 The war-storm long hath held thee tempest-tost ; 
 Yet rouse thee boldly stem the wild uproar. 
 
 And dare, ere hope be lost. 
 Thy latest struggle to regain the shore ! 
 Hast thou not seen him close his guardian eyes. 
 The pilot dear, in everlasting sleep. 
 
 Skilful to read the skies. 
 And track the mazes of the faithless deep ? 
 And now behold ! upon that deadly tide 
 Thine haughty Rulers, impotent to save. 
 
 Scarce stay thy shatter'd side 
 Against the onset of the ravenous wave. 
 Torn by the winds, and drooping in despair. 
 The crimson'd streamer of thy guilty fame 
 
 Flings only to the air 
 The gloomy signal or the tale of shame. 
 And little boots it in that exigent 
 While fast around increasing perils spring 
 
 To boast thine high descent 
 And the fam'd lineage of the Forest-king. 
 Thou gallant Bark ! to me for ever dear. 
 And dearer in thy fortune's deepest fail.
 
 TRANSLATION, 93 
 
 O curb thy rash career. 
 Nor wildly sweep, abandon'd to the gale j 
 For who may say how soon yon gather'd sky 
 Shall on thee launch the tempest of its might. 
 
 Or the dread rock how nigh 
 That wrecks thy glories in eternal night ?
 
 94 
 
 EPITAPH ON THOMAS LLOYD. 
 
 ixEA DER ! what art thou ! Gentle, meek, sincere ' 
 So once was he whose ashes slumber here. 
 Art thou of spirit constant, patient, kind. 
 Of independent heart, of active mind ? 
 Hast thou a soul whose quick instinctive sight 
 Perceives, whose fortitude supports the right. 
 Whose simple virtue shuns ambitious strife 
 And builds its glory on an honest life ? 
 All this he was. Hast thou been taught to prize 
 The boons that learning gives ? He too was wise. 
 Feel'st thou a noble flame within thy breast. 
 Against oppressors ? This man was oppress'd. 
 Hast thou at peril of thy life, defied 
 The foes of freedom ? So did he, and died. 
 His name ? This humble stone is meant to sav 
 'Twas Lloyd. Bestow one tear, and go thy way. 
 
 1812.
 
 G."* 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 FROM PETRARCH, 313. 
 
 Mourning the waste of my departed days 
 I wander days when vain and worldly things. 
 Drew my soul down to earth, tho' blest with wings 
 
 To win perchance no vulgar height of praise. 
 
 Thou, who hast marked my low aud worthless ways. 
 Invisible, immortal. King of Kings ! 
 Succour my soul in these her wanderings. 
 
 And on her darkness turn thy gracious rays. 
 
 So shall my life of war and storms, in death 
 Peaceful and harbour'd close life, lost and vain. 
 
 But happy now and calm in its decline. 
 If o'er what little space may yet remain 
 
 Thy hand preside and o'er my parting breath 
 Thou knowest well no other hope is mine.
 
 96 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 FROM PETRARCH, 251. 
 
 Those eyes, my bright and glowing theme erevvhile. 
 
 That arm, that hand, that lovely foot, that face. 
 Whose view was wont my senses to beguile. 
 
 And lift me high o'er all of human race ; 
 Those golden locks that flow'd in liquid grace. 
 
 And the sweet lightning of that angel smile 
 Which made a paradise of every place 
 
 What are they ? dust inanimate and vile ! 
 And yet 1 live. O rage ! O grief! O shame ! 
 
 Reft of the guiding star I lov'd so long 
 A ship-wreck'd bark that drives before the gale 
 
 Be this the limit of my amorous song j 
 Queneb'd in my bosom is the sacred flame. 
 
 And my harp murmurs its expiring wail.
 
 97 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 " STASSI IL LAURO LIETO." 
 
 Favour'd beyond each tree of field or grove, 
 
 Glad and for ever green the laurel stands ; 
 
 Not to be pluck'd but by heroic hands. 
 And sacred to the Majesty of Jove -, 
 No lightning-flash may smite it from above. 
 
 No whirlwind tear it from its rooted bands ; 
 
 Obedient to their master's high commands. 
 They spare the chosen plant he deigns to love. 
 So midst the tumult of this mortal state 
 
 While thunders burst around and storms assail. 
 
 The good man stands, with mind and brow serene ; 
 In cloud or sunshine still inviolate. 
 
 Confiding in a trust that cannot fail 
 A sacred Laurel, glad and evergreen.
 
 98 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Mortal ! at last what will it thee bestead 
 To stand aloft in Fame's proud vestibule. 
 When thou hast buffeted the long misrule 
 
 Of chance and trouble, and abroad hast spread 
 
 Thine earthly glory ? Hath it profited 
 That to the brave of old a laurel weed 
 The hand of Fame held forth, and did arced 
 
 The myrtle leaves to wreathe the Poet's head ? 
 
 A\'jthin the grave's dark cell how soon consume 
 Those myrtle leaves and wreathes of vanity, 
 
 AVhen death's cold breath has suck'd their rich 
 perfume ! 
 But in the blessed climate of the sky 
 
 Thou may'st attain those flowers that ever bloom. 
 And pour their fragrance thro' eternity.
 
 99 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Lo ! the world lies before thee ! look abroad. 
 Thou missioner of earth's perturbed scene. 
 From tlie higli station of a mind serene, 
 
 Unquell'd by dazzling shine, by gloom unaw'd ! 
 
 And lo ! where in majestic vision seen 
 The pyramid of Virtue towers sublime. 
 Its summit vcil'd with clouds of unborn time. 
 
 Freedom and Truth its stedfast base terrene. 
 
 Gird thy scrip round thee on the sure staff lean 
 Of singleness of heart, and, daring youth ! 
 
 With steady purpose let thy steps advene 
 That lofty object Freedom, ^irtue. Truth, 
 
 Then in calm death resign thy vanquish'd dust. 
 And yield in humble hope thy well-achieved trust.
 
 100 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 O not in fear, great Author of my days ! 
 
 I lift my voice to Thee O not in fear ! 
 
 But as a babe within the refuge dear 
 Of its fond mother's breast, its weak head lays ; 
 Asks not in prayer, nor tells its thanks in praise, 
 
 Yet finds support and comfort ever near 
 
 Its gratitude, a smile ^its prayer, a tear. 
 And still receiving gladness, still repays. 
 Thus in the bosom of thy tender care 
 
 I rest, O God ! this perishable dust. 
 Silent and blessed, nor with praise or prayer 
 
 Profane my pure unalterable trust ; 
 Where'er I am, enough that thou art there ', 
 
 Enough for me Thou art and Thou art just.
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 I. 
 
 O NEVER be the will to me denied 
 
 O'er nature's sweetest scenery to rove. 
 
 Nor let me, lost in vanity and pride. 
 
 Neglect the beauties of the world I love j 
 
 For in the lowly hut and shady grove 
 
 In life's calm vale, unknowing and unknown. 
 
 More joys and dearer pleasures shall I prove 
 
 Than those who circle mad ambition's throne. 
 
 And underneath the pomp of courtly bondage groan.
 
 102 STANZAS. 
 
 II. 
 
 And tho' auiid the city's murky pile 
 
 The slave of wealth each bliss serene forego 
 
 Thro' lust of gain, O be it mine the while 
 
 High seated on the mountain's tow'ring brow 
 
 To mark the summer landscape's deep'ning glow. 
 
 Or watch the pastimes of the village green. 
 
 And listen to the streamlet's distant flow 
 
 That meets my ear the wildwood strains between. 
 
 And gaze with melting eye, and bless the lovely scene. 
 
 in. 
 
 And often to recall long-passed things 
 My busy thoughts in memory let me send j 
 For very dear is he to me who brings 
 The precious likeness of an ancient friend ; 
 And much I love o'er scenes of youth to bend 
 When childhood's sports won all my tender heart : 
 Ah ! then does many a pang my bosom rend. 
 When, O my soul! with deep and deadly smart 
 I think on what thou wert and see what now thou art.
 
 STANZAS. 103 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sometimes pale fashion's crowded rooms I tread, 
 But much I loath the bright unmeaning show 
 Where blind ones lead who should themselves lie led; 
 Be they forgiven they know not what they do. 
 But man of reason and reflection, Thou 
 Wilt not within that place set up thy tent ; 
 Thou for far other purposes, I trow, 
 Down on this sphere by thy great king vvert sent, 
 Then shake a jingling bell and love thy merriment. 
 
 V. 
 
 Far more I choose, when Phoebe, gentle Queen, 
 Her pale car thro' the blue serene doth wheel. 
 From mirthful haunts to wander forth unseen 
 And when my swelling heart has room to feel. 
 To muse how God with mortal man doth deal 
 While he endureth in this low estate ; 
 How from ill deeds he canseth public weal. 
 And studying deep his sacred law debate 
 How mean and lowthc proud, how impotent the Jiroat.
 
 104 STANZAS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For dear the lore divine and sweet to learn 
 To trace all nature up to Nature's God ; 
 Far from the marts of men the step to turn 
 Where meek retirement holds her blest abode ; ' 
 There scan this globe, by countless creatures trod, 
 And all those creatures in their several sphere. 
 Explore those fires that all the heaven bestud. 
 And mark the skies and ever-varying year. 
 Till to the moral eye beauty and light appear. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Yes ! dear to me to range o'er Nature's scene. 
 O'er hill and dale to wander far and wide. 
 And walk and gaze and meditate between 
 In the calm coolness of the morning tide -, 
 Ere from the turf the sprinkled dew be dried. 
 And the young sun first speeds his rapid wain. 
 And springs aloft, exulting in his pride ; 
 Then be it mine to roam the silent plain. 
 And with the lonely thought large commune to 
 maintain.
 
 STANZAS. 105 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then thro' the cool wood's lofty colonnade 
 Or deep secluded valley let me roam. 
 And trace the grass green paths in forest shade. 
 Where the red wild-bee spreads his early hum. 
 Till to the mountain's awful height I come, 
 Down whose steep sides with waving heath flow'rsgay 
 The broken torrent hurls its eddying foam, 
 And dashes high in air its glittering spray, 
 Bestreak'd with rainbow dyes by tlic bright Lord 
 of day. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yet ere along that tall hill's side I rove. 
 
 First let me mark with no unpleasing care 
 
 Where many a little nursling of the grove 
 
 Lifts its soft foliage to the morning air ; 
 
 For sweet the pleasure that their form so fair 
 
 Into the soul transfuses primrose pale. 
 
 The cowslip's hue of delicacy rare. 
 
 The purple thyme, and Lily of the Vale, 
 
 And the rich-scented rose that loads the lingeriiiggale.
 
 106 STANZAS. 
 
 X. 
 
 And let the theme of Bards, the daisy pied. 
 
 That bows beneath the foot her modest head. 
 
 And clothes full many a field in flow'ry pride. 
 
 In bardic lore be aye remembered ; 
 
 The violet's bashful beauties too, that dread 
 
 The sun's intrusive ardour emblem meet 
 
 Of, the fair tenant of the lowly shed. 
 
 Who far from scenes where care and troubles beat. 
 
 Devote to heav'n and peace her sanctified retreat. 
 
 XL 
 
 Now up the path that gently winds along, 
 By mountain flocks with frequent footstep worn. 
 Either when sooth'd by shepherd's simple song 
 They climb the headland's height at early morn. 
 Or at the summons of the eve return. 
 When from the teeming west with cloudy hand 
 Sad night draws forth her canopy forlorn. 
 With slow and measured step my course I bend. 
 And the bleak fern-clad hill in thoughtful mood 
 ascend.
 
 STANZAS. 107 
 
 XII. 
 
 There as the rouser of the mountain roes. 
 His dogs gray-bounding in the mists of morn. 
 With horn and hound their paths of wind pursues. 
 O'er moor and moss and wilderness forlorn. 
 He views the mound, where oft the branching horn 
 Or sword that once has dar'd its thousand foes. 
 From the dark dungeons of the grave uptorn. 
 All mouldering round, the hallow'd spot disclose 
 Where by their three gray stones the brave of old 
 repose. 
 
 XIII. 
 They with the Lion-hearted chief of yore 
 Once pledg'd, perchance, their knighthood on the 
 
 rood. 
 To plant their banner on the renegade shore 
 Of Salem, chronicled in the book of God, 
 And in those paths that once their Saviour trod 
 To smite the Paynira's scymetar'd array 5 
 But past their day of strength ! Their knee is bow'd. 
 Their haughty head is humbled ! Wrapt in clay. 
 They sleep tlie sleep of death, where their forefathers 
 lay.
 
 108 STANZAS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 With slow descent from scenes like these I go 
 Where nature revels in her wild attire. 
 And thron'd majestic on the mountain brow. 
 Spreads the broad lake or bids the peak aspire. 
 Her milder sweeter beauties to admire. 
 To view the woodland range, the fruitful plain. 
 Where peace and banish'd happiness retire. 
 The latest relics of their rule maintain, 
 And spread their last faint beams amongst the sons 
 of men. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Lost to the world and to the world's low wrath 
 There may the friend of nature love to stray. 
 While flow'rs of pleasure strew his onward path. 
 And music pours her soul from every spray 5 
 His burthen'd heart shall cast its cares away, 
 Hang'o'er the beauteous scene it loves so well. 
 And still as gently sinks the closing day. 
 Within his hallow'd breast shall sweetly swell 
 Feelings without a name and thoughts he cannot tell.
 
 STANZAS. 109 
 
 XVI. 
 To him the clifF sublime, and mountain mass. 
 That to the heav'ns their tow'ring steepness raise, 
 The rural prospect's pure and simple grace. 
 The changing seasons, summer's fiery rays. 
 Or sultry autumn's rich and mellowing blaze. 
 The smile of spring, or winter's sour disdain. 
 Each a new page of Nature's book displays. 
 Whence his enraptur'd mind may well attain 
 A profit nothing mean and more than worldly gain. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Thence, soaring high on meditative wing, 
 Unearthly regions shall his soul explore. 
 And to the song of chaunting seraphs sing, 
 Who utter praise till time shall be no more ; 
 For a short season to that heavenly shore 
 His spirit, wishful there to dwell, shall fly, 
 And scorning this low spot to visit more. 
 Fain would her deathless energies employ 
 In lauding him above to all eternity. 
 Q
 
 no STANZAS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Yes ! still to thee, our Father and our King 
 Let the pure incense of our souls arise ; 
 And where so fervent shall that homage spring 
 As in thine own great Temple of the skies. 
 While all around thy good creation lies. 
 And all thy bounties in thy works we see ; 
 There teach our spirits early to be wise, 
 Tiiat tiiou art in all things, and all in thee. 
 That in thy wisdom Thou hast caus'd them all to be ! 
 
 1805.
 
 TO RUSSIA. 
 
 X HOU wide-ruling Queen ! whose extended domain 
 
 Encircles the uttermost Pole, 
 
 Where the storm and the merciless hurricane reign 
 
 And the thunders incessantly roll ; 
 
 O thou ! who for ages in darkness wert lost. 
 
 Of existence unconscious, and dead to renown. 
 
 While the souls of thy people were cold as thy frost. 
 
 Content on the seas of oblivion tost 
 
 To be drifted inglorious down. 
 
 Tho' deep were thy slumbers and dark was the night 
 
 That veil'd thine ineffable blaze. 
 
 Thou didst burst in an instant, O Russia, to light. 
 
 And the wide world look'd on with amaze. 
 
 In splendor majestic, and innocent state. 
 
 Midst the nations it saw thee triumphantly tow'r, 
 
 Thou didst mingle thy voice in the awful debate. 
 
 The weak gather'd under thy wing, and the great 
 
 Wither'd up at the sight of thy pow'r.
 
 112 TO RUSSIA. 
 
 Ye men of the desert ! Brave sons of the North, 
 
 Who rush like your wolves to the fight, 
 
 O stretch the dread arm of your puissance forth 
 
 And awaken your slumbering might ! 
 
 From your regions of darkness and ice-fetter'd lands. 
 
 With the mantle of winter for ever embrown'd. 
 
 Let the outcries of Liberty summon your bands. 
 
 For the pray'r of the righteous shall strengthen 
 
 your hands. 
 And your blood shall cry out from the ground. 
 
 And sweet o'er the moss-cover'd graves of your dead 
 
 Shall hymns of thanksgiving arise. 
 
 And posterity's blessings shall hallow the bed 
 
 Where the queller of tyranny lies. 
 
 Like the tempest that buffets the mountainous wave 
 
 Roll dauntlessly on the fair ranks of your pride. 
 
 Your array the last hope of the long-shackled brave. 
 
 Your leader the Being who only can save. 
 
 The Ruler of Battles your guide. 
 
 180G. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Priiit>d bj Tajlor, 6, Lamb's X^onduit Passage.
 
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