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 LYRA EBOEACENSIS 
 
 NATIVE LAYS.
 
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 LYRA EBOEACENSIS 
 
 NATIVE LAYS: 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 A BRIEF HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE SKETCH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ANCIENT CITY OF YORK, 
 
 FROM THE 
 CONQUEST OF SEVERUS. 
 
 WITH OTHER 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO. 
 
 MANCHESTER : BANCKS AND CO. YORK : JOSEPH MOXON. 
 
 1839.
 
 Josei)h Moxon, Parliament-street, York.
 
 
 TO THE 
 
 SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF EBOR, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 
 
 AS AN HUMBLE TRIBUTE TO HIS NATIVE CITY, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 He who appears before the world Avitliout the honours 
 of a titled name , or the protecting shield of patronage^ 
 has hut little chance of success. Like a rudderless 
 vessel he may float awhile at the mercy of every angry 
 billow, but will soon be cast a hopeless wreck on a 
 desolate shore, or be lost for ever in the gulph of 
 oblivion. How shall the man of ^vealtll listen when 
 the bard of obscurity sings ? How shall he be paci- 
 fied, whose first question, in reference to the new 
 applicant for favour, is, " In what college was he 
 educated ?" " What honours has he won ?" Will 
 not the heavy blow of iron-handed criticism send the
 
 VIU. PREFACE. 
 
 new invader reeling back into his obscurity^ and may 
 he not deem himself happy if that obscurity affords 
 him a shelter ? Such a fate may be mine. Educated 
 in no college, save that of -which all men are students, 
 and croAvned with no honours, except those of a honest 
 heart, I have but few claims to public favour. The 
 principal poem, in this volxmie, is entirely new. I feel 
 that I have not done justice to the subject ; but I 
 have gone even further than I at first intended. The 
 matter increased on my hands, and I shall feel satis- 
 fied with my reward if some other pen takes up the 
 theme and enlarges it as it deserves. To the many 
 friends who have kindly assisted me in this my first, 
 and in all probability my last publication, I beg to 
 return my gi-ateful thanks, especially to the gentleman 
 to whose kindness I am indebted for the loan of that 
 scarce and valuable work, " Drake's Eboracum," from 
 which I have taken nearly the whole of my notes.
 
 PREFACE. IX. 
 
 TLe minor poems were written at various times, 
 and under various circumstances ; some in the cham- 
 ber of sickness, others in the short hours stolen from 
 daily employment. These are not the outpourings of 
 an imagination nursed amid the sublimer scenes of 
 nature; the lofty hills — the heathery fells — the 
 swelling ocean — the mountain torrent — the placid 
 lake, haA^e had no influence on these lays. The 
 scenes and incidents of every-day life are alone re- 
 corded here. None of the pieces have had that careful 
 examination which leisure could alone bestow, but were 
 written almost within a given time, and are printed 
 without any subsequent alteration. There may be 
 little to praise and much to condemn. Such as they 
 are I present them to the world, to rise or fall as 
 public opinion may determine. Of the reader I ask 
 no reward but what he derives himself from the peru- 
 sal. Of the critic I ask not favour, but impartiality.
 
 X. PREFACE. 
 
 If the lyre on which I have so long doated be rudely 
 snatched from my hands and shivered to atoms, I 
 may at least console myself with the thought, that 
 my efforts, though unsuccessful, were also harm- 
 less and imblameable, and if instead of fame I win 
 contempt, I shall only miss that which I never aimed 
 at, and secure what I altogether despise. On the 
 other hand, if there be one shadow of gloom di-iven 
 away ; one hour of solitary weariness beguiled ; one 
 dormant feeling of charity and love awakened ; or 
 one unholy passion checked by the contents of these 
 pages, I shall not have Avritten altogether in vain, 
 nor ventxired beyond the confines of my retirement 
 without receiving my reward. 
 
 T. H. 
 
 York, March, 1839.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Ebor. Part I. Historical Page 5 
 
 Ebor. Part II. Descriptive 41 
 
 Notes to Part 1 81 
 
 Notes to Part II 100 
 
 Miscellaneous Poems — 
 
 Lines on the Departure of the Ship " Cove" Ill 
 
 Moonlight 115 
 
 To a dead Rose 118 
 
 Address to a little Blind Boy 123 
 
 Contemplations 127 
 
 To the decayed Trunk of a Tree 133 
 
 The Evening Hour 136 
 
 To the Heart's Ease 140 
 
 Lines on the Death of a Missionary 143 
 
 Village Musings 146 
 
 To my Sister 152 
 
 SoiTow for the Dead 157 
 
 The Burning Ship 160 
 
 The Playfellows 168 
 
 The Death of Wolfe 171
 
 xii. CONTENTS. 
 
 Life 175 
 
 Rambles 179 
 
 My Cousin's Grave 183 
 
 Sonnet 1(58 
 
 The Bark 190 
 
 On hearin<? the Bell of York Cathedral 194 
 
 To the New Year 197 
 
 Infoncy 201 
 
 Death 205 
 
 "Widow's Lament for her Child 210 
 
 To my Mother 215 
 
 Piece without a Title 218 
 
 "We knew her Heart was broken 224 
 
 To 227 
 
 Sonnet 230 
 
 The Emigrant 231 
 
 The Lastofhis Line 234 
 
 A Child at Prayer 23G 
 
 Lines on the Death of a Lady 238 
 
 Como 241 
 
 Lines to a Friend in Distress 245 
 
 The Mother 248 
 
 A Dirge 252 
 
 The Female Martyr 254 
 
 To Health 262 
 
 Hymn to the Deity ' 204 
 
 Morn 269 
 
 The Skylark 271 
 
 Sonnet 273 
 
 The Farewell 274
 
 EBOR: 
 
 AN HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE 
 POEM. 
 
 IN TWO PARTS.
 
 EBOR. 
 
 PAKT I. — Historical. 
 
 O Italy, how beautiful thou art! 
 Yet I could weep — for thou art lying, alas. 
 Low in the dust ; and we admire thee now 
 As we admire the beautiful in death. 
 
 Rogers.
 
 Subject proposed. Severos— his death. Constantius— his death and 
 deification. Constantine the Great. Tlie Saxons. Tlie Danes. Inva- 
 sion by the King of Norway. Battle of Stamford Bridge. AVilliam 
 the Conqueror. Seige of Yorli. Massacre of tlie Jews. Alexander, 
 King of Scotland. York and Lancaster. Charles I. Battle of Marston 
 Moor. Conclusion of first part. 
 
 Alas ! how transient is the blaze of power, 
 How soon it passes, like a meteor's ray — 
 Kingdoms arise and shine their little hour. 
 Then, like a fallen temple, sink away 
 Into the quiet slumber of decay ! 
 Leaving some sad memento still behind. 
 Some proud memorial of their brightest day, 
 "Which serves to show each meditative mind. 
 That earth and all its towers, to ruin are assigned ! 
 
 B 3
 
 6 SUBJECT PROPOSED. 
 
 Long years have past since Thou, old Ebor!' stood 
 The brightest city of this sea-girt isle ! 
 And Thou art lovely in thy AvidoAvliood, 
 Tho' bi-ighter suns have ceased on Thee to smile ; 
 Thou still hast beauties which may well beguile 
 The stranger's resting hours ; like Rome o'erthrown, 
 The broken pillar, the deserted aisle. 
 Are to the wondering tourist proudly shown, 
 As relics of the past, the glory Thou hast known ! 
 
 Of Thee, both past and present, would I sing, — 
 Justice and truth shall guard my humble \pe, 
 And as my fingers gently touch the string, 
 O may it vibrate with a fond desire 
 T' exalt Thy name ; and sparkle with the fire 
 "Which animates the heart allied to Thee ; 
 With no enthusiast's feelings I admire 
 Thy noble grandeur ! Thou art loved by me 
 ]\Iuch as a mother can by her own offspring be !
 
 SUBJECT PROPOSED. 7 
 
 Change comes to all things. Change has come to Thee, 
 And fallen art Thou from Thy pride of place ! 
 'Tis thus the works of man must ever be ! 
 The hand of time will silently efface 
 His mightiest labours ! scarcely can we trace 
 The spot where stood Thy palaces of yore, 
 Whose halls the splendour of a court did grace, 
 Whose altars Kings and Queens have knelt before ; 
 Kings, Altars, Courts have gone, they passed, and are 
 
 no more ! 
 
 But not alone Time's ruthless hand hath made 
 Its fearful imprint on Thy hoary brow ; 
 The swift destructive caimon ball hath laid 
 Thy strong-built towers and frowning ramparts low, 
 And darker days have seen Thy channels flow 
 With human blood ! Devouring fire hath done 
 Its work on Thee ! Thy relics still can show 
 The dangers thick thro' which Tliy race was run 
 To gain the wreath of fame which Thou hast proudly 
 
 won !
 
 8 SEVERUS— HIS DEATH AND BURIAL. 
 
 'Twas here tliat conq'ring Severus ^ paus' J awhile, 
 Sheathed his red sword and found his final rest ; 
 Victoriously he marched tliro' Britain's isle. 
 The fierce marauding Pict and Scot supprest ! 
 Yet, whilst triumphant feelings warmed his breast, 
 He saw that conquest was achieved in vain. 
 And, as death's darkening shadows round him prest, 
 'Twas thus he spake to his attendant train — 
 " That little urn must hold what earth could scarce 
 contain !" 
 
 Near to the spot where peaceful Ilolgate stands, 
 And three tall hills are pointing to the skies. 
 He was entombed — his own adventurous bands. 
 By labour, caused this monument to rise ; 
 His body here consumed before their eyes. 
 The closing scene was o'er, their leader dead. 
 Paid were the last sad rites and obsequies, 
 "When each man to his tent in silence sped, 
 To think of him who oft to war and conquest led !
 
 CONST ANTirS. 9 
 
 Soon tlie degenerate son ^ of Soverus fell 
 From his great father's ways, and madly slew 
 His younger brother, lest he should rebel 
 Against the tyrant's power ; he then withdrew 
 (Nor did our city weep the last adieu) 
 His courtly train to Rome, — unmoumed, he died ; 
 His soul that sense of honour never knew 
 To which his mighty parent was allied. 
 And justly deemed above his robe of regal pride ! 
 
 Then did fair Ebor own the gentle sway 
 Of good Constantius ! wisdom and peace 
 Shed round his sceptre a refulgent ray. 
 And bid barbarian broils and troubles cease ! 
 The glories of our country now increase. 
 And Roman splendours grace the imperial throne, 
 But soon the Emperor's spirit finds release, 
 When worth and justice in such brightness shone. 
 The proudest rites of Rome were to his body done.
 
 10 DEIFICATION OF CONSTANTIUS. 
 
 Within the porch of Ebor's palace fair, * 
 On ivory bed, in solemn silence laid 
 The prostrate king ! the features seemed to wear 
 The smile which good Constantius oft displayed ! 
 Females in robes of spotless white arrayed. 
 Princes in garbs of black their watches kept, 
 Physicians in attendant duty stayed, 
 As if the lifeless body had but slept. 
 Nor Death his darksome wing o'er his proud victim 
 swept. 
 
 "When seven days were ended, and no sign 
 Of animation in the corpse was found, 
 'Twas brought into the Forum to recline, 
 Whilst noble youths and virgins foir surround. 
 And break the gloomy stillness with the sound 
 Of lamentation and the dirfje of woe ! 
 Then was it carried to the sacred ground. 
 Laid on the pile where sparkling jewels glow. 
 And spices and perfumes complete the gorgeous show!
 
 CONSTANTINE THE GREAT. 11 
 
 Then came great Constantine ! (historians tell 
 That Ebor had the honour of his birth) 
 Heir and successor now, on whom there fell 
 A double portion of his father's worth ! 
 He lights the pile, ascending flames burst forth, 
 And shouts and prayers upon the winds arise. 
 As the freed eagle upward springs from earth, 
 And spreads his powerful pinions to the skies. 
 An emblem that the soul back to its Maker flies ! 
 
 Time past, and soon the Roman power forsook 
 The British shore ; its own triumphant state 
 Was by the hand of revolution shook. 
 The first faint threatenings of its future fate ; * 
 Then like a pack of hungry wolves thaj; wait 
 To seize their prey, the Picts and Scots came do^^^l, 
 And blood and slaughter scarce could satiate 
 Their thirst for power, and Ebor overthrown 
 Now fell from that proud height which it so long had 
 known !
 
 12 THE SAXONS. 
 
 "We may but briefly tell how Saxons came 
 To aid the Britons 'gainst their cruel foes, 
 And when they had in part repressed the flame 
 Themselves increased and triumphed in their Avoes ! 
 Then from their lethargy the natives rose 
 Against these treacherous t}Tants of their land, 
 Besieged the city and made good their cause ; — 
 Dust on each head, and fetters in each hand. 
 The Saxon chiefs await what justice may demand ! * 
 
 "Where is the British heart that could not show 
 (Tho' fiercest found in battle's bloody rage) 
 The light of mercy to a fallen foe. 
 And strive the captive's sorrow to assuage ? 
 So did Aurelius in that darken'd age, 
 To strike with sword of justice he forbore ; 
 Far nobler works the royal mind engage ! 
 The beauty of our city to restore 
 And free it from the garb of sadness which it wore !
 
 KING ARTHUR. 13 
 
 Then Arthur reign'd, whose inexperienced youth^ 
 Aroused once more the Saxon bands to war, 
 None thought that one so young could teach the truth 
 That British heroes when united are 
 Invincible ! when rebellions mar 
 A country's peace, then honour is unknown, 
 And blood and murder shrouds each rising star ! 
 So Arthur fell ! but ere his sun went doAvn 
 He rais'd old Ebor high and clothed it Avith renown ! 
 
 And now long years of strife and bloodshed past. 
 Whilst Ebor rose and fell and rose again ! 
 And doubt and darkness are around us cast, 
 Now kings by right and now by murder reign ! 
 We seek the cheerful torch of truth in vain 
 To guide us thro' the mists that now surround. 
 And onward pass to where the warlike Dane 
 First gained a footing on our British ground. 
 And is, bespilt with blood, Avithin our city found ! ' 
 
 c
 
 14 THE DANES. 
 
 One thousand years have nearly run their round 
 Since in our streets befel that fearful fray ! 
 Osbert and Ella midst the slain were found 
 And streams of blood, like rivers, rolled away ! 
 Sex, age, or rank no quai'ter found that day, 
 Mercy himg back, and Hope forgot to smile, 
 Havoc and rapine held their heartless sway, 
 Until our city was but one great pile 
 Of desolated ruins, and barbarian spoil ! 
 
 Now Godram governed here as deputy, ^■ 
 And dwelt where Ebor's palace still would claim 
 Some relic of the past (tho' none there be. 
 The place still bears the Danish chieftain's name). 
 Until the traitor Saxon Egbert came, '" 
 And ruled with cruel sway, when overthro^^Ti 
 By Iligsldge, he who raised a fearful flame 
 Among the people, now rebellious groAvn ; 
 Rigsidge was murdered here — Egbert regained the 
 cro\ni !
 
 ATHELSTAN HAROLD. 15 
 
 Victorious Athelstan next rose to power, " 
 Our little island conquered witli the sword, 
 Our castle burnt, lest it, some evil hour, 
 A shelter to the rebel should afford ; 
 And having peace into our land restor'd 
 In tranquil calmness ended here his Hfe ; 
 No grateful son received his parting Avord, 
 But Edmund wore the crown with danger rife 
 And soon again our shore was made a scene of strife ! 
 
 In Harold's reign the fierce Norwegian came, '' 
 And peaceful Ouse his warHke vessels bore ! 
 Then flew our men to arms their rights to claim, 
 And Fulford's field a bloody mantle wore ! 
 Our city too was doomed to change once more 
 Its masters for a time — not long their reign ! 
 Harold's advancing powers they fly before, 
 Yet ere they }^eld one effort make in vain 
 Their most unrighteous cause with slaughter to main- 
 tain ! 
 
 c2
 
 IG BATTLE OP STAMFORD BRIDGE, 
 
 Drawn up in place secure their armies wait 
 The dreadful doom that hovers o'er each head ! 
 O could they have foreseen their fearful fate 
 What sighs of soitow ! tears in sadness shed ! 
 Alas ! what m}Tiads have in battle bled 
 To gain a foot of earthy or sounding name ! 
 Say can such conquest light the dying bed, 
 Or yield a covering to the blush of shame ? 
 No ! blood-dyed is the -WTcath that proudest waniors 
 claim ! 
 
 Behold whole ranks of men in strength and pride 
 Near Stamford Bridge unbroken order keep ! 
 Let fancy picture them now side by side, 
 Ready their arms in human gore to steep ! 
 let humanity behold and Aveep ! 
 And those who govern contemplate the sight ! 
 What prize can honour, power, ambition reap 
 To cheer one moment that unhappy plight 
 When Murder stalks abroad and revels in the fight !
 
 BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE. 17 
 
 Then Harold left our city and advanced 
 To try his strength with this invading foe. 
 Twice sixty thousand Avarlike weapons glanced 
 And stood opposed, a sad yet glittering shoAv ! 
 Derwent's sweet waters 'twixt them gently flow, 
 One narrow bridge alone joins land to land ; 
 O who shall strike the first the signal blow ? 
 See ! where the tall Norwegian takes his stand, 
 Rears his gigantic form and lifts his powerful hand ! 
 
 Here like some huge Colossus does he form 
 The outward bai-rier, matchless and alone. 
 He waits the thunders of the gathering storm, 
 "Whilst proud defiance to the foe is thrown ! 
 O for some shepherd's boy with sling and stone 
 To slay this great Goliath ! who so bold, 
 "Where sixty thousand stand dismayed by one ! 
 Invincible by strength, unmoved by gold ! 
 So the brave Spartans kept Thermopylae of old ! 
 
 c 3
 
 ]8 BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE. 
 
 Lo ! from beneath the bridge he is assailed ! 
 By hand unseen the fatal blow is given ! 
 And stratagem succeeds where force had failed ; 
 Tlien are the hosts against each other driven. 
 And Avild war-whoops ascend from earth to Heaven ; 
 Swords loudly clash with swords, blow follows blow, 
 And fuiy fills each breast with madness riven ! 
 None cry for mercy, mercy none can show ! 
 And Derwent dyed with blood glares with a crimson 
 glow ! 
 
 The sun had reached its altitude, and yet 
 War was not weary of its work of blood ! 
 And when that sun at last in sorrow set 
 Appalled at its own work foul Mm-der stood ! 
 HoAv would grim Death like some fierce vulture brood. 
 And shake his flcshless arm with wild delight ! 
 And in the stillness of night's solitude 
 Coimt o'er the victims of that fatal fight. 
 And feast his ball-less eyes with that revolting sight !
 
 uarold's return to ebor. 19 
 
 Then Norway's routed ranks In terror fled, 
 Their King was slain by mighty Harokl's hand, 
 The treacherous Tosti too laid with the dead 
 That strewed in gory heaps the bloody strand ; 
 And thus they stood a wretched kingless band ! 
 Fit objects for the Conqueror's clemency. 
 He bade them go — scarce twenty sails expand ! 
 Tho' full five hundred pennants floated high 
 When first they sought the shore where now so many 
 lie! 
 
 Now Harold to our city turn'd again, 
 And victory smiling croA\Tied the hero's broAV ! 
 The air resounds with loud triumphant strain. 
 Where joyous revelries imboimded flow I 
 Whilst all the glory conquest can bestow, 
 And all the joys that hoary Christmas brings, 
 The manly sport, the bonfire's cheerful glow. 
 The well-filled goblet, all a gladness flings. 
 And Ebor with her bells a thousand welcomes rings !
 
 20 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 O Yictoiy ! fickle is thy fond embrace 
 Where'er thy fleeting footsteps chance to rest ! 
 How soon the finger on the wall may trace 
 The words that rankled in Belshazzar's breast. 
 And mirth and merriment at once supprest : 
 " Thy days are number'd ! foes are at thy gate 1" 
 The song is hushed ! and silenced is the jest ! 
 For lo ! the messenger without doth wait ! 
 William is on our shore, whilst Harold sits in state ! " 
 
 The cup is dashed untasted from the lip ! 
 To arms ! to arms ! once more is now the cry ! 
 Havoc again prepares her hands to dip 
 In human gore and rear her standard high ! 
 War on his bloody pinions hovers nigh, 
 To steep his talons in the flesh of man ! 
 Like some proud eagle circling from the sky 
 To snatch his helpless prey with cruel span ; 
 Again our coimtry weeps beneath that fearful ban !
 
 DEATH OF HAROLD, 21 
 
 To Hastings Harold hastened — there he fell ! 
 The Norman's arrow pierced his heated brain ! 
 Ebor right glad the invader to repel. 
 Soon found the effort would be made in vain ; 
 Then sought the Conqueror's clemency to gain, 
 Alas ! that clemency indeed was small ! 
 "When nought the tide of conquest could restrain. 
 How did the tyrant triumph in our fall ! 
 And mth unsparing hand in slavish chains enthrall ! ^* 
 
 Could Ebor hear the hateful fetters clank 
 Nor make one single effort to be free ? 
 Or coiJd her sons with slaves and bondsmen rank, 
 Or robbed of all their rights contented be ? 
 Ah no ! her spirit roused, again we see 
 Her foes beleaguered in their owa retreat. 
 Where fire and sword obtain the mastery. 
 And, castles stormed, with sword In hand they meet, — ^^ 
 Tlie sons of freedom tread the tyrants 'neath their feet !
 
 22 THE SIEGE OF EBOR. 
 
 Nor didst Thou sheath Thy sword, Ebor ! then. 
 Begirt for battle, watchful didst Thou stay. 
 Like some fierce lion of the forest, when 
 He hears afar the sounds of coming fray ! 
 Thou heard'st the Conqueror marching on his way 
 To lay Thee lower than Thou wert before ; 
 Yet undismayed Thou stood no easy prey. 
 When life in vain for mercy might implore. 
 And liberty the prize — say, who shall peace restore ? 
 
 Then war o'erwhelmed Thee, and on every side '^ 
 Let loose its fiery powers to bring Thee down. 
 Thou nobly stemmed the horrors of the tide, 
 And gazed unshaken on its darkening frown ! 
 Six lingering months Thy fearless front was sho^^^l, 
 Still unsubdued — the seventh saw Thee fall. 
 But not by man was Thy proud strength o'crthrown, 
 No human power Thy boldness could appal. 
 To famine didst Thou yield — who could withstand the 
 call?
 
 WALTHEOF. 23 
 
 E'en now imagination can descry, 
 The scene when foes were ranged on every side, 
 Methinks I see upon the ramparts high 
 Brave Waltheof pacing with majestic stride, 
 Dauntless his soul, he sees the prospect wide 
 O'erspread with Nonnan foes, yet of his heart 
 No pulse beats quicker, glowing with the pride 
 Of matchless strength, high resolutions start. 
 Sooner vdih his life's blood than with his honour part ! 
 
 The breach is widened and the foes advance, 
 But Waltheof like a giant stands the shock — 
 In vain they hurl the dart, and raise the lance. 
 His stalwart limbs are moveless as a rock ! 
 His poAvers alone their mightiest efforts mock, 
 He stands unhurt where dangers thickly fly ; 
 Until at last the people round him flock. 
 And for the bread of life in mercy cry. 
 Then Avas his soul subdued — he laid his glory by !
 
 24 THE FALL OF EBOR. 
 
 Tlien Ebor fell ! and liow great tlie fall ! 
 riungod in the deptlis of wretclied dark despair. 
 The tjTant's chains her freedom did enthrall 
 And left her prostrate and forsaken there ! 
 How fallen now is she who once was fair ! 
 How sadly smitten from her topmost height, 
 Farewell to glory— strangers now may share 
 Thy richest spoils ! enAATapped in gloomy night 
 Long years must pass ere Thou emerges to the light ! 
 
 And darkness dAVclt where all so late was brifrht, " 
 Where Sevcrus died and Constantine was bom, 
 Now darkly clouded Avas old Ebor's light. 
 And dashed the beacon that so high was borne ; 
 Like Samson, of its strength and glory shorn. 
 Dreary and desolate the city uoaa-. 
 By t}Tant's fangs and cruel despots torn, 
 Tlie "VATcath of glory pluck^^d from thy broAV, 
 " HoAA' is the mighty fallen" — " the lofty place made 
 low!"
 
 EBOB AGAIN EXALTED. 25 
 
 Years onward sped. Tliy darkness passed away, 
 And like tlie morning sun again Thou rose 
 Bright as at first. And kings again held sway 
 Within Thy courts and framed a nation's laAvs, 
 And kept in stem subjection all their foes 
 With rod of iron. Queens and princes laid 
 Their offerings on Thy altars, and their voavs 
 Muttered on bended knee, and Thou wert made 
 The spot where England's wealth and beauty were 
 arrayed ! '* 
 
 Now courtly feasts and revels went their round. 
 
 And Ebor with a royal splendour shone, 
 
 Here queens were woo'd and won, and kings were 
 
 crowned, 
 And knightly feats and deeds of valour done ! 
 And all the glory that surrounds the throne 
 Of England's monarch glowed refulgent here, 
 A nation's pride ! exalted and alone ! 
 The brightest where so many bright appear ! 
 City of cities Thou ! supreme ! without compeer ! 
 
 D
 
 26 THE MASSACRE OF THE JEWS. 
 
 Tliese were Thy palmy days, and liigli Thou stood. 
 Clad ill the mantle of Thy regal power ! 
 Nor little dreamt, that like the changing flood 
 Which ebbs and flows, now higher and now lower. 
 The tide would turn against Thee, and Thy hour 
 Of greatness be run out. Yet Thou wert fair ! 
 And all unconscious of the coming shower ; 
 So Is there oft a stillness in the air. 
 Ere the fierce storm outbursts which may be gather- 
 ing there ! 
 
 But there is a blot upon Thy brow 
 Which distant ages would in vain effticc ! 
 Alas ! that truth requires its record now ! 
 Fain would the IMuse in silence pass the place 
 So deeply darkened by Thy dire disgrace ! 
 When hellish bigotry sprung from its lair 
 And brought destruction to the Jewish race ! 
 As springs the fell Simoom in deserts bare 
 And overwhelms at once the hapless traveller there !
 
 THE MASSACRE OF THE JEWS. 27 
 
 AVhere shall the helpless sons of Israel fly," 
 When every arm is raised to stay their flight ? 
 When every ear is deafened to their cry, 
 And Hope long glimmering shrouds its feeble light ! 
 Or who describe the terrors of that night, 
 When the red firebrand blazed on every side ! 
 Men, women, children rush in wild affright 
 From their consuming homes, themselves to hide, 
 Tliat haply they may 'scape the dangers that betide ! 
 
 High on a hill, clad with embro^vning moss. 
 Stands Cliffbrd's hoary tower, o'erlooking where 
 The silvery Ouse is joined by sluggish Foss, 
 And both flow on, a river broad and fair ; 
 'Twas to this spot the Jews in wild despair 
 From their relentless persecutors fled ; 
 It was in vain ! their foes pursue them there ! 
 Thirsting for blood, tho' much had now been shed, 
 Alas ! they only were more eager to be fed ! 
 
 D 2
 
 28 THE MASSACRE OP THE JEWS. 
 
 And now like Jiickalls howling for their prey, 
 The lawless multitude the walls surrounds. 
 And the desti-uctive engine brought to play 
 Yclept a battering ram — back it rel)ounds, 
 The earth is shook — the air is filled with sounds 
 Of awful import, blood their constant cry ; 
 Here human beings turned to wild bloodhounds. 
 Had raised the crimson arm of vengeance high, 
 And priests took up the sword, and laid the mitre by ! 
 
 Within the walls, alas ! what bosoms bleed ! 
 What hopeless agony disturbs each breast ! 
 They offer wealth — wealth serves not now their need! 
 The storm v>'ithout still rages unreprcst ! 
 Then first the Jewish chief his band addrest. 
 Described the threatening ho rrors of their state. 
 And told how their forefathers stood the test, 
 Rather than to their foes resign their fate ; 
 And urged ere they should yield, themselves to immo- 
 late !
 
 THE MASSACRE OF THE JEWS. 29 
 
 Tho' ^\Tong the doctrine — the resolve Avas brave, 
 Then each unto his neighbour bade adieu ! 
 A death-doomed band, to fill one common orave ! 
 A parent's hands his offspring's blood imbue ! 
 A hopeless husband his own partner slew ! 
 A murdered mother by her children slept ! 
 Till high the gory heap of martyrs grew ! 
 So well the bond inviolate was kept, 
 Full fifteen hundred fell, unpitied, unbew^ept ! 
 
 Then was the brand imto the Tower applied. 
 That fire might finish what the SAVord besran ! 
 Whilst foes more fierce than fire on every side 
 Stood ready armed, to pounce on all who ran ! 
 Nor of that race escaped one single man ! 
 O truth most terrible ! it must be told 
 That future ages this dark deed may scan ! 
 O what a page for history to unfold ! 
 These were Thy sons, Ebor! and their motive— gold ! 
 
 D 3
 
 30 ALEXANDER OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 Enougli of this ! the mark is on Thy brow, 
 Like that which branded Cain ! with joy the Muse 
 Turns from the sickening sight of bloody to show 
 Scenes where far brighter suns their rays infuse, 
 And, mounting on tlie Aving of rapture, views 
 The meeting of the monarchs, when the King 
 Of Scotland came to Ebor, proud to choose 
 Third Henry's daughter, and his wealth to bring. 
 And lay it at her feet — a bridal oflfering ! ' 
 
 120 
 
 Then peace presided here, and Christmas games 
 And unrestrained carousals passed around, 
 Such as a King might share, and courtly dames 
 Fear not to join in — ^pleasures now abound. 
 And shouts of Avelcome through the air resound, 
 And bless the happy nuptials ! lovely pair ! 
 Kow in the glow of youth and rapture found ! 
 Seize while you can the bliss that may be there ! 
 Ye cannot tell how long those feelings you may share
 
 ALEXANDER OP SCOTLAND. 31 
 
 Thus these two kingdoms oftentimes at war 
 Xow laid aside the sword, and met in peace. 
 Determined nought their feast of mirth should mar ! 
 Commanding douht and discord once to cease. 
 The winds are hushed ! the Avaves their AATath appease! 
 And die in gentle murmerings on the shore ! 
 Alas ! hoAv soon the tempest may increase ! 
 And Avhirhvinds sweep along and billows roar, 
 And strife and bloodshed rise where all was calm be- 
 fore ! 
 
 Then Alexander went his way — and died. 
 As did his children ! the unhappy state 
 (That Bruce and BaUol might their rights decide) 
 Now rose in arms ! and history can relate 
 How long the kingdom bled from factious hate 
 And usurpation ! ours is but to show 
 That strife and calm succeed each other — fate 
 Rules by such laws diverse, the royal brow 
 Not always wears the croAA^n AA'hero pride and glory 
 glow !
 
 32 ItrCHARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Nor must we in our Iiaste forget to show 
 How second Richard did his love record ; 
 He, pleased to find such loyal feelings flow. 
 To William de Selhy gave his sword, ^' 
 That he in future should he titled Lord, 
 And hold the weapon as a mark of grace ! 
 O ! that it might have been to him restored 
 In Pomfret's cell I with cowards face to face. 
 Then had not one alive departed from that place ! 
 
 On rapid wing old Time pursued his flight, 
 And thrones were overtm-ned, and changes came 
 On things around ! Kings ruled not then by right 
 But by the arm of power upheld their claim ; 
 And soon burst forth the fierce-consuming flame 
 Of civil war ! whose devastating blast 
 Brought on our land destruction, death, and shame ! 
 Then was the sun of Ebor overcast. 
 How fcAv were scathless seen when that dread scourge 
 flew past .'
 
 YORK AND LANCASTER. 33 
 
 Then York and Lancaster, in deadly strife, 
 Unslieatlied the sword, and deluged all the land 
 With English blood ! alas, that human life 
 Should be so little counted of, and stand 
 An easy prey, "vvhen tjrrants give command I 
 Old Ebor poured her thousands to the field 
 Of ToA\i;on's gory plain ! where hand to hand 
 Men of one soil the battle axe did wield ! 
 O what a fearfiil sight tlie morrow's sun revealed ! 
 
 Who was to-day a king, now fled in fear ! 
 He who pursued himself ere long woiild flee ! 
 Thus different aspects did the nation wear, 
 And crowns and sceptres changed their master}' ! 
 Now had our city lost its high degree, 
 And kings no longer dwelt within its towers. 
 Yet was it ever first in loyalty, 
 And for its rulers used its ready powers ! 
 So will it ever do when threatening danger lowers !
 
 34 CHARLES THE FIRST AT YORK. 
 
 Forsook by fortune and pursued by fate. 
 Hither unhappy Charles for refuge fled. 
 And here he found a ready advocate : ^^ 
 The sons of Ebor willing to be led 
 By him whom they acknowledged as their head 
 And lawful sovereign ! high in the air 
 The flag 'neath which they had so often bled 
 Flapped to the breeze ! and hung a token there 
 That war now once again his " red right arm" would 
 bare ! 
 
 Behold a nation with itself at war ! 
 A king bcseiged by his own subjects here ! 
 The cannon's roar borne by the breezes far 
 The news of bloodshed thro' the valleys bear ! 
 When steel-clad men in warlike ranks appear, 
 And bring destruction o'er a smiling land, 
 How is the peasant's bosom filled with fear 
 Of mangled corses, weltering on the strand 
 Where meadows brightly bloom and golden charms 
 expand !
 
 BATTLE OF MAllSToN MOOU. 35 
 
 The noontide heat was past. The balmy breeze 
 Brought health and fragrance as it murmured by, 
 The woodland rover sought his native trees, 
 And twilight's shadows gathered in the sky, 
 The star of evening as it climbed on hisdi 
 Seemed like an angel from its station peeping, 
 Oh ! on an eve like this did warriors lie 
 On Marston Moor ! their silent watches keeping, 
 Or, with their ai-ms prepared, in fitful slumbers sleeping ! 
 
 And morning da^vncd. In brightness rose the sun, 
 And in his golden chariot kept his way. 
 As if no deeds of blood were to be done 
 Ere he had reached the western point of day ! 
 The lark took wing, and with his cheerful lay 
 First bade him welcome. Far off might be seen 
 The towers of Ebor glittering in the ray ! 
 How fair and lovely would the sight have been 
 Had not that arm^d host spread ten'or o'er the scene !
 
 36 BATTLE OF MARSTON MOOR. 
 
 Then canie the shock of war, Avhen armies meet 
 
 In dread collision. Cannons loudly roar 
 
 And from their mouths spout death ! The soldier's 
 
 feet « 
 
 Tread on his fallen comrade, passing o'er 
 To fill his empty place. "With human gore 
 The earth is slippery, and the dying groan ! 
 The living heed them not, hut as before 
 Press to the slaughter — soon themselyes to moan 
 When they by others fall, intent on blood alone .' 
 
 'tis a fearful sight to see arrayed 
 Whole ranks of men on murderous war intent. 
 E'en when advancing foes our coasts invade, 
 Or aid to some more helpless power be sent ; 
 But when the subjects of one king are bent 
 On the dcstmction of each other there, 
 And family circles are by faction rent. 
 And kinsmen kinsmen to the battle dare, 
 The soul ^ith horror starts, and weeps in wild despair !
 
 THE FALL OP EBOR AND OF CHARLES. 37 
 
 Now on the field of Marston victory hung. 
 Long undecided. When the day went do^vn, 
 The fierce Cromwellian with triumphant tongue 
 Proclaimed a rightful king was overthrown, 
 And laughed to scorn the honours of the croAvn. 
 Nor could old Ebor long its rights maintain, 
 Tho' Glemham bravely fought and won renown ;^^ 
 Proud triumph followed the usurper's train, 
 Justice, where wert thou ? we search for thee in vain ! 
 
 Thus Charles his sceptre lost. Well had it been 
 Had this sufficed, but soon, alas ! was reared 
 The scaffold high, whereon to act a scene 
 More dark than all that had so dark appeared. 
 Worse than the gloomiest thoughts had ever feared. 
 age of wisdom ! fair indeed the sound — 
 Your Monarch murdered, then as saint revered ! 
 Far from our shores such hellish deeds be found, 
 And far that reckless heart where thoughts Uke these 
 abound ! 
 
 E
 
 3H coxcLrsiox- 
 
 Our traiilc sontj is ended, and the Muse 
 Pleased to its tale of blood to say farewell, 
 A more delightful task in prospect views^ 
 Where calmer scenes and brighter suns dispel 
 The clouds that himg around it like a spell; 
 And, gentle Reader, if not weary too. 
 Invites thee onAvard, A\hilst we strive to tell 
 What now is left in Ebor fair to view ; 
 But if already tired, to thee we bid adieu ! 
 
 ZSD OF I'AKT ].
 
 E B O R. 
 
 PART IT.— Descriptive. 
 
 Cities and towns, the various haunts of men. 
 Require the pencil ; they defy the pen : 
 Could he who sang so well tlie Grecian fleet 
 So well have sung of alley, lane, or street ? 
 Can measured lines these various buildings show, 
 The Town-hall I'urning, or the Prospect Row 'i 
 (,'an I the seats of wealth and want explore. 
 And lengthen out my lays from door to door ? 
 
 Crabbe.
 
 General survey of the City. The Minster, its burning. St. Jlary's Abbey. 
 School for the Blind. Liuiatic Asylum. Collegiate School. Assembly 
 Rooms. Theatre. St. Leonard's. JIansion House and Guildliall. The 
 Ramparts. The Castle. Eugene Aram. Tlie River Ouse. Conclusion. 
 
 City of Chui-clies ! beautiful art Thou ! 
 With all Thy steeples pointing to the sky ! 
 When from some neighb'ring hill's ascending brow ' 
 We gaze upon Thee ■with affection's eye, 
 'Tis sweet to see Thee in the sunbeams lie, 
 Stretched out in calmness placid and serene, 
 Whilst some tall vessel, gliding slowly by. 
 Shows where Thy sparkling waters intervene. 
 And gives a lively change refreshing to the scene ! 
 
 E 3
 
 42 THE MINSTER. 
 
 High o'er the rest the noble JMinster rears 
 Its towers exalted ! venerable pile ! 
 The master-piece of art ! the ■work of years ! 
 The ark of glory ! pride of Britain's isle ! 
 The ■wonder of a ■world ! the first in style. 
 Shape, workmanship, and grandeur ! beauty's mould, 
 To whom the tourist hastes to gaze awhile, 
 And stands surprised to see the works unfold 
 More than his mind conceived, or to his ear was told ! 
 
 Majestic pile ! magnificent and vast ! 
 Rearing in silence thy high towering head ! 
 Clothed in a solemn gi-andeur unsurpassed. 
 And glory, o'er a world's wide surface spread ! 
 Thy sounding floor hath felt the stately tread 
 Of sceptred monarchs in far bygone days. 
 In thee repose our brave and noble dead. 
 In thee the living lift the voice of praise. 
 And songs of adoration to Jehovah raise !
 
 THE MINSTER. 43 
 
 Where is the princely train that once did pay 
 Their vows of duty at thy sacred shrine ? 
 Allj like some fleeting vision, passed away, 
 Yet thou continues in thy might to shine ! 
 And shall whilst generations still decline ; 
 When all the voices echoing through thy walls 
 Are hushed for ever, and to death resign 
 Their sweetest songs ! race after race thus falls. 
 But thou still lifts thy head, and former days recalls ! 
 
 Thou wert not made at once, a mortal's days 
 Are far too short to build a house like thee ! 
 Thrice fifty years were short enough to raise ^ 
 The glorious temple of thy majesty ! 
 Not one man's mind conceived what thou shouldst be. 
 But many bright imaginings burst forth 
 To make the mighty monument we see ! 
 Who saw the dawning of thy earliest birth 
 Beheld not thy completion, Lion of the North !
 
 44 
 
 THE MINSTER. 
 
 And Avhen the topstone was brought forth witli sliouts 
 What congregated thousands woukl be thero ! 
 Banished afar divisions, fears, and doubts. 
 The scene would one triumphant aspect wear ! 
 Then came the dedication and the prayer, 
 The stretching forth of hands, like him of okl 
 With wliom in wisdom none might now compare, — 
 " Ho^v shall the house which I have builded hold 
 Thee, whom the Heaven of Heavens can not enfold !"' 
 
 Five hundred years hath thy gigantic fonn 
 Withstood unshaken Time's subduing: test ! 
 The forked lightning and the raging storm 
 Have poured their fuiy on thy passive breast ! 
 But yeai's have only -woven round thy crest 
 The ■WTcath of veneration, and reveal 
 Thy indestructibility ; or rest 
 Upon thee like the mantle that may steal 
 Around some lovely form, yet not its charms conceal !
 
 THE MINSTER. 45 
 
 If viewed afar, thou seems a beacon high 
 Lifting to Heaven thy lofty towers, to show 
 That man's best hopes should reach beyond the sky, 
 And flee this world of wickedness below ; 
 To teach the wanderer, weary, sad, and slow. 
 There may a place of refuge safe be won ; 
 The covenant of life ! like that fair bow 
 Which on a deluged world in brightness shone, 
 "Whose radiance fills the skies when passing storms 
 have gone ! 
 
 If standing near, we gaze with wondering eye, 
 what a mighty fabric dost thou seem ! 
 Like Jacob's ladder reaching to the sky. 
 For angels to descend, as in the dream ! 
 Or if the rising sun's refulgent beam 
 With glory gUds thy cloud-aspiring crest. 
 Or Luna's trembling rays in brightness gleam 
 Among thy pinnacles, still art thou blest ! 
 Afar or near, we deem thee richest ! rarest ! best !
 
 46 THE INTERIOR. 
 
 And Avlicn we ontcr hoAV the soul aspires 
 To leave its clay for yonder blest abodes ! 
 How every wrathful feeling l)ack retires. 
 As now wc tread the ground which martyrs trod ! 
 " This is none other than the House of God !" 
 And whispering, " It is good, Lord, to be here !" 
 We meekly bow before His righteous rod. 
 And feel the fulness of His presence here, 
 He lifts us from the dust, " 'Tis I, why do ye fear ?" 
 
 Some portion of our blessed Saviour's life 
 Each ray of light that enters still reveals ! 
 Or shows some spot with sweet instruction rife 
 As round the sculptured monuments it steals ! 
 The humble worshipper in silence kneels, 
 His heart expanding with adoring praise ! 
 Ah ! who may toll the extatic bliss ho fools. 
 As in this mighty temple ho shall raise 
 A prayer to Him who reigns througli ovorlasting days !
 
 THE MONUMENTS. 47 
 
 Ilaik ! how that still small voice now seems to flow 
 From yonder tomb of consecrated worth ! 
 The bones of pious Sterne repose below, 
 His dust commingling Avith his mother earth, 
 In hope of future glory ! blessed birth ! 
 To be re-boni and fitted for the skies ! 
 Pause, stranger ! check thy unbecoming mirth, 
 Learn from the dead, Avhilst living, to be wise ; 
 Hast thou this future hope,— in glory to arise ? 
 
 See where the honoured patriot Saville stands. 
 And seems about to plead his country's cause ! 
 Each better feeling of the heart expands. 
 And fain would join to heal a nation's woes ! 
 Oppression skulked when mighty Saville rose. 
 Whilst truth and justice strengthened every nerve ! 
 Learn, thou, avIio in this spot may briefly pause, 
 Ne'er from the path of rectitude to swerve. 
 Go, first thy country's God, and then thy country 
 serve !
 
 48 THE MONUMENTS, 
 
 IIow solemn is this spot ! where'er we turn 
 We see some record of the worthy dead ! 
 Tlie modest tablet, or the sculptured xrni, 
 Wlicreon some word of warning may be read ! 
 Short are our days — and when those days are sped 
 What serves our wealth, our fame, our talents here ? 
 These had them all — what then ? life still hath fled! 
 Yet memory weaves above each honoured bier 
 A wreath which future days shall hasten to revere ! 
 
 Cold is the heart, and barren is the mind 
 That feel no rapture in this holy place ! 
 Which can no soul-inspiring precept find, 
 Tliough silence reigns through far-extending space ! 
 Or fail within these lofty Avails to trace 
 That Omnipresence which doth surely fill 
 This temple, and confronts us face to face ! 
 O call it superstition, what you will. 
 Idolatry, or worse — here would I linger still !
 
 THE OUQAN. 49 
 
 Hark ! how the pealing organ strikes the ear ! 
 What mighty sounds throughout the vastness roll ! 
 The voice of adoration rising here 
 To Him whose power is spread from pole to pole ! 
 Who built the Heavens ! whose hand doth still 
 
 control 
 The stars, and guides the planets on their way ! 
 Join in the worship, my wondering soul ! 
 And with these sounds ascend to praise and pray, 
 Where righteousness, and love, and mercy mildly 
 
 sway ! 
 
 Who that hath seen this mighty fabric filled, 
 E'en to the roof, Avith an attentive throng, 
 Whose hearts with ecstasy unbounded thrilled 
 With all the harmony of sacred song ! 
 Who that hath stood the glittering crowd among^ 
 And heard a thousand instruments unite 
 To pour the tide of melody along. 
 Can e'er forget the force of sound and sight ? — 
 31ortality seemed lost in rapturous delight ! 
 
 F
 
 50 THE AISLES. 
 
 Yet not more glorious did tliis place appear^ 
 Not more impressive tliis stupendous pile, 
 ^V'^lien Ebor's festival was echoed here. 
 Than -svlieu we pace alone this sounding aisle ; 
 Or stand entranced to contemplate awhile 
 The lengthening vista stretched before me now, 
 Where feeble sunshine Avculd the gloom beguile. 
 Reflecting through the glass a crimson glow, 
 And where the vesper songs of heavenly sweetness 
 flow ! 
 
 Tiiou, whose presence fills the vast expanse ! 
 Whose eye can pierce the shade, whose ear, the 
 
 sound, 
 
 1 feel the terror of Tiiv searching glance. 
 As tremblingly I tread this holy ground ! 
 It is not that alone Tiiou here art fouTid, 
 This feeling comes upon me, everywhere 
 Tiiou art ! above, beneath, afar, around ! 
 
 But this 'I'liY clioicest blessing seems to share. 
 The Holiest of AH. for sacrifice and prayer!
 
 THE FIVE SISTERS. 51 
 
 Rich are those noble whulows, said to be 
 The gift of five fair sisters ! * goodly band ! 
 Joined in a v.ork of love and piety, 
 A lasting record of their worth to stand ! 
 Their names, their lineage, or their native land 
 Are lost to fame ; this monument would say, 
 Joined in affection's circle, hand to hand, 
 Tliey " kept the noiseless tenor of their way," * 
 And lived, and loved, and died beneath religion's 
 sway ! 
 
 But other scenes the eye hath witnessed here. 
 When the red flames in fierceness blazed around ! 
 "When every heart was filled with anxious fear 
 That Ebor's pride would desolate be found ! 
 How strange, but yet how true that fearful sound, 
 " The jMinster is on fire !" How soon it flew, 
 Swifter than courier skims the level ground. 
 Until to sad reality it grcAv, 
 And high ascending flames declared it to the view 1* 
 
 • Gray. 
 F 2
 
 ')2 THE BURNING. 
 
 say in what daik soul had sprung the thought ! 
 What impious hand had dared to Hght the flame, 
 What power malignant such destmction A^TOught, 
 What ^nld enthusiast earned an endless shame, 
 And through enduring years a scofF became ? 
 Unhappy IMartin ! thine the reckless deed ! 
 Yet who thy sacrilegious act can blame ? 
 Thou knew not what thou didst ! or wherefore heed 
 The yearnings of a mind which Reason may not lead ! 
 
 Full of his dark intent, the maniac crept 
 Behind the tomb where Grcncficld's ashes are. 
 And while the guardian powers of Ebor slept, 
 He rose, like some foul serpent from his lair, 
 For his abhorrent purpose to prepare ! 
 'Twas midnight hour ! and almost might he hear 
 His own heart beat amid the silence there ! 
 He trembled not, he thought no danger near ! 
 How can a madman's heart be overwhelmed by fear !
 
 THE BURXIXG. 53 
 
 The pile is ready — ready is the brand ! 
 The fell assassin now approaches nigh ! 
 He looks around, l)ut none may stay his hand ! 
 Ye slumbering spirits ! could ye silent lie ? 
 And sceptred kings ! why stood ye silent by ? 
 O had a momentary power been given, 
 How would the midnight depredator fly ! 
 Then had our glorious temple not been riven ! 
 Nor such a reckless deed been seen by Earth or 
 Heaven ! 
 
 But see the fire ascends ! the deed is done ! 
 The reddening flames amid the darkness play ! 
 The maniac turns, and looks with joy upon 
 His fearful work ! such fiendish joy as may 
 Have thrilled the breast of Nero, on the day 
 When Rome was blazing by his own command ! 
 NoAv, reckless madman ! go thy secret way ! 
 Sleep on, ye sons of Ebor ! woe's at hand ! 
 Ye Avake, and weep to find what sorrow fills the land ! 
 
 F 3
 
 54 THE BURNING. 
 
 Then lent each hand its ready aid to quell, 
 And every heart breathed forth a secret prayer, 
 None stayed to ask, for none, alas ! could tell 
 Whence sprung the flames which raged in fierceness 
 
 there ! 
 Our father's house so beautiful ! O spare ! 
 And stay thy fury, thou threatening fire I 
 In vain we plead, high in the reddening air 
 TVe see it wildly rise, an aspect dire ! 
 The ixiin of our hopes ! our eyes' supreme desire ! 
 
 The matchless organ is consumed ! at length 
 The roof has fallen ! and the flames no more 
 Can grapple with the giant in his strength ! 
 Their work is done, their devastation o'er ; 
 The bulwarks are unshaken ; avcII they bore 
 The biiint of battle, yet doth many a scar, 
 (Seal's not unknown to thee in days of yore, 
 And Avhich but for a time thy beauty mar,) 
 Declare the fearful strife of that unholy Avar !
 
 THE BURNING 55 
 
 There stood our roofless temple ! who could gaze 
 "With tearless eye upon the rumed scene ? 
 The house devoted to eternal praise, 
 So fair, so proud, majestic, yet serene. 
 Is now the spot where desolation's heen, 
 And left its impress ! O it was a sight 
 To cause the pang of grief to intervene ! 
 The object of our love in woful plight, 
 Like some huge oak that's rent by lightning's scathing 
 blight ! 
 
 Past is the scene, and past the ruin there ; 
 For ready was each hand Avith golden ore, 
 The temple of our worship to repair. 
 And all its pristine beauty back restore ; 
 The sounds of praise reverberate once more. 
 The mighty organ thrills the wondering ear ! 
 Scarborough ! wert thy name unknown before,* 
 It is entablatured for ever here. 
 And coming ages will thy generous gift revere !
 
 ;■>() ST. Mary's abbey. 
 
 Church of St. Peter ! we have Hngered long 
 Beneath thy roof, the parting now must be ; 
 Right worthy art thou of far nobler song, 
 A more exalted strain of minstrelsy ! 
 Such as I have I can but offer thee. 
 Would it Avcre more ! more famed the lowl}^ bard, 
 Though not inspired with more sincerity ; 
 We deem the subject its oAvn great rcAvard ; 
 But now must say farcAvell ! may angels be thy guard ! 
 
 On yonder rising ground of verdant green. 
 Whose soft decline embanks the flowing stream. 
 The mins of St. IMary may be seen, 
 And of departed days a record seem. 
 The roofless walls receive the sun's fair beam 
 Which shows the dreary desolation there ! 
 Yet worth a moment's pause may strangers deem 
 The solenm text its broken front doth bear, — 
 Time still shall overturn, though mortals may repair !
 
 ST. Mary's abbey. 57 
 
 "What change hath Time wrought here ! thy hoary 
 
 brow, 
 Deserted Abbey ! wrinkled o'er by age, 
 Seems with engraven characters to glow, 
 To test the glory of historic page ! 
 Consuming fire and wrathful battle's rage 
 Have held thek devastating revels here ! 
 A crumbling shell may noAV our thoughts engage ; 
 Thus do the mightiest works of man appear ! 
 And pensive minds Avould still each ruin grey revere. 
 
 No more these walls with solemn mass resound. 
 No gloomy recluse courts retirement here, 
 No mitred abbot spreads his fame around. 
 And seeks the home of poverty to cheer ; 
 The hungry here were fed, the falling tear 
 Wiped by the hand of charity away. 
 The houseless sheltered from the storm severe ; 
 Abbots, monks, and mendicants ! Avhere are they ? 
 All, like this pile of ruin, fallen to decay !
 
 58 ST. Mary's abbey. 
 
 Yet, gazing on tliis desolated pile, 
 What scenes tlie imagination brinjis to view 
 From England's history ! pause awhile, 
 Unthinking stranger ! ere thou bidst adieu. 
 And at the unfailing Avell of tmth renew 
 The deeds of fonner days ! Rufus the Red/ 
 lie whom false TjTrel in the forest slew, 
 This abbey founded first ! what years have sped 
 Since solemn masses here for his repose Avere said ! 
 
 But like its founder, soon the building fell. 
 When raging fire destruction spread around, 
 Simon de WarAvick reared, as records tell. 
 These lofty arches on the self-same ground ; 
 What tales of days departed might abound. 
 Had these grey stones a voice to charm the cars ! 
 What crowded recollections Avould be found 
 Among the relics of six hundred years ! 
 A hoary chronicler this shapeless mass appears !
 
 .ST. m.vry'.s abbf.y. 59 
 
 King Stephen sate on Lis uncertain throne 
 
 When these grey Avails were reared. Plow many kings 
 
 Since then down to the sepulchre have gone, 
 
 Whom memory noAv before the vision brings ? 
 
 Hark ! Berkeley with the cry for mercy rings ! 
 
 And Pomfret echoes to the call in vain ! 
 
 KoAv " crooked-back Richard" slays the helpless 
 
 things 
 He should protect, the more secure to reign ! 
 But vengeance overtakes on Bosworth's bloody plain ! 
 
 The convent-cannibal * arises now. 
 To flit one moment on the chanceful scene ! 
 V And Mary, when the fires of Smithfield glow 
 And martjTS meet the stake, now comes between ! 
 A Stuart's AATOngs, a nation's crime, are seen. 
 And Cromwell grasps the rudder ! kingless state ! 
 The solitary instance that hath been, 
 And 0, Ave trust, the last that shall aAvait 
 The land where British hearts in love would emulate ! 
 
 * Henry the Ei^^litli.
 
 60 THE MUSEUM — SCHOOL FOR THE BLIND. 
 
 These pass in quick succession, all are gone ! 
 And silence dwells ■within this solemn place, 
 Where Meditation loves to be alone, 
 And sweet Philosophy delights to trace 
 The wondrous works displayed upon the face 
 Of this great globe ; see ! there her temple stands,® 
 And rears its modest front in simple grace ! 
 There rest the treasures of far distant lands, 
 There Genius plumes her wings, soars, triumphs, and 
 expands. 
 
 Now let us pause to contemplate awhile 
 The house on which a deathless name is set,^ 
 Where sons of darkness may be seen to smile, 
 And Blindness learn its sorrow to forget ! 
 Great Wilberforce ! 'tis thou ! whose name is yet 
 To love united, and must ever be ! 
 This lowly spot, where hope and joy have met. 
 More than the loftiest monuments we see 
 Bespeaks the first, the best, great attribute of thee !
 
 THE ASYLUM. Gl 
 
 Cliiklren of darkness ! heavy though your loss, 
 Are there not blessings still for you in store ? 
 What, though no rays of light your vision cross, 
 Your hands are taught to yrork, your minds to soar ! 
 Imagination may at mil explore 
 The boundless realms of thought ! and ye are told 
 Of all that Christ on earth for sinners bore. 
 Of all the glories that ye shall behold 
 When Heaven before your eyes its riches shall im- 
 fold! 
 
 Not so with those who dwell within yon walls 
 Which ring with sounds that fill the ear Avith pain ! 
 Where some poor maniac in his madness calls. 
 And strives to rend the bonds which would restrain ; 
 Or thinks himself a king, and bids in vain 
 His vassals do his will ! alas, how low 
 Is human nature fallen ! ne'er again 
 To feel the fire of Genius inly glow. 
 Though intellect has stampt its impress on the brow ! 
 
 G
 
 62 TUE COLLEGIATE SCHOOL. 
 
 what a sight for mortal man to see ! 
 Who would not weep each woe to contemplate ! 
 Profoundest depth of himian misery ! 
 A ship'S'VTecked mind, drear, dark, and desolate ! 
 Heaven preserve us from so dark a fate ! 
 And spare the precious hoon which Thou hast given ! 
 Shroud not the light thou didst Thyself create ! 
 Let not the soul hy tempests dark he driven^ 
 Like tropic climes afar hy wild tornadoes riven ! 
 
 But sec ! a nobler vision channs the sight ! 
 Learning's fair temple rears her lofty brow ! 
 Here AVisdom sits on her exalted heijiht. 
 And from her lips eternal precepts flow ! 
 "While truth and genius^ like a halo, glow 
 Each piiniacle above ! here youth is taiicfht 
 To tread, perchance with toilsome step and slow, 
 The rugged path with richest treasures fraught. 
 And gras]) the shadowy form born of each giant thought !
 
 ASSEMBLY ROOMS AND THEATRE. 63 
 
 Nor must -vvc pass unsung the noble fane, '° 
 Sacred to music and the festive dance ! 
 "Where Beauty's charms display the jewelled train. 
 And noble hearts are Avon by Beauty's glance ! 
 The portals passed, as forward we advance. 
 The Eg3'ptian hall stands opened to the view ! 
 Where chaste design the pleasure Avould enhance 
 Of that gay throng ! say, whence the structure grew ? 
 Great Burlington, 'tis he to whom the praise is due ! 
 
 And yonder stands the long low portico 
 
 Whose simple style is named from " good Queen 
 
 Bess !" 
 There would the tragic or the comic show 
 The foibles of the foolish ajje redress ! 
 Ah ! could they make our sins, our sorrows less. 
 Then had not SIddons won applause in vain ! 
 Nor crowds of pleasure- loving people press 
 To see the stately mock-imposing train. 
 Depicture living scenes and teach a moral plain ! 
 
 G 2
 
 64 ST. Leonard's — the mansion house. 
 
 St. Wilfred's and St. Leonard's ! Aviiere are tliey ? 
 In searcli of them Ave vainly look around ! 
 The church — the hospital — gone to decay. 
 Some scattered relics now alone are foimd 1 
 The grim old statue in the vaulted gi-ound, 
 Or the worn cloisters of ignoble use. 
 Point out the spot where alms did once abound. 
 And charity no call for help refuse ; 
 Now less inviting scenes the eye in Avonder views ! 
 
 Upon yon noble mansion let us gaze. 
 Where cheerful comfort more than splendour reigns ; 
 Its high and open front at once displays 
 Tlie generous board its generous Lord maintains ! 
 No sordid miser here the poor disdains, 
 But wealth without a grudge gives of its store, 
 And justice listens Avhen the weak complains; 
 O say, shall party clamour bar the door— 
 Hence, thou revolting thing ! and here be heard no 
 more !
 
 THE GUILDHALL THE KAMPAUTS. C5 
 
 Tradition saj-s that in this Golliic hall 
 Whose vast dimensions stretch before the eje, 
 "Was paid the purcliase of a Stuart's fall, 
 "When Scotland lost all claiin to chivalry ! " 
 Gold more than glory, wealth than honour high. 
 Was their intent ! most abhorrent deed ! 
 The price of blood was paid, and Charles must die ! 
 Unworthy of a king, they soon were freed 
 From him, their native king ! no kindi'ed ties they 
 heed .' 
 
 Now let us take upon the ramparts high. 
 As I have loved to do at midnight hour-. 
 Our solitary Avalk ; Avhen all things lie 
 In sweet forgetfulness, and on the toAver, 
 The steeple, and the stream, the moonbeams pour 
 Their pensive light, unbroken and serene ! 
 And not a breeze, to wave the tenderest floAver 
 That rears its modest stem of purest green. 
 Breaks, Avith its rustling Avings, the stillness of the 
 
 scene ! 
 
 G 3
 
 66 THE RAMPARTS. 
 
 These grey groAvn ramparts ! '^ often have they stood 
 The rage of battle 'mid loud cannons' roar ! 
 Oft have these stones been dyed with human blood, 
 "When every tower war's cruel ensign Avore ! 
 Past are these fearful scenes ! never more 
 May Ebor's sun be clouded by such woe ! 
 But Peace, her halcyon wings extending o'er 
 Our much-loved country, spread her Avelcome glow 
 To light the wreath of fame around fair Ebor's brow ! 
 
 O distant far be that relentless hand 
 That would these faithful relics overthrow ! 
 Hence that transforming spirit of our land 
 Which seeks our monuments to level low. 
 And terms improvement each destructive blow ! 
 Lay not thy ruthless grasp on these fair walls, 
 But leave us something that may serve to show 
 Our bygone glory — something that recalls 
 The times when monarchs held their banquets in our 
 halls !
 
 THE CASTLE. 67 
 
 Encircled by tliese Avails our city lay 
 Secure from outward foes, across the flood 
 A chain of massive thickness barred the way, 
 Save to the friendly vessel bearing food ; 
 On either shore a strong-built castle stood. 
 To guard the entrance pointing to the sea 
 (In these were acted many a scene of blood) ; 
 Thus Ebor girt with strength, Avould surely be 
 Invincible by force, though not by treachery. 
 
 Of these two castles one alone Is left. 
 And little of its ancient walls we trace ; 
 Change has transformed Avhat time has not bereft, 
 A modem fabric now supplies its place ! 
 Here guilty felons narrow dungeons pace, 
 Where once proud waniors kept their watchful guard; 
 Here right and wrong are summoned face to face. 
 The lawless thief from freedom is debaired. 
 And murderers meet the doom which justice may 
 award !
 
 C8 EUGENE ARAM. 
 
 What groans have echoed through these gloomy cells! 
 What dark despair hath torn the bosom here ! 
 What shrieks of woe ! "vvhat agonized farewells! 
 When death's dread hour approached in terror near, 
 And the high scaffold its grim form did rear. 
 Whereon the dismal tragedy is done ; 
 Where gathered crowds on every hand appear 
 To see the Avretch, whose sands have nearly run. 
 Die his unhappy death, the death his deeds have won ! 
 
 Unhappy Aram ! '^ such a fate was thine ! 
 And one foul blot beclouded all thy days ! 
 Formed in the rank of learning's sons to shine. 
 Save thisjthy life was such as men might praise ! 
 Ah ! prompted in an evil hour to raise 
 Thy hand against thy fellow, hope retired ! 
 The lui-id gleam of self-conviction plays 
 Upon the murderer's heart ! and thus expired 
 The man Avhom but for this each mind had well ad- 
 mired !
 
 EUGENE ARAM. 69 
 
 Is justice in the precept — life for life? 
 There may be justice, but O is it wise 
 To plunge a never dying spuit, rife 
 With the foul murder which before it lies. 
 Into eternity ? ah, better prize 
 The soul's immortal Avelfare ! and to spare 
 The culprit to repentance ! then might rise 
 Remorse within the breast, and dark despair 
 Be banished by the hope which mercy grants to prayer. 
 
 Had Eugene lived, though due restraint confined, 
 Would not his weeping soul have learnt to fear ! 
 Whilst nobler objects charmed his powerful mind, 
 And fancy bore him to a higher sphere ! 
 O then what strains would break upon the ear ! 
 What new-born visions crowd before the eye ! • 
 But all is past, and Genius drops a tear 
 Upon the tombs where Dodd and Aram lie ! 
 Mighty in mind they passed on wings of darkness by !
 
 70 CLIFF0R1>'.S TOWEK. 
 
 That age worn tower may noAv our notice claiui. 
 By conquering William Iniilt in days of yore ; 
 Clifford liere first commanded, whence its name, 
 And yon high hill upon the neighbouring shore 
 Its sister tower of strength and beauty bore ; 
 But all has past away, and left no trace 
 Save this grey shell which time hath trampled o'er ; 
 War oft hath poured destruction on the place, 
 And fire in fierceness raged, its glory to efface ! 
 
 TVe reach its height, what a scene is spread 
 Before our wondering vision ! at our feet 
 Fair Isis rolls along its peaceful bed," 
 And brightness glows Avithin its waters sweet ! 
 Reflected rays upon its surfiice meet, 
 And calmness sits upon its placid breast ! 
 "Wliile on its bank is many a rural seat 
 Where listless IMeditation loves to rest, 
 And man's immortal mind by Nature is imprest !
 
 THE OUSE. 71 
 
 Flow on, thou gentle river ! whilst tliy voice 
 Speaks in its murmurings to each thoughtful mind ! 
 Thy very waters seeming to rejoice, 
 Careering onward, free and unconfined ! 
 Ah me ! why seems my youth so left behind ! 
 Where is the step that once was glad like thee ? 
 Not always did Affliction sorely bind 
 The lightsome tread^ which like the wind was free, 
 And scorned a pace so slow as that befallen me ! 
 
 But Avherefore mourn the will of Provitl!^ce, 
 Might not the worst that is far worse be found ! 
 Can not thy waters teach me better sense, 
 As now I listen to their flowino; soimd ! 
 What then is life's fleet and uncertain round ! 
 Our days, Hke thy fair waters, pass away ! 
 Our hopes must in eternity be bound. 
 And he alone is happy Avho can say 
 He rests not here his hopes, but waits eternal day !
 
 72 THE OUSE. 
 
 Yon little bark, impelled by slcntler oar. 
 Seems like the prospects tbat in life we hold ; 
 Frail and ill-guided, now from shore to shore, 
 And now an onward course more swift and bold ! 
 So do we turn, as changes may unfold 
 New fields before us, regions yet untried ! 
 Some bent on glory, some intent on gold ! 
 But O whatever may our lot betide 
 Let Truth our anchor be and safely shall we ride ! 
 
 Fair, like the brow of beauty, and serene 
 Art thou to look upon ! on cither side 
 The open fields extend their mantles green. 
 Whilst in the midst rolls on thy gentle tide ! 
 Adown thy stream the stranger loves to glide. 
 Until thy windings reach the distant shore 
 Where stands the palace in its modest pride,* 
 And generous Ilai'court of his plenteous store 
 Dispenses to the poor — who ne'er in vain implore ! 
 
 " Bishoiithorpt.'.
 
 HIE ousE. 73 
 
 Yet has thy course, sweet river, oft been marked 
 AVith scenes of woe, though fair and peaceful no-\v \ 
 And those who, full of life and hope, embarked. 
 Found unexpected death beneath thy flow I 
 A family bereft by one sad bloAv ! '^ 
 Brothers and sisters swept at once away. 
 In one wide grave are now reposing low! 
 Sad was the history " of a summer's day," 
 Xor youth nor beauty could debar thee of thy prey ! 
 
 But to our city must we now return, 
 The city of our birth, our choice, our love I 
 For which our inward heart must ever yearn. 
 Though fate compels in distant lands to rove I 
 Here must our wanderings finish, like the dove 
 Sent on the world of waters 1 here repose 
 Our best affections, which may things approve 
 Of earthly mould ; and not absorbing those 
 "Which soar to higher spheres, and gild life's dying 
 close ! 
 
 II
 
 74 
 
 KBOI?. 
 
 Thrice favoured City ! privileged art Tboii 
 Above tliy sister cities ! temples rear. 
 On every hand, their pinnacles to show 
 "What blessings niiiy be Thine ! Alas, I fear 
 Thou m-t not ^vhat Thou shouldst be ! Hark! I hear 
 A voice that Avhispers of a world to come ! 
 If Sodom and Gomorrali should appear 
 Against Thee then ! what will be Thy doom ! 
 The days Avhich thou hast seen ^vill but increase Thy 
 gloom ! 
 
 But I have better hopes of Thee, and long 
 To see the time when every heart shall beat 
 In pious emulation ! and the song 
 Of praise employ each tongue ! 'tis surely meet 
 '^Jid all the bubbles, unsubstantial, fleet. 
 That float on life's rough surface ; all the schemes 
 Engendered in the politician's heat 
 Of momentary madness (such it seems), 
 Man with himself commune, and fly delusive dreams !
 
 EBOR. /D 
 
 The voice of Reason whispers It is time ! 
 Thy fallen towers prochiini it to each breast ! 
 Thy bygone history speaks in strains sublime, 
 On every hand conviction is imprest ! 
 And can the sceptic ask more faithful test ? 
 Our churchyards crowded ! what indeed art Tliou ! 
 But one vast sepulchre Thyself! where rest, 
 As every yard of eartli, upturned, would show, 
 Unnumbered proofs of death's inevitable blow! 
 
 There stands the spot retired, noAv sacred kept 
 To those who fell in that destructive day, 
 When the dark wing of Pestilence o'erswept. 
 And tore the parent and the child away ! 
 Need we still further warnings to obey ? 
 v/as there not, in that tempestuous blast 
 Which o'er us lately burst in fearful sway,'" 
 Spreading destruction as it hurried past, 
 A message to each heart — tlie end wlU come at last ! 
 
 II 2
 
 7^ Eijon. 
 
 Yes, it is time ! tlie miglity trutli j)rodaiiu f 
 Let every heart awaken at the sound ! 
 Ebor, arise ! shake off Tliy slothful shame ! 
 Let virtue, honour, justice, here ahound, 
 And shed the light of piety around ! 
 This is the last best wish I leave to Tliee, 
 That Thou a new Jerusalem be found ! 
 From guilty crimes of dark debasement free. 
 Unto this sea-girt isle a bright example be ! 
 
 City of many trials ! Thou hast been 
 Exalted high, then hurled as far below I 
 The theatre of many a changing scene, 
 When regal splendour sate upon Thy brow ! 
 Past, like a dream, are these ! and what art Thou ? 
 Stript of Thy glory ! passing to decay ! 
 Yet let tnie worth and wisdom mark Thee now, 
 Thou shalt be greater in Thy latter day 
 Than e'er Thou wort before, in glorious array !
 
 EUOU, 77 
 
 Still over roiuly in a righteous cause ! 
 To shield the helpless and uphold the right ! 
 Just to thyself ! obedient to the laws ! 
 Lojal to serve with ftiith, and hearty and might, 
 Our much beloved Queen ! and to delight 
 To show her honour ! long, long may she reign, 
 And on her pathway, glorious and bright, 
 ]\Iay Piety and Peace conduct her train. 
 And in our deepest hearts undying love maintain ! 
 
 Like yon fair moon \vhich rides the midnight sky. 
 With all her starry host around her there, 
 AVho look upon us from their station high, 
 And shine and circle in their beauty rare. 
 The power of Him \\ ho made them to declare ! 
 Be our Victoria ! in her high place, 
 The pride of all her people ! who shall bear 
 Affection which no chanues can efface ! 
 Ah ! then may love divine queen, subjects, all em- 
 brace ! 
 
 II 3
 
 78 CONCLUSION. 
 
 With Jeep afiection now I bid farewell ? 
 
 And at Thy feet this humble tribute fling ! 
 Reject it not ! some nobler strain may swell, 
 Incited by so low an offering ! 
 Then not in vain the nameless bard will sing, 
 Though dark obscurity surrounds him still ; 
 "Wliilst other bards their triumphs here may bring. 
 And Thou may glory in their better skill, 
 Despise not him who Avants the pOAver but not the will I 
 
 And thou, my brother ! Avho alone didst praise 
 The first rude efforts of my faltering hand, 
 AVTio stroA'e to cheer the gloom of darker days, 
 Why art thou distant from thy native land ? 
 Ah ! Avell I knoAv thy bosom Avill expand 
 In love towards the city of our sire ! 
 And if there beats a heart that could withstand 
 A call so gentle, let that heart retire, 
 Twas not for such I dared, unskilled, to strike the 
 lyre !
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES TO PART I. 
 
 Xote 1, page G. 
 Long years have past since T/iou, old Ehor ! stood. 
 
 EeoRAcr.M or York, the metropolis of Eborasliria or Yorkshire, situate at 
 the confluence of the rivers Ouse and Foss, placed near the centre of the 
 island, in tlie richest, pleasantest, and most extensive valley in Britain, if 
 not in all Europe, draws its original from the earliest ages. The etymology 
 of the name of York, encompassed with such difficulties and uncertainties, 
 must, however, be an evident token of the great antiquity of the place : 
 and if not as old, yet near coeval with London, whose derivation is as little 
 understood. Geofry of Monmouth says that Ebraucus, the son of Mem- 
 pricius the third king from Brute, did build a city north of Humbcr, which 
 from his own name he called Kaercbrauc, that is, the city of Ebraucus, 
 about the time that David reigned in Judea, Sylvius Latinus in Italy, 
 and that Gad, Nathan, and Asaph prophesied in Israel, which epoch falls 
 near A. M. 2983, or ante Christian 983. Again, Verstegan, in his book of 
 the restitution of decayed intelligence, says "that the antient Britons 
 call'd the city of York, Caer efroc : our ancestors Eborwic, Everxvic and 
 Ebcrivic ; which by vulgar abbreviation might coxae to Boric or Voric, 
 and so lastly to York. Ebcr or Ever is in the old Saxon wild boar, tho' 
 this latter name be English also : Wic is a refuge or retreat, and it may be 
 it had ol' our ancestors that appellation, as being the refuge or retreat 
 from the wild boars which heretofore might have been in the forest of 
 Galtres which is within a mile of that city, and the more like it is for that 
 there yet remains a toll called Guyde Lawe which is paid for cattle at 
 Bowdam Bar a gate of the city so called, and was first paid for the payment 
 of guides which conducted them, belike, to save them from this cruel beast 
 through the said forest." 
 
 Others believe that the name of this city is derived from nothing more 
 than the river I'.urc it stands upon, and then the signification of the word
 
 82 
 
 NuTi:s. 
 
 amounts to no more tlian a town or city standing or plai-ed upon Eure. 
 'i ims tlie Kberanci, a people of France, sat down by llie river Lure, near 
 Kureux, in Normandy, and Iroin thence contracted their names. 1 his is 
 the opinion of that great antiquary Camden ; and if the point be cleared 
 that the river Ousc was formerly call'd Ure as low as York, we need look 
 uo further for our etymology. — See Drake's Eboracum. 
 
 Note 2, page 8. 
 'Tiras here that eviiq'ritig Scverus paused au-hile. 
 
 1'ly; banislied Britons had been so bold, says (ieofry of Monn^.outh, as to 
 advance so far in tlieir conquests as to bescige York, under Inilgenius, 
 or Sulgenius, a Scithian general whom they had drawn over to their aid 
 in order to drive the Romans from all their conquests in the island. 
 Suppose this so far true or not, it is certain by Roman authority, that 
 Virius Lupus, then Propraetor in Britain, was hard put to it to defend 
 himself; for lierodian tells us that he wrote to the Emperor, "informing 
 him of the insurrections and inroads of the barbarians, and the havoc they 
 made far and near, and begging either a greater force or that the Emperor 
 would come over in person." Tliis last was granted : Severus, attended 
 with his two sons, Caracalla and Geta, his whole court, and a numerous 
 army, arrived in Britain in the year 207. Severus was (iO years of age 
 when he undertook this expedition, very infirm, and crippled with the 
 gout, insomuch that he was carried against the Caledonians in a horse litter. 
 But being a man of invincible spirit he despised tJie danger and bravely 
 overcame it. He penetrated to the extremity of the island, subduing 
 those tierce and barbarous nations liitherto unconquered. But knowing 
 lie could not keep them in subjection without a strong army upon the 
 sjmt, he took hostages of them, and chose rather to build a stone wall of 
 above eighty miles in lenjcth and of great strength, in the place where his 
 predecessor Hadrian had thrown up his rampart of earth. Stverus is said 
 by Dion, to have lost .■)0,0(10 men in this expedition, not slain by the 
 enemy, but starved, killed, and drowned in cutting down woods, draining 
 of hogs, and the like. Sevcrus Iclt his son Caracalla in the north to in- 
 spect the building of the wall, and returned to York. Here he took upon 
 himself, and stamped ujion I:is coin the title oi' liriltuin'cvs Maxinitut^ ns 
 conqueror of the whole island. He lived more than three years in the 
 pretorian palace of this city, lor HiKK.ian s;i\.-> that l,e mid hi.-, son sat in
 
 tlie rrat'torium and gave jiiLlgmcnt. When liis end was approaching he 
 sliowed the philosopher in these words — " I have been all, and yet am 
 now no better lor it ;" then calling !or the urn which was to contain his 
 ashes alter the Ossilegium or burning of his body, and looking stedfastly 
 upon it, " Thou shalt hold," said he, "what the whole world could not 
 contain." That the memory of him might last in Britain as long as the 
 world, his grateful army with infinite labour raised three large hills in the 
 very place where his funeral rites were performed. Which hills afler so 
 many ages being washed with rains and after ploughed, are still very ap- 
 parent, but must have been much higher than they are at present.— /iirf. 
 
 Note 3, page 9. 
 Soon the degeii'ratc son of Sfvi-rus/tii. 
 
 Severus being dead, the government devolved upon his two sons, Cara- 
 calla and Geta, and the court still continued at Eboracum. The eldest of 
 these princes, Bassianus, surnamed Caracalla, from the short coats he gave 
 to the soldiers, liad as bad a natural disposition as it is possible for one 
 man to be possessed of. Ke has made it his boast that he " never learned 
 to do good," and indeed the whole course of his life sutKciently shews it. 
 His father left the world not without suspicion of foul play fri m him, as 
 Dion hints ; but be tliat as it would it is certain he had been tampering 
 with the Emperor's physicians to destroy him, for the first that tasted of 
 his cruelty were those whom he put to death for not obeying his orders in 
 it. The greatest weakness the father ever betrayed was his partiality or 
 blindness to this incorrigible son. Geta was of a different temper from 
 his brother, and was very grateful to the senate and citizens ; he had also 
 a powerful party even in the army. Caracalla aspiring to be sole emperor, 
 had resolved upon his brother's death. But to come to the fratricide with 
 more ease and safety to himself, upon a slight pretence of mutiny he 
 caused 20,000 of his soldiery, whom he suspected to be in his brother's in- 
 terest, to be put to the sword. This done, it was no great difficulty to get 
 the rest to proclaim Geta an enemy to his country, who upon hearing it 
 fled for protection to his mother, Julia. But, alas I it was all in vain, tlie 
 inhuman butcher followed his bloody purpose, and with his own hand 
 pierced the unhappy prince's heart, even in the arms of her who gave him 
 life.— /i/rf.
 
 84 NOTES. 
 
 Note 4, page 10. 
 ff'il/ii'n the porch of Ebor's palace fair. 
 
 The grounil which this imperial palace, the Palatiumor Domus Palati- 
 na of the Uonian Emjieror, is supposed to have stood on in our city, extends 
 from Christ's C'liurch down through all the houses and gardens on the east 
 side of Goodramgate, through the Bedern to Aldwark. Constantine the 
 Great is said to lia\c been born in Bedcrna Civitatis Eboraci, and Con- 
 stantius to be laid in the now demolished church of St. Helen on the Wall 
 in Aldwark. Rome, in the height of all her grandeur and magnificence, 
 had not a more glorious show to exhibit than the apotheosis or deification 
 of their emperors. Herodian thus describes the ceremony performed for 
 Severus, which took place at Rome. " The image of the dead emperor 
 being exquisitely carved to resemble a sick person, was laid on an ivory 
 bedstead ready furnished, in the jiorch of his palace. The princes and 
 senators sat all on the left side of the bed, dad in black habits, whilst their 
 ladies, in white robe.s, sat on the other, the physicians diligently attending. 
 When seven days were ended, as if the body was then just dead, the image 
 was taken up by the prime nobility, with the bed, and carried into the 
 forum, where all the praetorian youths and nol)le virgins encompassed it, 
 singing most doleful liymns and dirges. From thence the image, &c. was 
 removed to the field of Mars, where a frame of timber was erected, of a 
 very great compass and height, the gradations still ascending ])yramidically 
 to the top, richly adorned with goUl and purple ornaments, and statues of 
 great art and price. On the second of these ascents was placed the im. 
 perial bed and image, with a jirodigious quantity of odorific gums and pcr- 
 iumes. The young nobility ride round tlie pile in a kind of dance, whilst 
 others represented great kings and princes in their chariots. His succes- 
 sor first put fire to the frame, and after him the people, on all sides, did 
 the like. Wiien all was in a blaze, an eagle, secretly enclosed within, was 
 let rty out of the top of the i)ile, the multitude following its flight with 
 shouts and prayers, supposing that therewith the emperor was moinitcd 
 into heaven." (The ceremony at York had this difference only, tliat at 
 Home an image of Severus was substituted, but at York it wa.s donconthe 
 wal body of Constantius liim^clf,', — /ft/V.
 
 NOTES. i]'} 
 
 Kote 5, i-age 11. 
 The Jirst fault tltreateytin^s of Us future fate. 
 
 It was not long aftertheir deserting Britain that the sometime dreaflful 
 Roman name and arm, wliicli, for many ages, had spread terror and con. 
 quest through the then Roman world, was torn in pieces, lost, sunk, and 
 hurled in an abyss never to rise again. Rome is still in Italy, and Ebora- 
 cum is York : but alas I how mutilated from both their former states may 
 be easily conjectured. 
 
 Unhappy men, to mourn our life's short date. 
 When cities, realms, and empires share our fate. 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 Note f), page 12. 
 The Saxon chiefs await what justice may demand. 
 
 When the Roman power had forsaken Britain, the Picts and Scots, with 
 more confidence than ever, like flics and vermin in the heat of summer, 
 issued out of their holes and caves, and immediately seized on all the 
 country, which, without much resistance, they made themselves masters 
 of. In this emergency the British princes assembled in council, and it 
 was determined, since no succour could be expected from the Romans 
 now, to call in the Saxons, which at that time held the highest reputation 
 for strength and valour. They can never be blamed for this resolution, 
 the exigencies of their affairs required it, nor would the consequences 
 have been any ways to their disadvantage had not Vortigern, their incon- 
 siderate king, instead of giving the Saxons their stipulated pay and send, 
 ing them home again after they had done their work, allowed them a set. 
 tlement in the island. It was not long after that they felt the sting of the 
 snake which they had taken into their bosom, and the Britons roused 
 from their lethargy and having an able and experienced general of their 
 own natural royal stock at their head, fell upon the Saxons and defeated 
 them in four several battles. Aurelius coming before York, summoned 
 Octa, the son of the Saxon general who was already slain in battle, to sur- 
 render. The young prince, terrified no doubt by his father's fate, con. 
 suited with his friends whether he should stand a siege or not ; at length 
 dotennining to try the victor's clemency, lie came out of the city with his 
 Sprincipal captains, carrying each a chain in his hand and dust upon hi» 
 
 I
 
 8(5 XOTES. 
 
 head, ami presentetl liiinsoll" to the king witli tliis addrcFS, " My gods are 
 vanquished, and I doubt not the sovereign power is in your god, who has 
 compelled so many noble persons to come before you in this suppliant 
 manner : be pleased therefore to accept of us and this chain, if you do not 
 tliink us fit oljjcets of your clemency, we here present ourselves ready to 
 be fettered, and are willing to undergo any punishment you shall judge us 
 worthy of." Aurelius, who liad equally tlic character of a merciful as well 
 as a valiant prince, could not hear this without being moved, and graii.ed 
 free pardon to th.em all. — Ibid. 
 
 Note 7, page 13. 
 
 Then Arthur reigned, whose inexperienced t/uttlh 
 Aroused once more the Saxon, bands to war. 
 
 Arthur was crowned king of Uritain at eighteen years of age. The 
 Saxons took advantage of his youth to make anotlicr attempt upon Uritain. 
 Arthur was victorious in all his battles, yet h.id the misfortune at last to 
 lie slain in a rebellion of his own subjects, and by the hands of his own 
 nephew.— //>«/. 
 
 Note 8, page 13. 
 And is, bespilt with blood, xviihin our city found! 
 
 The Danes, in order to invade Britain, got together a mighty fleet, and 
 set sail and entered the Ilumbcr with safety, when, landing their forces as 
 ncir York as they could, tlicy marched directly to it, and look it with 
 much ease. Osbert and Ella, two rival kings of Northumberland, having 
 on this occasion laid aside tlieir private quarrels and united their forces, 
 marched to attack the Danes, even in the city itself, where a cruel fight 
 ensued in the very midst of it. The two kings having beat down the 
 walls, fell u|)i)n the Danes witli such fury that they made a most prodigious 
 slaughter of them and drove them to tlic last extremity. Their despair 
 at this time occasioned their victory, says Asscr Jlenercnsis, for pressing 
 in their turn the Saxons lost ground, and their two kings liappening to be 
 slain, the victory entirely fell to the Danes. In this conflict the city waa 
 wholly destroyed by the enraged barbarians, and in it, not only all the in. 
 habitants, but all those who, upon tlie news of the invasion, sought ro. 
 fuge there, miserably perished. 'I'lie battle, says R. Ilovedcn, was fought 
 on the 21st day of March, A. D. 807. Asscr Jlencrensis dpsciibcs this
 
 NOTKS. 87 
 
 drc'acll'ul caUuiiity in this ukuuilt: Ky tlio goiieral's cruel orders tlu-y 
 knocked down and cut tiie tliroats of all the boys, young and old men, 
 that they met in the streets of the eiiy. Matrons and virgins wore ra- 
 vished at pleasure. The husband and wife cither dead or dying, were 
 tossed together. The infant snatched from its mother's breast, was car- 
 ried to the threshold, and there left butchered at its parents' door, to make 
 the general victory more hideous. — Ibid. 
 
 Note 9, page 1 1. 
 A'o?/' Gotlrum gavcrni'd here as depufi/. 
 
 The Danes pushed their conquests southward and made one Godram or 
 Guthurn, a Danish officer, as deputy to act in their defence, and left a 
 garrison under him in the city. There is a street in York wliich still re- 
 tains the name of this captain, called Godram or Guthramgate, which 
 also tradition tells us comes from a Danish general's residing in it, and as 
 it lies near where the old royal palace once stood, it is not improbable that 
 this is the true derivation. But if any one quarrel with the etymology, 
 let him produce an apter, from any other language, if he can Ibid. 
 
 Note 10, page 11. 
 Until the traitor Saxon Egbert came. 
 
 The Danes, not willing to trust the government of Northumberland 
 under any other form than kingly, on their return to York from their 
 southern conquests, constituted one Egbert, a Saxon, but one entirely de- 
 voted to their services. King of Northumberland. Egbert was soon de- 
 prived of his sovereignty, and one Rigsidge or Ricsisius, a Dane, had the 
 government conferred upon him, but he being murdered by the populace 
 at York, according to Simeon of Durham, Egbert was again restored. — 
 Ibid. 
 
 Note II, page l.i. 
 Victorious Athelstan next rose to power. 
 
 Athclstan, the rightful king of Britain, recovered the possession of 
 Nor'humberland from the Danes and became sole monarch of England, 
 during which time he conferred those honours on the churches of St. 
 John of Beverley and St. Wilfred at Ripon, which the monkish histories 
 are so full of. He died in perfect tranquillity, and left his whole dominions 
 
 I 2
 
 «n 
 
 NOTKS. 
 
 to Kdmuiid tlie eldest of tlie lei<itiin:ite sons of Edward surnained the 
 Kldcr, himself dying witliout issue.— /i/rf. 
 
 Note 12, vage IS. 
 In Harold's reign the fierce Xorwegian came. 
 
 Tosti, tlie brother of Harold king of England, having, on account of hit 
 rebellious spirit, to flee from the country, was overtaken at sea by a storm 
 which drove him on the coast of Norway. The king of Norway having 
 just fitted out his fleet in order to extend his conquests, was persuaded by- 
 Tost; to invade England. Greedy of fame and already devouring in his 
 imagination so glorious a prize, he wanted little solicitation to draw him 
 to it. With a fleet of near .six hundred sail they entered the Ilumber, and 
 brought their ships against the stream of the river Ouse as far as Rickall 
 or Rich-hall, within six miles of York. Here they landed and moored 
 their vessels. Having landed their forces they marched directly towards 
 York, which they took by storm, after a sore conflict witli Morchar the 
 governor, and Edwin earl of Chester, his brother, who had hastily raised 
 a few forces to intercept them. This defeat hapjiened on the eve of St. 
 Matthew, A.D. I06G, at Foulford, a village a mile south east of the city, 
 wliere, says H. Huntingdon, the place of battle is yet shown. Harold, 
 king of England, was no ways backward in his preparations to stop the 
 progress of thi.s dangerous invasion, but brought down to York a puissant 
 army immediately after the enemy had taken it. At his approach they 
 withdrew their forces from the city, taking with them Ave hundred hos- 
 tages of the principal inhabitants, whom they sent under a strong guard 
 on board their ships, and left, says Milton, one hundred and fit^y of their 
 own in it. They entrenched themselves in so extraordinary a manner, 
 that it seemed inijiossible to dislodge tlicm. l"or they liad the river Der. 
 went in their front and on their riglit liand, not Ibrdable, with only a 
 wooden bridge to i)a;.s over by ; their lett was flanked by the river Ouse, 
 wliere lay their navy ready to retire to in case of necessity ; and (heir 
 backs secured by the German ocean. In tliis situation they thought them- 
 selves secure from any human force dislodging them. 15ut Harold, not- 
 withstanding the great disadvantage, was resolved to attack them in their 
 trenches, and the event shows that nothing can be too hard Ibr valour 
 joined with conduct. The tight began by daybreak, and the attempt so 
 desperate to pas.i the bridge, that one single Xorwegian, for whidi our
 
 NOTES. iV.) 
 
 historians have justly iiiaiie his I'aiiio immortal, sto]>i)wl the passage to all 
 Harold's army for three hours together, and slew forty of his men with 
 liis own hand. At last this hardy fellow being slain l>y a dart flung at 
 him, say some, or as others write, by one in a boat who got under the 
 bridge and thrust him in the body with a spear, the Norwegians gave way, 
 dismayed with the loss of their champion, and retiring to their trenches, 
 suffered all Harold's army to pass the river. The extraordinary valour of 
 this hero that stopped the bridge will hardly be credited by posterity, says 
 WiUiam of Malmc^bury, for standing in ihe midst of it he suffered none 
 to pass over, and slew all that attemjjted it or came within his reach. 
 Being desired to yield himself up to the English king wi;h large promises 
 of reward, adequate to such mighty strength and valour, he sternly smiled 
 at theprofifer, and despised both it and the weakness of those that let one 
 single man resist them all. 1 he champion being slain, as I said, and the 
 English army passed the bridge, Harold drew up his men and attacked the 
 enemy's trenches sword in hand, where a most bloody and obstinate fight 
 ensued. The aforementioned historian writes, that there had never been 
 seen in England an engagement between two such anr.ies, each contain- 
 ing sixty thousand men : pugna ingens, adds he, u'.risque genlibus extrema 
 nilentibus. This battle lasted from seven in the morning till three in the 
 afternoon, with all the fury imaginable, no quarter being asked or received 
 during this dreadful conflict. The victory fell to Harold, the English 
 king; the king of Norway and Tosti we:e slain, with the destruction of 
 their whole army. For of five or six hum'rad ships that brought them to 
 England, tn-enty-three served to carry back the miserable remains that 
 Were spared from slaughter, which the victor suffered to depart with Olaus, 
 the king of Norway's son, and Taul earl of Orkney, who had es;-aped the 
 battle by being set to guard the ships. Harold, however, made them de- 
 liver up their hostages safe, the citizens of York, and take a solemn oath 
 never to disturb his dominions again. Th.is battle was fought within six 
 miles of York eastward, at a place now called Stamford Bridge, on the23rd 
 of September, 10fi6. After the conquest, the village had the name of Pons- 
 belU, or Battle Bridge, given it to peqietuate tlie memory of this great 
 overthrow. However it now retains its ancient name and no remem- 
 brance of the fight except a piece of ground on the left hand of the bridge 
 called Battle i'lats at this day. I must not forget tl'.at the inhabitants of 
 
 I 3
 
 !)0 NOTKS. 
 
 this viUa^'C liavc a custom at an annual (Vast to make pk'S in tlie Ibrni of 
 a swill, or swine tub, whiih tradition says was made use of by the man 
 wlio struck the Xorwcfjian from under the bridge, instead of a boat. This 
 may be true, for the river being l)ut lately made navigable up here on the 
 Derwent, a boat was not easily to be had to perform the exploit in. The 
 bridge also continued to be a wooden one, till falling greatly to decay, it 
 was taken down and a new one begun and iini.shed, about a hundred yards 
 below the old one, at the county charge, A. D. 1727. — Hid. 
 
 Note 13, page 20. 
 William is on our s/ioi-e, whilst Harold sils in stale. 
 
 Harold's great joy for the gaining of this signal victory was of a very 
 short date ; returning to York tiiat night, he gave orders for solemn feasts 
 and rejoicings to be begun the next day with all the magnificence imagin- 
 able. He had scarce begun his triumphs when a messenger arrived from 
 tlie south, who told him as he sat in this city in great .state, at a magnifi. 
 cent entertainment, that Duke William was landed with a mighty army 
 at Pevensey, near Hastings, in Sussex. Harold immediately hastened to 
 oppose him, when his whole army was cut in pieces, and himself shot 
 through the brains with an arrow. — Ibid. 
 
 Note 14, page 21. 
 And with unsparing hand in slaiu'sh chains cnfhrall. 
 
 ■William's mercy was soon found to be a co))y of his countenance. His 
 title to the crown was by the longest sword, and he well employed the 
 sharpest in sustaining it. A true IJriton must startle at the bare men- 
 tion of such a tyrant, who without any right or colour of right, first in. 
 vaded, possessed, and afterwards maintained that |>osscssion by the most 
 horrid acts of cruelty imaginable. — Iliid. 
 
 Note l.j, page 21. 
 And, castles stormed, trilh sword in hand the;/ meet. 
 
 The Danes conning to the assistance of the citizens, they niiidc a dps. 
 perate attack on both the castles at one time. A miserable slaughter 
 ensued, and *11 the Norman garrison was cut in pieces.— /6(V/.
 
 ^OTES. i) I 
 
 Note IG, page 22. 
 Then ti'ar o'erw/ie/mrd Thee, and on every side 
 Let loose its fiery poirers to Ormg Thee down. 
 
 William was not slack in his proceedings against York, for when lie 
 heard of the destruction of the Norman garrison, he spurred on to take 
 vengeance with all the fury imaginable. He was often heard to say, in 
 his march to the north, that by God's splendour, his usual oath, he would 
 not leave a soul ojthem alive. But 'Waltheof, son of the valiant Siward, 
 who had been made governor, set at nought his threats and sent him a 
 brave defiance. The governor himself, says William of Malmsbury, a 
 man of prodigious might and strength, stood single in the breach, and cut 
 off the heads of several of the Normans who attempted to enter with his 
 own hands. At length the city was reduced by famine, after being be- 
 sieged from Michaelmas to I.ady Day. 
 
 Note 17, page 24. 
 And darkness dwelt where all so late was bright. 
 
 We have now a gap of time which it is impossible to fill up with any 
 materials to the purpose. Our city lay dead, as it were, after William's 
 cruel usage, near an age, for few signs of life can I meet with in history 
 about if. — Ibid. 
 
 Note 18, page 2.1. 
 The spot where England's wealth and beauty were arrayed. 
 
 About 1 140, the city had recovered from its degradation, and now, in- 
 stead of terrible wars, fire, famine, murders, and desolations which I have 
 been all along obliged to stick to in these historical annals for many ages 
 past; the tables are turned to give an account of parliaments, conven- 
 tions, coronations, royal marriages, which our city has been honoured 
 with in some succeeding years to this period. — Ibid. 
 
 Note 19, page 27. 
 Where shall the helpless sons of Israel fly ? 
 
 In the reign of Richard, king of England, and at his coronation, an 
 accident happened of singular concern to our city, and attended with 
 such circumstances as history can scarce parallel. A particular account 
 of which, taken chiefly from William of Newburgh, and Walter Heraing-
 
 92 
 
 NOTr:.«. 
 
 fold, c;inon of Gisburgli, both Yorkshire monks, who are naturally led to 
 bf copious in relating the transactions of llu-n- own coujitry, cannot be un- 
 acceptable to tlie reader. 
 
 The Jews were a people first introduced into England by William tlie 
 Conqueror; a tr.bc of these must have placed themselves at York soon 
 alter, where by trade they were grown so immensely rich, that they were 
 found to be worth the plundering both by ]Minceand people, as (jftas they 
 could fcjrm an excuse for that purpose. The fear tiny constantly lived 
 nnder made tlicni take all opportunities, by rich presents, iS:c., to ingra- 
 tiate themselves with the rcigninj; prince that they might securely live 
 under his protection. Whicli favour was sometimes hard to gain, so zea- 
 lously afn.'cted to the Christian religion were our former English kings, 
 that they could not bear an open avowed ene.ny to it to live amongst 
 them. The naturalising of these [leoplc and making them free denizens 
 of England was reserved for a later age to enact. Kichard the First was 
 as zealous a Christian as ever sat upon the English throne, and as bitter 
 an enemy to its oj>ponetits. Notwithstanding which the Jews were un. 
 disturbed, but abhorring their religion, aiul as my authority speaks, 
 doubling some sorcery or otlier sinister end from them, he strictly com. 
 manded, that at his coronation, no Jews wliatever should appear, either 
 at church or at dinner. 
 
 Some of the richest and princiiial men of the Jews in the kingdom 
 were summoned from all parts where they fesiiled, by th?ir brethren in 
 London, to come up to the coronation, and present some very rich gift 
 to the new king, in order to procure his friendship towards them, lor con- 
 firming the privileges and liberties granted them by his |)redeces>ors. The 
 chiefs of the Jews at York were two very rich and wealt'iy merchants, 
 and very great usurers, called Benedict atid Jocenus. These went from 
 hence to London with a pompous retinue, in order to meet their biethreii, 
 and attend the coronation. Notwithstanding the king's injunction, many 
 of the Jews had the curiosity to mix with the crowd in orilei to see the 
 ceremony ; where, being discoverod by the guard.-, they were beat ami 
 abused, and some few slain. The jicople, who watched all oppottunitic* 
 to plunder their houses, took it presently for granted that the king liaU 
 given orders that they should all be destroyed. Possessed with this notion, 
 a general massacre began in London, where the Jews were murdered, 
 their houses plundered, and burnt to the ground with their wives and
 
 NOTES. 93 
 
 rliililreii in tliein. The king ordered immediately a proclamation to 
 Hop these proceedings on the severest penalties ; but for all that the ex- 
 ample of the metropolis was followed by divers other places in the realm, 
 as at Norwich, Lynn, Stamford, but especially at York; where, says my 
 authors, the cruel commands of the fiercest tyrant, the rigour of the seve- 
 rest laws, could never have so far exceeded the bounds of reason and 
 liumanity, as to tolerate such a proceeding. 
 
 Benedict and Jocenus, our Jews of York, it seems, had the curiosity to 
 go among the rest to see the ceremony; Benedict was grievously bruised 
 and wounded in the conflict, and being dragged into thechurch was there 
 forced to renounce Judaism and be baptised. The next day he was brought 
 before the king, who demanded of him whether he was a Christian or no ? 
 Benedict answered that he had been forced into baptism, but that he 
 continued a Jew in his heart, and ever should do ; that he chose much 
 rather to suffer death at his hands, since the severe usage he had under, 
 gone the day before informed him that he could not long survive it. At 
 which words being driven from the king's presence, he was restored to 
 the Jews, but the miserable man soon after expired. 
 
 Jocenus, his companion, had the good fortune to escape the fury in 
 London; but where he thought himself the safest, he met with a much 
 worse fate at Y'ork. The king soon after going on his voyage to the Holy 
 Land, had left orders with the lord chancellor to protect the Je>vs, and 
 punish severely all that should offend them. But this was little regarded 
 at Y'ork; for a conspiracy was formed against them by several of the 
 city, and county; men thirsting for blood, says ray authorities, who 
 wanted but an opportunity to put their cruel design into execution. A 
 considerable part of the city took fire in a very boisterous night, by acci- 
 dent as was supposed, but rather imagined to be done on purpose, that 
 the citizens being busy in extinguishing the flames, might not obstruct 
 their barbarous intentions. In this interval the conspirators broke into 
 the house of Benedict, slain at London, which being prodigiously strong, 
 his wife and children had made a sanctuary of, as dreading some com- 
 motion. But this being overcome by engines prepared for that purpose, 
 they entered and murdered the whole family, gutted the house, and after- 
 wards set fire to it and burnt it down to the ground. An alarm of thi.i 
 kind struck all the Jews at York with the utmost terror, but Jocenus 
 especially dreaded their fury so much, that he got leave of the governor
 
 1)4 NOTE.'?. 
 
 to convey all his vast buU of wealth into the castle; as if it liad beloiigcJ 
 to the king and was under his protection. In a very few days, these 
 night robbers and plunderers, with greater force and fury, returned and 
 attacked the house of Jocenus, which, though strongly fortified with con- 
 siderable towers, underwent the same fate with the former ; except that 
 the Jew, presaging evil, had withdrawn himself, wife, and children, into 
 the castle. His example was followed by all the rest of the Jews in the 
 city; leaving few or none, nor any of their goods, behind them. The 
 robbers being enraged at the loss of so much plunder, which they had 
 already devoured in their minds, threw off all disgui.se, or any fear of 
 magistrates or laws, and not being content with the destruction of their 
 houses, flew like madmen on some Jews that were left out of the castle, 
 and either forced them to be baptised or suffer immediate death. Whilst 
 this was acting in the city, the multitude of Jews that had taken sanc- 
 tuary in the castle, seemed to be perfectly secured from the malice of 
 their enemies. But it liappened that the governor coming out of the 
 castle upon some business of his own, when he would have returned, was 
 prevented by the Jews, who feared that in this time he might havemade 
 some agreement with their enemies to deliver them up. Tlie governor 
 •went immediately to the high sheriff of the county.* who was then in 
 York ne;,'Ociating the king's affairs, and told him that the Jews, under 
 I)retence of begsing protection in the castle, had fraudulently .shut hira 
 out of il. The high sheriff was angry to the last degree, which was still 
 inflamed by those near him, who wished the Jews no good, by saying that 
 it was the highest indignity to the person of the king himself, to have one 
 of the most considerable fortresses in the kingdom seized by these mis. 
 creants. He instantly ordered out the writ of posse comilatus to raise 
 the country to besiege the castle. Kxcurrit irrcvocabile vcrbuui, says 
 Hemingford, and now was shewn the zeal, adds he, of the Chri.-^lian po- 
 pulace ; for an innumerable company of armed men, as well fioni the 
 city as the county, rose at once and begirt the fortress round. When the 
 high sheriff saw this, he began to repent of his too hasty order, and would 
 fain have recalled his writ; but to those incensed people, whatever he 
 could say or do, by authority or reason, was to no purpose. The bettor 
 or wiser sort of the citizens, aware of the king's displeasure, cautiously 
 
 « Thr liii'li shrrifTor this county 1 RichariJ I. was RnniJnl de Gl.-ii-vilc.
 
 KOTES. 95 
 
 avoided these extravagant |irocecdings. A great many of the clergy, 
 however, were in it; and amongst them a certain friar, agitated by a 
 furious zeal, was violent in the business. The castle was fairly assailed 
 for several days together, and no one bolder in all attempts than tliis 
 canon hermit of the Praemonstratcnsian order, as my authors style him ; 
 for clad in a white vesture he was everywhere diligent, and crying out 
 witli a loud voice that the ene^nies of Christ should be destroyed, by his 
 own labour and boldness he greatly encouraged the rest of the besiegers. 
 But being too strenuous in his endeavours in fixing the battering engines 
 against the walls, he came so near them that a large stone put an end to 
 his zeal, by dashing out his brains. The Jews being driven to great dis- 
 tress, held a council amongst themselves what was to be done : tliey had 
 ottered a mighty sum of money only to escape with their lives, but it was 
 rejected. When a certain rabbi, or doctor of the law, who was come 
 from foreign parts to teach and instruct the Jews, stood up amongst 
 them and said, " Men of Israel, our God, whose laws I have prescribed 
 to you, commands that we should at any time die for our law; and be. 
 liold now death looks us in the face, and we have but to choose whether 
 we should lead a base and scandalous life, or take the best method to 
 come at a gallant and glorious death. If we fall into the hands of our 
 enemies, at their own will and pleasure we must die; but our Creator, 
 when he gave us life, did also enjoin us with our own hands, and of our 
 own accord, we should devoutly restore it to him again, rather than wait 
 on the cruelty of any enemy. This many of our brethren in many great 
 tribulations have bravely performed ; they knew how to doit, and the 
 most decent manner of execution is pointed out to us." Many of the 
 Jews embraced the dreadful counsel of the rabbins ; but the rest thought 
 bis advice much too harsh, and would not consent. The elder perceiving 
 this said, "Those that this good and pious course displeases, let them 
 separate and be cut oft" from the holy congregation ; we, for the sake of 
 our paternal law, despise the love of transitory life !" Several withdrew 
 upon this, and chose rather to enjoy the victor's clemency, than follow 
 the rabbin's advice. Before they began to execute the horrid sentence, 
 the elder commanded that all the rich household goods, stuff", and gar- 
 ments, should be publicly burnt. Nay, even their plate, which would 
 not suffer by the fire, was by an artful and malicious method, strangely 
 damnified, lest the enemy should be enriched by tiieir spoils. This done.
 
 96 NOXKS. 
 
 and fire put to all the towers of the castle, whilst their companions who 
 had chosen life looked sullenly on, each man prepared for t)ie slaughter. 
 Being told by their elder that those who bore the steadiest minds should 
 first cut the throats of their wives and children, the celebrated Joccnus 
 began the execution by doing that barbarous act on his own wife, whom 
 our historians call Anna, and five children. The example was speedily 
 followed by the rest of masters of families ; and afterwards the rabbin 
 cut the throat of Jocenus himself, as a point of honour he chose to do him 
 above the rest. In short, the whole crew of miserable men, who had thus 
 voluntarily given themselves up to destruction, slew themselves or one 
 another, and amongst the rest fell their impious adviser. 
 
 In the mean time the fire that had been put to the castle raged much ; 
 which those poor Jews who had chosen life endeavoured as much as pos- 
 sible to quell. At daybreak the besiegers thronged as usual to assault 
 the fortress ; when the wretched remains of the massacre within stood 
 upon the walls, and in a most lamentable manner declared the horrid 
 catastrophe of their brethren. They threw their dead bodies over the 
 walls, to convince them of it; and, in a most suppliant and moving man- 
 ner, begged mercy, with an assurance of all of them turning Christians. 
 But the heads and ringleaders of these merciless bloodhounds, of 
 whom one Richard, says my author, called for his beastiality inala bestia, 
 was the chief, took no compassion on their sufferings. However, 
 feigning a concern, the Jews let them into the castle, which was no 
 sooner done than they slew every one of the poor creatures, who, adds 
 my author, to the last cried out for baptism. The worthy exploit per- 
 formed, the heroes ran strait to the cathedral church, where the bonds 
 the Christians were bound to the Jews in for money were deposited ; and 
 violently broke open the chests, took and burnt all the writings in the 
 midst of the church, and thus set themselves and many more free from 
 their avaricious usury. And after all each man went his way, the sol- 
 diers to their colours, and the commons to their houses, in as much joy 
 and triumph as if they had done the gallaiitcst and most meritorious 
 action. This massacre happened at York on the eleventh of March, 
 118'J-^0. William of Xewburgh writes that there were five hundred 
 men took sanctuary in the castle, besides women and childreit ; if »o, 
 this slaughter must be very considerable; it cannot be computed that 
 less than one thousand or fifteen hundred persons were destroyed Ibid,
 
 NOTKS. 97 
 
 Note 20, page 30. 
 And lay it at her feet— a br/'dal nffin'iig. 
 
 In the year of our Lord 1251, the thirty-fifth of King Henry III., came 
 that monarch to York in order to marry his daughter, just then marriage, 
 able, to Alexander the young king of Scotland ; and to see the ceremony 
 performed with that grandeur and magnificence, that the nuptials be- 
 twixt two such extraordinary persons deserved. Soon after this the sud- 
 den deaths of this young king and queen, with those of a son and daugh. 
 ter, their whole stock of children followed so quick as to make a continu. 
 ation of mourning, says Buchanan, in that kingdom. And reason enough 
 for it ; the royal line failing by this mortality, opened a door for so many 
 titles to enter and make their claim, as tore the whole nation to pieces. 
 In this competition Baliol and Bruce were the most remarkable claim- 
 ants. — Ibid. 
 
 Note 21, page 32. 
 To William de Selby gave his sword. 
 
 A.D. 1389 came King Richard to York, says Knighton, in order to 
 accommodate some differences which Iiad arisen betwi.\t the archbishop, 
 the dean and chapter, and the mayor and commonalty of the city. 
 The affair was of great consequence, but the king, by excellent manage. 
 nient, perfectly settled it, and, as my authority speaks, was so favourable 
 to the citizens as to grant them almost all they desired of him. It was 
 at this time that our own records speak King Richard took his sword 
 from his side and gave it to be borne before William de Sclby, as first 
 lord mayor of York. Richard was afterwards deposed and murdered in 
 Pomfret or Pontefract castle, by eight ruffians who set upon him with 
 pole axes, Richard wrested one of the axes from the murderers and laid 
 four of them dead at his feet, but he was at length overpowered by num. 
 bers and killed on the spot. — Ibid. 
 
 Note 22, page 31. 
 And here he found a ready advocate. 
 
 During the turbulent reign of Charles the First, our city's loyalty was 
 in an especial manner exemplified to its injured sovereign quite through 
 those dreadful scenes of blood and misery ; and deserved a more lasting 
 memorial than any pen can bestow upon it, — Ibid. 
 
 K
 
 J)o NOTES. 
 
 Note 23, page 37. 
 Though Glemham bravely fought and won renown. 
 
 Sir Thomas Glemham, the governor, liaving done as much as man could 
 do in defence of the city, after a siege of eighteen weeks, in which he had 
 valiantly withstood twenty-two storms, four countermines, and slain four 
 or live thousand of tlie enemy before it; having but a small garrison, 
 most of the artillery drawn out and lost at Marston Moor, little or no 
 warlike ammunition left, and lastly, deserted by the best and bravest 
 men, thought fit to render up the city on the following articles : — 
 
 1. That Sir Thomas Glemham, as governor of the city of York, shall 
 surrender and deliver up the same, with the forts, tower, cannon, ammu- 
 nition, and furniture of war belonging thereunto on the Kith of July 
 instant, at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, to the three generals, or to 
 whom they shall appoint, for the use of the king and parliament, in the 
 manner and ujion the conditions following. 
 
 2. That all the officers shall march forth out of the city with their 
 arms, drums beating, colours flying, match lighted, bullet in mouth, bag 
 and baggage. 
 
 3. That they shall have a convoy that no injury be done them in their 
 march to Skipton. 
 
 4. That sick and maimed soldiers shall not be hindered from going 
 after their recoveries. 
 
 5. That all soldiers' wives and children may have liberty to go to their 
 husbands, and lathers to their own homes and estates, and to enjoy them 
 peaceably under contribution. 
 
 G. That no soldier shall be enticed away. 
 
 7. That the citizens and inhabitants may enjoy all their privileges 
 which formerly they did at the beginning of their troubles, and may 
 have freedom of trade both by sea and land, paying such duties and cus. 
 toms as all other cities under obedience of parliament. 
 
 8. That if any garrison shall be placed in the city, two parts in three 
 shall be Yorkshiremen ; no free quarter shall be put upon any without 
 his own consent, and the armies shall not enter the city before the gover- 
 nor and lord mayor be acquainted. 
 
 y. That in all charges the citizens, residents and inhabitants, shall hear 
 only such part with the county at large as was formerly in sU other as- 
 icsamenls.
 
 10. That all citizens, gentlemen, residents, sojourners, and every otiier 
 person within the city, shall, if they please, have free liberty to remove 
 themselves, family, and goods, and to dispose thereof and their estates at 
 pleasure, according to the law of the land, either to live at their own 
 homes or elsewhere, and to enjoy their goods and estates without moles, 
 tation, and to have protection and safeguard for that purpose; so that 
 they may rest quietly at their abodes, and travel safely and freely about 
 their occasions. And for their better removal may have letters of safe 
 conduct, and be furnished with horses and carriages at reasonable rates. 
 
 11. That all gentlemen and others that have goods within the city, and 
 are absent themselves, may have free liberty to take, carry away, and 
 dispose of them as in the foregoing articles. 
 
 12. That neither churches nor other buildings shall be defaced, nor 
 any plunderings, nor taking of any man's person, nor any part of hi* 
 estate suflL-red ; and that justice shall be administered within the city by 
 the magistrates according to law, who shall be asserted therein, if need 
 require, by the garrison. 
 
 13. That all persons whose dwellings are in the city, though now ab- 
 sent, may enjoy the benefits of these articles as if they were present. 
 
 (Signed) 
 Ferd. Fairfax. 
 Manchester. 
 Adam Hepborne. 
 
 Lord Ilnmbee Thos. Glemham. 
 
 Will. Constable.
 
 NOTES TO PART II. 
 
 Note 1, page 41. 
 When from some neighboring hill's ascending brow. 
 
 Perhaps the best point of observation is from Lamcl Hill, near the 
 Quakers' Iletrcat, from whence the whole city seems stretched before the 
 eye, and presents a scene at once beautiful and picturesque. 
 
 Note 2, page 43. 
 Thrice fijty years were short enough to raise 
 The glorious tetnple of thy majesty. 
 
 If we compute the time it was in the course of building, from tlie com- 
 mencement of the .South Cross by Walter Grey, about the year 1227, to 
 the completion of the I>antern Tower in about 1380, it will appear to 
 have occupied a period of one hundred and fiity years ; and during all 
 these different erections, such care was taken in the joining and uniting 
 of the various parts, that the whole seems one entire edifice, though 
 composed of five ditlercnt orders of architecture. 
 
 Note 3, page 44. 
 Thtc, whom, the Heaven of Heavens can not enfold. 
 
 In adapting the words used by Solomon, in the dedication of the temple, 
 to his own verse, the Author cannot but feel how far short all modern 
 composition falls compared with the inspired language of the king of 
 Israel. " But will God indeed dwell on the earth ? behold, the heaven 
 and heaven of heavens cannot contain Thee ; how much less this house 
 that I iiave builded." — (1 Kings, chap. viii. v. 27.) 
 
 Note 4, page 51. 
 The gift of five fair sisters ! goodly band! 
 
 The form of lliis window, as well us the designs of the painted glass, 
 is lingular. Tradition assures uh that it was given to the Calhcdral by
 
 NOTKS. 101 
 
 five maiclfii sisters, aiiswcriiig to the Diitiilierof lijjlits, who also workcit 
 the pattern ol'tiie stained gla.-s in embroidery or needlework. Hence it 
 is culled " the live sisters." — Slranger's Guide. 
 
 Note ■'), page h\. 
 And high ascending Jlames declared it to the vicrv. 
 
 This lamentable catastrophe was the work of an incendiary, named 
 Jonathan Martin, a native of Hexham, in Northumberland, who was ap. 
 prenticed to a tanner ; was subsequently a sailcjr ; but had, lor some time 
 previous to this nefarious act, olitained his livelihood by hawking about a 
 pamphlet, containing a narrative of his life. He entertained the mo^t 
 absurd and fanatical opinions on religion. The clergy of the establish- 
 ment were the particular o! jccts of his viiu|)eration , whom he denomi- 
 nated blind guides, and accused of leading the higher ranks of society 
 astray. What motive induced him to set lire to the minster, it is iinpos- 
 sibletpsay; but he alleged that he was prompted to it by two dreams. 
 Ho accomplished his purpose by concealing himseU in the minster, during 
 divine service, on Sunday, the 1st of February, having first provided him- 
 self with a razor, wliich he used as a steel, some tinder, matches, and a 
 penny candle. The latter having burnt out before he had concludid his 
 operations, he procured a wax candle, which had been used in the min- 
 ster the previous evening. The ringers were in the belfrey in the even- 
 ing, and after they had gone, he went to the belfrey, where he struck a 
 light, and having lit his candle, he cut about ninety feet fro.n the rope of 
 the prayer.bell, vhicli he converted into a ladder, by tying knots at cer- 
 tain distances, and made use of it to obtain access to the interior of the 
 choir. 7'here he first cut away the gold fringe ornaments from the pul- 
 pit, and the velvet from the archbishop's tlirone, and the dean's and pre- 
 centor's seats. His object in taking these, lie said, was, that they might 
 be evidence against him that he did the deed. He next piled all the 
 cushions, surplices, and books which he could get, in two heaps, one near 
 the archbishop's throne, and the other near the organ, end set fire to 
 them. Ho then made his escape, by breaking one of the windows, (to 
 which he a.^cended by means of the machine used for cleaning the mins- 
 ter,) and letting himself down by the knotted rope. He took with him 
 the gold fringe, velvet, and a small bible. 1 he fire was discovered by a 
 lad named Swinbank, who saw smoke issuing from the loof. He gave an 
 
 K 3
 
 102 NOTE'^. 
 
 alarm, when it was foiiiul tlu.t tlic fire had extended along the whole of 
 the south side of the choir; and although the most |)ronipt assistance was 
 given, yet it was found impossible to save any portion of the wood- work 
 in that part of this noble edifice. The roof caught fire from the organ ; 
 and by half-past eleven o'clock, the whole of the beautiful tabernacle 
 work of carved oak, which adorned the prayer-house, the stalls, the pul- 
 pit, the cathedra, the fine organ, and the roof, were destroyed; nothing 
 remaining but a mass of burning ruins, which covered the floor, and 
 transformed this part of the cathedral into a vast ignited furnace. The 
 clustered columns of the choir, which are of magnesian limestone, were 
 considerably injured ; so were some of the monuments. The utmost sym. 
 pathy was evinced by all classes of the inhabitants, for the destruction of 
 this part of the cathedral, which was endeared to them by the holiest ties, 
 for there their forefathers had worshipjied fur ages past, and there they 
 had been wont to a.'semble to pray and praise. Addresses of condolence 
 were voted to the dean and chapter by the lord mayor and corporation, 
 and the citizens at large; and a subscription was opened to defray the 
 expenses of rebuilding the portion which was destroyed, the estimated 
 expense of which was jEC.5,000. We must not forget to add, that the in- 
 vestigation which was set on foot into the causes of the fire, fixed the 
 guilt so clearly on Martin, that a reward was offered for his apprehen- 
 sion ; and he was taken the Friday following, at Codlaw-hill, the resi- 
 dence of a relation, named Kcll, about three miles from Hexham. On 
 the following Monday morning, about half-past three, he arrived in York} 
 was examined immediately before the magistrates for the Liberty of St. 
 Peter, and committed to tlie City (iaol. At tlie ensuing assizes, true 
 bills were found against him for arson and felony; and on the 3 1st of 
 March he took his trial at the Castle, before Mr. Baron Hullock. He 
 was acquitted, after an investigation which continued nine hours, on 
 the ground of insanity ; and was afterwards removed to St. I^uke's Hos- 
 pital, I/Ondon, where he since died. — Ibid. 
 
 Note C, page 5.5. 
 Scarborough ! wert ihy name unknown before. 
 
 The new organ was given to the minster by the late Kight Hon. and 
 Rev. John Lumley .Saville, earl of Scarborough. 'I'he buildeis were 
 Messrs. Elliot and Hill, of London, and the meiit of planning and |>er-
 
 NUTES. ]03 
 
 forming on this splendid instrument is due to that talented musician, 
 Dr. Camidge, of York. 
 
 Note 7, page 58. 
 The deeds qf former days ! Rufus the Ucd. 
 
 The ruins of St. Mary's Abbey are pleasantly situated behind the 
 Manor House, on the norlh-west side of the walls, gently sloping to the 
 river Ouse, now called the Manor Shore : no place near the city could 
 be better calculated for the purpose of such an establishment. In the 
 general conflagration which happened at York, in 1137, the original 
 fabric, founded by William Rufus, in 1088, was totally destroyed, and 
 permitted to lie in ruins until the year 1270, when Simon de Warwick, 
 then abbot, commenced the rebuilding of it, which he lived to see com* 
 pleted in twenty-two years. What at present remains is part of that 
 grand edifice; and though inconsiderable in respect of wh.?.t it was, is 
 yet sufficient to shew it to have been one of the most elegant structures 
 in the kingdom. — Stranger's Guide. 
 
 Xote 8, page CO. 
 See ! there her temple stands. 
 
 The Yorkshire Philosophical Society was founded in 1822, and having 
 greatly increased, in 1826 it petitioned the Crown for a grant of three 
 acres of land on the Manor Shore, stating as its objects the erection of a 
 suitable building, the establishment of a botanic garden, and the pre* 
 servation of the venerable relics of the abbey of St. Mary, which occupy 
 a portion of the site. The first stone of the Yorkshire Museum was laid 
 by his Grace the Archbishop of York, on the 24th of October, 1827. 
 
 Kote 9, page 60. 
 The house on which a deathless name is set. 
 
 The Yorkshire School for the Education of the Blind owes its origin to 
 a meeting held in this city, on the 3d of October, 1833, for the purpose of 
 considering the most efiectual means of doing honour to the memory of 
 William Wilberforce, who represented this great county in six succes- 
 sive parli.iments during a period of twenty-eight years, and industriously 
 exerted his abilities to t'.ie latest hour of his life in the genuine spirit of 
 Christianity for the attainment of objects of the most enlarged bencvo'.
 
 ] 0-1 NOTES, 
 
 lence. The meeting was attended by the I-ord Chancellor, the Arcli- 
 bisliop of York, and a great number of the noblemen, gentlemen, and 
 clergy of the county of York, and resolutions were adopted and subscrip. 
 tions raised for the founding of this benevolent institution, as the most 
 appropriate monument which could be raised to the memory of the bene- 
 volent Wilberforce. 
 
 The governors of the institution succeeded in obtaining a lease from 
 the crown, for ninety.nine years, of the Manor House, with the gardens 
 and grounds attached to it, and on the Cth of October, 18 '5, the two first 
 pu])ils wore admitted into it. There are. now about twenty pupils, male 
 and female, who are all instructed in useful employments. The girls are 
 engaged in knitting and needlework; many of them execute in a supe. 
 rior manner a variety of fancy knitting, and some of them sew very 
 neatly. The boys are under the care of a basket-maker, and make very 
 rapid progress ; they manufacture every description of baskets, of the 
 finest texture, which meet a ready sale at the regular trade price. The 
 same may be said of the girls' work, as the demand for shawls, &c., manu- 
 factured by them is very great. Such of the children as possess a taste 
 for music are placed under the care of a music-master; most of them can 
 join in the air of the common psalm tunes, and several of them can take 
 the different parts in the harmony. One boy, instructed in this school, 
 has occasionally played on the organ in some of the Y'ork churches. The 
 whole of the pupils have been taught arithmetic, reading, geography, 
 Sec, and some of them have now made very considerable progress in the 
 various dranches. In their religious instruction the greatest care is 
 taken; they are punctual in their attendance at public worship on the 
 Lord's day, and in the evenings the ma^ter reads religious tracts and 
 other spiritual books to them. Many of them have committed a large 
 portion of the psalms and other parts of the Holy Scriiitures to memory. 
 
 The institution has now an extensive suite of workshops, lodging, 
 rooms, and other apartments, sufficient for the reception of fifty pupila, 
 together with the master's family : two separate play grounds are set 
 apart in this arrangement for the male and female pupils, and store- 
 rooms are provided for warehousing both the goods manufactured in the 
 school and the raw materials. The accommodations thus reserved for 
 jiresent use arc situated in the centre of the building ; and whenever the 
 number of pupils may be increased beyond what is contemplated, the ad.
 
 NOTES. 105 
 
 ditioiial (pace required, may be obtained, by adding the right and left 
 wings, wliich are now let to respectable tenants who pay rent to the in. 
 stitution. 
 
 The Rev. William Taylor, a gentleman who has done much in promot- 
 ing the education of the blind, is the superintendent of the school, and 
 inspects the conduct of the pupils, and also of the instructors and ser- 
 vants, and regulates, under the committee, the method ot education. 
 Under his able superintendance, it is to be hoped that the Yorkshire 
 School for the Blind, will prove a deserving memorial of that great phi- 
 lanthropist in honour of whom it was instituted. 
 
 A visit to this establishment will well repay the stranger, who will find 
 the greatest readiness on the part of the master and mistress to give every 
 information^which can be desired. — Stranger's Guide. 
 
 Note 10, page 63, 
 Kor must tve pass unsung the noble Jane. 
 
 The Assembly Rooms were erected in 1730, from a design by the cele- 
 brated Lord Burlington, and the foundation stone, part of which is yet 
 seen in one of the cellars, bears a plate with a suitable inscrij tion in Latin 
 to his memory. 
 
 Note 11, page 65. 
 WTien Scotland lost all claim to chivalry. 
 
 It was here that the Scots were paid £200,000 for the part they took in 
 assisting the Parliament against Charles I. — Stranger's Guide. 
 
 Note 12, page 06. 
 These grey grown ramparts ! often have they stood. 
 
 It cannot now be ascertained by whom these once formidable bulwarks 
 were first erected ; but from the numerous remains of Roman and other 
 fortifications in and about the city, there can be no doubt that it was 
 kept in a state of defence under these governments. Its walls, however, 
 have been afterwards reduced or entirely destroyed ; and the present are 
 generally believed to have been built upon Roman foundations, by Ed. 
 ward I., about the year 12S0. 
 
 In the reign of Henry VIII., the walls and towers wore all in a state of 
 defence, and are thus described at that period by Leland, in his Itinerary :
 
 JOG NOTLS. 
 
 " The city of York is divided by the river Ousc ; but that part which 
 is on the east side is twice as large as that on the west. The great tower 
 at Lendal had a chain of iron to cast over the river, then another tower, 
 and so to Boothambar; from thence to Monk bar ten towers, anil to 
 Layerthorpe postern four towers ; for some distance the deep waters of 
 the Foss defended this part of the city without the walls; and from 
 thence to Walmgate bar three towers; then Fishergate bar, walled up 
 in the time of Henry VII., and three towers ; the last a postern ; from 
 which by a bridge over the Foss, to the castle, or old baile, with nine 
 towers to Micklegate bar ; and between it and North-street postern ten 
 towers; the postern was opposite to the tower at Lendal, to draw the 
 chain over the river between them." 
 
 Note 13, page 68. 
 Unhappy Aram ! such a fate was thine. 
 
 Eugene Aram, a man of considerable learning, and remarkable for his 
 iniha]ipy fate, was born in Yorkshire, 1704. His education consisted in 
 learning to read ; but, being of a studious disposition, he made great 
 progress in mathematical studies and polite literature by hisown unaided 
 exertions. He acquired the Latin and Greek languages, reading all of 
 the Roman and most of the Greek classics, and also became acquainted 
 with the oriental and Celtic tongues. In 1734, he set up a school at 
 Knaresborongh, where he married. About 1745, a shoemaker of that 
 place, named Daniel Clarke, was suddenly missing under su.'ipicious cir. 
 cumstances; and no light was thrown on the matter till full thirteen 
 years afterwards, when an expression dropped by one Richard Houseman 
 respecting a skeleton then discovered in a cave, caused him to be taken 
 into custody as one concerned in the murder of Clarke. From his con. 
 fession, an order was issued for the apprehension of Aram, who had long 
 eince quitted Yorkshire, having been usher, first in a school in London, 
 and afterwards at another at Hayes, in Middlesex, and in 1757 at the 
 grammar school at Lynn, in all which places he had acquitted himself 
 with credit, and prosecuted his studies with great diligence. He was ar- 
 retted in the latter end of 1758, and brought to trial on the 3d of August, 
 17.")9, at York, where, notwithstanding an able cud eloquent defenc-e 
 which he read to the court, he was satisfactorily convicted of the murder 
 of Clarke, and sentenced to be executed. After hii conviction, he coo-
 
 NOTES. J 07 
 
 t'essed the justice of his sentence, and alleged his suspicion of an unlawful 
 intercourse between Clarke and his wife, as his motive for the commis- 
 sion of the murder. He attempted to end his life, while in prison, by 
 bleeding, but was revived and executed. His case produced at the time 
 a great sensation, and has of late been pressed into the service of fiction. 
 
 Note 14, page 70. 
 Fair Jsi's rolls along its peaceful bed. 
 
 Isis, Uys, or Ure, are the ancient names of the river Ouse. 
 
 Note 1.5, page 73. 
 A family hercfl by one sad blow. 
 
 The church yard of St. Lawrence, at York, is rendered peculiarly in. 
 teresting by a monument having been placed there by subscription; to 
 the memory of six children of one family, who were drowned together in 
 the Ouse, August, 1830, by a pleasure beat in which they were, being ac- 
 cidentally run down with a larger vessel. This affecting testimony of 
 friendship has a very handsome appearance. The vault is covered by an 
 entombment in form of a pediment, a squandril in front having a serpent 
 in relief, coiled in a circle, as an emblem of eternity. Above this rises 
 the basement of the ground-work of the monument, whereon stand two 
 massy square stone pillar.^, elegantly carved in front with ivy leaves, ex- 
 pressive of friendship. These are surmounted by a fine Grecian cornice, 
 designed after a monument erected over some youths at Thysillus, and 
 which has stood there above 2000 years. Branches of palm and wreaths 
 of laurel are introduced in the frieze. Tiie interior work is wholly of 
 marble, the ground of Italian dove. The tablet is of white marble, sup. 
 ported by water and ruffled leaves, and bears the following inscription, 
 from the pen of James Montgomery, Esq. 
 
 B.USED BV FRIENDSHIP, 
 
 I.N .MEMOllV OK 
 
 POUR S0.\S A.MD TWO D.\UGHTEHS 
 
 OF JOH.N A.ND ANN RICO, OF THIS CITY; VIZ. 
 
 AUN GUIHltlE RIGG, AGED lU YEARS; 
 
 ELIZA BIGG, AGED 17; 
 
 THOMAS GORWOOD BIGG, AGED 18; JOU.V BIGG, AGED IG; 
 
 JAMES S.MUII RIGG, AliED 7; AND CHARLES RIGG, AGED 6; 
 
 WHO WERE DROWNED BY THEIR BOA r BEING BU.V DOWN 
 
 O.N THE RIVER OLSE, NEAR YORK, AUGUST VJ, 1830. 
 
 Mark the brief story of a Summer's Day ! 
 
 At noun, Youth, Health, and Beauty, launch 'd away;
 
 108 NOTES. 
 
 Ere evp. Death wrecked the bark, and quench'd their light; 
 
 7"heir Parents' Home was desolate at night : 
 
 Each pass'd alone, that giilpli no eye can see ; 
 
 They met. next moment, in Eternity. 
 
 Friend, Kinsman, Stranger, dost thou ask me Where ? 
 
 Seek God's right hand, and hope to find them There. 
 
 The tablet is surmounted by a bold cornice, which supports a massive 
 urn, partially concealed by drapery, all wrought in while marble. The 
 height of the monument is ten feet, and it is eight and a half wide. The 
 whole is very well executed, and both the design and the sculpture are 
 very creditable to the talents of Mr. Plows, of this city, by whom it was 
 erected. — The New Guide. 
 
 Note IG, page 75. 
 , that tempestuous blast 
 
 Which o'er us lately burst 171 fearful sway. 
 
 Whilst the Author was engaged in this part of the Poem, York was 
 visited by the severest storm that ever happened in this part of the king. 
 dom. Houses were unroofed, trees were uprooted, and what was more 
 melancholy still, several persons lost their lives in this city and neigh- 
 bourhood.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN IN CONTEMPLATION OF THE DEPARTURE OF THE SHIP 
 "COVE," LADENED WITH PROVISIONS FOR THE RELIEF OF 
 SOME VESSELS WHICH WERE BOUND IN THE ICE IN THE 
 SEASON OF 1835. 
 
 Go on thy glorious way^ proud ship ! 
 
 Go on thy glorious way ! 
 Whilst o'er the ocean s boundless breast 
 
 No storms thy coui'se delay ! 
 For He who hears the mariner 
 
 Lift up the pious prayer. 
 In regions of unyielding ice, 
 
 "Will guide thee safely there ! 
 l2
 
 112 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Pursue thy bright career^ proud ship 
 
 Our prayers shall Avaft thee on ! 
 On what a glorious pilgrimage 
 
 Of mercy art thou gone ! 
 Go, take the sufferers relief, 
 
 Go, cheer their dreary fate. 
 And tell them that all England feels 
 
 Their sad imprisoned state ! 
 
 Go on thy way rejoicing, ship ! 
 
 Our blessings fill thy sails. 
 And gi-atoful will the seaman be 
 
 When thy approach he hails ; 
 With gratitude unto its God 
 
 Each beating heart Avill fill. 
 That in the ice- girt solitude 
 
 His ear is open still ! 
 
 Keep on thy fearless course, good ship ! 
 And quick relief impart.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 113 
 
 Where no green meaclo-ws meet the sight, 
 
 No home can soothe the heart ! 
 Take comfort to the seaman brave. 
 
 In regions cold and wild. 
 Till husband is restored to Avife 
 
 The parent to his child ! 
 
 Herald of joy ! go on thy way, 
 
 Secure, and free from fear. 
 The lingering hoiu's wiU counted be 
 
 Till brighter news we hear ! 
 The briny deep did never bear, 
 
 Nor pelding waves surround 
 A ship with more good wishes sent, 
 
 On brighter en-and bound. 
 
 Chosen of God ! farewell ! farewell ! 
 
 I fear no ill to thee ! 
 Vessel of mercy ! keep thy comse 
 
 Across the dangerous sea ! 
 L 3
 
 114 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The anxious wife, \vith trembling liope^ 
 Asks of the Lord his care. 
 
 And every wave that bears thee on 
 Is bm'dened Avith a prayer !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 115 
 
 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 O'er Heaven's unclouded canopy. 
 
 In glory rides the queen of niglit ! 
 And from her glorious course on high 
 
 Pours on this world her lovely light ! 
 The woods seem ^vl•apped in sleep profound, 
 
 The smiling meadows o\^ti her sway. 
 The night flowers shed their odours round, 
 
 And mighty seas her course obey ! 
 The still smooth lake gives back again 
 
 Her o^\Ti imequalled beauty there. 
 Whilst towering hill and verdant plain 
 
 The brightness of her glory wear !
 
 116 HISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The passing breeze hatli borne along 
 
 The sounds that chimed the midnight hour. 
 And Philomela's plaintive song 
 
 Is heard from her far leafy boAver ! 
 Save this, all round is hushed and still. 
 
 Calm as the silent sleep of death, 
 When beauty's brow is pale and chill, 
 
 As some fair form resigns its breath ! 
 In hours like this when all are gone, 
 
 When each has sought his o\\ti retreat. 
 The heart feels in the world alone, 
 
 Yet such a loneliness how sweet ! 
 
 O how we long to rend the veil 
 
 Of unexplored futurity, 
 To see if life's progressing talc 
 
 Is marked with joy or misery ! 
 Then homeward thoughts come thick and fast, 
 
 For daylight seems not half so kind ; 
 Whilst recollections of the past 
 
 Crowd on the busy musing mind !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 117 
 
 Our sterner feelings melt away 
 
 In one wide-spreading stream of love ! 
 
 Whilst every passion owns the sway. 
 Of yonder orb of light above ! 
 
 How hardened is the heart that feels 
 
 No secret joy on such a night, 
 HoAV cold the eye, if it reveals 
 
 No rapturous pleasure at the sight ! 
 But blest are they whose minds can soar 
 
 As if an angel's wings were given, 
 Who can the heights of bliss explore, 
 
 And converse hold with saints in Heaven. 
 Sweet foretaste here of future joy. 
 
 Where all is happiness and peace. 
 Where hymns of praise the poAvers employ, 
 
 And songs of glory never cease !
 
 118 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO A DEAD ROSE. 
 
 (A PRESENT FROM A FEMALE FRIEND.) 
 
 Crest-fallen flower ! once proud thou grew, 
 Nor equal or superior knoAV, 
 
 But now thy power is gone ! 
 The gentle breeze no more can bear. 
 The perfume once thou scattered there, 
 
 Thy loveliness hath flown ! 
 
 Yet thou wert plucked by beauty's hand, 
 For her thy charms did once expand ! 
 
 Placed in her bosom too ! 
 O was not this a happy lot. 
 Though parted from the native spot 
 
 Where all thy comrades grew I
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 119 
 
 Yes ! this thou felt, and loved to slioAv 
 Thy blooming beauty, and to throw 
 
 Thy odours in the air ! 
 Proud of the change, that thou shouldst be 
 Near one so much more bright than thee, 
 
 So exquisitely fair ! 
 
 The noble seeks the court of kings, 
 The low-born to the noble clings. 
 
 To learn superior grace ; 
 So thou rejoiced, couklst thou but tell 
 When first thou bade the soil farewell 
 
 To gain a higher place ! 
 
 Full many a state has been o'erthrown. 
 And many a one misfortune known. 
 
 When perhaps expected least ; 
 For who, whilst his fond fancy feeds 
 On western skies, at sunset, heeds 
 
 The darkness of the east !
 
 120 .MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Then as such sorrow plagues us all, 
 Thou couklst not 'scape the gloomy thrall, 
 
 But soon must hence remove ! 
 TVith hope thy mistress ladened thee, 
 A blooming rose thou came to me, 
 
 A token of her love ! 
 
 Ah ! could my verse but partly tell 
 The feelings which my bosom swell 
 
 Whene'er on thee I gaze. 
 And could my fairest donor share 
 But half the blessings of my prayer, 
 
 Bright ^vould bo all her davs ! 
 
 Exotics from the torrid zone 
 Thrive not near Winter's icy throne, 
 
 But languish and decay ; 
 So when thou wert transported here, 
 Thou saw not mv besccchinfj tear 
 
 And <j[uickly fell away !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ]21 
 
 Yes, though I nui'sed thee with such care, 
 The change of place thou couklst not bear. 
 
 Of half its warmth bereft ; 
 My bosom Avas ungenial to 
 One Avho such fostering friendship know, 
 
 Thou pined for what was left ! 
 
 Thy leaves are dropping one by one, 
 Thy vigour, beauty, pride, are gone. 
 
 Yet still a scent remains. 
 Like that, which after scenes have past 
 That our fond hearts would wish to last 
 
 The memory still retains ! 
 
 And O, like thee ! thy mistress fair — 
 Begone, dread thought ! my feelings spare 
 
 Nor lead me here, my Muse ! 
 I cannot, cannot bear to think. 
 That one so fair, like thee, should sink. 
 
 And all her SAveetness lose ! 
 
 M
 
 122 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 Then let the painful thought he crushed, 
 And let the weeping l}Te be hushed. 
 
 And heard so sad no more. 
 With this — though of all bloom bereft, 
 While yet one leaf or stem is left. 
 
 That stem I -vvill adore !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 123 
 
 ADDRESS TO A LITTLE BLIND BOY, 
 
 Thine eyes have never seen the lights thou little 
 sightless boy ! 
 
 The sparkling sunbeams never yield to thee one mo- 
 ment's joy ! 
 
 Save when upon thy healthful cheek with cheerful 
 warmth they play, 
 
 The only sign by which thou canst distinguish night 
 from day ! 
 
 The blooming fields, the verdant hills, were never 
 
 seen by thee ! 
 The flowers that deck the garden Walk, the fruit upon 
 
 the tree, 
 
 M 2
 
 124 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The crystal stream of water that is rippling tlirough 
 
 the glade, 
 The little feathery choristers that warble in the shade ! 
 
 Yet thou hast felt the odours that these fields and 
 
 flowers have shed, 
 And ate the fruit, and heard the stream rush o'er its 
 
 rocky bed ; 
 Whilst every songster's note is now familiar to thee 
 
 grown, 
 Then canst thou sigh for want of that which thou 
 
 hast never knoAMi ? 
 
 Thy mother often watches thee when thou art fast 
 asleep, 
 
 And will for hours, imknown to thee, at thy misfor- 
 tune weep ! 
 
 Win raise the fervent prayer to God that sight to thee 
 be given. 
 
 Then meekly bow before the will of Ilim who reigns 
 in Heaven.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 125 
 
 And oft thy simple^ questions will call forth a parent's 
 sigh. 
 
 Whilst thoUj a stranger to the cause, in silence won- 
 ders why ! 
 
 Poor hapless child of innocence ! attentive ! gentle ! 
 kind ! 
 
 A motherw'ell may_sigh for one so fair, and yet so 
 blind ! 
 
 Farewell, thou little sightless boy ! a happier time 
 
 will come. 
 When angels, waiting round thy bed, will bear thy 
 
 spirit home ! 
 Then will thy eyes be opened to the glories of the 
 
 blest, 
 And thy extatic soid rejoice in realms of endless rest ! 
 
 A day more beautiful will dawn, than earth's uncer- 
 tain light, 
 
 Without one shadow to obscure, eternal ! pure ! and 
 blight ! 
 
 M 3
 
 126 JIISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Then prospects more magnificent will spread an ex- 
 panse wiclcj 
 
 And fairer than the fairest that was here to thee 
 denied !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 127 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS 
 
 ON THE CORPSE OF A LOVELY LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 How beautiful she looks in death, 
 
 Though silent, pale, and chill ! 
 Have not those lips, though robbed of breath, 
 
 The power of speaking still ? 
 Ah, no ! they cannot as before 
 
 Breathe forth the simple prayer ! 
 And those glazed eyes can now no more 
 
 The inward joy declare ! 
 
 Her little feet no more shall press 
 The dew bespangled green,
 
 128 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Nor Avith her mates in plaj-fulness 
 
 In miniic dance be seen ! 
 Pier place is vacant at the board ! 
 
 The desolation there 
 Seems as when wintry Avinds have roared. 
 
 And left the forest bare ! 
 
 HoAv can the mother now beguile 
 
 The sluggish moving hoiu's ? 
 No child to cheer her Avith a smile ! 
 
 To deck her room Avith floAA'ers ! 
 And Avho the sire's return shall hail. 
 
 Or meet him on the hill ? 
 Shall lisp the newly-mastered tale. 
 
 And learn afresh his Avill ! 
 
 The little bird is sad and loAV, 
 
 By other hands 'tis fed ! 
 Though Imt a bird, it seems to kuoAV 
 
 Its mistress too is do;id !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 129 
 
 The playmates on the lost one call 
 
 To fill the vacant part ! 
 How heavily such trifles fall 
 
 Upon a mother's heart ! 
 
 Yet why should we, poor worms of dust ! 
 
 The separation mourn ? 
 Since to the gloomy gi-ave we must 
 
 Soon after her be borne ! 
 She hath escaped a world of woe, 
 
 Of trial and of sin ! 
 And gone where tears can never flow. 
 
 Or sorrow enter in ! 
 
 She cannot now the arrows feel 
 
 Of disappointment keen, 
 Or leam that friendship may conceal 
 
 But malice — envy — spleen ! 
 No broken vows, no rival's scorn 
 
 Can pierce her loving breast 1
 
 130 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Affection's bonds untimely torn 
 Will ne'er disturb her rest, 
 
 O what bright happiness on high ! 
 
 What freedom hath she won ! 
 Nor liyed, like some who fain would die, 
 
 To dread each rising sun ! 
 Or weep, with Scotia's bard, to view 
 
 The Avretched and forlorn. 
 And feel that man and woman too. 
 
 Alike were 7nade to mourn ! 
 
 The proud one's look, the severed tie, 
 
 The pledge of youth forgot. 
 The poisonous breath of calumny. 
 
 Blown but to leave a blot, 
 The bhghted hope, the groundless fear, 
 
 Disease, severe or slow, 
 The deep-drawii sigh, the trembling tear, 
 
 Say Avhicli can reach her now !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 131 
 
 Yet had she lived, each might have clung 
 
 With anguish to her soul, 
 And clouds, by sin or malice flung. 
 
 Might now before her roll ; 
 Th^ morning might have brought her grief 
 
 Which night could not assuage, 
 Nor passing pleasures give relief. 
 
 Or check its angry rage ! 
 
 For what are life's poor joys at best ! 
 
 Soon in reflection lost ! 
 " The fly, in gaudy colours drest. 
 
 Is but a worm at most !" 
 Since sin destroyed earth's fairest ^dew. 
 
 What stem hath ever home 
 A flower of an undying hue ! 
 
 A rose without a thorn ! 
 
 For thee ! O Avhat a bright exchange. 
 Thou SAveet departed child !
 
 132 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Througli fields that ever bloom to range. 
 Where all is pure and mild ! 
 
 To "wear a cro^Ti wliere gems are found 
 That cannot know decay ! 
 
 To strike a harp Avith such a sound 
 As never dies away ! 
 
 Yes ! thou hast reached that happy place, 
 
 The saint's eternal home ! 
 Through Christ, who died to win us grace. 
 
 Who hade young children " come !" 
 Nor to the young alone confined 
 
 That universal call ! 
 O may that grace enrich each mind, 
 
 There still is room for all !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 133 
 
 TO THE DECAYED TRUNK OF A TREE. 
 
 (STANDING IN A GARDEN AT HEWORTH.) 
 
 Thou relic of some mighty tree, 
 
 "WTiose pride and strength are o'er ! 
 "Where is the hand that planted thee, 
 
 In bygone days of yore ? 
 Long mouldered in its native dust, 
 
 Nor left a name behind ! 
 Yet thee, so slowly perishing, 
 
 A monument we find ! 
 
 There was a time Avhen thou didst spread 
 
 Thy branches in the air. 
 And birds, in each returning spring, 
 
 Were welcome dAvellcrs there ! 
 
 N
 
 134 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Full many a generation rose, 
 And sunk in life's rougli tide. 
 
 Whilst thou upheld thy towering head. 
 In fresh and vigorous pride ! 
 
 The lightning's flash, the murmuring wind 
 
 Among thy branches crept ; 
 And soft and pleasant moonlight oft 
 
 Upon thy hosom slept ! 
 But lightning's flash, or murmuring wind. 
 
 Or Luna's lovely light, 
 No more will play around thee, in 
 
 The lonely hour of night i 
 
 'Tis true thou didst escape the axe 
 Which Avoodmen jA'icd aromid. 
 
 But one, unfailing and more sure. 
 In other hands Avas found ! 
 
 Old Time suLdued : 'ice in thy strength, 
 Till thou wert lowly sunk,
 
 :n[iscellaneous poems. 135 
 
 And now what is there left of thee ? 
 A bare and branchless trunk ! 
 
 There is a secret lesson^ which 
 
 My bosom learns from thee ! 
 Though now in youth, and health, and strength. 
 
 Ere long what shall I be ? 
 Should sickness spare my youthful form. 
 
 Old age will soon come on ! 
 I quickly shall be like to thee. 
 
 All strength and vigour gone ! 
 
 This flesh will fail, this blood mil freeze. 
 
 This glowing form be shrunk, 
 A relic of my fonner self ! 
 
 A fast decaying trunk ! 
 Full soon the icy hand of death 
 
 Will on my heart be prest ! 
 O may my spirit enter then 
 
 Its unbeclouded rest ! 
 N 2
 
 136 MISCELLA^'EOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE EVENING HOUR. 
 
 How soft and gentle is tliis hour ! 
 
 What Avorsliip nature seems to pay 
 To Him Avlio rears tlie bud and flower. 
 
 Who is the same or night or day ! 
 
 From eveiy bush and tree around 
 The choristers of nature sing ! 
 
 And how welcome is the sound 
 Which their united voices ring ! 
 
 Past is the noonday's scorching heatj 
 The sun retires behind the hill. 
 
 But in this hour, so softly sweet, 
 A thousand eyes are waking still !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 137 
 
 The constant thrush lifts up her voice, 
 The blackbird echoes to his note, 
 
 The linnet, goldfinch^ all rejoice, 
 
 Thanksgivings poiir from every throat. 
 
 For what are all the melodies 
 
 That float upon the scented breeze. 
 
 But praises which to HeavenAvard rise, 
 To Him who all things hourly sees ! 
 
 The very brooklet sings for love ! 
 
 The stately trees majestic stand ! 
 The grassy turf, the sky above. 
 
 Appear in worship to expand ! 
 
 Shall man alone unmoved stand by. 
 
 Nor join the universal praise ? 
 The heir of immortality ! 
 
 While things that perish worship raise ! 
 
 N 3
 
 138 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Whose eyes may, with enraptured gaze, 
 Behold the beauteous arch of Heayen, 
 
 TVTiich such magnificence displays, 
 At morning, noonday, or at even ! 
 
 Whose heart may with pure pleasures heave. 
 And, kindling in true bliss^ rejoice. 
 
 Whose ear may mth delight receive 
 The glorious soimds of Nature's voice ! 
 
 For whom the hawthorn blossom flings 
 Its grateful odours on the gale. 
 
 Which other scents unnumbered brings, 
 For man at pleasure to inhale ! 
 
 No ! surely from his heart shall flow. 
 Like water gushing from the fount. 
 
 Pure adoration's fervent glow, 
 
 To Him Avho died on Calvai-y's mount.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS P0E3IS. 139 
 
 O who can contemplate the sight;, 
 
 And feel God's presence round him brood, 
 
 Nor to the source of life and light 
 Lift up a prayer in solitude !
 
 140 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO THE HEART'S EASE. 
 
 Thou simple flower of English birth. 
 Who can no foreign lineage claim. 
 
 Say, is the richness of thy -worth 
 Embodied in thy touching name ! 
 
 ! if when sorrow darkly cleaves 
 Around the tcndi-ils of the heart, 
 
 A power was in thy tinted leaves. 
 To soothe the anguish of the dart ! 
 
 Thou wouldst be dear to every breast. 
 And every eye would love the sight, 
 
 In every bosom wouldst thou rest ! 
 To excry mind impart delight !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 141 
 
 When friendship's star grew dull or dark. 
 Or clouds obscured the light of love. 
 
 When Plope A'vdthdrew, nor left one spark, 
 How grateful would thy influence prove ! 
 
 Heart's Ease ! what magic in the sound ! 
 
 Still might our droophig hopes revive, 
 If that could in a flower be found 
 
 Which wealth or beauty caimot give ! 
 
 But still 'tis sweet to gaze on thee, 
 
 Although this power thou canst not claim, 
 
 For He who bade thee lovely be. 
 
 Can give what thou hast but in name ! 
 
 O ! may the sight of blushing rose, 
 
 Or daisy sparkling on the sod. 
 The simplest, richest flower that grows. 
 
 Alike lead on my thoughts to God !
 
 142 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 To Him Avho bade the flowerets bloom, 
 That gave the odom-s they impart , 
 
 For He can chase away our gloom. 
 And ease the trouble of the hearl !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 143 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF A MISSIONARY IN A DISTANT 
 
 LAND. 
 
 Strike, strike your harps ! ye angel bands ! 
 
 That stand around the throne ! 
 Another soldier of the Lord 
 
 Is to your numbers won ! 
 Lift up your voices, saints below ! 
 
 And pierce the arch of Heaven ! 
 That an immortal cro\Mi of joy 
 
 Is to your brother given ! 
 
 His labour done ! the mandate came — 
 " Come enter in thy rest !"
 
 ]44 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 He's gone to be rewarded now 
 AYitli those for ever blest ! 
 
 Long in tlie -vdneyard of the Lord 
 He toiled with all his might. 
 
 And now he with his master dwells 
 In realms of heavenly light ! 
 
 In distant lands he spent his days, 
 And strangers closed his eyes ! 
 "NMiile foreign accents in loud wail 
 
 Above his ashes rise ! 
 But whilst he trod the strangers' soil, 
 
 He felt the Lord was near ! 
 And in the gloomy vale of death 
 No evil did he fear ! 
 
 Farewell ! farewell ! thou happy soul ! 
 
 Thou spirit glorified ! 
 Enrolled among the countless hosts 
 
 For whom our Jesus died !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PCEMS. 145 
 
 A bright eternity of praise, 
 
 Where heavenly glories shine ! 
 An immortality of joy. 
 
 Are now for ever thine .'
 
 i46 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 VILLAGE MUSINGS. 
 
 Morn on the hamlet pours her welcome heams, 
 And calls the peasant to his daily toil. 
 
 Refreshed by slumber, vmdisturbed by dreams. 
 With grateful heart he meets her cheering smile ! 
 
 How sweet and pleasant seems the village now. 
 As if fair Peace had fixed her dwelling here. 
 
 Mild as the morning's oa^ti unruffled broAV, 
 Unbroken is the calmness far and near ! 
 
 Each peaceful cottage pours of rising smoke 
 
 A little volume to the morning sky, 
 • Whicl), as it rises, almost would evoke 
 
 Vraise from our hearts to Him who dwells on high !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 147 
 
 All ! could our breasts but pure contentment feel, 
 Sure it wovild be in such a spot as this ! 
 
 With those we love, earth might at least reveal 
 A glimmering, though but faint, of future bliss ! 
 
 Unequalled state ! what soul would then exchange 
 The coimtry cottage for the crowded court ? 
 
 To purchase all within gay Fashion's range, 
 Or all that to the train of wealth resort ! 
 
 Let History tell Avhat power and wealth impart. 
 When death's dark shadows pierce the throbbing 
 breast. 
 
 Let Wolsey show what racked his dying heart ! 
 And ftiUen Buckingham proclaim the rest ! 
 
 There's many a veteran in the villacre now. 
 Who, past all labour, waits his final hour. 
 
 Calm resignation stampt upon his brow — 
 
 The world to him has lost its witching power ! 
 
 o 2
 
 148 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 "Wliy can lie contemplate without a sigh 
 
 The awful moment which must lay him low ? 
 
 How can he feel the tyrant drawing nigh, 
 Yet let no soitow cloud his placid brow ? 
 
 Seest thou that Chui'ch ? within its rugged walls 
 For fifty years he lias been used to hear 
 
 The word proclaimed! the very sight recalls 
 A thousand things to fond remembrance dear ! 
 
 The village ChiU'ch ! yes, on that rising hill 
 It stands, in silence, solemn, and sublime ! 
 
 Lifting its humble spire to heavenward still. 
 Untouched by storms, and reverenced by time ! 
 
 Successive generations there did meet, 
 Beneath its roof the sacred day to keep ! 
 
 Within its walls have lield communion sweet. 
 And now beneath their shadow calmly sleep !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POE.MS. 149 
 
 How often at its altar has been tied 
 
 The nuptial knot ! methinks I'm Avatching now 
 The manly bridegroom and the blushing bride 
 
 Exchanging there the fond connubial vow ! 
 
 Mark how he takes her trembling hand in his, 
 And on her finger slides symbolic ring ! 
 
 Imprinting on her lips the fervent kiss ! 
 
 "Whilst Love o'ershadows with his "^ purple Aving !" 
 
 Hear now the priest with solemn voice pronounce 
 The parting blessing on the wedded pair ! 
 
 And tm-ning from the altar, lo ! at once, 
 
 What hearty shouts of welcome rend the air ! 
 
 Then passing onward to their joyful home, 
 
 Full many a blessing on them kindly showered ! 
 
 " Bright be the portion of your days to come ! 
 Domestic pleasure on your path be poured !" 
 
 3
 
 l.")0 MI.<CELLANKOUS POEMS. 
 
 Behold that cottage on tho rising knoll 
 
 Of bright green sward, on which the children play. 
 Around whose base (wo now may hoar it roll) 
 
 Tlie rippling brooklet winds its noisy way ! 
 
 There lives a pair who fourscore years have dwelt. 
 And hope to dwell there tnitil Ufe shall cease ; 
 
 Oft have their children's children with them knelt, 
 Around the altar of domestic peace ! 
 
 No -xxTangling strife could ever enter there, 
 No family bickerings mar their wedded love, 
 
 Blest in each other have this humble pair 
 Walked in that light imparted from above ! 
 
 O say, has earth another scene like this ! 
 
 Can ought below such happiness impart ! 
 The perfect fullness of connubial bliss ! 
 
 The full excliange of all that warms the heart ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 151 
 
 Talk not of joys the voice of fame can yields 
 The poet's rapture in an hour inspired ! 
 
 The "warrior's triumph in the tented field, 
 The statesman's pride by thirst of glory fired ! 
 
 Compare them not I 'tis like the sudden light, 
 That for a moment fills the enthusiast's breast. 
 
 To that sure hope, full, perfected, and bright. 
 With which the Christian feels his bosom blest ! 
 
 'Tis like the ravings of a biassed mind. 
 
 Compared with wisdom, sober and serene ! 
 A flash that leaves but darker gloom behind, 
 This calm and sure — that perishing and mean '.
 
 152 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO MY SISTER. 
 
 'Tis done ! tlie home of diiklliood's left, 
 JMv hours of sohtude bereft 
 
 Of one that loves me well ! 
 No more I see the cheering smile. 
 Or hear the gentle voice beguile, 
 
 In tones that sweetly fell. 
 
 Yes ! thou art gone ! yet I remain 
 
 To look for thee, but look in vain 
 
 Where thou wert wont to be ; 
 
 Tliy footsteps linger — >vhere art thou ? 
 
 Alas ! my tears but serve to show 
 
 IIo^v much I loved thee.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 153 
 
 Time was when we together walked, 
 And of the past and future talked. 
 
 As if we ne'er could sever ; 
 O, how my memory loves to brood. 
 In silence and in solitude, 
 
 On moments gone for ever. 
 
 Like sister streams which from one source 
 Derive their birth, yet change the course. 
 
 And different channels fill : 
 (The one thro' flowery meads may flow. 
 The other lave the rugged brow 
 
 Of some descending hill.) 
 
 So did we start — but fate divides. 
 And kindred ties and love derides. 
 
 As shadows of a day ; 
 Yet "will contentment come to me, 
 If thine the flowery pathway be. 
 
 Though mine the ragged way.
 
 154 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Yes ! may thy life flow sAveetly on, 
 
 Mild as the heavens when storms are gone, 
 
 And leave no darkness there ; 
 May no rude Avinds thy calmness move, 
 But the pure beams of peace and love 
 
 Light on thee everywhere. 
 
 Thy welcome letters all declare 
 That thou art well and happy there, 
 
 And I at once believe thee, 
 Yet tremble lest a fear to wound 
 (A false but often trodden ground) 
 
 Should tempt thee to deceive me. 
 
 We are divided — gi'ief may find 
 
 Thy tender breast, and wound the mind 
 
 That once communed Avith mine ; 
 And I shall not be there to soothe. 
 With hopes which cheer the soul of youth, 
 
 The anguish that is thine !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 155 
 
 We are divided — tliou mayst feel 
 The breath of sickness o'er thee steal. 
 
 And sad and lonely be, 
 Alas ! I cannot tend thee now, 
 I cannot Avipe thy fevered brow 
 
 As thou hast done for me. 
 
 We are divided — friends may fail. 
 The round of life grow sad and stale. 
 
 And thou still absent be ; 
 Oh, no ! oh, no ! thou can'st return, 
 And brighter yet our hopes shall burn, 
 
 At thoughts of seeing thee. 
 
 "We are divided — but the care 
 
 Of Ilim whose love the least may share 
 
 "Will rest upon us all ; 
 The home thou left is open still. 
 And those who love thee ever will 
 
 Be ready at thy call.
 
 156 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 We are divided — but the liour 
 Will come when no dividing power 
 
 Can longing souls restrain ; 
 As streams uniting in one sea. 
 In th' ocean of eternity, 
 
 "W'e thus shall meet again !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 157 
 
 SORROW FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 It is not when the blow is struck 
 
 Bj death's unerring dart, 
 That lifeless leaves some loved-one's form, 
 
 Or stills some friendly heart ; 
 That chills the brow, that lulls the eye 
 
 To marble-like repose, 
 It is not in an hour like this. 
 
 Our keenest sorrow flows. 
 
 'Tis when we see the coffin laid 
 
 Low in the silent ground, 
 And dust to dust falls crumbling in 
 
 With such a solemn sound ! 
 p
 
 158 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 We think ujion those happy times 
 
 Together we coxild roam, 
 And turn with Avecping eyes away 
 To seek our widowed home ! 
 
 'Tis when we look around and see, 
 
 So many things that tell 
 Of those whom we have just seen laid 
 
 In the last narrow cell ! 
 The harp on which they loved to play, 
 
 Hangs silent on the wall ; 
 The vacant chair, the untouched book. 
 
 Again the lost recall I 
 
 The portrait even seems to smile 
 
 As if about to speak, 
 But when will the original 
 
 This mournful silence break ? 
 Tlie cheerful laugh, the harmless jest. 
 
 For us no more may be !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 159 
 
 Frail man soon giveth up the gliost ! 
 And then, ah ! where is he ? 
 
 Yet they whom to the eai'th we yield, 
 
 But for a time remain. 
 The tnimpet blast will rend the skies. 
 
 And they will rise again ! 
 Then must this sure and lasting hope, 
 
 Sooth our afl&iction sore. 
 That we may meet again our friends 
 
 Upon a brighter shore ! 
 
 If saved by grace, we all shall dwell 
 
 Where joys unnumbered flow. 
 Shall meet, and what is best of all, 
 
 No separation know ! 
 Then shall we rest secure from death. 
 
 Before Jehovah's face ! 
 And nothing intervene to mar 
 
 Affection's fond embrace ! 
 V 2
 
 160 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE BURNING SHIP. 
 
 The sun unclouded brigtt and high, 
 
 In joy had climbed the morning sky, 
 
 Emitting forth a genial glow 
 
 To gladden all the world below ! 
 
 The earth Avas brightened with the blaze. 
 
 The sea reflected golden rays, 
 
 Earth, air, and ocean all display 
 
 The glories of a summer's day ! 
 
 Now o'er the sea, with sails outspread, 
 A gallant vessel onward sped, 
 And bounded o'er the heaving main, 
 As the fleet courser scours the plain ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 101 
 
 Obedient to the helmsman's hand, 
 'Twas ruled as if by magic wand ! 
 One hundred souls were living there, 
 And still it seemed as free as air ; 
 So well proportioned, trim and light, 
 It was indeed a noble sight. 
 As on it fleAv, and seemed to be 
 The ruling monarch of the sea! 
 Within all hearts were filled with joy, 
 From cajitain to the cabin boy ; 
 And many a joke and song passed round, 
 For homeward was the vessel boimd ; 
 And how great a sailor's glee, 
 Wlien friends and home he hopes to see ! 
 His labour light, he climbs above. 
 Looks out for land, and sings for love ! 
 
 Now in the west declined the day. 
 And on the ocean seemed to lay, 
 p 3
 
 162 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Rejoicing in his golden liglit, 
 Or loathe to hid the world ' good night' ; 
 How many an eye looked o'er the main 
 That would not see it rise again ! 
 How many a heart with joy did thrill 
 That would ere mom he cold and still ! 
 Kind Heaven this fate from all concealed, 
 Nought but the passing joy revealed ; 
 Do^ATi sunk the sun, the hands turned in. 
 And all was silent and serene ! 
 
 'Twas midnight ! in the gloomy sky 
 No welcome moon was riding high ; 
 The breezes blew with gentle force. 
 And kept the vessel on its course ; 
 All there was still — the watch alone 
 Proclaimed how tide and time went on ; 
 But soon another cry was heard, 
 O what can mean that fearful word ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 163 
 
 On fire ! on fire ! what awful news ! 
 The ears at first the sounds refuse ! 
 A ship on fire, when out at sea ! 
 O what a tide of misery ! 
 What dreadful evils left to brave, 
 To bum, or sink beneath the wave ! 
 
 Loud rose the cry ! no human ear 
 Received the sound, no aid was near ; 
 Save He who rules the mighty deep, 
 "Whose ann of might can never sleep ! 
 The flames burst forth without a check. 
 And every creature rushed on deck ! 
 Some wondering, would the cause inquire ; 
 Some vainly strove to quench the fire. 
 But most ran screaming to and fro, 
 Afraid, they knew not what to do ! 
 Still did the flames make fearful way, 
 No efforts could their fury stay ! 
 The darkness of the midnight air
 
 164 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Was lightened with a fearful glare ! 
 Illuminating far and near, 
 Showing what each one had to feai*, 
 • To bum or dro^vn ! what agony 
 
 Seemed now to prompt each piercing cry ! 
 Oh help ! oh help ! Oh save ! oh save ! 
 The young ! the beautiful ! the brave ! 
 What hearts Avill soon be desolate. 
 When first they learn the awful fate 
 Of those on whom their hopes were placed. 
 Whom soon they hoped to have embraced ! 
 The fond embrace must not be here, 
 For they have found a watery bier ! 
 
 Of every hope of aid bereft. 
 
 One last resource to them is left; 
 
 The boats were lowered, but who shall choose 
 
 Which to receive, which to refuse ? 
 
 What rule can to this crowd apply. 
 
 Which should be saved and which should die !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 165 
 
 EachVould be first, all eager press. 
 And thiiik but of their own distress ; 
 Down do they rush ! filled to the brink, 
 Boats swamp ! men shriek ! and doAvn they sink 
 Thus eager to escape a grave, 
 They find one in the briny wave ! 
 
 Now on the deck some still remained. 
 The fire advancing, on them gained. 
 How ten-ible the rending cries 
 That pierced the darkness of the skies ! 
 Then some plunged in the reddened sea 
 T' avoid a lengthened agony ? 
 And others gazed with longing eye 
 To see if help or hope was nigh ; 
 But oh ! no help was there descried I 
 Nought heard but mm'murings of the tide ! 
 At last the ship no form could claim. 
 From stem to stem one mass of flame !
 
 166 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 "When, -vvitli tlie helpless forms she bore. 
 At once she sunk to rise no more ! 
 The waves unchanged went rolling on, 
 But that proud ship ! where was she gone ? 
 
 Up rose the sun, but where are they 
 
 Who saw him on the ocean lay ? 
 
 Alas ! but one lived to declare 
 
 What soimds had pierced the midnight air. 
 
 And safely on an uptm-ned boat, 
 
 The cabin boy along did float. 
 
 Till he some passing ship could hail, 
 
 And there relate his dreadful tale ! 
 
 Yes, he alone of all the crew 
 
 Escaped the morning light to view ! 
 
 The rest had perished in the deep, 
 
 The wild waves now above them sweep ; 
 
 No stone may point out where they lay. 
 
 Around their tomb no breezes play !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 167 
 
 Their bodies ou tlie ocean's bed ; 
 
 Tlieir spirit to their Maker fled ! 
 
 O Thou ! who rules the winds and waves ! 
 
 Whose hand at once destroys or saves ! 
 
 Grant us to boAV before Thy rod. 
 
 And trembling feel that Tliou art God ! 
 
 And may each action of Thy will 
 
 To Thee, but bring us nearer still !
 
 168 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE PLAYFELLOWS. 
 
 'TwAS on a village green 
 Some children were at play, 
 
 Bright smiles upon each face were seen, 
 And all looked glad and gay ! 
 
 One little girl was there, 
 
 The fairest of them all. 
 The breezes waved her flaxen hair. 
 
 As oft she chased the ball ! 
 
 I stood awhile to see 
 
 This happy little band, 
 Hoping that care might distant be, 
 
 Or death's relentless hand !
 
 MISCEIiliANEOUS POEMS. 109 
 
 But lie who maxks each thing 
 
 Tliat passes here on earth, 
 Thought fit to break this playful ring, 
 
 So full of artless mirth ! 
 
 Three months had passed away, 
 
 That path I trod once raore^ 
 The children were again at play. 
 
 As cheerful as before ! 
 
 But one was missing there, 
 
 The first in sport and glee, 
 " The girl with flaxen ringlets, where," 
 
 I asked of them, " is she ?" 
 
 They led me to a grave. 
 
 And told me she was there ! 
 The flowers of spring did gently wave 
 
 Above this child so fair ! 
 Q
 
 170 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Prest by the lowly sod, 
 
 The motlier's loved one lay ! 
 
 Her spirit summoned by her God, 
 Past, like a dream, away ! 
 
 Tho' blithest of them all. 
 The golden bowl was broke, 
 
 Alas, who can resist the call. 
 Or who escape the stroke ? 
 
 Yet, if from pla}Tnates riven, 
 
 HoAV happy is her home ! 
 Of such are formed the ranks of Heaven ! 
 
 And Jesus bade them ' come' !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 171 
 
 THE DEATH OF WOLFE. 
 
 The orb of day in briglitness rose 
 
 Up from his eastern bed, 
 And far and wide, on friends and foes, 
 
 His beams of radiance shed ! 
 He showered alike his golden rain 
 
 On bondmen and the free ! 
 The cloud-capt hill, the sparkling plain, 
 
 The moimtain and the sea ! 
 A hundred falchions of true steel 
 
 Were glittering in the ray. 
 And far was heard the trmnpet's peel. 
 
 That hailed the rising day ! 
 Q 2
 
 1 72 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The fates in council had declared 
 
 That day Quehec should fall. 
 And brooding war with joy prepared 
 
 To spread its crimson pall ! 
 Full many a form that firmly stood, 
 
 The manly and the brave. 
 Was doomed to dye the turf with blood. 
 
 And fill a soldier's grave ! 
 Death -viewed the scene with wild delight. 
 
 Rejoicing in the thought 
 That, ere arose the star of night. 
 
 Dread slaughter would be WTOUght ! 
 
 Weep, weep, ye wives ! ere yonder sun 
 
 Sets in the western sea. 
 Your husbands' race will be outrun, 
 
 And you will widows be ! 
 Mourn, mothers ! mourn, your children dearj 
 
 A bloody sod mubt press !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 173 
 
 Their voice no more will strike your ear. 
 
 Their forms your eyesight bless ! 
 And Britain ! let thy anguish be 
 
 Heard far across the gulph. 
 For though Quebec be one for thee, 
 
 Alas ! 'twill cost a Wolfe ! 
 
 The day is past, the battle o'er, 
 
 And Wolfe is with the dead. 
 The ranks with him will charge no more, 
 
 Or by his voice be led ! 
 But, Victory, sighing when she found 
 
 She could not ward the blow. 
 With bright unfading laurels cro^^^led 
 
 The dying hero's brow ! 
 Ah ! how he raised his drooping head 
 
 To hear the sound " They fly" — 
 " Who ? who ?" he heard the Frenchmen fled, 
 
 " Contented then I die !" 
 q3
 
 174 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 'Twas thus the brave young hero fell, 
 
 Eemenibrance still remains, 
 And future bards his deeds shall tell 
 
 In never dying strains ! 
 And he a monument has won 
 
 In every Briton's breast, 
 'Twas bright, the' brief, the race he run, 
 
 And glory lights his rest ! 
 "When future ranks prepare to fly. 
 
 His name shall re-inspire ; 
 Remember Wolfe shall be the cry 
 
 That wakes the slumbering fire !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 175 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 " A thousand ills beset us as we go." — Human Life. 
 
 How numerous are the ills that life 
 
 Beneath its surface bears ! 
 Few hearts are there not torn by stiife, 
 
 By silent working cares ! 
 Where is the brow o'er which ne'er buns' 
 
 The threatening cloud of grief ? 
 Where has not sorrow's dart been jflunir, 
 
 Tho' life itself is brief?
 
 176 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Go^ where is heard the merry song. 
 
 In love's delightful strain, 
 Go, search the ball-room's dazzling throng, 
 
 Or fashion's gaudy train ; 
 Ask if that voice of melody 
 
 "Was never heard in fear ! 
 Or if that proudly beaming eye, 
 
 Ne'er shed the trembling tear ! 
 
 The answer will be " even now 
 
 Is felt the painful smart, 
 Tho' pleasure beams upon my brow. 
 
 There's sorrow on my heart !" 
 Alas, the young, the gay, the fair. 
 
 The merry and the grave. 
 May sometimes feel a sadness there. 
 
 Their checks the tear-drops lave ! 
 
 Tlie bosom friend bowed down liy death, 
 The world's ungrateful sconi,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 177 
 
 Foul calumny's most poisonous breatli 
 
 On Avings of falsehood borne ; 
 The Avreck of hopes, the faithless heart. 
 
 Confiding love betrayed, 
 All these, and more, at times impart 
 
 To life a gloomy shade ! 
 
 Some, in the melancholy hour, 
 
 Ask comfort from a friend. 
 And others seek for music's power. 
 
 Their gloominess to end ! 
 Tis well ! a friend can soothe the breast, 
 
 "When darkness may surround. 
 And O the harp can lull to rest 
 
 When friendship guides the sound ! 
 
 For me I ask no friend's kind aid. 
 
 When sorrow shall intrude. 
 The sweetest music ever played, 
 
 I fly for solitude ;
 
 178 MISCELLANEOUS POE3I3. 
 
 'Tis here I find a soothing halm, 
 My hosom's sole rehef, 
 
 'Tis here my soul again is calm. 
 And weeps away its grief!
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 179 
 
 RAMBLES. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO ROSS CAMPBELL, ESQ. 
 
 Some love to wander in the flowery grove. 
 Hid from the sun by intermingling trees. 
 And some across the sparkling heath to rove. 
 And feel the freshness of a mountain breeze. 
 Whilst idler spirits love to loll at ease 
 Some fav'rite trees far spreading boughs beneath, 
 But I the church-yard love, above all these ; 
 Where in the close and cold embrace of death 
 Our fellow creatures lay, deprived of vital breath. 
 
 Yes, here I love to wander, and to read 
 Each simple epitapli on liumble stone.
 
 180 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. * 
 
 Which may to solemn contemplation lead 
 Upon the fate of those for ever gone ! 
 Beneath that mound of earth reposes one 
 Who was the idol of her parents' heart ; 
 But Hke the trembling starlight hath she flown ! 
 The father with his only child must part ! 
 Upon his breast she lay when death sent forth its dart. 
 
 Another mound is near, in there repose 
 The silent ashes of a new made bride. 
 Why did her reign of love so quickly close ? 
 Death called her from her weeping husband's side ! 
 Fain would she stay ! " come ! come !" the tyrant cried ! 
 Farewell ! so young, and but one week a wife ! 
 Here learn a lesson ! ye, Avho walk in pride. 
 By one slight thread lumgs all we love in life. 
 And here must end our toils, our pleasures, and our strife ! 
 
 The gloomy grave must soon receive us all. 
 The sod our covering, and the dust our bed !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 181 
 
 Whilst they who tarry longer, ere they fall 
 The more by dark affliction must be led ; 
 Some bosoms have by other's malice bled. 
 Should this be so, when life may prove so brief ? 
 Tho' warring here, we must be fiiends Avhen dead ! 
 Prostrate alike we fall, in joy or grief. 
 In spring-tide's early bloom, or autumn's falling leaf ! 
 
 There sleeps a mother ! peace my swelling heart ! 
 And there a father ! how my soul seems torn 
 With dark forebodings ! why should tear-drops start, 
 For neither yet my bosom hath to mourn ! 
 Alas ! how soon may one or both be borne 
 To their last mansion ! O forbid it Heaven, 
 That in the world I thus be left forlorn ! 
 O death let not thy darts be hither driven. 
 But rather take me first than such dear ties be riven ! 
 
 Thou, on life's journey, generous Ross ! hath past 
 A greater way than I, thy reverend brow
 
 182 MlSCl.hLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Tjears the light footstep of old age at last ! 
 I still am in my youth, then say, hast thou 
 E'er seen unmoved a friend or foe laid low ? 
 Ah, no ! it is a mournful sight to see 
 The dark funereal train progressing sloAV, 
 Bearing one whom we knew ! long may it be 
 Ere this unpleasant task shall he performed for thee ! 
 
 Yet this must come at last, and my sad tears 
 Should I survive thee, must thy bier bedew I 
 IVlay guardian angels chase away thy fears 
 "WTien death's dark shadows seem thee to pursue ! 
 And when thy spirit bids this earth adieu ! 
 O may it fly to realms where is no sin, 
 Whilst Heaven's bright glories burst upon thy view ! 
 And thus thy reign of happiness begin ! 
 Like corn that's fully ripe, by angels gathered in !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 MY COUSIN'S GRAVE. 
 
 In nook retired, yet not shut out from view. 
 Near to the home where she from childhood grew. 
 Marked by a modest stone, whose tale displays 
 The guileless pleasures of her early days, 
 (Perched on a wall close by the robin sings. 
 And there the broom tree its dark shadow flings) 
 "Where the sweet wildflowers to the breezes wave. 
 And bloom unnoticed, is my cousin's grave. 
 
 It is a spot where calm seclusion dwells 
 
 And holy quiet its pious usage tells. 
 
 Where grass grown heaps to pensive minds declare 
 
 j{ 2
 
 184 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A fellow creature is reposing there ; 
 
 No nightly watchers need we here to ward, 
 
 Its sacred beauty is its safest guard ; 
 
 And Avhilst the church its humble steeple rears, 
 
 The damp cold grave seems robbed of half its fears ; 
 
 The sculptored records speak of futm-e bliss. 
 
 And win the bosom to a spot like tliis ; 
 
 When death's cold hand upon my heart is prest,^ 
 
 Here would I wish to find a tranquil rest. 
 
 Beyond the pale what modest dwellings rise. 
 Where Escrick's beauties stretch before the eyes ! 
 Where sweet contentment, virtue, gladness smile. 
 And want is driven from the fertile soil ; 
 Who gazes there can not the thought restrain — 
 The Lord of Escrick owns a fair doviain ! 
 
 O I have stood u])on this grave, and wept 
 For her who 'neath its surface calmly slept. 
 To whom by kindred ties my soul was wed,
 
 iMISCELLANEOUS POEMS, J 85 
 
 Tlicse ties are broken and my cousin — dead ! 
 
 Why did I weep ? that life had passed away 
 
 AVTien youth and hope shed forth a kindling ray ? 
 
 That in her spring-tide she was doomed to feel 
 
 Consuming sickness o'er her slowly steal ? 
 
 And whilst there beamed a brightness from her eye, 
 
 Her cheek's fair bloom must languish, droop, and die ! 
 
 Why did I weep ? that on her dying bed 
 
 No mother's hand the careful pillow spread ? 
 
 No father's care had cooled her fevered brow. 
 
 No sister soothed the sufferer lying low ? 
 
 Yet friends were near, and one was present there 
 
 Who watched, unwearied, with a mother's care, 
 
 Who had through life a kind protectress been. 
 
 Nor once forsook throughotit the painful scene ! 
 
 'Twas not for these I wept, though even here 
 
 Enough were found to draw the painful tear. 
 
 But other scenes before my vision roll, 
 
 And other thoughts awaken to my soul. 
 
 Passed to the place whence death can ne'er remove ; 
 
 H 3
 
 186 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 I longed to join her in licr home above ! 
 
 Yes, gentle cousin ! I would join thee there. 
 
 And leave this life which some call passing fair, 
 
 Like thee, beneath the turf would calmly rest. 
 
 My body there, my spirit with the blest ! 
 
 Though eighteen summers was thy life's short date. 
 
 Immortal youth must now upon thee wait ; 
 
 Though hope was wrecked, ere hope thy heart 
 
 could move. 
 The best of hopes are realized above I 
 Thou wilt, amid the ranks of seraphs there, 
 Fulness of joy and endless pleasures share ! 
 No liaiTn can reach thee and no ill destroy. 
 Where joys abound, and boundless is each joy ! 
 
 what is life, that we should mourn its end. 
 And dread the doom to which mankind must bend ? 
 Hath life no thorns upon its pathway spread ! 
 Platli life no griefs hy Avhich the heart has bled ? 
 Are there no shadows to obscure the sky?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 187 
 
 Ai'e there no tear-di'ops to bedim the eye ? 
 
 No secret sorrow to distiu-b the mind ? 
 
 No friend of former days that proves luikind ? 
 
 No fell disease that blights the youthful frame ? 
 
 No guilty sin that fills the soul with shame ? 
 
 No floating vision that allures us on, 
 
 And when we haste to snatch it, lo ! is gone ? 
 
 Yes ! life hath these^ or who would wish to brave 
 
 The di'eaded silence of the gloomy grave ? 
 
 Ah ! well might man to life's last refuge hold, 
 
 As clings the wretched miser to his gold ! 
 
 But O there is in death a calm repose, 
 
 A manumission from all human woes ! 
 
 And if in hope we die, 'tis better far 
 
 To be trans]3lauted where the angels are ! 
 
 To be rejoined to those we once did love. 
 
 And rest secure in happy realms above ! 
 
 How strongly here is this fair truth imprest — 
 
 To sleep in Jesus is to sleep at rest ! 
 
 A rest like this my grief-wom heart Avould crave 
 
 When I um A^'ceping on my cousin's grave !
 
 188 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 SONNET 
 
 ON SEEING A MOTH FLYING ROUND MY CANDLE. 
 
 Hence, little fooHsli fluttering thing ! away ! 
 Death lurks within the briorhtness of that blaze ! 
 And soon will sadness end thy sportful play 
 If thou should'st dare too near those sparkling rays. 
 Rash thing ! thou heed'st not all that man can say, 
 Then take thy course, and end thy few short days, 
 Pluck danger by the beard and go thy ways. 
 If that thou inayest ! uh ! why stay thy flight ? 
 What hast thou learnt that brightness oft betrays ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS P0E.M3. 189 
 
 Yes ! thou hast fallen ! that deceitful light 
 Which lured thee hither on thy ashes plays ! 
 There's something solemn in thy doleful plight ; 
 How many are there who have power to think, 
 Which thou had'st not, like thee, a prey to rashness 
 sink !
 
 190 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE BARK. 
 
 One day when warm and bright 
 
 The sun rose o'er the lea, 
 And poured its flood of golden light 
 
 On mountain and on sea ! 
 A bark had left the shore 
 
 With a gallant little crew. 
 And onward out to sea it bore 
 
 Far as the eye could view ! 
 
 It cut the yielding wave. 
 
 As swallows cleave the air, 
 And so( nicd the ocean's stroncth to brave. 
 
 its clement was there !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 191 
 
 Witli its proud mllk-wliite sails 
 
 Spread sparkling to the sun 
 To catch the breath of passing gales, 
 
 And bear it SAviftly on ! 
 
 It left the shore behind, 
 
 As bounding proud and free, 
 An onward course before the mnd 
 
 It scudded gallantly ! 
 And in its stately flight 
 
 The deck with laughter rung, 
 They knew not, for their hearts were light. 
 
 The fate that o'er them hung ! 
 
 They vanished from the sights 
 
 The hull, and then the mast. 
 Until the line of farthest light 
 
 They had completely past, 
 The expanse of the sea 
 
 Was one unbroken view.
 
 192 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
 Wc wondered where the bark could be^ 
 With its undaunted crew ! 
 
 Tlie svm no more was high^ 
 
 The flag of niglit unfurled. 
 Whilst lightnings gleamed along the sky, 
 
 And thunderbolts were hurled ! 
 The sea in anger rose, 
 
 Tlie winds in wildness blew, 
 A dreadful niglit when friends and foes 
 
 One feeling only knew ! 
 
 The little baik was there. 
 
 With sails as white as snow. 
 Now carried high up in the air 
 
 Then plunged as far beloAv, 
 Long with the tempest's blast, 
 
 It struggled, but in vain ! 
 The darkness and the storm are past— 
 
 Tlie bark comes not again .'
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 193 
 
 The land hath scenes like this. 
 
 And storms as dark doth wear. 
 What thousands have set out in bliss 
 
 And perished in despair ! 
 With prospects fair and bright 
 
 To home we bid adieu ! 
 Then comes the lightning's flash to blight 
 
 And triumph o'er the view ! 
 
 But there may still be found 
 
 An anchor safe and sure, 
 'Tis faith ! what rapture in the sound ! 
 
 It will through life endure ! 
 And storms may darkly frown, 
 
 And rain in torrents fall, 
 The sky itself In fire come doAvn, 
 
 We safely weather all !
 
 194 MISCELLANEOUS POEJlS. 
 
 ON HEARING 
 
 THE BELL OF YORK CATHEDRA!, TOLZ. THE MIDNIGHT HOUR ON DEC. 31st. 
 
 Hark ! yon deep sound that strikes the listening car 
 Like cannon's roar upon the breezes borne, 
 Tells the departure of another year 
 Gone to its fellows never to return ! 
 In such an hour the bosom feels forlorn ! 
 The heart beats high on such an awful night, 
 When one year dieSj and lo ! tmother's bom ! 
 Thus Time unquestioned takes his silent flight, 
 And year .succeeds to year as darkness follows light !
 
 illSCELLANEOUS POEMS. 195 
 
 Yes, it has gone ! but %vho can tell us where ? 
 Its reign seems but the history of a day. 
 Mixed up of light and dark, of foul and fair ! 
 Yet aU alike for ever passed away ! 
 The sunbeams on the mountain's bosom play, 
 Night comes and Avi-aps it in her gloomy vest, 
 ]\Ioni smiles and all at once again looks gay. 
 Thus is our life in varied colours drest. 
 And none can ever here be altogether blest. 
 
 Then farewell, thou phantom of a year .' 
 Farewell for ever unto thee and thine ! 
 To thousands dreadful and to thousands dear 
 As joys or sorrows on their prospects shine ! 
 "Well may the thoughtful weep at thy decline. 
 For oh! thou brings us nearer to our grave, 
 Well may we mom-n in secret and repine. 
 Nought can oux bodies from destruction save, 
 And soon the flowery grass must o'er our ashes Avave ! 
 
 s 2
 
 196 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But as the grain in Autumn's mildness sown 
 Its virtue keeps 'mid "Winter's stem career, 
 And thrives unseen tho' tempests darkly froANTi, 
 In milder seasons its proud stem to rear, 
 "When softer winds can kiss the loaded ear ; 
 Thus shall our hodies from their prisons spring 
 And in a brighter, fairer form appear. 
 All that is earthly from them freely fling, 
 And up to purer realms soar on triimiphant wing ! 
 
 Tho' thou hast trodden many to the tomb 
 And to our hearths dark desolation brought, 
 Cut down the lovely wliilst in beauty's bloom. 
 And woful change in friendship's circle >\TOught, 
 We such expect as do^^^l Time's stream we float. 
 And who shall deem his mournful lot the worst ! 
 But on thee still our memory loves to doat. 
 For thou the galling bond of slavery bursts 
 The foulest blackest crime with which our land was 
 curst !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 197 
 
 TO THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 The death knell has been souncled, and the gloomy 
 
 hour is past, 
 The year we so long cherished is for ever gone at 
 
 last! 
 The coming one may brighter be, but can we bid 
 
 farewell. 
 To what has long been dear to us, and no emotion 
 
 swell ! 
 
 Say, can we turn away from that which now recedes 
 
 afar. 
 To worship with devotedness, futurity's bright 
 
 star ! 
 
 s 3
 
 198 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 No, first let us awhile commune with our reflecting 
 
 heart. 
 And ask how much of grief or joy, remembrance can 
 
 impart ! 
 
 O where are some Avho started with us equal in the 
 
 race ! 
 We look around and see them not, all vacant is the 
 
 place ! 
 The cold cold earth enwraps them in silent slumber 
 
 there. 
 And we are left alone to weep, the death of hopes so 
 
 fair ! 
 
 'Tis true that others may have joined in fncndship's 
 
 sacred ring. 
 And more the coming year perchance may to the 
 
 circle bring ; 
 We love them all and may they long be spared to 
 
 bless our view,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 199 
 
 But O our hearts had room enough for those 
 departed too ! 
 
 How many in the year gone past, have felt the stroke 
 
 of death ! 
 The husband hath beheld his ydfe resign her latest 
 
 breath ! 
 The mother has hvmg o'er her babe, when ready to 
 
 depart, 
 A.nd felt the last faint throbbing of its young and 
 
 lifeless heart ! 
 
 Events like these are certain, or I would not tell 
 
 them here, 
 Nor darkly cloud the joy with Avhich we hail another 
 
 year! 
 But let us meekly bow the head, nor o'er our sorrows 
 
 brood. 
 It is the doing of the Lord, and to Him sccmeth 
 
 good !
 
 200 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 My verse with such a gloomy hue should never be 
 
 o'ercast. 
 But bid the miud look forward, and wipe out all 
 
 that is past ; 
 T' enjoy the passing moment as it passes swiftly 
 
 on, 
 And yield the soul to pleasure if it could be wisely 
 
 done ! 
 
 But other thoughts will still arise, in force and form 
 
 sul)lime ; 
 O whither ai'e we hastening along the stream of 
 
 time ■? 
 "What arc we carried nearer to, by each succeeding 
 
 year ? 
 The happy haven of repose, or the abyss of fear ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 201 
 
 INFANCY. 
 
 'Tis sweet to gaze upon the brow 
 
 Of infancy and innocence, 
 Long ere tlie tear of woe can flow, 
 
 Or care its shadows there dispense ! 
 
 Endearing sight, a babe asleep ! 
 
 When smiles around their sweet lips play. 
 And happy angels vigils keep. 
 
 Imparting there a heavenly ray ! 
 
 who can fail when gazmg there, 
 On one who just hast seen the light, 
 
 To raise to Heaven a fervent prayer, 
 
 That no rude winds its peace may blight !
 
 202 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Full many a time my heart lias shed 
 The inAvai'd tears of silent woe, 
 
 When on the page of truth I've read 
 A deed that happened years ago. 
 
 When cruel Richard gave command 
 Two royal infants should be slain ! 
 
 He little dreamt another's hand 
 
 Should lay him bleeding on the plain ! 
 
 O hardened bosoms, how could they 
 Lay hands on those without defence ? 
 
 And in the silent midnight slay 
 Such lovely forms of innocence ! 
 
 Tho' time with unobstructed wings 
 
 Hath borne so many centuries by, 
 Imagination sometimes brings 
 Tbat awful scene before tljje eye !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 203 
 
 ]\Iethinks I see them side by side 
 Asleep — locked in each others arms, 
 
 While stealthily the villains glide. 
 Lest some rude noise their cries alarms ! 
 
 The pilloAv's raised ! one moment stay, 
 For see the lovely children smile ; 
 
 Their spirits perhaps with angels play, 
 Some dream may now their souls beguile ! 
 
 Now heartless villain do the deed. 
 
 And out of e\41 good is given, 
 The act for which thy soul must bleed. 
 
 Will send two infant souls to Heaven ! 
 
 'Tis done ! the lovely flowers are dead. 
 
 Far brighter cro^\Tis their brows will wear ; 
 
 They have escaped a thorny bed, 
 And left a throne of restless care !
 
 204 MISCELLANEOUS POEJMS. 
 
 Let others now the sceptre hold, 
 With happy saints they are at rest, 
 
 And strike their tuneful harps of gold 
 VTiih chei'ubim for ever blest !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 205 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 "What art thou, dread mysterious Death ? 
 
 "What shape and form hast thou ? 
 Disease must sure be in thy breath. 
 
 And ten-or round thy brow ! 
 "UTience comes, thou unsubstantial poAver ! 
 
 Thy universal sway ? 
 Thou strikes, and lo ! life's little hour. 
 
 For ever glides away ! 
 
 Moving in silence and unseen. 
 
 Thy darts are cast around, 
 And wherever thou hast been, 
 
 A victim there is found !
 
 206 MISCELLANEOUS I'OEMS. 
 
 A mother clasps her lifeless boy ! 
 
 A child is orphan left ! 
 A lover bids fare"\vell to joy ! 
 
 A friend of friend bereft ! 
 
 E'en Beauty hath no charms for thee, 
 
 Hard is thv fleshless I'eart, 
 For loveliness can only be 
 
 A tai'get for thy dart ! 
 Youth starting out in hope and love 
 
 Goes smiling on his "vvay ! 
 But thee such things can never move, 
 
 Thy mandate if:— decay ! 
 
 Ambition hails his wishes crowned 
 And hastes to snatch the prize. 
 
 But ere he treads the happy ground 
 He sees thy vision rise ! 
 
 The l)ride expectant waits the day, 
 'I'lie wished-for hour to sec.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 207 
 
 But thy small voice is heard to say 
 " Her bridegi-oom I will be !" 
 
 Dread power ! bound not by earth or air, 
 
 E'en riding on the seas 
 In calm in storm, now here now there, 
 
 Borne on by every breeze ! 
 The seaman brave* by hope impelled 
 
 To voyage round a world ! 
 In sight of England's cliffs beheld 
 
 Thy flag o'er him luifurled ! 
 
 O death ! look o'er thy mandates now 
 
 To see who next shall fall, 
 If genius lights their youthful brow, 
 
 Or slavish bonds enthrall ! 
 If old or young, or rich and fair, 
 
 The high-born of the land, 
 And if thou seest my own doom there 
 
 is it near at hand ! 
 
 * Blake. 
 R 2
 
 208 MISCELLANEOUS POEMii. 
 
 But, thou foe to human kind ! 
 
 The last to be destroyed ! 
 Is there no force thy power to bind, 
 
 No antidote employed ! 
 Must thou still Avander on alone, 
 
 The terror of our race ? 
 Can nothing shake thy powerful throne. 
 
 Or thy dim shadows chase ? 
 
 Ye?, heavenly hope ! this is the balm 
 
 To soothe our troubled souls, 
 Our fearful anxious minds to calm 
 
 When thy dread thunder rolls ! 
 With this O death we fear not thee 
 
 An anchorage safe is given. 
 Our weary spirits would be free 
 
 And find repose in Heaven ! 
 
 For He who braved thee in thy po^vcr 
 And tore tliy crown away,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 209 
 
 Can brighten life's departing liour, 
 
 And check thy cruel sway ! 
 Disarm thee of thy terrors wild, 
 
 And make thee welcome here, 
 Thy darkest shadows will be mild. 
 
 If He is only near ! 
 
 He once indeed thy brandmark bore, 
 
 But short-lived was thy sway, 
 Greater than Samson, soon he tore 
 
 Like flax, thy bonds away ! 
 He lives, he shines, he reigns to save. 
 
 And angels of him sing ! 
 He plucks the conquest from the grave, 
 
 And robs thee of thy sting ! 
 
 n 3
 
 210 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE AVIDOWS LAMENT FOR HER CHILD. 
 
 And art thou dead ? my darling babe ! my little 
 
 fair haired bo}' ! 
 And must tlie earth close over thee, my only hope 
 
 and joy ? 
 Thy smile hath oft delighted me, but whither has 
 
 it fled ? 
 ]My bosom feels a desert now — my darling boy is 
 
 dead ! 
 
 Thy little forehead beautiful, is cold as marble 
 
 now ; 
 Thy eyes they do not sparkle when I kiss thy lovely 
 
 I) row !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 211 
 
 Thy pretty lips no longer move, their vital warmth is 
 
 gone ! 
 And thou, my only child, now seems a monument of 
 
 stone ! 
 
 I used to gaze upon thy face, and see thy father 
 
 there ! 
 The dimple in thy pretty chin, thy cheeks so round 
 
 and fair ! 
 And this was consolation to the widow's wounded 
 
 heart, 
 
 then, with all I loved below, how can I bear 
 
 to part ? 
 
 1 feel oppression in my breast ! my teal's how fast 
 
 they floAv ! 
 But tears and sorroAv, all, alas ! are unavailing 
 now !
 
 212 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Kelentless death hath snatched away my bosom's 
 
 cherished joy, 
 And to the dust I must resign my little fair-haired 
 
 boy ! 
 
 The sailor views the land on which his weary vision 
 
 dwells. 
 And sighs when some more sober ray the faithless 
 
 fonn dispels ; 
 I thought that thou would be the star to light my 
 
 future way, 
 But like the shadowy phantom, thou, alas ! art 
 
 snatched away ! 
 
 Yet, O farewell ! for thou art gone where thy dear 
 
 father is ! 
 To brighter realms of happiness ! the resting place 
 
 of bliss !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 213 
 
 I will not linger long behind, for how can I 
 
 stay? 
 The stars of my existence have for ever passed 
 
 away ! 
 
 Where can the childless mother, and the weeping 
 
 widow turn, 
 When she no more beholds the forms for which her 
 
 bowels yearn ? 
 There is one place, and only one, where comfort can 
 
 be given. 
 Henceforward I will seek it there — the happy place 
 
 is Heaven ! 
 
 Yes, to a gracious Lord I'll turn, in moments of 
 
 distres.o. 
 His grace, and his grace alone the broken heart 
 
 can bless !
 
 214 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 To the desolate and so^ro^Yful he has vouchsafed his 
 
 power, 
 And soothes the childless widow in affliction's trying 
 
 hour !
 
 .-MISCELLANEOUS POEM.S. 215 
 
 TO MY MOTHER. 
 
 Parent of my tender years, 
 Solacer of all my fears ; 
 Who first taught my steps to straj", 
 And my lisping tongue to pray ; 
 Chided when behaving rude, 
 Kissed me when thou saw me good. 
 'Tis to thee my soul would pay 
 Homage in this humble lay ! 
 
 Thou hast watched me whilst I slept, 
 Thou hast o'er my sorrows wept, 
 Smoothed the pillow for my head 
 When upon affliction's bed ;
 
 216 MISCELLANEOUS TOEMS. 
 
 Marked the eye that dimly burned, 
 As thy bowels o'er me yearned. 
 Wiped the tear from off my cheek. 
 Listened as I strove to speak ! 
 Lulled me to a peaceful rest 
 On thy faithful bosom prest ! 
 To supply my Avishes flown 
 Ere my lips coidd make them known ! 
 
 How shall I such lore repay. 
 Now that childhood's passed away ? 
 Must it be by loving thee 
 With such love thou bore to me ? 
 O that words could half but show 
 Feelings that within me glow ; 
 Or my bursting heart declare. 
 Half of what is cherished there ! 
 
 Let the storms of daikncss lour. 
 And despair its sliadows pour,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 217 
 
 To benight each scene belo^v. 
 And disorder round me throw ! 
 Adverse winds conspire to blight 
 All that yields the heart delight, 
 Sickness on my bosom press. 
 Which can make thy love the less ? 
 I can turn me then to thee. 
 Thou art a mother still to me ! 
 Friends may change, but need I fear 
 Change in thee, my parent dear ? 
 No ! till death shall wing his dart 
 To becalm thy faithfiil heart. 
 Till reposing in the ground. 
 Thou xmchanging will be foimd ! 
 Age may leave its marks behind. 
 But thy love it cannot bind ! 
 Time may downward press thy form, 
 But thy heart it cannot storm ! 
 O far distant be the day 
 T\1ien suclx love must pass aAvay ! 
 
 V
 
 218 MISCELLANEOUS TOEMS, 
 
 AVnAT untried theme shall now engage my lyre ? 
 
 What tale of woe excite the pitying tear ? 
 TVHiat scene of wonder shall my soul inspire, 
 
 "What melting history fill the attentive ear ? 
 
 Where shall I find a story still unsung, 
 
 When now so many raise the A'oicc in song ? 
 
 Where is the spot o'er which Avas never flung 
 The halloAvinfT music of the tuneful throng ? 
 
 Where'er in fight the nohle hero fell, 
 
 And dyed the dust Avitli his untainted blood, 
 
 Full many a lyre the glorious deed must tell 
 And grace the very spot whore last he stood !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 219 
 
 The sun that cheers us through the livelong clay, 
 
 His rising, zenith, and his setting too ; 
 The silveiy moon, and all her beams that play 
 
 Upon the lake, the pensive mind to woo; 
 
 The rippling brook, the ocean without bound, 
 The king of birds that soars up to the sky, 
 
 The barn-door fowl that never leaves the ground, 
 And all that 'twixt these two extremes may lie ; 
 
 All these I say, by votaries old or young, ■ 
 Some lay, known or forgotten, still adorn. 
 
 The beauty is unborn that is unsung. 
 
 Nay some are sung that never yet were born ! 
 
 Let this be so^ and let the schoolboy still 
 
 Write rhymes which none but his fond parents heed. 
 And older blockheads weave out what they will. 
 
 Bombast, or worse, none but themselves can read. 
 
 v2
 
 220 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But ye, on whom the gentle Muses smile ! 
 
 Why do yc oft abuse the sacred power ? 
 And use the influence which might Avoe beguile. 
 
 To vent your sickening spleen, your anger sour ! 
 
 Ah, why not in the love of virtue raise 
 
 Your powerful voices, and all crime condemn ; 
 
 Invite mankind to walk in wisdom's ways, 
 And strive the torrent of dark sin to stem ? 
 
 Celestial Muse ! let me your favours share ! 
 
 And grant a portion of your sacred fire ! 
 To brighten sorrow, or dispel dull care. 
 
 Aid me to tune a virtue loving l)T:e ! 
 
 Keep far from me that darkness of the breast 
 
 Wliich scorns mankind and views them with disgust, 
 
 The curse which mars the dull misanthrope's rest. 
 And hates alike the villain and the just !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 221 
 
 Lead me wliere Peace adorns the flowery way, 
 And reigns in all her majesty of mien ! 
 
 Where sweet religion rules in gentle sway. 
 And nought save love and unity are seen ! 
 
 Give me that inward brightness of the soul. 
 Which views fair natiu'e with a loving eye ! 
 
 And let bright visions on my fancy roll, 
 A glorious glimpse of immortality ! 
 
 Ah, there are those on whom your smiles descend. 
 Who often sang with sweetness and with power. 
 
 Yet never knew, save you, one single friend. 
 To soothe the spirit in affliction's hour ! 
 
 The sons of Genius seldom have to bear 
 The weight of wealth, the luxury of ease. 
 
 Where heartless Penury is found, there ! 
 Dwell those who live inferior minds to please ! 
 
 v3
 
 222 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The rich diso^vn them while their miseries last^ 
 Enough for them if but their works be kno'SMi, 
 
 Yet when the Ufe of poverty is past. 
 
 Will build them ui-ns, like their oa\ti hearts, of stone ! 
 
 Departed children of the tuneful lyre ! 
 
 One sacred tribute to your shades I give ; 
 Tho' heard no more, tho' quenched the hallowed fire. 
 
 Shall Rowley or shall Henry* cease to live ! 
 
 Tlio' cold the grasp of poverty while here, 
 And not one sigh of sympathy to claim, 
 
 Tho* o'er your tombs there fell not pity's tear, 
 Ye won an adamantine wTeath of fame ! 
 
 Where are the riches such a crown to gain ? 
 
 Let Chili's mines and India's golden store 
 Be congregated in one mass — in vain 
 
 A wreath so glorious would this wealth implore f 
 
 ♦ Kirkc White
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 223 
 
 What means the sculptured gi-andeur of the tomb, 
 The laboured epitaph, rewarded praise, 
 
 Say can they brighten or decrease the gloom 
 Or one fond sigh of soft emotion raise ! 
 
 Time waves o'er these his dark destructive wing. 
 And bids the marble and the man decay ! 
 
 But round the poet's name can only fling 
 A brighter halo, and more mellowed ray !
 
 224 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 WE KNEW HER HEART WAS BROKEN. 
 
 No tear-drops dimmed her hazel eye. 
 
 Her brow no soitow wore, 
 Her bosom sent not forth a sigh. 
 
 Her cheek no mildew bore ! 
 But though no signs like these were there, 
 
 By many a silent token, 
 Alas! the beautiful ! the fair ! 
 
 We knew her heart ^vas broken ! 
 
 At the first glance the floweret may 
 
 Scorn blooming in its ]»rido, 
 But ah, its fulding haves so gny 
 
 The withering worm may bide !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 225 
 
 And tho' she never told her grief, 
 
 Nor of it e'er had spoken, 
 We knew that like the blighted leaf, 
 
 Alas ! her heart was broken ! 
 
 Alone she loved to roam along. 
 
 Away from noise and foUy, 
 And listen to Philomel's song 
 
 Of plaintive melancholy ! 
 She joined not in our scenes of mirth, 
 
 O was not this a token, 
 That, tho' the fairest flower of earth. 
 
 Within — ^her heart was broken ! 
 
 The rose bud lingering, still may live, 
 
 Tho' injured by the blast, 
 But ah ! it never more can thrive, 
 
 Its head must droop at last !
 
 226 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 So did the fair one slowly waste, 
 "With tears let it be spoken I 
 
 By the cold earth she is eniliraced, 
 She died, alas ! heart broken !
 
 MlSCELLA.XEOUS POEMS. 227 
 
 TO 
 
 When fate or fortune calls away. 
 
 And bids us leave fond childhood's home, 
 
 Our bosoms yearn within to stay, 
 
 Tho' brighter paths we have to roam ! 
 
 Yea, tho' with gladness we depart, 
 For Avhat is left we heave a sigh, 
 
 And sadness gathers round the heart 
 
 When murmuring out the last good bye ! 
 
 We long to stay, yet wish to go, 
 
 Scarce knowing which we love the best, 
 
 Whilst trembling are our steps and slow. 
 Till tears relieve the throbbing breast !
 
 228 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 So when I heard that thou wert wed. 
 Bright fancy brought thee to my view, 
 
 I saw thee from thy parents led 
 And marked thy lingering gazes too ! 
 
 I saw thee take the parting kiss 
 By a fond mother's lips bestowed ; 
 
 I saw the tears, aye tears of bliss, 
 
 "Which from their secret fountains flowed ! 
 
 I saw thee take the last farewell 
 
 A father's faultering tongue could speak, 
 
 I saw thy snow-white bosom swell, 
 
 And marked the flushings of thy check ! 
 
 I saw thee to thy sister turn, 
 The last adieu met not my ear. 
 
 The only mark I there could learn 
 Was love's reciprocating tear !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 229 
 
 Then turned thou to thy husband dear. 
 
 To him but dearer for thy tears ! 
 'Twas his the pleasing task to cheer. 
 
 To kiss and soothe away thy fears ! 
 
 With him who won thee, loves thee best, 
 Who would for thee resign his breath, 
 
 Be happy then ! for ever blest, 
 In weal or woe ! in life or death ! 
 
 No sorrow shade thy lovely brow, 
 
 Long and unclouded be thy life 
 And pleasure shall be mine, that thou 
 
 Fair ■ art a happy wife ! 
 
 w*
 
 230 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Behold yon gaping grave ! yon weeping crowd ! 
 
 Another mortal finds his last repose ! 
 
 Behold ye poor, ye rich, ye mean, ye proud ! 
 
 Behold of man the dread, the awful close ! 
 
 Past ai-e his earthly sorrows and his woes, 
 
 His future state is known but to his God ! 
 
 Hark ! worldling, in thy search for pleasure pause ! 
 
 Ashes to ashes — dust to dust — the sod 
 
 Must now conceal what once was strong like thee ! 
 
 His body soon will moulder in the earth. 
 
 This the sad end of each and all must be ; 
 
 The man of sorrow, and the man of mirth, 
 
 The good, the Inul, all in the silent tomb, 
 
 Alike await their ovorlasting doom !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 231 
 
 THE EMIGRANT. 
 
 Light from the west was in gentleness fading. 
 Cool were the breezes which blew from the sea^ 
 
 The softness of twilight in silence was sliading 
 The brow of the mountain, the valley, the lea ! 
 
 'Twas the hour when the bosom that beats Avith 
 affection, 
 Is sighing for friends that no longer are near, 
 And memory indulges in fond retrospection, 
 The eye as in sympathy, shedding a tear ! 
 
 w 2
 
 232 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 "WTien the emigrant gazed o'er the mist covered ocean, 
 Regretting the hour that had tempted to roam, 
 
 His feelings were melted in tender emotion 
 
 And love for his countr}', his friends and his home ! 
 
 " land of my birth ! if once more I behold thee ! 
 
 What cause shall again tempt my footsteps to stray ? 
 O friends of my heart could I now but enfold ye, 
 
 The blaze of ambition no more should betray ! 
 
 The wife of my bosom, alas ! now lays buried, 
 In the land of the stranger she sickened and died 
 
 My child too from life was untimely hun-ied. 
 And I linger here but to lay at her side ! 
 
 Did the sod of my o\\'n native vale but them cover. 
 My tears then in silence should water the spot. 
 
 No more, like a bird seeking rest, would I liovcr, 
 But soon again visit my own beloved cot !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEJIS. 233 
 
 If the spirit of her whom I loved to devotion 
 Could hith(.>r descend and behokl how I weep. 
 
 When I think tliat I brought her across the wide ocean. 
 With her chikl in the tomb of the stranger to sleep ! 
 
 She would grieve, if permitted, to see me thus mourning ! 
 
 Oh ! how shall I hide the real grief of my breast ? 
 The hour of repose now in softness returning, 
 
 Brings sorrow to me, that to others brings rest ! 
 
 My toil may be blest and my vine may be thriving. 
 Abundance may reign round my lone widowed hearth. 
 
 But within, ah ! sad sorrow is ever revivinsf ! 
 This is not, this is not the land of ray birth !" 
 
 w3
 
 234 JIISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE LAST OF HIS LINE. 
 
 He sighed not that he must resign 
 
 His wealth, his riches vast, 
 And 'ncath the cold cold earth recline — 
 
 But that he was the last ! 
 
 He gazed upon the goodly show 
 
 Of portraits In the hall, 
 And giieved to think the ancestral row 
 
 By strangers soon must fall ! 
 
 He wished to clasp one to his breast, 
 
 A heir to all his store, 
 On whom the honours still might rest 
 
 He and his fathers wore !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 235 
 
 But all his wealth was still too small. 
 
 The wished-for heir to gain ; 
 An enemy must tread this hall. 
 
 And 0W.1 the wide domain ! 
 
 Must reign where his ancestors reigned 
 
 In peace for years untold, 
 Where dwelt, whilst monarchs rose and waned, 
 
 His forefathers of old ! 
 
 His ftither's house a foeman's head 
 
 Must shelter from the blast ! 
 For this his inward sphit bled, 
 
 That he was now the last !
 
 236 MISCELLANEOUS POE.MS. 
 
 A CHILD AT PRAYER. 
 
 How beautiful it is to see 
 
 A little child at prayer ! 
 With eyes upturned and bended knee, 
 
 What can with this compare ! 
 
 To hear it lisp its Maker's name, 
 And ask the guardian care 
 
 OfHimwlioou the earth once came 
 Our punishment to l)oar ! 
 
 What eye on such a sight can gaze, 
 And gladden not with joy ! 
 
 To see a mighty Saviour's praise 
 An infixnt's powers employ !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 237 
 
 To see it answer to the call 
 
 Of Him who bade it ' come,' 
 And meekly ask the Lord of all. 
 
 To guide it safely home ! 
 
 This is indeed devotion pure ! 
 
 The heart no guile yet knows ! 
 Ah ! might such innocence endure 
 
 Till life should reach a close ! 
 
 A subject for the painter's skill 
 
 Where could we find so fixir ? 
 What heart could fail with joy to thrill 
 
 To see a child at prayer !
 
 238 ailSCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF A LADY WHO CAME TO YORK IN THE 
 FESTIVAL OF 1835, AND DIED IMMEDIATELY AFTER LEAVING THE 
 CATHEDRAL. 
 
 How slender is tlie thread of life ! 
 
 How doubtful is our sojourn here ! 
 One hour ^\ith joy the heart is rife, 
 
 The next we sorrow o'er its hier ! 
 We gaze upon the face we love. 
 
 And mark the eye with rapture bright, 
 The hand of death comes to remove 
 
 The dearest object from our sight ! 
 Like flowers that bloom in pride to-day. 
 And are to-morroAv snatched away !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 239 
 
 'Twas thus with one who came to hear 
 
 The melody of sacred song. 
 And Ustened, with attentive ear. 
 
 Amid the festival's gay throng ! 
 She heard the sounds of sweetness rise, 
 
 Such sounds as are beyond compare ! 
 But scarcely had they reached the skies 
 
 When she herself was summoned there ! 
 As if her spirit could not stay 
 "When such rich notes had died away ! 
 
 She left her home, her friends to meet. 
 
 Her heart with anxious hope beat high, 
 Whilst others with like feelings greet. 
 
 Not knowing that she came to die ! 
 And whilst the smile was on her brow, 
 
 Fleet as the sun's uncertain beam, 
 Death dealt unseen the fatal blow. 
 
 And life had vanished like a dream ! 
 One day from every sickness free I 
 The next in dread eternity !
 
 240 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 She's gone ! and peace be with her soul, 
 
 Her warning was indeed but brief ! 
 But who death's mandates can control. 
 
 Or what physician bring relief? 
 There's but a step from life to death ! 
 
 A thin partition from the grave ! 
 To-day may fly our trembling breath, 
 
 To-morrow grass may o'er us wave ! 
 This life is mixed with hopes and fears. 
 With transient smiles and lingering tears ! 
 
 The cup of pleasure we may van, 
 
 But ere we take the gentlest sip. 
 Despair may throw its potion in, 
 
 And yield it tainted to the lip ! 
 Our brightest hopes are overcast, 
 
 And sorrow's dismal clouds appear, 
 Which, like some bleak and sudden blast, 
 
 Make all things desolate and drear ! 
 Each day hath proofs which well can show 
 ]\ran's hopes should not be placed below !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 241 
 
 COMO. 
 
 When sorrow shrouds the human heart. 
 And threatening horrors round us start 
 
 To crush the hopes we hold ; 
 When the rough waves of tumult roll 
 To agonise the sinking soul. 
 
 And all our thoughts enfold ! 
 
 When, like a vessel rudderless. 
 We hoist the signal of distress 
 
 Upon the stormy main, 
 Alas, of friends how very few 
 Appear to bless the cheerless view. 
 
 And raise our hopes again ! 
 
 X
 
 242 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 How narrow is the circling space, 
 Whicli worldly friendsliip can embrace ; 
 
 How short its partial sway ! 
 If but a cloud obscure the sky. 
 Or some rude whirlwind hurries by, 
 
 It vanishes a^\■ay I 
 
 .Self is the one absorbing theme. 
 The vision of each golden dream ; 
 
 The idol of each heart ! 
 The secret impulse that inspires. 
 The aim, the end of our desires, 
 
 Of each a vital part .' 
 
 O Como ! could my bosom find 
 Among the ranks of human kind, 
 
 A friend so true as thee ; 
 How would my heart the prize enfold. 
 And in its deep recesses hold. 
 
 The gem so dear to me !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 243 
 
 Hard to be wooed, and harder won. 
 Ready to change ere Avell begun, 
 
 Misplaced, unstable, blind. 
 Deceitful, like the wandering light 
 Misguiding travellers at night, 
 
 The friendship of mankind ! 
 
 How different thou whose praise I sing, 
 Thou playful, fondling, harmless thing, 
 
 Sprung from Italia's clime ! 
 In every season still the same. 
 Thy fond affection well might claim 
 
 A more exalted rhyme ! 
 
 At morning's daAvn the first to greet 
 In airy gambols at our feet, 
 
 Our temper's mood thou tries. 
 Unwearied through the livelong day. 
 Each moment would thy joy display 
 
 Itself before our eyes ! 
 x2
 
 244 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Cai'eering In thy sportful mood^ 
 
 A frown can check thee if thou'rt rude, 
 
 So tractable thou art ; 
 If checked, a smile can back restore 
 The gladness which thou showed before. 
 
 And joy again impart ! 
 
 How wistfully upon my face 
 Thou gazes oft, as if to trace 
 
 Tlie secret of my will, 
 And says, as well as dog may say. 
 Possessed of power, I day by day 
 
 Thy wishes would fulfil ! 
 
 Como ! whene'er thy days shall end, 
 I shall at least have lost a fi-iend 
 
 Affectionate, tho' mute ; 
 One who to man's proud heart could teach 
 That human frieudsliip canixot reach 
 
 The friendship of the brute !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 245 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS. 
 
 Thoctgh grief, my friend ! liatb darkly spread 
 
 Its shadows o'er thy brow. 
 And son-ow bowed thy youthful head, 
 
 And bid thy tears to flow ; 
 
 Though for a moment Avoe's keen dart 
 
 Hath found thy inward breast. 
 Believe me, soon thy gentle heart 
 
 AVill gain its wonted rest ! 
 
 X 3
 
 246 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The hour which raornhig's dawn precedes 
 
 Is darkest of the night. 
 But see the coming glory spreads 
 
 And all is fair and bright ! 
 
 So shall thy trouble die away. 
 
 And in true joy be lost, 
 This is the hour which pelds to day, 
 
 And thus is felt the most ! 
 
 Yea, soon the sun of joy shall rise 
 
 In gladness on thy path. 
 And, like the monarch of the skies. 
 
 Dispel the tempest's wrath ! 
 
 Alas ! think not thy lot is hard. 
 There's thousands worse than thee ! 
 
 For who affliction's blow can ward, 
 Or from despair can dec ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 247 
 
 Yet every pang we mortals feel, 
 
 Is for our welfare sent. 
 And He who wounds hath power to heal, 
 
 Who made can close the rent !- 
 
 But thhik not, though I thus can speak, 
 
 I do not for thee feel ! 
 How can my heart, unless 'twould break. 
 
 Its inmost thoughts reveal ? 
 
 If by one wish of mine, or deed, 
 
 Peace could for thee be won. 
 Though it should make my own heart bleed, 
 
 This hour it should be done !
 
 248 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE MOTHER. 
 
 She bent across her breathless child. 
 She kissed its forehead fair, 
 
 But yet no sounds of anguish wild. 
 Broke on the silence there J 
 
 Though she had loved it with a love 
 AVhich worlds could never shake, 
 
 She knew its spirit Avas above, 
 In Hoavon it would awake.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 24D 
 
 The open lips her kiss received, 
 
 But gave it not again. 
 How could a mother thus bereaved, 
 
 Behold and not complain ? 
 
 'Tis here — Religion can impart 
 
 To those that mourn relief. 
 Can soothe the childish mother's heart. 
 
 And lull the Avidow's giief ! 
 
 And she who gazed upon the child, 
 
 Stifl^ motionless, and cold. 
 Had felt within its influence mild. 
 
 And seen its grace unfold ! 
 
 " suffer them to come to me" 
 
 Peace to her bosom brought. 
 This made her wounded spiiit free. 
 
 And resignation taught !
 
 250 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 She thus could look upon the brow 
 Where smiles were wont to play, 
 
 Unruffled, and like marble noAv, 
 When life had passed away ; 
 
 Could mai-k the glazed and lifeless eye. 
 Which knew not she was there. 
 
 If not without a tender sigh. 
 At least \^•ithout despair ! 
 
 And though she wept (for who would not ?), 
 
 No sounds of murmur fell. 
 Her babe had reached a brighter spot. 
 
 With cherubim to dwell ! 
 
 In amaranthine bowers to sing, 
 
 On harj) of gold to play. 
 Where wells of joy spontaneous spring. 
 
 And flowerets ne'er decay
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 251 
 
 Then Avho would wish to call again 
 
 Her sjjirit clown below. 
 To pass through scenes of grief and pain. 
 
 And tread the paths of woe J
 
 252 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A DIRGE. 
 
 He is gone, like a star that has fallen at last. 
 
 In the cold cold earth let him sleep, 
 While remembrance shall silently think of the past. 
 
 And sympathy go there to weep ! 
 
 His days they -were mingled with darkness and light. 
 
 And sad his untimely doom, 
 Consumption's foul breath his existence did blight. 
 
 And hurried him doA\-n to the tomb ! 
 
 He joined in the laughter at merriment's tale, 
 And heard with delight of the brave, 
 
 Yet the smile which oft beamed on his countenance 
 pale, 
 But lighted him on to the grave !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 253 
 
 He is gone ! in the noonday of mauhoocl he fell, 
 
 The mark of the tjnrant he bore. 
 Let none of his follies exultingly tell. 
 
 And his \drtues in silence pass o'er ! 
 
 Farewell ! in thy tear-bedewed sepulchre lie, 
 
 From care and misfortune now free. 
 How hard is the heart that refuses a sigh. 
 
 When death takes a victim like thee ! 
 
 Lay at rest till the trumpet shall bid thee arise, 
 
 And angels the judgment declare, 
 "^\nien thou wilt be summoned above the blue skies 
 
 To the thousands assembling there ! 
 
 Y
 
 254 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE FEMALE MARTYR. 
 
 A VISION OF THE DARK AGES. 
 
 "Why stands tliat youtliful maiden there. 
 With form so slight and brow so fair ? 
 And who are they now ranged around, 
 With looks of terror, awe profound ? 
 Why are all met mthln this room, 
 Where sickly lights increase the gloom. 
 And instruments of torttire lie 
 Prepared for human agony ? 
 
 Oh these are men who vainly dare 
 
 Usurp Jehovah's attribute, 
 And deadly punishment declare. 
 
 On all ^vho shall their poAver dispute !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 255 
 
 " Vengeance is mine," declares the Lord, 
 
 In his unchanging, sacred word, 
 
 But those have claimed the power divine. 
 
 And boldly say " it is not thine !" 
 
 Have raised the rod of anguish high. 
 
 And stained their souls in deepest dye I 
 
 That maiden is the hapless prey 
 
 Of those Avhose deeds dislike the day, 
 
 And now her head is meekly bent, 
 
 While they proclaim their dark intent ! 
 
 Alas ! what evil hath she done ? 
 Deprived some mother of her son ? 
 Dipped her young hands in human blood. 
 Or plunged her infant in the flood ? 
 Ah ! no, such crimes she never knew, 
 Unsullied as the morning dew. 
 Unspotted as a new-born child. 
 Her soul is pure, her spirit mild. 
 But O, impardonable deed, 
 The scriptures she hath dared to read ! 
 Y 2
 
 256 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 To search the words of life and trutL, 
 
 And leam her Saviour's suflerings there. 
 And Avith their light to guide her youth. 
 
 Pour out her gentle soul in prayer ! 
 For scarce hath twenty summers reigned. 
 And twenty autumns slowly waned. 
 Or twenty winters hound the plain, 
 And twenty springs retm-ned again. 
 Since first those looks of tendeniess, 
 A mother's feeble prayer did bless. 
 Or first those eyes serenely bright 
 Beheld the sun's own glorious Ught ! 
 But those who sit in judgment there 
 Feel not for one so young and fair ! 
 Within their breasts no love can glow. 
 Their hardened hearts no mercy know ; 
 Far milder is the eagle proud. 
 When stooping from the lofty cloud. 
 He seizes on his helpless prey. 
 And soars unto his heights away.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 257 
 
 More kind the monarch of the wood, 
 When roaming out in search of food ; 
 Some hapless pilgrim there he spies. 
 And with him to his jungle hies. 
 
 But hark, the men of Belial speak, 
 What sounds will now the silence break ! 
 " Young maiden, art thou ready now 
 To yield thy faith, forsake thy vow ? 
 Confess thy eiTors, and thou'rt free. 
 We grant thee life and liberty ! 
 Refuse — our thimders o'er thee roll, 
 And fire consumes thy guilty soul !" 
 
 The judge awaits the maid's reply. 
 Retract and live ! be firm and die ! 
 O see what gloiy lights her brow, 
 And hear what words from virtue flow ! 
 " 'Tis vain, ye men of Satan ! vain ! 
 I^Iy vows of truth shall still remain, 
 Y 3
 
 258 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The God I worship aids the Aveak, 
 
 And soon the oppressors rod shall break ! 
 
 I Avould not for a world resign, 
 
 The hopes, the feelings that are mine ! 
 
 Poui' out your vengeance on my head, 
 
 Youi- cruelty I do not di-ead ! 
 
 Quick ! with your dark intent go on, 
 
 My soul is weary to be gone ! 
 
 Come, welcome death ! I long for thee 
 
 To set my anxious spirit free ! 
 
 And thou everlasting power ! 
 
 Support me in the trying horn- ! 
 
 Forgive these men and let them feel 
 
 The glory which thy words reveal !" 
 
 The judge can hear no more, " away ! 
 Nor let her live another day, 
 Long ere to-morrow's sun be high 
 The stubborn heretic must die !" 
 They bore her to the gloomy cell. 
 Where ray of mercy never fell !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 259 
 
 Where nought can cheer the dismal gloom. 
 Or brighten up the living tomb ! 
 
 'Tis past ! the sounds have died aAvaj, 
 
 Her soul has reached the realms of day! 
 
 They led her to the burning stake, 
 
 She suffered for religion's sake ! 
 
 Her step was firm, her faith was sound. 
 
 Unshaken did she gaze around ! 
 Then up to Heaven her eyes did raise. 
 And from her lips flowed songs of praise ! 
 HoAv heavenly were the sounds that flowed, 
 Enchaining e'en that heartless crowd ! 
 The flames crept round her naked form. 
 Like lightning bursting through the storm ; 
 Yet did the song of glory flow, 
 And anguish passed not o'er her brow, 
 Till life began to pass away. 
 Calm as the close of dying day, 
 'Twas then the voice more feeble gi'ew. 
 And life for ever bade adieu !
 
 260 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But when the minstrel had been crushed. 
 
 The voice of sweetness was not hushed ; 
 
 ]More glorious sounds burst through the air, 
 
 For angels had been hovering there. 
 
 To bear her spotless soul away, 
 
 To joys that never can decay. 
 
 And when the breath of life was gone, 
 
 And that inhuman deed was done. 
 
 Her spirit to their cai*e was given. 
 
 And all went singing up to Heaven ! 
 
 To dwell with saints for ever blest ! 
 
 In realms of everlasting rest ! 
 
 O bright exchange ! a life of care, 
 
 Of painful sorrow, dark despair. 
 
 For an eternity of joy. 
 
 Where deeds of love the powers employ ! 
 
 A form of lovely shape bereft 
 
 And nought but mouldering ashes left. 
 
 For an unfading crown of gold. 
 
 And bliss that never can be told !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 261 
 
 Thank Heaven ! the times have passed away 
 
 Wlien superstition held her sway^ 
 
 The flag of truth has heen unfurled^ 
 
 To reign throughout the ransomed workl ! 
 
 Alas ! England ! even thou 
 
 Bears the dark blot upon thy brow ! 
 
 But past is that unhappy age 
 
 Which bade the fires of Smithfield rage ! 
 
 And peace now dwells upon the shore 
 
 So turbulent and dark before ! 
 
 O may it thus for ever be. 
 
 Fair land of love and liberty !
 
 262 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO HEALTH. 
 
 Healtli ! where art thou wandering now, 
 Where tread thy footsteps rosy maid ! 
 
 Upon the barren mountain's brow. 
 Or in the fertile valley's shade ? 
 
 O come, release me from the chains 
 Which sickness has around me throAvn, 
 
 Drive far away those racking pains 
 That make repose and ease unknown ! 
 
 Give back the lightsome step of youth. 
 The smile of happiness and glee.
 
 MISCELLA^'EOUS POEMS. 263 
 
 My weary bosom gently soothe. 
 And bid me once again be free ! 
 
 drive away the angry cloud 
 
 That hangs above my youthful brow, 
 
 And let no more such soitow shroud 
 My heart, as gathers round me now ! 
 
 Restore me that light-heartedness, 
 
 Which misery hath torn away, 
 make my painful suffering less. 
 
 And bid me once again be gay ! 
 
 O rosy Goddess ! hither haste ! 
 
 And give me back my liberty ! 
 Let me again thy pleasures taste. 
 
 Thrice welcome wilt thou ever be !
 
 264 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 HYMN TO THE DEITY. 
 
 Thou everlasting dread Supreme ! 
 
 The miglity Lord of earth and Heaven ! 
 To whom this universe doth seem 
 
 As but a speck to mortals given ! 
 Whose glory none may yet behold, 
 
 "Whose face to man is unrevealcd, 
 Whose beauties tongue hath never told. 
 
 All but thy works from us concealed. 
 Around whose throne the angels sing, 
 
 Whom saints and sinners would implore, 
 To whom all praises upward spring, — 
 
 'Tis thcc I would adore !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEJIS. 265 
 
 What tlioiigli I know not wliat tliou art, 
 
 Wliat breacltli or lieiglit thy form may be, 
 There's something in this beating heart 
 
 That tells of thy divinity ! 
 And when I cast my eyes around, 
 
 The earth, ^vith all her trees and flowers. 
 Her birds, her streams, conspire to sound 
 
 The wondrous effort of thy poAvers ! 
 Tlie spacious skies hung out above. 
 
 The orbs and planets Avhich are there. 
 All tell of thy unbounded love. 
 
 And all thy power declare ! 
 
 The mind may be too weak to span 
 The regions of unmeasured space. 
 
 But spirits raised to glory can 
 Behold the beauty of thy face ! 
 
 And what man cannot find out here. 
 We leave until a future day, 
 z
 
 266 MISCELLANEOUS POEJIS. 
 
 When all things shall be blight and clear, 
 And doubt and error pass away ! 
 
 'N\Tiat our imperfect knowledge finds 
 Beyond its grasp — enough to know 
 
 That hast thou hidden from our minds, 
 Whilst we are here beloAV ! 
 
 Thou poised this huge terrestrial ball, 
 
 And bade it in the air abide, 
 Thou filled the seas, and gave them all 
 
 That in their unseen depths reside ! 
 The coimtless worlds that ever roll. 
 
 In yonder sky of glory fair, 
 Are moving under Thy control, 
 
 By Thee they all created were ! 
 But Thou Thyself wert never made. 
 
 No birth or early age hadst Thou ! 
 Creating without help or aid, — 
 
 To Thee I humbly bow !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 2G7 
 
 Of all Thy mercies, who can tell ? 
 
 With lavish hand they freely come. 
 Since first rebellious Adam fell. 
 
 And forced from Paradise to roam ! 
 man had been completely curst. 
 
 Had not thy love an offering found, 
 Which like a ray of glory burst, 
 
 To shed delight on all around ! 
 The sun of righteousness arose. 
 
 With healing in his shining wings ! 
 may I feel, at life's last close. 
 
 That peace his favour brings ! 
 
 Lord of my life ! hear my prayer ! 
 
 Increase my faith and give me grace \ 
 Protect me with a father's care. 
 
 And grant that I may see Thy face ! 
 My sins are great, but Jesus died. 
 
 That I, through Ilira, might come to Thee, 
 z2
 
 268 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 O let my prayer be not denied. 
 But grant my spirit liberty ! 
 
 With this, let all conspire to press 
 My feeble body to the dust. 
 
 To Thee I'll look in my distress. 
 Thou only art my trust !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 269 
 
 MORN. 
 
 MoRX is awake ! a thousand tongues 
 Proclaim the rising day ! 
 
 Lo ! from the east with cheerful smiles 
 The sun climbs on his way ! 
 
 Tlu-ice welcome art thou, glorious sun ! 
 Thou monarch of the skies ! 
 
 All nature hails thee with delisfht. 
 Rejoiced to see thee rise ! 
 
 The lark hath risen on the wing, 
 
 The cuckoo tuned his bill, 
 The rooks are chattering in the field. 
 
 The lambs skip on the hill ! 
 The peasant hastens to his toil. 
 
 Around there seems to rise 
 z 3
 
 270 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The offerings of a thousand hearts. 
 Like incense, to the skies ! 
 
 Those very beams Avhose cheerful warmth 
 
 Shed life and light aroimd. 
 On our first parents brightly shone 
 
 In Eden's happy ground ! 
 Beheld their spotless innocence. 
 
 Their glory and their fall ! 
 And with unfoiling strength must shine 
 
 Till fire consumes this ball ! 
 
 This is the time that man should praise 
 
 His Saviour and his God ! 
 Who clothed the trees and reared the flowers. 
 
 And spread the verdant sod ! 
 Who rules with universal power. 
 
 Dividing day from night. 
 And spread yon glorious sky above, 
 
 So beautiful and bright !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 271 
 
 THE SKYLARK. 
 
 Bird of the mom ! whose cheerful voice 
 
 Bids cb-OAvsy mortals rise. 
 In song thy heart seems to rejoice 
 
 When soaring to the skies ! 
 Thj music calls on man to praise 
 
 The ever-living God, 
 Upward Hke thee his voice to raise. 
 
 And own his Maker's rod ! 
 
 I love to see thee rise at morn 
 
 And heavenward freely soar. 
 Like some departing spirit home 
 
 Where sorrow is no more .' 
 Less and still less thou seems to he. 
 
 To oui- imperfect sight,
 
 2/2 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Until we lose all trace of tliee 
 In yon refulgent light ! 
 
 The glories of the hending sky, 
 
 The golden clouds of Heaven, 
 Too bright for man's forbidden eye. 
 
 Seem to thy pleasures given ! 
 TVe raise our half-closed eyes in vain, 
 
 And listen to each sound, 
 Until Avith song thou seeks again 
 
 Thy dwelling on the ground ! 
 
 O when this flesh returns to dust. 
 From which it first did spring. 
 May my freed soul fly to its trust. 
 
 With heaven directed wing ! 
 Like thee, rejoicing, soar above. 
 
 But not like thee return, 
 Triumphing in the realms of love, 
 Where none may ever mourn !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 273 
 
 SONNET— THE MOON. 
 
 0, SILVERY orb ! tliou lovely queen of uiglit ! 
 
 I love to mark tliee wend thy glorious way, 
 To watch thy stately, solemuj silent flight. 
 
 To wander 'neath thy love-inspiring ray ! 
 To meditation genial is thy light, 
 
 When thy bright beams upon the brooklet play. 
 
 And, save the nightingale's lone simple lay. 
 No soimd falls on the nightly wanderer's ear. 
 
 Oh, after all the tumult of the day. 
 How sweet is this ! to me this hour how dear ! 
 
 To some loved spot resorting, there I may 
 Muse undisturbed — repose Avithout a fear ; 
 
 And in this place, except by me untrod. 
 
 Enjoy a lovely converse with my God !
 
 274 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 THE FAREWELL. 
 
 The anchor's weighed, the sails are out 
 
 To catch the coming breeze, 
 To bear yon vessel on its route 
 
 Across the dangerous seas : 
 And one is now imprisoned there, 
 
 Unto our bosom dear, 
 Farewell ! farewell ! the sky is fair ! 
 
 We will not yield to fear ! 
 
 Ye winds ! a little longer sleep ! 
 
 (We dare not bid adieu) 
 That yonder vessel still may keep 
 
 The object of our view ! 
 Yet go ! we would not have it stay, 
 
 Altho' our hearts may bleed
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 275 
 
 Asj when it dimly fades away, 
 
 We breathe the prayer " God speed !" 
 
 They come ! they come ! the winds arise ! 
 
 The sparkling sails expand ! 
 The richly freighted vessel flies 
 
 As if in scorn of land ! 
 See how she dances on her way ! 
 
 A noble thing and fair ! 
 And seems in conscious pride to say 
 
 " I knoAV the prize I bear !" 
 
 Descend, ye angel bands ! who love 
 
 To guard the virtuous fair ! 
 And cro^vn with blessings from above 
 
 The object of our prayer ! 
 Arise, ye sea-born nymphs ! and leave 
 
 Old ocean's secret caves ! 
 And for this noble vessel weave 
 
 A pathway o'er the waves !
 
 276 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Farewell ! farewell ! we think of tliee, 
 
 Tho' left so far behind. 
 And many a token shall we see 
 
 To bring thee to our mind ! 
 Thy bed of flowers ! the garden chair 
 
 AYhere thou wouldst oft recline, 
 Altho' thou art no longer there 
 
 Shall still be kept as thine ! 
 
 Farewell ! a long farewell to her ! 
 
 Her form no more we see ! 
 And Hope ! thou secret cherisher ! 
 
 We noAv Avill turn to thee ! 
 In other circles she may shine 
 
 To other spots repair. 
 But ah ! the whisper will be thine, 
 
 That she is happy there ! 
 
 JOSEPH MOXON, PRINTER, YORKSIIIREMAN OFFICE, YORK.
 
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