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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
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 PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A. 
 
 AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
 
 W I N F R I D 
 
 AFTERWARDS CALLED 
 
 BONIFACE. 
 
 A.D. 680—755. 
 
 The better fortitude 
 Of patience, and heroick martyrdom, 
 Unsung. 
 
 Paradise Lost, ix. 31. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM SELWYN, 
 
 CANON i)V ELY CATHEDKAL. 
 
 (IT a mluitiac : 
 
 DFJGIITON, BELL AND CO. 
 
 LONDON: BELL AND DALDY. 
 
 A.D. I 865.
 
 ?K 
 
 TO 
 
 GEORGE AUGUSTUS. 
 
 FIRST BISHOP 
 
 
 OF 
 
 i£iM 
 
 ■^enlantr, 
 
 FROM 
 
 HIS LOVING BROTHER, 
 
 WILLIAM SELWYN, 
 
 9173CG
 
 A DAY of gloom ; first showers, then pouring rain ; 
 
 A narrow boat, adown the turbid stream 
 
 That eats the crumbling banks of Upper Rhein, 
 
 By vapour and the whirling current borne, 
 
 From Basel ; neither hill nor tower to break 
 
 The weary length ; but ever and anon 
 
 Harsh gratings of the iron-plated keel 
 
 On shallows, hardly passing : till at eve 
 
 The glorious Sun brake out beneath the gloom. 
 
 And burnish'd the broad flood, and touch'd with gold 
 
 The minster towers and pinnacles of Speyer.
 
 Sucli close of such a day was emblem meet 
 To image forth the shining of that light, 
 Which after centuries of heathen gloom 
 Brake out upon the realms of Germany. 
 
 'Twas in the early spring of England's faith, 
 When Heaven had heard the Roman Father's prayer, 
 That Angles might be Angels ; lingering yet — 
 As when the lingering winter struggles long 
 With rising summer, and the April days 
 Are mingled storm and sunshine — idol-gods 
 Struggled for life, and falsehood warr'd with trutii, 
 And faith went halting 'twixt the old and new ; 
 The strong man strove to hold his palace still, 
 Not knowing that a stronger shook his walls. 
 
 Then did the SPIRIT come upon the heart 
 Of Winfrid, as in Devon's upland vales 
 He worshipt GOD in CHRIST ; his earnest life 
 Number'd not fifteen summers ; yet was he 
 Fill'd witli the wisdom of the fear of GOD,
 
 Deep in all heavenly lore, and Spirit-taught ; 
 He from his childhood, in his father's house, 
 Oft visited by holy men of GOD 
 In circuit, scattering Gospel-seeds, had loved 
 Long at their feet to listen ; till the tale 
 Of Jesus, virgin-born in Bethlehem, 
 And in the SPIRIT going forth to break 
 The power of Satan, and the bitter Cross, 
 The grave, the victory, to the listening child, 
 Felt rather than believed, had grown to be 
 A life and power within his rising soul. 
 
 Then, not content to listen only, he long'd 
 To preach with his own lips the word of life, 
 And deem'd that GOD had call'd him ; but his sire. 
 Kind though he was, thwarted his eager wish, 
 (A post of honour mark'd he for his son) 
 And would have had him live a layman still, 
 And carry on the lineage of his house. 
 Made noble by the blood of Saxon kings.
 
 Ah mc ! in c\il hour did Roman priests 
 Forge those sad fetters of the cehbate, 
 Freezing the hfe-blood of the man of GOD, 
 Forbidding evermore the godhke names 
 Of husband and of father ; woe the day ! 
 
 But Winfrid in his heart was consecrate, 
 And his resolve, like flame before the blast 
 That has not power to quench, still gather'd strength 
 From what opposed it ; thus they stood apart, 
 Father and son, still loving, but diverse 
 Their aims and purposes ; when lo ! the sire 
 Brought by a sudden seizure nigh to death, 
 And lying sick and sleepless, blamed himself; 
 Call'd for his son, and granted all he ask'd, 
 And pray'd for blessings on him. 
 
 Winfrid went, 
 Bidding his father and his kin farewell. 
 And sought the holy house of Exeter, 
 To strengthen his heart-knowledge, gain'd by ear, 
 And print heaven's message deeper in his soul,
 
 By reading holy writ, Prophet and Law, 
 
 And fourfold Gospel ; thence still onward moved 
 
 To Nutescelle, sheltering under Winton's see, 
 
 Where woodland Hants o'er narrow channel looks, 
 
 To the fair Isle ; and there, noviciate past, 
 
 A brother in that holy brotherhood, 
 
 And dedicate to GOD by priestly vows. 
 
 He bore his part in all their prayers and works, 
 
 And lived angelic days, now rapt to Heaven 
 
 In solemn litanies and chants of praise. 
 
 And now descending to the lowly huts 
 
 Of peasant neighbours, where his gracious tongue 
 
 Dropt manna for their souls in weary times. 
 
 Thus, like fair planet, round her central lord 
 Circling her peaceful path, did Winfrid run. 
 Ten years and more, his flower and prime of life, 
 The course of love his LORD had mark'd for him ; 
 And as he ran, still brightening ; till at length 
 The burning and the shining light he bore, 
 Though in frail earthen vessel, jiut to flight
 
 The darkness and the guilt of heathendom, 
 
 And all the region round was fiU'd with ClIRIST. 
 
 Now far and wide o'er Christian England spake 
 A voice as of a trumpet, loud and clear, 
 ' Go forth, and preach the Gospel : freely give 
 'What ye received so freely:' — Whose the voice? 
 Not Ecgbert's, but GOD's voice that spake by him. 
 Ecgbert, now priest in Ireland, English-born, 
 When smitten down by sickness, — smitten too 
 By those sharp pangs that punish wasted days, 
 And gifts misused — in bitterness of soul 
 Had pray'd, like Judah's king, for added years. 
 And vow'd them all to God ; prepared himself, 
 And choice of faithful comrades, forth to go 
 Where scarcely yet the sacred name was named. 
 To forests wild, and wilder men that roam'd 
 Between the waters of the Rhein and Meuse, 
 In Friesland, cradle of the Anglian race. 
 
 But while they girt themselves, and gather'd all.
 
 The sacred books and priestly vestments rich. 
 Paten and chahce; troubled dreams by night 
 Foreshadow'd ill ; their chief beheld the ship 
 Driven from her destined course by stormy winds, 
 Stranded and broken by the waves; yet still, — 
 Remembering how the great Apostle thrice 
 Had suffer'd shipwreck, — nothing terrified, 
 The little band moved cheerily to the port, 
 Where their bark lay for them, and went aboard. 
 
 But ere they sail'd, while waiting for the dawn, 
 A clearer vision came on Ecgbert's sleep, 
 And in the stillness of the night there fell 
 A voice of power from Heaven: 'This enterprise 
 'Is not for thee; return thou, and build up 
 'The desolations of thy land; the man 
 ' By me for this work chosen I will send.' 
 
 He heard, obedient to that heavenly voice ; 
 Went back to his own land, and labour'd well 
 To root out every plant of evil growth, 
 That marr'd the good seed of the .Son of Man :
 
 8 
 
 Yet not the less did Ecgbert sound the call 
 
 To Christian iicarts in England, forth to send 
 
 The word of life to those dark pagan lands, 
 
 Rejoicing that some better man than he 
 
 Was chosen for that holy enterprise : 
 
 This was the trumpet-voice that moved the land. 
 
 Now for that mission-work beyond the seas 
 The leader call'd by GOD was Willibrord, 
 Long known in England's Church for fervent zeal; 
 He heard the call, and gladly gave himself 
 To plant the Cross in Friesland; forth he went 
 With chosen band, who loved not their own lives; 
 And Winfrid, still in Nutescelle, heard the call 
 Deep in his inmost soul ; and though his kin 
 Strove, like the kin of Roman Regulus 
 Returning to his dread captivity, 
 To bar his way, he held his purpose firm, 
 And pray'd them not to fight against GOD's will ; 
 And while he reason'd, Apostolic words 
 Rose to his lips unbidden ; * Woe is me
 
 'If I preach not the Gospel.' 'Yea!' said they, 
 
 'Preach here in England; here are still enow 
 
 ' Of Pagans, though they name the name of Christ 
 
 But he still answer'd calmly, 'Let me go; 
 
 ' For I have heard a voice you cannot hear, 
 
 ' And I have seen a hand, that beckons me 
 
 ' To those far lands, now dark as England once, 
 
 ' To help to make them light, as England now.' 
 
 So, seeing that his mind was fully bent. 
 They ceased, and Winfrid went to Willibrord. 
 
 And now what need to tell the Mission-tale ? 
 How after tossing long in troubled seas. 
 And conquering gloomy doubts by faith and prayer, 
 They landed on the Frisian coast, so low, 
 'Twas almost lower than the wave they left : 
 And how through many a strange vicissitude, 
 Sometimes with kindness meeting, then v.ith scorn, 
 And oft with blank indifference; sorely tried 
 ]iy want of all things, and again made rich
 
 lO 
 
 Beyond their wants by hospitable hands; 
 
 They plied their Master's work, and sow'd his seed 
 
 Beside all waters; how they gather'd flocks 
 
 Redeem'd by grace from Satan unto Goi), 
 
 In all the villages and haunts of men, 
 
 In the wild forest, by the river's bank: 
 
 How men cast down the idols of the land 
 
 With their own hands that made them; and gave up 
 
 Their temples, timber-fashion'd, rudely carved, 
 
 To be the sanctuaries of GoD in Christ : 
 
 'Tis written in the life of Willibrord. 
 
 But there was none of all that holy band 
 So faithful or so wise as Winfrid ; none 
 More ripe in counsel, none more bold in a6l, 
 None mightier in the Scriptures; for the lore 
 That he had learnt by hearing, or by books, 
 In his own land, in cloister, or at home. 
 Shone like a lamp to guide his daily life. 
 Scant time was now for reading ; but the word 
 Of Christ dwelt in him richly ; his the voice
 
 II 
 
 To cheer faint hearts in peril or in woe ; 
 
 In every time of trial came the chief 
 
 To take fresh counsel with his minister, 
 
 * For Winfrid's eye can see, though all be dark.' 
 
 And thus, when heavenly truth had won her way, 
 And Friesland was half Christian, thickly sown 
 With rising Churches, loath was Willibrord 
 To part with such companion of his cares ; 
 And will'd that Winfrid should abide there still. 
 Bishop of Utrecht ; gently warning him 
 That years and labours had impair'd his strength ; 
 The good fight fought, he now should take his rest, 
 Pass quiet days of prayer among his flock, 
 Enjoy some foretaste of the promised bliss. 
 And leave to younger men the realms beyond. 
 
 But Winfrid had no heart to build his nest. 
 And take his ease, while all the Upper Rhein 
 Lay dark and fill'd with idols ; onward still, 
 Urged by the native spirit of his race. 
 And by the fear of CHRIST, he long'd to press,
 
 12 
 
 As debtor to the heathen of the South. 
 He answer'd firml}', ' L\ither, let me go; 
 
 * My God hath still a work for me to do, 
 
 ' Ere the night come, when man can work no more ; 
 
 * Labour to me is rest, and weakness strength ; 
 'And I shall be more fruitful in mine age.' 
 
 But ere he launch'd on that tempestuous sea 
 Of heathendom, by sad example known 
 So full of peril to frail Christian bark ; 
 He sought brief rest in his own native land, 
 And pray'd his friends in England to besiege 
 The throne of Heaven with supplications strong ; 
 And chiefly Daniel, Winton's bishop, loved 
 And reverenced as a father. Then he w^ent 
 To ask a blessing from that Mother-Church, 
 From whence a century since had issued forth 
 The mission of Augustine, which had tamed 
 Hard Saxon necks to the mild yoke of CHRIST, 
 In all the realms of England's Heptarchy;
 
 T3 
 
 To Rome he went ; and with kind words of cheer, 
 The holy Father blest him for his work. 
 
 Then Winfrid, having braced his soul by prayer, 
 Amid the shrines of martyrs and of saints ; — 
 Above his head Saint Peter's holy roof, 
 Beneath his feet the silent catacombs ; 
 His heart with holy zeal and courage fill'd, — 
 Turn'd to his mission-field, and carried with him 
 A chosen band, like-minded with himself: 
 For his strong spirit, with mysterious power, 
 Magnetic, drew like spirits after him, 
 Where'er his orbit touch'd them. 
 
 One he found 
 Whose name shall never in oblivion sleep, 
 While the Rhein rolls, and Friesland stems the sea 
 One, fresh in youth and pure of heart he found, 
 To be the sharer of his coming toils, 
 Train'd for him unawares by Addula, 
 Abbess of holy sisterhood by Trier, 
 On Mosel's bank. There resting for the night,
 
 H 
 
 In the refe6lory, at even-tide, 
 
 Young Gregory stood to read tlie holy page ; 
 
 * And kenst thou what thou readest ? ' Winfrid said ; 
 *Yea!' said the youth, and read the page again; 
 
 * Nay,' said the Father, ' that I question'd not,' 
 
 * Kenst thou the spirit of the holy word ? 
 
 * Give me the meaning in thy mother tongue.' 
 
 The youth was silent, for he could no more ; 
 His heart as yet had found no utterance : 
 Then the good man, to all the sisterhood, 
 Pour'd forth, from the good treasure of his heart. 
 The spirit and the life that lay within 
 The letter of the Scripture ; 'twas the word 
 Of Jesus in the porch of Solomon, 
 ' And other sheep I have, not of this fold ; ' 
 'Them also must I bring, to hear my voice;' 
 Then spake he of the unbounded love of CHRIST, 
 And of the wild Thuringians, Avaiting still 
 For some to lead them to the Shepherd's fold ; 
 The listening heart of Gregory caught the flame,
 
 15 
 
 And ere he slept he begg'd of Addula 
 To send him forth as one of Winfrid's band ; 
 ' Had she no horse to give him ? ' then on foot 
 Would he accompany that holy man. 
 
 The Abbess was his father's sister ; lone 
 And lovingly she strove to bend his will ; 
 Then yielded him to G(3D, and sent him forth, 
 With horse, and all the best her house could give. 
 
 So these went forth and labour'd for the Lord, 
 Among the scatter'd flocks of Christians, few 
 And far between ; and in the heathen wilds. 
 Where Thor and Woden, and the lights that rule 
 The day and night, usurp'd the place of GOD, 
 Maker of all things : which the harder task, 
 To quicken slumb'ring Christians, and awake 
 To his first love the Pastor's heart grown cold ; 
 Or plant the Gospel fresh in wildwood hearts 
 Of Pagans, who shall tell ? His varied work- 
 Still W^infrid plied, as GuD ordain'd it for him. 
 
 /■
 
 i6 
 
 To win, or to recover; and his band 
 
 Of faithful comrades, full of love and zeal, 
 
 Went forth to conquer further fields for ClIRIST, 
 
 In ever-widening circles ; year by year 
 
 Back roll'd the gloomy cloud of heathendom, 
 
 That brooded o'er the land ; and churches rose. 
 
 And the fair temple of the Living GoD, 
 
 Built on the rock of Jesus crucified. 
 
 Four years had Winfrid labour'd thus, and saw 
 The harvest ripening round him ; and the fame 
 Of idols overthrown, and multitudes 
 Confessing CilRlST their Saviour, came to Rome ; 
 Thither too Winfrid sent his messengers, 
 With letters of good tidings, and besought 
 The Roman Father's counsel ; but he said, 
 'Let my son Winfrid come himself to Rome:' 
 He rightly deem'd such work, so blest of GOD, 
 Should now be crown'd with higher dignity; 
 And Winfrid should return witli fuller power,
 
 17 
 
 As Bishop, to confirm and stablish well 
 The Churches of his planting. W'infrid came, 
 And slept not till his talc of joy was told ; 
 Then after full confession of the faith, 
 And frequent interchange of holy thoughts, 
 And lastly, oath of firm fidelity, 
 
 Sworn on the shrine, where rests (so Rome believes) 
 The great Apostle, founder of their Church ; 
 The Holy Father with a solemn choir 
 Of Bishops, laid his hand on Winfrid's head ; 
 Nor rested there, but with unwonted speed, 
 (So dear the man, so paramount his work) 
 Thrusting aside tlie waves of other cares. 
 That daily surge from all the world on Rome, 
 Hasted to send him forth ; yea ! the next da\', 
 Gave him the canons, written fair and large. 
 With letters to the Mayor of the Fi'anks, 
 Martel, and other princes ; charging them 
 To forward Winfrid's work with ready help. 
 Then once again he blest him, and (M'dain'd 
 
 1)
 
 i8 
 
 That W'iiifrid should henceforth be Boniface, 
 
 By that name to be known throughout the world ; 
 
 But Winfrid loved the name his father gave him, 
 
 And his own band of faithful followers 
 
 Would call him Winfrid still ; for by that name 
 
 They knew him when their hearts were knit to his. 
 
 Once more their feet are on the Alps ; once more 
 Their eyes are bent toward those Rhein-water'd fields, 
 Where they have walk'd Avith Christ, and yet would walk. 
 Right glad the welcome that awaited them 
 From all their faithful flocks, and from the sheep 
 During their travels added to the fold ; 
 And glad the voice of Winfrid, speaking now 
 From the full heart of Christian Father's love ; 
 His word went forth with power; and many a realm 
 Was added to CHRIST'S kingdom ; and the Vine 
 Of the Lord's planting stretch'd her boughs abroad, 
 From the great River far into the heart 
 Of Europe, 'twixt the Alps and Northern Sea.
 
 19 
 
 One tra6l alone rcniain'd, untrodden yet 
 By any foot of Gospel-messenger ; 
 The forest-tra6l of Geismar ; far within, 
 Where never woodman's axe was heard to ring, 
 Mid streams and swamps, and trunks of ages past, 
 That lay along the ground where they had fall'n, 
 Moss-grown, and matted o'er with trailing plants ; 
 And in the open glades, where daylight shone 
 At intervals, amid surrounding gloom, 
 Like joyful moments in a life of pain ; 
 There did the Saxon idols hold their sway 
 Unchallenged ; and the Christian people said, 
 Here was the strongest hold of Satan's power; 
 The very citadel of heathendom ; 
 Could once the Gospel of the Living GOD 
 Pierce that dark forest, and disperse the gloom ; 
 Then the whole land would soon be fill'd with light. 
 
 And Winfrid in his heart resolved to go, 
 Strong in the promise of the risen T-mrd,
 
 20 
 
 ' Lo ! I ani with }-ou ahvay;' and he wont, 
 With chosen followers, to the dreadful wood. 
 
 King of that forest reign'd a giant tree, 
 An oak, beneath whose spreading shade might rest 
 An hundred horsemen, picqueting their steeds; 
 Five centuries, and more, of summer suns 
 And winter rains had knotted all his stem ; 
 Uncounted moons, crescent and full, had gleam'd 
 Among the branches, chequering shade with light. 
 As the leaves trembled to the midnight air ; 
 There had he thriven, overshadowing all. 
 Dwarfing all other stems that ventured near ; 
 Till left alone in solitary state, 
 With ample space of verdant glade around. 
 And nought to intercept his majesty : 
 This tree was sacred to the Thunderer, Thor, 
 And well-nigh worshipt as the god himself. 
 
 No lack of vigour yet, for year by year 
 His wealth of leaves from every arm and branch
 
 21 
 
 Pour'd freshly forth ; but careful eye might mark 
 
 High on the topmost crown some naked twigs ; 
 
 And one who stood beneath, close by the bole, 
 
 Might see a deep-cut trench, all weather-stain'd, 
 
 Cleaving the centre, widening to the bark. 
 
 With split and jagged edges : and they said, 
 
 This was the Thunderer's mark ; for none but oaks, 
 
 Or seldom, were so scathed ; and never yet 
 
 Did the great god with second thunderbolt 
 
 Strike the same tree ; such was the heathens' tale. 
 
 And Winfrid's eye had mark'd that trenching cleft, 
 Not counting it for proof of san6lity, 
 But of God's might ; so waiting for the day, 
 When Priests and Chieftains, and the common folk 
 By thousands, all assembled round the tree, 
 To dance in honour of the Thunderer Thor, 
 With horrid sacrifice and revelry ; 
 Then Winfrid came, and standing in the midst 
 Like him who stood on Carmcl for the LORD, 
 He cried aloud, 'Ye Priests and People, hear:
 
 22 
 
 'How long will yc thus worship senseless trees? 
 
 'And sacrifice to them that are no gods? 
 
 ' Lo ! here we stand this day for life or death ; 
 
 ' Now call ye on your god ; while I and mine 
 
 ' Try with our axes this divinity : 
 
 ' And if your Thunderer can avenge his own, 
 
 ' Then let his lightning smite us ; but if not, 
 
 ' And if this tree fall down and split asunder, 
 
 ' Then may ye learn that Thor is no true God ; 
 
 'And bow your hearts to Him who made this tree, 
 
 ' The Sun, the Moon, and all the host of Heaven, 
 
 • Our Father ! and his Christ, the Tree of Life, 
 
 ' Whose leaves are for the healing of the world. 
 
 ' Lo ! here we stand this day for life or death. 
 'Will ye abide this trial?' And they said, 
 'We will abide this trial.' 
 
 Then the Saint 
 With axe in hand, and eyes upraised to Heaven, 
 Pray'd to the Living GoD, and struck a blow 
 Which cleft the bark ; a second downward fell,
 
 23 
 
 Meeting the first, and left a gaping notch ; 
 Which two stout deacons with alternate stroke, 
 Deepen'd and widen'd, till the mighty trunk 
 Half round was sever'd ; while the priests amazed 
 Look'd on with horror, calling on their god 
 To hurl his lightnings and avenge his own. 
 
 Five hundred rings and more, ring within ring, 
 Lie open to the centre, and the sap. 
 The giant's life-blood, trickles down the roots ; 
 And }'et no lightning falls, no thunder-peal 
 Speaks for the god ; while Winfrid calmly stands, 
 Watching the end in holy confidence. 
 
 Slowly and sadly, and with many a groan. 
 The growth of ages yielded ; till at length 
 A sudden blast bore down with perilous weight 
 On the broad leafy mass, and made the tree 
 Nod to his fall : then Winfrid with his axe 
 Sever'd the bark that girt the further side, 
 As yet unwounded ; heavier still the wind 
 Bore down ; and, like the ship unballasted.
 
 24 
 
 Tliat falls upon her side before the gale, 
 With one long crash the giant monarch fell, 
 And falling split, with fourfold havoc rivxMi, 
 Ev'n where the lightning-bolt had cleft the stem. 
 
 And with that fall the Thunderer's empire fell, 
 The baseless fabric vanish'd like a mist, 
 Before the rising Sun of Righteousness : 
 They cried 'the GoD of Winfrid, He is GOD :' 
 And from the timbers of the fallen oak 
 They built a House of Prayer to God in CiiRrsT. 
 
 Thus did the last stronghold of Satan yield ; 
 The last dark cloud of Error past away ; 
 And all the land was fiU'd with light and love. 
 Fair w'as the time, and Winfrid's heart w^as glad ; 
 And through the forest-glades the merry noise 
 Of cheerful toil resounded ; and the plough 
 Furrow'd the virgin-soil, and Christian hands, 
 Like Isaac in the land of promise, sow'd 
 The kindly seed, and reap'd an hundred-fold.
 
 25 
 
 Praising the Lord of harvest. 
 
 Simj^le hearts, 
 Content to labour while they preach'd the word, 
 Were Winfrid's helpers, fitted well to win 
 The hearts of Hessians, rugged as their oaks. 
 But few were they to feed the growing flock, 
 And Winfrid wrote to England ; ' Pray for us, 
 'And have compassion on your brethren here, 
 * Our Saxon neighbours ; for they often ask, 
 ' "Why do not more of England's teachers come 
 '"(Since God hath made us of one blood with them) 
 '"Over to us, and help us?" O my friends, 
 ' The time is short ; the night is drawing nigh, 
 ' Help us, while yet 'tis day.' Thus Winfrid urged 
 
 The mitred heads of England ; not in vain ; 
 His company of preachers multiplied, 
 And youthful scholars fiU'd his cloister-walls, 
 Ripening for future service ; women too, 
 Forsaking home and kindred, cross'd the sea, 
 IManted themselves in Christian sisterhoods, 
 
 E
 
 26 
 
 .And goint^- forth uii angcl-minisliies, 
 
 To feed the hungry, cool the fcver'd lip, 
 
 To cheer the widow and the fatherless, 
 
 Taught pagan hearts to feel the love of ClIRIST. 
 
 And soon the choicest of the Saxon youth, 
 Baptized, and train'd in Winfrid's school, began 
 To bear the Gospel-message to their kin ; 
 And elder heathen, hearing these discourse 
 Of the meek Saviour, and his life of love. 
 Half-won to Christ, but still relu6lant, cried ; 
 ' Ay ! now the tree of our old faith must fall, 
 ' Tor see ! the branches sever'd from the stem 
 ' Make handles for the axe that hews it down.' 
 Fair was the time, and Winfrid's heart was glad. 
 
 But lo ! a storm-cloud, dark and terrible, 
 From the far East came rolling, with the sound 
 Of clashing arms, and empires overthrown ; 
 O'er Syria's plains, and Persia's ancient realm, 
 O'er Afric's coast, and the green vale of Nile,
 
 27 
 
 Swept like a mighty tide the Saracen host, 
 
 And made all Moslem ; lands, where erst the faith, 
 
 Planted by Paul, water'd by Cyprian's blood. 
 
 Had flourish'd ; where Augustine pour'd the stream 
 
 Of living waters ; heard the evening cry 
 
 Of 'Allah and his Prophet.' Then the wave, 
 
 With rage unbated, o'er the narrow strait 
 
 Dashing on Spain, o'erwhelm'd the sunny land, 
 
 All save one little kingdom girt with rocks. 
 
 That held her faith and freedom. 
 
 Bolder still 
 It climb'd the parting Pyrenean ridge. 
 Hung for a while, dark-threatening, on the steep. 
 Then burst with havoc and wild ruin down 
 On the fair Prankish realm, and spread dismay 
 Through all her borders to the banks of Rhein, 
 Where Winfrid's churches trembled at the sound. 
 
 But soon the voice of GOD throughout the land 
 Awoke to arms the Christian chivalry ; 
 Karl Martel, with the banner of the Cross,
 
 28 
 
 Fronted the Crescent on the field of Tours ; 
 Received their fiery onsets all unmoved, 
 Six livelong days ; then with the rising sun 
 For Cliristcndoni he charged, and laid in dust 
 Proud Abdalrahman, with his myriad slain ; 
 Chcck'd that wild Eastern wave, and roll'd it back. 
 
 Then had the Christians rest, and multiplied ; 
 And every man in peace and quietness 
 Sate under his own vine, and sang glad hymns 
 To God's Eternal Son ; on every side 
 Fair steeples shone, with sound of matin-bells ; 
 And deep in many a shelter'd valley rose 
 The lowly kloster, with a school for youth ; 
 And kindly cheer for way-worn travellers ; 
 And healing for the sick ; and holy words 
 Of peace and comfort for the broken heart. 
 
 But now on Winfrid's soul too heavily prest 
 The care of all the churches ; and the time
 
 29 
 
 Was fully come to parcel out the land 
 
 Won for the Lord, in meted bishoprics, 
 
 So lightening by division heavy toils : 
 
 Once more to Rome he went, and there received 
 
 Full power, as Legate for all Germany, 
 
 To found fresh Sees, and duly consecrate 
 
 Chief Pastors for the cities of the Rhein ; 
 
 Each with his choir of elders counselling 
 
 The welfare of the churches clustering round ; 
 
 Himself, as Primate, watching over all. 
 
 Then on his homeward way, through Lombardy, 
 Refresh'd awhile with hospitable cheer 
 In Luitprand's royal mansion ; and his soul 
 Kindled anew by choral antiphons, 
 In Milan's Dome, where once Augustine stood. 
 Not Christian yet, but listening there, to prove 
 If Ambrose were indeed so eloquent, 
 As fame reported of him; day by day 
 He listcn'd, till the clear persuading voice 
 Moved him against his will, and made him feel,
 
 30 
 
 Not that the man was eloquent of tongue, 
 
 But how divine the Sl'lRlT speaking in him ; 
 
 His word of GOD and CHRIST how true, how good. 
 
 Now, past the Alps, and past Bavaria's plain, 
 With Passau's bishop, in his lonely see, 
 Where the great streams of Inn and Donau meet, 
 The Legate takes sweet counsel ; and provides 
 That ample realm with four-fold pastorate ; 
 And Winilo, well pleased, to other hands 
 Resigns the church-crown'd hill of Freysingen, 
 And Regenspurg, by Donau's rapid flood ; 
 And the fair tra6l, where princely Salzburg looks 
 From her own circling hills, and shining lakes. 
 To the great Watzman's glacier-cloven peak, 
 High-towering o'er the beauteous Konlg-see. 
 
 Sweet as cold waters to the thirsty soul, 
 Are tidings from loved kinsfolk far away, 
 With hopes of meeting; such was Winfrid's joy. 
 When, coming to his Rheinland home, he heard,
 
 31 
 
 That Wunibald his kinsman, lately met 
 
 In Rome, now mindful of his plighted word, 
 
 Was on his way to Winfrid's mission-field. 
 
 And with him came his brother, Willibald, 
 
 Who, after pilgrimage to Palestine, 
 
 Long toilsome ways, and perils of the deep. 
 
 Would fain have rested in still cloister-life. 
 
 But Winfrid's strong entreaties drew him forth. 
 
 Together came the brothers, and to each 
 His work was given ; to Wunibald, the charge 
 Of seven Thuringian churches, young in faith ; 
 To Willibald, a frontier-post to hold, 
 At Eichstadt, in a wild and woody waste, 
 Where one poor church was all that spoke of CilRiST 
 
 Nor doth Walpurga tarry long at home. 
 Their sister ; gathering to herself a band 
 Of faithful women, zealous of all good, 
 She braves the sea to join the work of God : 
 .'Vnd while the others find their tasks of love 
 At points diverse, far scattcr'd through the lain! ;
 
 32 
 
 While Thccla makes her home in Kitzingcn ; 
 And Lioba, b)' Tuber's winding stream ; 
 And Chunitrudc on Salzburg's mountain-side ; 
 Walpurga near her elder brother founds 
 A convent for her sisterhood, and tends 
 The weak ones in the fold of Wunibald. 
 
 How chafed the heathen remnant in their woods 
 To see these outposts of another faith, 
 From a far isle, uprising in the land, 
 And breaking all their ancient solitudes. 
 Which they had peopled with imagined sprites, 
 Fairies and elves ; — while hunters of renown 
 Swore fiercely that the boar and wolf should roam, 
 As in their fathers' days, to make them sport. 
 But soon the gentle life, and holy w^ays. 
 Of these meek strangers, blessing all around, 
 Making glad light amid a world of gloom, 
 Won savage hearts to peace and confidence. 
 
 Never had Winfrid's sun more brightly shone,
 
 33 
 
 Than now when seated on his throne at Mainz, 
 
 Encircled by the kinsfolk whom he loved, 
 
 All working with one soul for love of CHRIST. 
 
 Had then Gewillieb died ? or left his See ? 
 'Twas vacant by Gewillieb's deed of blood : 
 He, bishop as he was, had lured the foe. 
 Who slew his father in fair field of fight, 
 Down to an island in the frontier-stream 
 That parted either host ; there holding parle, 
 With his own priestly hand had struck a blow 
 Piercing the heart ; and for that treacherous stroke 
 His priestly fun6lions ceased for evermore. 
 
 Then Winfrid, who had deem'd Koloin should be 
 The Primate's centre, fix'd his see in Mainz : 
 And now the region wide, on either bank 
 Of the great River, was all portion'd out 
 In peaceful bishoprics ; and Winfrid's cares 
 Were lighten'd by division ; but he long'd. 
 Before his ministry on earth should end, 
 To make the body of his Church compafl, 
 
 F
 
 34 
 
 All fitly framed ; so calling round his throne 
 
 A synod, Church- and States-men join'd, they took 
 
 Full counsel for the welfare of the land. 
 
 Thus having order'd all, the aged Saint 
 Seeing his labours blest, would often go 
 To his loved shrine, by Fulda's quiet stream. 
 Where Sturm — whom he had cherish'd from a child. 
 As his own son — with weary toil and search, 
 Through trackless forest, riding on his mule. 
 And guarding both himself and mule at night 
 With rough-built palisade, but more by prayer, 
 Had found a fair, well-water'd, fertile spot. 
 Safe from the rude assaults of Saxon hordes: 
 And, gladly hastening thither, Winfrid's hand 
 Traced out the ground-lines of a goodly Church. 
 
 There often, leaving all the city-cares 
 To his auxiliar Lull, he loved to rest 
 With holy Sturm, and bathe his spirit deep 
 In that clear crystal-stream that issues forth 
 From God's throne and the Lamb's ; sweet days of prayer
 
 35 
 
 And joyful praise for all the LORD had wrought 
 By his poor servant ; and where'er he came 
 Men look'd with reverence on his hoary head ; 
 And his old age was as the autumnal tree 
 Touch'd by the evening sunbeam : there he hoped 
 To yield his soul to GOD, and lay his limbs 
 Beneath that rising aisle. 
 
 But suddenly 
 There came a tale of woe from Lower Rhein, 
 That shook the heart of Winfrid. Since the death 
 Of Willibrord, whose years of patient toil 
 Had planted Christ throughout the Frisian realm, 
 No shepherd like himself, zealous and wise, 
 Had risen to tend his flock ; and faith grew faint, 
 And love wax'd cold ; and idols rose again, 
 From many a lurking-place and covert cell, 
 Up to the light of heaven ; and savage frays, 
 Pagan with Christian warring, rent the land, 
 Trampling the kindly harvests under foot, 
 And manv an hol\- altar ran with blood.
 
 36 
 
 Then Winfrid could not rest; he heard again 
 The voice that call'd, he saw the beckoning hand ; 
 He brook'd it not, that the fair field of Christ, 
 Sown with his seed, should thus be trampled down 
 He thought on those vi6lorious days, when he 
 With Willibrord, had borne the Cross on high. 
 Triumphant o'er the gods of heathendom; 
 And as the horse, of old in warfare train'd. 
 If haply in his pasture-field he hear 
 The distant cannon-boom, or thunder-peal. 
 Again he smells the battle, and again 
 With head high-raised, and nostrils all on fire, 
 Pants for the charge ; so Winfrid's spirit rose, 
 And he must go to Friesland. 
 
 All in vain 
 Did Lull, with all his brethren, urge his years, 
 His failing strength, and his well-earn'd repose : 
 He still replied: 'What would ye have me do? 
 ' But go in faith where GOD is calling me, 
 ' And mine own heart ; for well I know, my son,
 
 37 
 
 ' The time of my departure draweth nigh ; 
 
 ' Have I not number'd threescore years and ten ? 
 
 ' A crown of glory waits me. But do thou 
 
 ' Continue the good work by me begun ; 
 
 ' The Churches of Thuringia stabHsh well ; 
 
 ' Root out foul error from the field of GOD ; 
 
 ' Complete my church in Fulda ; where these hands 
 
 ' Laid the first stone, be there my resting-place, 
 
 ' When God shall call me ; see thou lay me there. 
 
 'And now, my son, make ready for my voyage, 
 
 ' Lay all my books and parchments in the chest ; 
 
 ' Forget not Ambrose on the gain of death ; 
 
 'And over them a lych-cloth, fair and large, 
 
 ' To wrap my body for the last remove.' 
 
 They wept, but said no more ; ' God's wall be done, 
 Was inly breathed by all the brotherhood, 
 Who knowing they should see his face no more, 
 Yet hopeful of his victories for Christ, 
 Brought down their aged Bishop to his boat.
 
 38 
 
 He watch'd the fast-receding towers of Mainz, 
 With prayers for blessings on the flock he left ; 
 Then as they vanish'd, braced himself anew, 
 With prayers for blessings on his work to come ; 
 Then swiftly by the downward current borne, 
 Past where the Mosel yields up life and name. 
 Lost in the greater majesty of Rhein ; 
 Past many a mouldering fort of empire gone, 
 And many a rising town of later days ; 
 And hills and islands waiting for renown ; 
 And past the Roman walls of proud Koloin ; 
 They landed on the level Frisian bank ; 
 And where an affluent of the River made 
 Almost an island, with a sheltering wood, 
 They pitch'd their lowly tents, and worshipt GOD. 
 
 There, while the aged saint, with lifted hands 
 And eyes, the priests and deacons kneeling round. 
 Invoked the help of Heaven ; forth from the wood 
 There came a little company of men. 
 Two women In the midst, and knelt with them ;
 
 39 
 
 The remnant of the flock, the faithful few 
 Among the faithless many ; these had held 
 Their love for CHRIST; His Cross upon their brows, 
 And His good SPIRIT dwelling in their hearts, 
 Kept them still His, amid the flames of war 
 From the live embers of old heathendom 
 Bursting so fiercely ; from their desolate homes 
 They fled for refuge to the silent shade, 
 Here in the utmost border of the land. 
 
 Prayer ended, 'Winfrid!' sounded from each tongue; 
 They knew him, though the lines of care and toil 
 Had deeply trench'd his face, and his thin hair 
 Fell snow-white on his shoulders ; here were some 
 Whose foreheads Winfrid's hand had seal'd to CHRIST ; 
 All from his lips had heard the word of life ; 
 Now after glad embrace they spread the board, 
 Brought forth the sacred chalice, and rejoiced 
 In that perpetual feast of peace and love, 
 The sweet communion of the Lamb of GoD.
 
 40 
 
 Then with fresh zeal went forth the Saint, to war 
 Against the fcnil relapse to heathen rites, 
 The faithful Gregory ever by his side, 
 Their fiery tongues denouncing gods of wood : 
 In many a peopled mart he stood unmoved. 
 Though face to face wnth heathen multitudes, 
 Fearing GOD only. 
 
 When they saw the Cross 
 Gleam on his banner, heard the well-known voice 
 Telling of Christ forsaken, shame and fear 
 Fell on them, and their earlier faith revived ; 
 They fell before him suppliant to the ground. 
 
 Then kindly, wisely, lifting up their hearts. 
 Lest sorrow overmuch should whelm them quite, 
 He told of Peter, how his bitter tears 
 Found grace with Him who came to save the lost ; 
 How Jesus proved his quick-reviving faith, 
 By threefold question, * Simon, Jonas' son, 
 ' Lovest thou me ? lovest thou more than these ? ' 
 Then in the stern words of the Son of Man,
 
 41 
 
 Heard in the V'ision of the holy John ; 
 
 ' Remember whence ye fell ; repent and do 
 
 'The works of your first love, which ye have left.' 
 
 They heard, and with glad hearts obey'd his voice, 
 Dash'd down their helpless idols to the dust, 
 And built fresh temples to the Living GoD. 
 
 Thus o'er the land the Cross went forth in might. 
 And all was peace ; if idols yet remain'd, 
 Or idol-worshippers, they were not seen 
 In public haunts, nor ever rear'd their front 
 Where men were gather'd for affairs of state ; 
 But lurk'd in dens and caverns, shunning light. 
 With nightly homage soothing fallen pride ; 
 And left the CRUCIFIED to reign alone, 
 Beneath the sun-lit canopy of Heaven. 
 
 Then seeing that the Lord had blest his work, 
 The Churches all at rest, and multiplying; 
 New converts daily made, the old reclaim'd ; 
 Baptismal dews sprinkled on every brow ; 
 
 C.
 
 42 
 
 A hope, subdued before, now touch'd again 
 
 The heart of Winfrid ; ' When my work is done, 
 
 • I yet may see my own, and end my days 
 
 ' In Fulda's sacred precin6l ; there find rest.' 
 
 Yet ever bowing meekly to Gou's will, 
 
 'Lord! as thou wilt;' nor had he wish to go. 
 
 While aught in Friesland yet remain'd undone. 
 
 'Twas now the joyous holy Easter-tide, 
 And on the day that saw the Saviour rise 
 Triumphant o'er the grave, a goodly band 
 Of youthful converts had been scal'd to CllRlST, 
 By water and the Spirit ; and the time 
 Was fix'd, when all should meet by Burda's stream, 
 A central spot, uniting East and West, 
 To ratify their vows, and there receive 
 Fresh measures of the Spirit. On that morn, 
 Fill'd with the sacred joy of Pentecost, 
 Before the Sun was up, the Bishop sate, 
 Surrounded by his faithful company.
 
 43 
 
 Prepared to lay his- hands on every head, 
 Sign of the Father's love o'ershadowing them. 
 
 Now through the drifting clouds bright streaks of dawn 
 Proclaim'd the day at hand ; when faint at first, 
 A rising murmur, as of waving trees 
 Moved by the morning wind, was heard afar ; 
 They fondly deem'd that swelling sound might be 
 The cheerful voices of the new-baptized, 
 Marching in gladness to the river's bank, 
 Where Winfrid waited ; but anon they saw 
 Strange glitterings of the Sun's first level beam 
 On sword and lance, on-moving ; nearer now. 
 And unmistaken, came tumultuously 
 Voices of terror, fearful cries and j^ells, 
 A mingled roaring as of wildwood beasts. 
 Made furious by long fasting : 'twas the foe ! 
 The foe they thought so scatter'd and so crush'd, 
 The heathen foe, who in his covert close 
 Had mutter'd vengeance, and had watch'd his time. 
 
 Then hastily rose to arms the faithful band.
 
 44 
 
 Seizing what ofter'd first ; but Winfrid cried, 
 
 ' Peace ! peace ! my sons ; Christ is the Prince of Peace ; 
 
 ' We may not fight with w^eapons of the world ; 
 
 ' This is the will of GOD ; and let us meet it, 
 
 * As men who know the body may be kill'd, 
 
 ' But the soul lives for ever. Sure am I, 
 
 ' That this shall be no hindrance to the faith ; 
 
 ' The blood of martyrs makes the good seed grow ; 
 
 ' Have we not read how after Stephen's death 
 
 ' The Gospel spread more widely ? Let us wait.' 
 
 So, like those white-hair'd Roman Senators, 
 Awaiting the assault of furious Gauls, 
 But with a better hoj^e, they calmly sate. 
 
 Let others tell the deed of blood : 'tis said, 
 That Winfrid, holding as a shield before him 
 The volume of the Gospel, turn'd aside 
 The first lance-thrust aim'd at his saintly breast ; 
 Pierced was the holy book, but not one line 
 Or letter of the sacred text w^as marr'd. 
 
 Swift flew the tidings through the land, and woke
 
 45 
 
 To righteous fury every Christian heart ; 
 
 Forth went the fier}^ torch, and roused to arms 
 
 The faithful in all Friesland ; swift they came, 
 
 Mustering for war ; and when the third day rose, 
 
 Appear'd a goodly host, all fired with love 
 
 For their good Pastor, with avenging zeal 
 
 For him and fifty more, so foully slain : 
 
 Then dashing with fierce onset on the foe, 
 
 In wine and wassail madly revelling. 
 
 And each with other quarrelling for spoil, 
 
 Reckless of ill, — the Christians routed them 
 
 With utter havoc, and recover'd all, 
 
 Save what blind heathen rage had quite destroy'd. 
 
 Nor ever from that day of vi6lory 
 Did the false idols raise their heads again 
 In Friesland ; for the remnant of that day 
 Yielded to CHRIST, fulfilling Winfrid's word, 
 That death should be no hindrance to the faith ; 
 His dying finish'd what his life began.
 
 46 
 
 And where was Winfrid's resting-place ? at first 
 In Utrecht's inmost shrine : the people will'd it, 
 It was his land of labour, first and last ; 
 There. laid they him with solemn obsequies. 
 But when his follower in the throne of Mainz 
 Heard the sad glorious tale of martyrdom, 
 And where his body lay, he quickly call'd 
 The Council of his Church; and with one voice 
 An embassy to Utrecht was decreed, 
 With letters, pleading that the man of GoD 
 Left his last charge, wherever he might fall, 
 To lay his limbs in Fulda's sacred aisle. 
 
 Slowly and sadly was the plea allow'd, 
 Slowly and sadly was he borne away; 
 One journey more, with many a rest between, 
 Where his dead presence moved the hearts of all 
 Who look'd upon his bier; and one brief time 
 Of sojourn in his own cathedral Mainz ; 
 And Winfrid is at home in Fulda's aisle. 
 
 And there, once more, assembled round him dead
 
 47 
 
 Those who had loved him living ; there was Lull, 
 The Primate, with the bishops of his realm, 
 From all the daughter-sees around, that own'd 
 Allegiance to the Mother-Church of Mainz : 
 From Wurms, and Bamberg, Erfurt, Buraburg, 
 And from the rival towers of proud Koloin ; 
 And from the Upper Rhein, whose evening sun 
 Touches with gold the pinnacles of Speyer : 
 And there was Gregory, faithful to the last ; 
 All join'd with Fulda's abbot, holy Sturm, 
 To sound the requiem o'er the Martyr's grave. 
 
 There in a vaulted shrine, beneath the floor — 
 No light of outer day, but what might seem 
 The far light of that day when all shall rise — 
 There with hope-hallow'd tears, and solemn strain 
 Of choral song, 'O death, ivhcre is thy sting? 
 ' grave, where is thy victory?' they laid 
 The hands that crown'd the Monarcli of the West, 
 The feet that went about, publishing peace, 
 Tlic lips that prcach'd the Gospel to the poor,
 
 48 
 
 The heart that beat with love to GOD and man. 
 
 There still the Martyr from his silent cell, 
 Though dead, yet speakcth ; and his earnest faith 
 Stirs noble spirits to brave deeds for CHRIST : 
 Thence do his pithy words of sharp reproof 
 Sound forth to all the lands of Christendom, 
 For frequent warning ; ' Golden priests of old 
 ' Were wont to minister in wooden cups ; 
 'Now, wooden priests in golden chalices:' 
 And still, as every rolling year brings round 
 The nones of June, his day of martyrdom, 
 High festival is kept for Boniface, 
 Apostle of the Lord in Germany.
 
 ^<B0M<BW^,
 
 52 
 
 August 26, a. d. 1849. 
 
 O THAT the Spirit's gracious power may come 
 Like rushing wind into our hearts this day, 
 And bear us up to Heaven, while we pray, 
 
 On wings of faith and love ! for while we roam 
 
 Delighted 'neath the sky's o'er-arching dome, 
 
 Amid the mountain-glens, the torrents' play. 
 The waving woods, the banks with flow'rets gay ; 
 
 Still something fails ; we are not yet at home : 
 
 Great God ! our Father, help us now to soar 
 
 In spirit to Thyself; make us rejoice 
 In hope of glory unseen ; that we the more 
 
 May love the hand, our cup of joy that fills, 
 Our hearts be stedfast as the lasting hills. 
 Our praise unceasing as the River's voice.
 
 53 
 
 lUfln*ion^» 
 
 Upon the bridge we bent o'er Duddon's stream, 
 
 Our parting look ; while brightly there did move, 
 Or rest, the images of all above ; 
 
 The rocks ; the island, waving gold and green ; 
 
 Pen-Janet, capt with firs ; and faintly seen 
 
 The far-off hills ; one cloudlet, white as snow, 
 Hung trembling o'er the fall that foam'd beloAV ; 
 
 All else was Heaven's clear blue, or golden gleam : 
 
 Oh ! canst thou, Duddon, from thy tranquil breast 
 Give back each lovely hue of earth and sky, 
 
 And all in vain on us doth Glory shine ! 
 O may the gracious Spirit purify. 
 And calm our troubled souls to holy rest, 
 
 And God trace there his lineaments di\ine.
 
 54 
 
 JlemcmkaiTtc of 
 COomass Iii)n<i5tcin ^dta^'n* 
 
 D. July 5, a.d. 1834. 
 
 Hadst thou been with us, Brother! how thine heart 
 Would have dehghted in this mountain-stream ; 
 For thou, while here on earth, didst nothing deem 
 
 So lovely as the Rivers : on the chart 
 
 Thine eye would track their windings, and apart 
 From all companions oftimes wouldst thou go, 
 Where the bright waters into Ocean flow, 
 
 And taste, if salt or fresh. But where thou art, 
 
 What tongue can tell thy pleasures, pure and bright ? 
 
 What heart could wish thee still to linger here ? 
 Hope whispers, near the fount of love and light, 
 
 Thou drinkest of God's River, crystal-clear ; 
 And thou hast learnt, how peaceful and how free 
 'The Spirit mingles with Eternity!*
 
 55 
 
 ^ear S23f)tV!g Bn'trge, 23utrtrDn l{ihn\ 
 
 August 28, a.d. 1849. 
 
 I mark'd the River, when his stream was low, 
 
 Scarce ghding o'er the weir that checks his march, 
 And leaving a dark line on rock and arch ; 
 
 And much I marvel'd that the lordly flow 
 
 Of Duddon such vicissitude should know : 
 In silent grief I stood ; as knowing well, 
 The stream of human joy doth often tell 
 
 Of sad decrease, all unforeseen : when lo ! 
 
 Forth from the waters, on the morning gale. 
 Arose a gentle and soul-thrilling voice ; 
 
 " The Riv^er of God's Love can never fail ; 
 
 " Full from his Throne the living water flows ; 
 " There wash thy guilt away, and there repose ; 
 
 "There quench thy thirst, and let thy soul rejoice!"
 
 56 
 
 We ^tgl)t of ri^orrolu. 
 
 August io-ii, a. d. 1869. 
 
 O STRANGE dark night ! the weary watches through 
 
 I moved between my brothers, to and fro ; 
 
 One deeply slumbering, worn with toil and woe, 
 And one who, never sleeping, faintly drew 
 His failing breath ; yet with firm heart and true 
 
 Confest his faith in CliRiST, the Risen Life ; 
 
 With smiles of comfort cheering his sad wife, 
 And blessing all : our love no more could do ; 
 
 But we could feel a gracious Presence nigh. 
 
 Turning our night to clay ; and with the spring 
 Of morn we gather'd round the sacred bed. 
 And on the Bread of Life together fed ; 
 The Bishop spake, " O death, where is thy sting ? " 
 The Judge, "O grave, where is thy victory?"
 
 0/ 
 
 Co Cbark«5 iagpcr ^cUnyUt 
 
 My Brother ! all this golden Autumn-tide 
 
 We range our wonted fields ; and see the wain 
 Rolling in gladness with rich store of grain ; 
 
 The troops of meriy gleaners ; far and wide 
 
 We gather all the changes that betide 
 
 Kings and their peoples ; spell the syllables 
 That tell of yesterday beyond the Seas ; 
 
 And Thou — with folded hands, art laid aside, 
 
 Dark, joyless, cold, and lifeless — Nay ! not Thou ! 
 
 Nought but the frail out-wearied earthly shell, 
 That held thee once, is lying here below; 
 While Thou, still living, beautiful and bright. 
 
 With thy loved LORD, in bliss no tongue can tell 
 Reposing, waitest for the perfect Light.
 
 58 
 
 Remembrance of 
 Cftarlcg Sasper ^eIU)i)n* 
 
 I LIVE with spirits past to realms above, 
 As with those here abiding : oft by night, 
 When all the Heaven is hung with cressets bright, 
 
 I walk and commune with the souls I love ; 
 
 And deem that still I see them live and move, 
 Free from all touch of pain, or shade of ill, 
 In glad obedience to their Father's will, 
 
 Like Stars that from their pathway never rove : 
 
 And long to be with them : but chief with thee, 
 
 My Brother ! later-born, but earlier ta'en, 
 Who manfully didst bear sharp agony ; 
 
 And dying didst not leave us all forlorn. 
 Taking the Holy Cup at morning-dawn, 
 In stedfast hope to meet in Heaven again.
 
 WATERLOO.
 
 dLambxiaatt 
 
 PRINTED BY C. f. CLAY, M.A, 
 AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
 
 WATERLOO 
 
 A LAY OF JUBILEE 
 
 FOR 
 
 June 1 8. 
 A. D. 1815. 
 
 It was a day of Giants. 
 
 Wellingtoit. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 (fPambtibge: 
 
 DEIGHTON, BELL AND CO. 
 
 LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 
 A.D. 1865.
 
 To those zvho fell in arms, that glorious day, 
 But falling lielp'd to ivin it ; and to those 
 Who shared the triumph, nozv have gone to rest ; 
 To him who sleeps beneatJi the golden Cross; 
 And to the few rernaining, ere the last 
 Shall pass away from earth, — this tJiankfiil lay. 
 
 For brave deeds, held in memory, will revive 
 III after days, when peril calls them forth; 
 God give tis lasting Peace; God save the Queen. 
 
 William Selwyn. 
 
 June 1 8, A.D. 1865.
 
 Hark! 'tis the day of rest; the matin-bells 
 Are sounding forth from every village-tower 
 Glad notes of Peace on Earth, good will to men ; 
 And in the vale, between two gentle heights, 
 A little onward from the forest edge, 
 The fields are standing thick with rising corn, 
 Rejoicing in the plenteous rain of heaven.
 
 But other sights ere long will meet the eye, 
 And other sounds will drown the Sabbath-bells, 
 And mar the Sabbath quiet ; and the hopes 
 Of harvest from those fertile fields must fail ; 
 For here two mighty hosts are met, to try, 
 Within the compass of a summer's day. 
 The last great issues of a long-fought war. 
 
 Where then are all the golden dreams of peace, 
 That smiled on Europe but a year ago ? 
 All rudely shatter'd ! while the council sate. 
 Meting out kingdoms, and arranging terms 
 Of treaty, that should bind the world to peace, 
 Curb the strong powers of earth, and guard the weak. 
 By the firm san6lions of the general league; 
 Upon the council-table, in their midst. 
 Fell, like a thunderbolt from cloudless sky, 
 The startling word ' Napoleon is in France ' ! 
 And all their counsels turn'd from Peace to War. 
 
 Then fast and frequent came the posts, that told 
 Of his triumphal march ; how Lyon rose
 
 And welcomed him ; how strong battalions, sent 
 
 To bar his way, turn'd round and follow'd him ; 
 
 How Ney, who boasted he would bring him caged 3° 
 
 To Paris, caught the madness of the hour, 
 
 And rode once more as Marshal by his side : 
 
 Thus with glad welcome moving through the land, 
 
 Without a battle, daily gathering force, 
 
 He wins the city, mounts the vacant throne. 
 
 An Emperor, with his army, once again. 
 
 Then, master of an hundred thousand men, 
 He claims his right to be received once more 
 Among the brotherhood of sovereign powers ; 
 Accepts the will of Europe as his law, 40 
 
 And promises an Empire bent on peace. 
 
 In vain ! short, stern, and hopeless was the word ; 
 
 All Europe holds him outlaw : his return 
 
 Is breach of compa6l, troubling the world's peace ; 
 
 If he will still have empire, he must hold 
 
 His empire by the sword; for Europe's will 
 
 Is bent on crushing all his power to harm.
 
 Now half the land was fcver'd with dehght, 
 And dreams of glory ; no remembrance now 
 
 Of Russia's snows, or Leipzig's bloody days ; 5° 
 
 But all is full of promise; 'one campaign 
 ' Of glorious war will set our empire high 
 ' Above the nations, as of old ' : forth goes 
 The call to town and hamlet, rousing swift 
 The warrior hearts that had begun to rest 
 In peace and quietness, but loved it not : 
 Now sword and lance were furbish'd for the war. 
 And forge and foundry travail'd da\- and night ; 
 Old comrades of the battles far away 
 
 Embraced again, and talk'd of vi6lories ; 60 
 
 The charger neigh'd, to fnid himself once more 
 In line with old companions of the field ; 
 The Guard, Napoleon's Guard, — who oft of }'ore, 
 Ere evening closed upon the doubtful field. 
 Had turn'd the tide of battle, — fill'd their ranks 
 With younger blood of France, and form'd again 
 A li\'ing rampart round their warrior Chief
 
 5 
 
 And here he stands among them, as of old, 
 Adored by all ; his mighty presence felt 
 
 Through all their ranks, inspiring courage high ; 70 
 
 His master-spirit proved by timely march 
 Of all his legions to the field of war, 
 Converging on one line from points diverse, 
 While his foes doubted where the blow would fall : 
 He stands, already crown'd with viflory, 
 The Conqueror of Ligny's hard-fought day ; 
 And high-exulting in his well-wrought plan, 
 As having thrown himself between his foes ; 
 The Prussians, beaten and in full retreat ; 
 The English, face to face, within his grasp. 80 
 
 But one beside him boldly spoke a word, 
 To check that overweening confidence. 
 The boast of one that putteth harness on ; 
 As having known, by many a battle-field, 
 How well the British fight, how hard they die ; 
 " Your army. Sire, will have sharp work to-day ; 
 '' That infantry was never known to yield."
 
 And worthy of such troops the British Chief; 
 Who loves stern War, but for tlie fruit of Peace ; 
 Dear to his men, as Caesar to his Tenth ; 
 Proved in an hundred fights ; his soldiers know 
 That he will lead them, as he ever did, 
 Wisely and well ; nor spend their lives for nought ; 
 But watch his time ; and never fail to seize 
 The moment that leads on to Vi6lory. 
 
 The field was one their Captain's eye had mark'd, 
 As fitted well to stop invading hosts, 
 And shield from harm the Belgian capital : 
 But had his army been the same, as when 
 Behind the triple Torres Vedras lines 
 He stood at bay, and baffled all assault, 
 Though great Massena led the leaguering host, 
 Until the wearied Marshal back retired ; 
 Then pressing forward, on Vittoria's field 
 Smote them, and scatter'd ; drove them o'er the hills, 
 And foUow'd them to France ; had all been here, 
 Who bore him forward on that conquering march. 
 
 90
 
 Perchance not here, but on the frontier line, 
 He then had stood in arms, and met the foe 
 With the stern voice of thunder from his guns ; 
 ' Thus far— no further shall thy legions come.' 
 
 But time and war have thinn'd his veteran host ; 
 Brave Craufurd sleeps upon the breach he won ; 
 And many a soldier of that gallant band, 
 The Light Division, moulders far away 
 Beneath the tropic sun, beyond the seas, 
 Their places ill-supplied ; and Wellington, 
 Compensating his loss by favouring ground, 
 Where screen'd from view his men may rest, and take 
 The hill's advantage of assaulting foes, 
 Has laid his plan, with Bluchers promised help, 
 To bide the brunt of war at Waterloo. 
 
 So stood the leadens, on that Sabbath morn. 
 Each with his army marshal'd for the fight ; 
 Both train'd to war from youth, both tried in fire. 
 Through many a deadly conflift ; both unharm'd ; 
 One bent on Glory ; one to Duty true.
 
 Had then the Great Disposer mark'd this day 
 in his far-reaching counsels? Were these two 
 Born for each other? destined here to meet? ir- 
 
 One year's revolving sun had seen the birth 
 Of either warrior ; and with all his mio-ht 
 The one had striven to mar the other's work ; 
 And yet, through all these years of changeful war, 
 Ne'er had they met in battle-field ; — and now 
 One little mile is all that severs them ; 
 And less will be that interval ere night. 
 
 Dark were the heavens that morn ; and dark was earth ; 
 The low dull clouds hung heavily o'er the land ; 
 The labouring guns dragg'd through the sodden soil, r4o 
 
 Like Pharaoh's chariots in the Red Sea deeps ; 
 But as the day uprose, the Sun unseen 
 Dried the wet earth, and thinn'd the veil of gloom j 
 And either host were busied with their arms, 
 Which the night-damps had silenced ; rolling drums, 
 And clear-voiced clarions sounding o'er the vale, 
 Gave and return'd the challenge of the day.
 
 Then, from their ridge, the British and AHies 
 A goodly sight beheld ; along his lines. 
 
 And through his squadrons, eager for the strife, 150 
 
 Girt with a gallant band of warrior chiefs, 
 Companions of his early conquering days. 
 Rode the great Emperor, in the pomp of war : 
 Less gaily clad, less splendid than the rest, 
 But more observed and better known than all, 
 On his white charger, in his redingote : 
 Glad shouts of welcome hail'd him as he past, 
 Answering his word of cheer; and martial strains 
 Swell'd forth, 'mid banners blazon'd with renown, 
 And fired their courage to its highest flame. 160 
 
 But on the other side, behind the ridge. 
 Lies strength of war, without the pomp ; and now. 
 All unattended, save by two or three, 
 And fearless, as in England's hunting-field. 
 But his heart beating with the pulse of war. 
 And kindling for the strife, the British Chief
 
 10 
 
 Rides down the slope, and through the covering wood ; 
 
 Scans a brief while the enemy's line ; prepares 
 
 To foil their onset ; cheers his garrison 
 
 With such brief words as stir the soldier's blood ; 170 
 
 Then, calm and stedfast, to his height again ; 
 
 For he has given the post to faithful hearts, 
 
 And valiant hands, to hold it to the last ; 
 
 ' Macdonell will not leave it while he lives.' 
 
 Scarce had he rein'd his steed, and raised his glass. 
 To see if ought were moving ; when the slope 
 Opposing, where it fell toward Hougouniont, 
 Shew'd a dark column, capt with gleaming steel : 
 And as it nears the covert, front and flank 
 
 Break, like the jagged edges of a storm 180 
 
 In act to burst ; a cloud of skirmishers 
 Spreads o'er the field ; and hark ! sharp rattling fire, 
 Assailants and defenders answering quick. 
 Gives presage of the confli6l fierce and stern. 
 Which round and through that frontier-post shall rage 
 The livelong day ; the battle is begun.
 
 II 
 
 Long time the strife hangs doubtful ; to and fro 
 The edge of battle wavers ; neither gains, 
 While both are losing momently ; at length, 
 
 Outnumber'd by their foes, still thronging thick, 190 
 
 The gallant keepers of the wood, the men 
 Of Hanover and Nassau, slow retire ; 
 And through the open fields, beside the wood, 
 Fresh foes uncheck'd are swiftly pressing on. 
 
 But short the triumph ; see ! the fiery charge 
 Of British Guards, has forced the vi6lors back 
 From their brief conquest ; and the plunging fire 
 From Bull's van-posted battery, deadly shells 
 Scattering dismay around, have clear'd the fields ; 
 And all within the limits is regain'd. '°° 
 
 Once more assaulting forces storm the wood, 
 Urged onwards by fresh columns from behind. 
 Still pressing forward, though the galling fire 
 Of Cleeves and Bolton gives them pause awhile ;
 
 12 
 
 These vex the front ; while on the Western side 
 
 Another troop steals on, intent to find 
 
 Some opening undefended ; once again 
 
 Before the thickening storm, from tree to tree, 
 
 Disputing every step, the Guards fall back : 
 
 The friendly hay-rick yields them breathing-space : 
 
 The orchard-trees give shelter, man by man ; 
 
 And a brief respite stills the raging strife. 
 
 Now, quickly following on the vantage gain'd, 
 The enemy deems the prize within his grasp ; 
 ' One fence to clear, and all will be our own ; ' 
 So thought they, and rush'd forward at the charge, 
 Leapt through the hedge — but here their course was stay'd 
 No foe was seen ; but sudden bolts of death 
 Laid low the leaders of their line ; and those 
 Who follow'd saw before them, unawares, 
 A little fortress, wall and battlement, 
 And frequent loop-hole, rife with musketry : 
 And e'en the bravest quail'd before that sight ; 
 Like men who bent on chase of flying deer. 
 Come suddenly on the lion in his den.
 
 13 
 
 For Wellington, whose prescient eye foresaw, 
 That here the storm of war would earliest break, 
 Had counsel'd well to meet it ; all the night, 
 And all the morn, the busy hammers rang, 
 
 And plank and platform rear'd against the wall, 230 
 
 That Avail too pierced, and crenellate above, 
 Made this the vantage-coign of all his line. 
 
 While thus they stood dismay'd, and on their rear 
 Fresh masses still came thronging through the wood ; 
 Once more the roaring howitzers launch'd forth 
 Death-dealing shells among them ; and once more 
 The light and nimble guardsmen darted forth, — 
 Young soldiers running in that perilous game. 
 As late they ran in English cricket-field — 
 
 And well-nigh won the wood ; but like the men 240 
 
 Who see their harvests threaten'd by the sea. 
 And strive in vain to check the swelling tide, 
 Again they yield to numbers ; flying not. 
 But fighting backwards, selling ground for life : 
 At last, their sheltering hay-rick all in flames,
 
 14 
 
 The cncni)' pressing round them, swift they rush 
 To the great gate that fronts the British height, 
 And entering, shut, and bar it as they can, 
 With all that offers readiest on the spot. 
 
 In vain ; the dam is burst ; the wave breaks in ; 250 
 
 The foe has won his entrance ; now the fight 
 That raged so long without, flames fierce within ; 
 From every covert pours the deadly fire 
 From hands that know no yielding; and again 
 The Guards are rushing forth to open fight; 
 They struggle for the mastery, hand to hand ; 
 Last, by main strength of arm, and firm resolve, 
 Five men, of differing rank, but one in heart, 
 Macdonell, Wyndham, Harvey, Graham, Gooch, 
 Force back the gate, and stem the rushing tide, 260 
 
 And close it in their face ; — and those within, 
 The gallant leaders of the desperate strife, 
 Pay quickly for their daring with their lives. 
 
 Let Woodford tell what foUow'd ; he was there ; 
 And he still lives ; how, baffled thus, the foe
 
 15 
 
 With daring onset, mid high-standing corn, 
 
 Vex'd man and horse of Smith's artillery ; 
 
 While others, stealing on the Eastern side, 
 
 And joining those who press'd the orchard-front, 
 
 Drove Saltoun and his Guards from tree to tree ; 270 
 
 And how the watchful eye of Wellington 
 
 Met each fresh move with fresh and swift defence ; 
 
 How Woodford with his Coldstream fiercely charged 
 
 And broke the bold assailants on the right, 
 
 And threw himself within the fortress lines : 
 
 While Saltoun, strengthen'd, clear'd his ground once more, 
 
 The Scottish Guardsmen sweeping all the left. 
 
 Thus two long hours of mortal confli6l pass ; 
 And still Macdonell bides in Hougoumont. 
 
 While thus the fight burns furious in the vale, sSo 
 
 Above, on either ridge, flash sudden gleams ; 
 The flame of battle runs along the lines ;
 
 i6 
 
 And quick-replying thunders vex the air, 
 Till scarce an interval of rest remains ; 
 And all below is wrapt in rolling clouds. 
 
 And now with higher aim, and heavier force, 
 The Prince of Moskwa, bravest of the brave, 
 Prepares to pierce the centre of the line. 
 And seize the road. Count d'Erlon, tried of old 
 In many a field of Italy and Spain, 290 
 
 With more than myriad host of infantry, 
 With half the steel-clad horse of Kellermann, 
 Advances to the ridge that parts the vale ; 
 And in his front, commanding half the line 
 Of Wellington, his dread artillery, 
 
 Ney stood prepared, and waited for the word 
 From his great leader's lips ; but ere that word 
 Was spoken, there appear'd a little cloud, 
 Like a man's hand, far off, upon the right : 
 
 Napoleon saw, and look'd again ; and bade 300 
 
 His marshals and his staff scan warily
 
 17 
 
 That cloud mysterious ; some declared 'twas nought, 
 
 But trees ; while others deem'd it, troops on march ; 
 
 Soult said, ''tis Grouchy joining on our flank'; 
 
 One, keen of eye, beside Napoleon, cried : 
 
 'I see the Prussian colours'; then the face 
 
 Of the great Emperor grew pale as death ; 
 
 As if the ghost of injured Josephine 
 
 Had come, as Julia came on Pompey's sleep, 
 
 Embittering war's reverse by cutting words ; 31 j 
 
 ' With thy first love thy strength is gone from thee.' 
 
 That cloud is destined, like the Pillar-cloud, 
 A light to Israel, dark to Egypt's host, 
 To turn the balance of the doubtful day ; 
 'Tis Bulow, foremost of the Prussian march; 
 And Wellington now deems him near at hand, 
 And cheers his line for struggles soon to come. 
 
 Time presses now ; the morning hours are lost ; 
 
 These English must be crush'd ere Blucher come; 
 
 The word is given ; and o'er the ridge are seen 3=0 
 
 D
 
 i8 
 
 The heads of d'Eilon's columns ; down they move 
 In serried masses, shouting for the strife ; 
 While o'er their heads the deadly thunderbolts, 
 Swift messengers of doom, prepare their way. 
 
 'Aye' said the British Chief 'this is the game 
 
 * He loves to play ; he thinks to make a chasm 
 
 * Right in our centre with his hundred guns, 
 
 * And then to plant his forces in the chasm ; 
 
 ' Well ! let him try ; it shall not serve him here ; 
 
 * He shall find hearts that care not for his guns.' 330 
 
 So bidding all keep close behind the crest, 
 He let the roaring cannon speed their bolts. 
 Above his ranks, all harmless to the rear : 
 Save where a wavering line stands full in range. 
 Upon the outward slope — why posted there, 
 Right in the hottest of the battle's front, 
 Let others tell, I know not. — On they come ; 
 The vale is past ; they mount the hill, like clouds 
 That sweep the mountain-side with moving shade ;
 
 19 
 
 Four columns strong and deep : one leftward bends s.o 
 
 Across the road, and laps round Haye la Sainte, 
 
 Where Baring and his German Legion true 
 
 Hold fearless watch and ward ; the other three 
 
 Move forward, throwing forth their skirmishers, 
 
 And either front glows warm with answering fire. 
 
 Early that morn, while spying out his foes. 
 And measuring strength with strength, Napoleon ask'd, 
 'Where are the troops of PictonV — Near the road, 
 Commanding all the centre of the slope, 
 
 The post of peril, and of glory, his, 3So 
 
 By right of never-yielding hardihood. 
 Full on his front the central columns move ; 
 The roaring thunders of the cannon cease ; 
 The drums are beating for the charge ; and loud, 
 And louder still the shouts of onset come ; 
 For now they near the crest. Here Pi6lon's eye 
 Was watching every step ; he held his men 
 i\\\ eager for the onset ; few were they
 
 20 
 
 Against so many ; relics of the day, 
 
 The glorious deadly day of Ouatre-Bras, 360 
 
 When d'Erlon's men march'd to and fro, unscathed ; 
 
 Thin was his line, two deep, with no reserve 
 
 To help in time of peril ; fearful odds 
 
 It seem'd, three thousand to thirteen ; but well 
 
 He knew their steadfast hearts; and as the foe 
 
 Appear'd above the ridge, he brought them up, 
 
 Three fighting regiments of Kempt's brigade, 
 
 And with sharp volley smiting the first ranks. 
 
 Ere they could open for a wider front. 
 
 He gave the word to charge ! and through the hedge 370 
 
 They burst with a loud cheer, and forming quick 
 
 Their broken line, with level'd bayonets, 
 
 On rushing with the speed of sudden death. 
 
 They pierced the stagger'd column, broke its strength, 
 
 And bore it backward down the slope again. 
 
 But that proud sight their leader never saw. 
 For while he cheer'd them on with voice and hand. 
 His word of onset ringing in their ears.
 
 21 
 
 Above the din of strife ; a deadly bolt 
 
 Pierced that bold forehead, fronting to the foe; 380 
 
 He reel'd upon his horse— but ere he fell, 
 
 Brave Tyler, ever at his leader's side, 
 
 Lifted him down, and laid beneath a tree ; 
 
 Then rush'd to battle to avenge his fall. 
 
 Meanwhile the leftward troops of d'Erlon's line 
 Are pressing Haye la Sainte ; and Baring's men, 
 Outnumber'd, slow retire to sheltering walls ; 
 Till strengthen'd by the men of Luneburg, 
 Sent timely to their aid by Wellington, 
 
 They sally forth, to win the ground they lost: 390 
 
 Brief hope ! fresh foes are close upon their front, 
 The upward-charging horse of Kellermann ; 
 Ere they can form, or flee to safer ground. 
 The swift-pursuing cloud of cavalry 
 Has caught, and crush'd, or scatter'd all their ranks, 
 And captive droops the flag of Luneburg; 
 The remnant join the little garrison. 
 Within the leaguer'd walls of Haye la Sainte.
 
 But when the Chief of England's cavalry, 
 The gallant Uxbridge, saw on d'Erlon's left 400 
 
 The steel-clad horsemen form'd in proud array ; 
 And all the vale as far as Papelotte, 
 Fill'd with his moving mass of infantry ; 
 His soul was fired ; for now, in open field, — 
 Far better than when yester-eve he turn'd 
 On those who strove to harass his retreat, 
 Across the narrow bridge of strait Genappe — 
 The French should feel his prowess. 
 
 Swift he sped 
 To noble Somerset, and Ponsonby, 
 
 And summon'd all their squadrons to the charge ; 410 
 
 And he, to rouse their spirit to full height, 
 Joining the Household line of Somerset, 
 Rode foremost of front rank, and shared with them 
 The peril and the glory of the day. 
 
 Then as the enemy's horsemen clear'd the ridge, 
 All dazzling in their panoply of steel.
 
 23 
 
 And thought to dash upon the British squares, 
 
 As they had crush'd the men of Luneburg ; 
 
 He raised his sword, and gave the welcome word ; 
 
 The clear-voiced trumpets spoke along the line, ■ 420 
 
 And all rush'd forward like the rolling wave. 
 
 Dire was the shock of those two meeting lines. 
 As when two ocean-tides at highest flood 
 Meet in mid-channel ; horse was wedged with horse, 
 Man clash'd with man : a thousand burnish'd blades 
 Gleam'd high in air, again descending swift 
 In strokes that cleft the limb, and reft the life ; 
 And wounded chargers, freed from riders' weight, 
 Rear'd, plunged, and stagger'd in that troubled sea. 
 
 How shall they part ? awhile right gallantly 43° 
 
 The Eagles brave the Lion ; banners cross 
 In waving tumult ; and emblazon'd there 
 The viflories of old, "Peninsula," 
 "Marengo," "Friedland," meet amid the fray ; 
 At length, o'erpowcr'd, the steel-clad warriors yield ; 
 Unwilling trumpets sound the quick retreat ; 
 And all have vanish'd o'er the ridge again.
 
 24 
 
 But on the left of Somerset's brigade, 
 The deep-sunk track of Wavre broke the charge 
 On either side ; and down the shelving banks, 440 
 
 And through the hollow way, the Cuirassiers, 
 All hotly follow'd by Life-Guardsmen, fled 
 In race tumultuous ; till they cross'd the road, 
 (Just where the Rifles held their sandy knoll,) 
 And mingled with the fray, where Pi6lon's men 
 With conquering shouts came charging down the hill. 
 
 But there they rein'd their steeds, and turn'd and fought, 
 Each man with his pursuer, hand to hand ; 
 There valorous deeds were done in single fight, 
 Recalling ancient days of chivalry ; 450 
 
 Still the Life-Guardsmen tell around their fires. 
 How Shaw with his own sword nine warriors slew ; 
 And how, unharm'd by any foeman's blade. 
 He fell at last by carbine's deadly aim.
 
 25 
 
 Now further still to left, brave Ponsonby 
 Stood ready ; his brigade not vainly named 
 The Union, for three kingdoms here were met ; 
 The English Royals, with the Scottish Greys, 
 And Irish Inniskillings : in his front 
 
 Were Alix and Marcognet, mounting fast 460 
 
 With shouts of triumph ; but between the lines 
 Pack's Highlanders stood waiting for the foe : 
 While, anxious well to time his line's advance, 
 Close by the hedge in front watch'd Ponsonby, 
 And at the favouring moment waved his plume ; 
 Then in strong Union charged the Kingdoms Three. 
 
 Scarce had the Highlanders, at shortest range, 
 Return'd Marcognet's fire ; with level'd steel 
 Ripe for the charge ; when thundering in their rear 
 Came the Scots Greys ; and opening quick their files, 470 
 
 As best they might, they gave the horsemen way ; 
 But some who brook'd not such delay, nor loved 
 To see the battle won by other hands, 
 
 E
 
 26 
 
 Held on their stirrups as they trotted through. 
 And with them fell upon the startled mass ; 
 'Scotland for ever!' was their battle-cry; 
 With Scotland's pibroch sounding in the midst : 
 Short strife was there ; the downward-rushing wave 
 Whelm'd in its bosom, as it swept along, 
 
 The close-pent column ; dashing some to earth, 480 
 
 Some hunying forward, powerless to strike, 
 Till all the ranks were rent with wild turmoil. 
 Full in the centre of that heaving sea, 
 
 Gleam'd bright the Eagle of the Forty-fifth ; 
 
 ' Invincibles,' men named them ; never yet 
 
 Had they been foil'd in battle; on the folds 
 
 That waved beneath shone many a storied name. 
 
 Wag mm, and Eylau, Jena, Austerlitz ; 
 
 Girt with a sacred band it moved on high, 
 
 The oriflamme of fight. Brave Ewart saw, 400 
 
 And in his heart resolved ; and dashing on, 
 
 By strength of arm and skill of hand he won, 
 
 And back to Bruxelles bore the glittering prize.
 
 27 
 
 On ! Gallant Greys ! Napoleon marks your work, 
 And sternly praises with a warrior's joy : 
 ' See Jiozv they travail', • but he threatens ill ; 
 On ! terrible Greys ! but not too far ! 
 
 They leave 
 The Highlanders to gather to the rear 
 The captives, all disarm'd ; then downward still 
 In wild career, as rolls the avalanche, 5°° 
 
 Mix'd with the flying crowd they rush, and fall 
 Full on Marcognet's column of support, 
 And crush his last battalions, like the first. 
 
 The troops of Alix, mounting o'er the ridge, 
 With joyous shouts, like men who win a post, 
 Met England's Royals, charging up the slope ; 
 (The rightmost of the line of Ponsonby) 
 Then all their shouts were still'd ; they had not thought 
 To meet with horsemen there ; no time had they 
 To give the greeting fit for cavalry ; sw 
 
 They threw a scattering fire, then turn'd and fled
 
 28 
 
 Back to the ridgc ; but ere they reach'd the fence, 
 Meetuig their rear still pressing forwards, heard 
 And felt the trampling of too swift pursuit, 
 And roll'd in tumult helpless down the hill. 
 
 An Eagle shone amid that flying crowd, 
 Gift of Napoleon's Austrian bride ; a guard 
 Form'd hastily round ; but ere they could attain 
 The shelter of their succouring column, Clark 
 Right-shouldering forward with his squadron, smote 520 
 
 The standard-bearer to the death ; and saw 
 The standard fall upon his charger's neck : 
 * O break it not,' cried Stiles, who caught the flag, 
 And gave it to his Captain; 'break it not'; 
 For Clark was fain to thrust the golden bird. 
 For safety, in his breast : so all entire. 
 Eagle and colour, to the rear were borne. 
 To cheer the fainting hopes of Belgian hearts. 
 
 Where is that succouring column } downward borne 
 By their own flying comrades, and the weight 530 
 
 Of England's charge, and broken with dismay
 
 29 
 
 By fresh disasters seen upon their right, 
 They rush disorder'd to the valley's foot. 
 
 For close upon their right, few minutes since, 
 The central squadrons of the Union line, 
 The InniskilHngs, fired with rivalry 
 Of Scots and English, conquering left and right, 
 Came downward charging, with their wild Hurrah ! 
 And at their fullest speed, with crushing weight, 
 On the rear right of Alix fiercely fell. 54° 
 
 Then Erin had her hour, and cleft and drove 
 The yielding mass ; but where it yielded, spared : 
 And as the reaper lifts the beaten corn 
 That droops to earth, and fills his arm with sheaves ; 
 The vi6lors reap, unharm'd, their fallen foes, 
 And sweep a goodly harvest to the rear. 
 
 Thus did one hour behold the proud advance. 
 The wreck, of d'Erlon's columns ; not for lack 
 Of valour, but of skill and leadership:
 
 30 
 
 Strong for assault, but helpless to resist; 550 
 
 Without one troop of horse to guard their march ; 
 A ready prey for daring cavalry. 
 
 Now all 'twixt Papelotte and Haye la Sainte 
 Was fill'd with wild confusion ; horse and foot 
 Mingled together ; combats hand to hand ; 
 Battalions bending to the furious storm ; 
 Shouts for the mastery ; cries of vanquish'd men 
 Asking for life ; Wear's revel raging high : 
 And here and there amid the battle-wreck, 
 
 The horses that had lost the guiding hand 560 
 
 Champ'd the green corn, unmindful of the din ; 
 But, when fresh troops came charging, form'd in line, 
 And rush'd with empty saddles to the fray ; 
 While others, weary of their wounded life, 
 Convulsive paw'd the ground, and strove to die. 
 
 Oh ! had the conquerors known their time to hold, 
 And spare their panting steeds ! but on they sweep 
 In mad career, all heedless of the cries
 
 31 
 
 Of captains, and the rallying trumpet-call : 
 
 Brave Uxbridge looks around for his supports ; 570 
 
 But they have swept far onwards. 
 
 At the foot 
 Of that destru6live ridge, with cannon crown'd, — 
 Where the road piercing made a hollow way, 
 Choked with the flying mass — the Cuirassiers 
 Turn'd round on their pursuers, face to face. 
 And each man fought his foe ; till from the hill 
 Sharp musketry drove back the British horse : 
 One only, 'twas the Duke's own regiment, 
 The Royal Blues, had kept their order'd line ; 
 On their close squadrons rallying, Somerset sso 
 
 Drew back his horsemen from that wild pursuit. 
 
 But on the left, straight up the enemy's hill, 
 Rode a mix'd multitude of both brigades ; 
 The King's Dragoons, the Second Life, the Greys, 
 Royals and Inniskillings ; on they press ; 
 They crown the ridge ; and wheeling sharp to left,
 
 32 
 
 Dash on the guns that raked the British Hue, 
 And sjsare not man, nor horse. 
 
 Too daring feat ! 
 Too quickly doom'd to vengeance : now are seen 
 The pennons of French Lancers bearing down ; £9° 
 
 Fresh, strong, and well-array'd : no hope was then. 
 But in swift flight ; and none could swiftly fly ; 
 For every horse was spent, and the soft ground 
 Of the soak'd fields betray 'd each foundering step. 
 
 Full half their strength the Union lost that hour : 
 There fell, to rise no more, brave Hamilton, 
 Commander of the Greys ; far o'er the ridge 
 Men said they saw him last : and Fuller fell, 
 Leading the King's Dragoons ; and he, the Chief, 
 Who in his breast Rose, Shamrock, Thistle, bore, 600 
 
 Chief of that threefold Union, Ponsonby; 
 Well-proved in Spanish fields, and loved of all ; 
 Li vain he strove to check that wild career: 
 In vain his charger strove to save his lord, 
 'Mid the deep furrows of a new-plough'd field ;
 
 33 
 
 His last thoughts turning to his wife and home, 
 Pierced with lance-thrusts, he breathed his soul away. 
 
 And worse had been the issue of that hour, 
 And few had lived ; but in their sorest need, 
 His help too long delay'd by hindering ground, e.o 
 
 Full on the Lancers' flank came Vandeleur: 
 His Twelfth — the Prince's plume and Rising Sun — 
 Pierced the last column of Marcognet's foot ; 
 Then with their comrades of the Light Sixteenth, 
 In one strong line they roU'd the Lancers down. 
 And saved the remnant of the daring Greys. 
 
 No time nor truce was then for either host 
 To tend their wounded, or remove their dead : 
 'Tis said, that some who lay upon the field, 
 Sore smitten, but yet living — say no more ! 
 Let such things be forgotten, but good deeds 
 Of Chivalry and mercy never die : 
 One lived to tell, the younger Ponsonby, 
 How wounded in both arms, the sword and rein 
 
 Cso
 
 34 
 
 Dropt from his palsied hands; how borne away 
 
 By his ungovern'd charger up the hill, 
 
 All helpless on that fatal ridge he fell ; 
 
 And while he lay and bled, a kindly hand, 
 
 Focman, but friend in time of need, applied 
 
 The life-restoring cordial to his lips, C30 
 
 And placed a pillow for his drooping head. 
 
 Now sad at heart the Marshal cross'd the vale ; 
 And sad at heart, behind the sheltering ridge. 
 Count d'Erlon gather'd up his shatter'd force ; 
 And told his loss ; by thousands swept away ; 
 By thousands dead, or dying ; captains lost ; 
 Lost eagles ; guns disabled ; ruin'd hopes. 
 
 But on th' opposing ridge, a goodly sight 
 Was seen by either host ; for Wellington, 
 
 Girt with a gallant band of warrior-chiefs, 640 
 
 Companions of his early glorious fights. 
 Princes and ministers of Powers allied,
 
 35 
 
 Rides forth with joy, and lifts his plume on high, 
 
 To greet brave Uxbridge and his horsemen home: 
 
 Loud shouts of glad acclaim rent all the air, 
 
 Far sounding o'er the vale ; heart-stirring cheers, 
 
 Cheers for the Household, for the Union cheers ; 
 
 Yet nought so moved the British Chivalry, 
 
 As that brief word from their great Captain's lips, 
 
 With the right hand of welcome to their Chief, 650 
 
 Uxbridge, well done ! 
 
 But Tyler turn'd aside 
 From all that band of living conquerors, 
 From all the greetings of that joyous hour. 
 And sought, with two loved comrades of his chief. 
 The sad still spot, where PiCTON, calm in death. 
 Alone with gloiy, lay beneath his tree. 
 
 Then were they first aware he bore a wound. 
 Of two days since, a livid galling wound, 
 Untended save by rude appliances ;
 
 36 
 
 Which, had his soul been made of stuff less stem, 660 
 
 Might well have stay'd him from this second field. 
 
 All sudden and unlook'd for to his men 
 Came that death-stroke ; but not to him who died ; 
 His heart had long foreseen it. When the call 
 To join his ancient leader drew him forth, 
 (For he had promised that in time of need 
 His arm should not be wanting) leaving home, 
 When near the borders of his native Wales, 
 He, passing by a church and open grave. 
 
 Leapt suddenly in, and measuring with his length 670 
 
 That narrow cell, said ' Such a place as this 
 
 * Will soon be all that I shall want on earth.' 
 
 His men will still rush on, and evermore 
 Remember him, when battle rages fierce ; 
 And deem they hear his rough but cheering voice, 
 
 * Come on ! brave ragged rascals.' He is fall'n ; 
 Fall'n — but to rise again in after wars. 
 
 In many a soldier from the hills of Wales; 
 
 Who knowing how he lived, and how he died. 
 
 Will gladly yield up life for vi6lory, 680
 
 37 
 
 How fares the while the long-vext garrison 
 In Hougoumont ? Still sorely vext ; for still 
 Both Foy and Jerome pour their thousands down ; 
 Some raining bullets on the fortress-wall, 
 Some venturing fresh assault on either flank, 
 Still meeting swift repulse ; — and every hour 
 Fresh companies of guardsmen from the ridge 
 Recruit the thinn'd defenders ; — few return : 
 The living stream flows down from either hill. 
 Then sinks ingulf'd in earth. Brave Saltoun's Guards 690 
 
 Have dwindled to an handful ; yet with these 
 All undismay'd he holds the hollow way 
 Behind his orchard ; till relieved at last, 
 From three long hours of instant watch and toil. 
 By Hepburn's fresh battalion. Then once more. 
 With one strong rush the orchard is their own, 
 E'en to the southern-bounding hedge. 
 
 And now 
 Napoleon, chafing under long delays,
 
 38 
 
 Large forces wasted in the bootless strife, 
 
 ])ids plunging fire-balls wrap the place in flame, 700 
 
 The deadliest foe of all. What tongue can tell 
 
 The horrors of that hour, where none might move, 
 
 From his allotted post, to help and save 
 
 The helpless wounded from the raging fire ! 
 
 ' Oh ! for that Power which saved the Hebrew youths 
 'In the red furnace'! Mercy heard the cry; 
 While some, unmurmuring, clasp'd their hands in prayer. 
 And passed away like martyrs to their crown ; 
 Some fell asleep, unconscious painless sleep, 
 
 'Mid dreams of rushing waters ; others saw 710 
 
 Within the little chapel, where they lay, 
 The flames just entering kiss the Saviour's feet, 
 And there, uncheck'd by mortal hand, die down. 
 
 But not the raging flame, or stifling heat, 
 Avail to quell that steadfast garrison ; 
 Though all within, and all around their walls 
 Is fill'd with death ; the living guard their dead.
 
 39 
 
 None knows one moment whether life or death 
 The next shall bring ; for life or death they stand, 
 Each on himself relying, as if all 720 
 
 The battle rested on his single arm. 
 
 Thus two hours more of deadly conflift pass. 
 And still Macdonell bides in Hougoumont. 
 
 Now with fresh fury charged the cannons roar 
 From either height ; the oldest warriors said, 
 Never did such continuous thunder-peals 
 Shake heaven and earth : and now with truer aim 
 That iron storm sweeps o'er the British ridge, 
 Rending the patient ranks that lie behind : 
 
 While shells infernal, bursting in their fall, 730 
 
 'Mid the down-lying columns havoc spread ; 
 Or plunging in soft earth, break forth again, 
 Like the long-pent volcano, scattering death. 
 
 ' Good practice that, ' said Wellington, unmoved. 
 When the round shot came crashing through his chn.
 
 40 
 
 * TJicy did not use to fire so zvell in Spain. ' 
 
 He saw his faithful Fitzroy Somerset 
 Reft of right arm, while watching by his side ; 
 He saw his friend of youth, De Lancey bold, 
 Hurl'd by the rushing of a cannon-shot 740 
 
 Sheer o'er his horse's head, and dash'd to earth 
 Prone on his face, rebounding where he fell ; 
 Brave Gordon pray'd him not to venture thus 
 His precious life — the life of all his host — 
 Then fell beside him, smitten with death-wound : 
 And all around him, staff and orderly, 
 Have felt the storm ; swift death, or stricken limb, 
 Or steed disabled, thin the gallant band ; 
 His own brave chestnut, at the rushing whiz, 
 So sharp and shrill, uneasy paws the ground ; 755 
 
 And ' let ns part a little, ' he cries, ' ivc make 
 
 * Too good a mark for their artillery. ' 
 
 Then oft the Chief would move along his lines, 
 And speak awhile with officers and men,
 
 41 
 
 In homely phrase; ' Hard pounding, gentlemen, 
 
 'But zv/io ivill pound the longest V and when some 
 
 Pointing to weak battalions, shook the head, 
 
 And question'd of retiring; ' Never fear !^ 
 
 He calmly said, * We'll tuin this battle yet:' 
 
 And when brave hearts, that could not bear to see 760 
 
 Their ranks all idly wasting under fire. 
 
 As melts the snow-drift smitten by the sun, 
 
 Pray'd him to lead them on; 'Not yet, my lads, 
 
 'A little while, ajid yon shall have your turnl 
 
 Once too when word was brought him, that the guns, 
 Near on his right, were level'd on the spot, 
 Where stood Napoleon planning fresh assault ; 
 Quick, stern, he answer'd, 'No! Pll none of that; 
 ' ' Tis not the ivork of leaders in the field 
 ' To fire upon each other; tell him, No ! ' 770 
 
 Why do the thunders of the cannon cease ? 
 — The awful calm that goes before the storm — 
 For now the gallant cavalry of France,
 
 42 
 
 In all their glory, helm and cuirass bright, 
 
 Are moving to the front ; and bugles ring 
 
 Sharp notes that stir the blood of man and horse 
 
 To deeds of daring ; down the slope they pour 
 
 In proud array, and fill the vale below : 
 
 There rides Count Milhaud, with his Cuirassiers, 
 
 Bright steel on breast, dark horse-hair plume above ; 780 
 
 Then, light and swift, Lefebvre-Desnouette, 
 
 Red Lancers of the Guard, with fluttering flags. 
 
 Chasseurs Imperial, dight with green and gold ; 
 
 Twice twenty squadrons, in three glorious lines; 
 
 And with them Ney, the bravest of the brave : 
 
 Till all the fields where waving corn had been, 
 
 Between the eastern road and Hougoumont, 
 
 Are waving now with pennon and with crest. 
 
 On-rolling like the ocean waves. And lo ! 
 
 Bright flashes sudden gleam along the ridge, 79° 
 
 Mid wreathing smoke, and the quick-following peal ; 
 
 And o'er their heads the death-bolts speed their way 
 
 To that opposing line, where now the word
 
 43 
 
 Runs through the ranks ' Prepare for cavahy ! ' 
 
 So fierce that iron hail, so searching true 
 The range, that they who felt it long'd to see 
 Their enemy on the hill ; and all too slow 
 Seeni'd his brief passage o'er the vale between ; 
 For as the minutes sped, each with it bore 
 
 Some brave ones from their post, and rents were made, soo 
 
 And fast and frequent came the cry — 'Close up.' 
 
 ' Poor Cooke ! Jics gone ! ' so mourn'd the Grenadiers ; 
 A ball rebounding struck his shoulder-blade, 
 And hurl'd him from his square, and cast him down ; 
 But one of hopeful heart, who loved him well, 
 Allix, his brother captain, went to see. 
 And found him stunn'd, but living ; raised him up, 
 Set him on horse, and sent him from the field, 
 Safe from the trampling hoofs, which else had soon 
 Crush'd out, and quench'd, the feeble spark of life. sio 
 
 Welcome the crests and pennons on the hill ! 
 Welcome the gleam of sabre and of lance !
 
 44 
 
 That Iron hail hath ceased. Now opening quick 
 
 Each square gives passage to the cannoniers, 
 
 Flying in haste before the surging wave, 
 
 Ere yet its breaking whehn them ; there awliile 
 
 Within the hollow of each bristling square, 
 
 Or crouching 'neath the foremost bayonets, 
 
 They take their welcome refuge, and are safe. 
 
 For every square was like a castle-keep, 820 
 
 With banners floating proud and confident, 
 'And warders watching for the coming foe, 
 And living walls for stone ; within those walls 
 The Leader throws himself, and cheers his men. 
 By his own cheerful looks, and kmdly words ; 
 
 * Now, Nincty-fiftJi, stand fast ! We wont be beat ; 
 
 ' What wonld they say in England?' — ^ Fear not, Sir, 
 
 * We know our dnty^ And he feels secure, 
 As if within deep-moated fortress-walls. 
 
 But those who watch'd that upward charge, and heard 830 
 Their tramp, like far-off thunder, fondly deem'd
 
 45 
 
 That nought could stand before them ; now they win 
 
 The cannon, that made havoc in their ranks 
 
 Advancing up the hill ; now rushing on 
 
 To greater glory, on those living walls. 
 
 And through the intervals of square and square, 
 
 Pour, fierce and fearless as the billowy sea. 
 
 The cavalry of France ; with swelling tide 
 
 Surrounding and concealing all the rocks 
 
 That split their squadrons ; yet those rocks stand fast, 840 
 
 Those waves no inlet find ; but evermore, 
 
 As on they rush, their currents turn aside ; 
 
 So fixt those living walls, so terrible 
 
 Those fronts of steel, out-breathing wounds and death. 
 
 Then all along the bridge of war were seen 
 Riders unhorsed and horses riderless ; 
 
 And 'mid the fitful peals of musketry 
 Was heard the charger's shrill and tremulous voice, 
 Calling his lost companions of the fight. 
 
 And scared with his own freedom from the rein. 850 
 
 Meanwhile Napoleon chafed — 'Why bide they thus .^
 
 46 
 
 'Surrounded so, and press'd on every side, 
 ' Tlieir guns all taken, their position won, 
 ' By all the rules of war they ought to yield, 
 ' Lost is the battle.' 
 
 But they knew it not ; 
 One only rule they knew; there fast to stand, 
 And hold the ground against whatever came, 
 Until their leader gave the word to move. 
 
 And there they stood, or knelt, and look'd the foe 
 Full in the face as often as he charged, sgo 
 
 Like men who meant to win the fight at last. 
 
 Once more the trumpet sounds to charge ! but now 
 The ground is thick with dead and dying steeds ; 
 Their path lies over dead and dying men ; 
 Their squadrons intermingled hopelessly ; 
 Weaker and wearier every fresh assault ; 
 And as they pass beyond the chequer'd squares. 
 In dim disorder, Uxbridge sounds the charge ! 
 And forward rushing in their bright array
 
 47 
 
 British and German squadrons sweep the field, 870 
 
 And drive the many-tangled multitude, 
 Yet here and there resisting to the death, 
 And send them swiftly o'er the ridge again. 
 
 Then rose from every square a thrilling cheer ; 
 And joyous greetings pass'd from man to man ; 
 To see the host, that came with swelling flood, 
 Like the spent wave retreating. Then the squares 
 Open'd again, and forth the gunners rush'd, 
 And launch'd their bolts upon the flying foe. 
 
 But one there was who scorn'd inglorious flight, sso 
 
 Nor let those iron thunderbolts pursue 
 The warriors of his leading : near the guns 
 He rein'd his charger, waved his sword on high, 
 And threaten'd death to all who ventured near ; 
 There a brief space, enough to save his men, 
 Enough to win the crown for rescued life 
 Of others, by the offering of his own,
 
 48 
 
 He held his post ; then died a soldier's death, 
 Wearing his crown, and honour'd by his foes : 
 Would that my lay were hallow'd by his name ! 890 
 
 Again those gallant squadrons mount the ridge, 
 After brief respite in the vale below; 
 But warier now, one half assault the squares, 
 Half keep their order'd line ; now once again 
 O'er all the death-strewn field the trial comes, 
 Of dashing valour match'd by patient strength, 
 The rolling breaker, and the steadfast rock : 
 Again the chequer'd squares throw back the waves, 
 Recoiling, raging, eddying to and fro, 
 In ever-mingling currents, brokenly. 900 
 
 Then oftimes would some fiery spirit rush 
 Alone and reckless on the bristling edge, 
 Tempting the face . to squander precious fire. 
 And make the charge a safer enterprise ; 
 But all too wary for such wiles were they. 
 And kept their wrath until the squadrons came
 
 49 
 
 Close on their front, full charging ; then they gave 
 
 A volley such as made them reel away, 
 
 And broke their wave, and roll'd it right and left. 
 
 And strew'd the ground afresh with dying men. 91^ 
 
 Well stood the British, well the Germans stood ; 
 And the fresh youth of Brunswick, dark as night, 
 Beyond all praise, like veteran warriors stood ; 
 Avenging well their Duke's sad glorious fall. 
 Upon the hard-fought field of Quatre-Bras. 
 
 But while they stood thus firm, indissoluble, 
 
 Among them many a death-bolt found his mark ; 
 
 Far on the right, where from his lofty tower 
 
 The miller watch'd the fight, the Twenty-third, 
 
 The Fusiliers of Wales, had held their square 9^0 
 
 Impregnably ; but near the close they saw 
 
 Brave Ellis, their commander, wave his hand. 
 
 To give him passage through the rearward face : 
 
 Thus, smitten in right breast, and faint with loss 
 
 Of life's fast-ebbing stream, he rode away, 
 
 H
 
 fp 
 
 Declining every proffer'd help, to die 
 
 Alone, or live, as Heaven should order for him ; 
 
 He would not thin his ranks in danger's hour. 
 
 Five times did dauntless Ney renew the fight ; 
 Napoleon gave him all his cavalry ; 930 
 
 Guyot, with all his squadrons of the Guard, 
 And all the steel-clad corps of Kellermann, 
 Famed for the charge that turn'd Marengo's day, 
 The day of battle lost, and won again. 
 
 Once more the shout of triumph on the ridge. 
 The barren triumph of deserted guns ; 
 Once more the daring charge, the sidelong swerve, 
 And all the wild careering round the squares ; 
 Once more, the leaders prodigal of life : 
 
 Till wearied out at last with fruitless strife, 94° 
 
 Thinn'd front and flank by ever-crossing fires, 
 Crush'd by the deadly aim of Bolton's guns. 
 Swept back by Somerset's and Dornberg's charge, 
 Their spirit fails them, and they come no more.
 
 51 
 
 While thus the battle of the waves and rocks 
 For three long hours was raging on the height, 
 More and more hotly prest in Haye la Sainte 
 Brave Baring, with his German Legion true, 
 Still holds his own ; still Carey, Graeme, and Frank, 
 Each in his quarter, foil their thronging foes, 950 
 
 Repair the breaches, quench the raging flames. 
 Meeting each fresh assault with fresh device. 
 
 But hard the struggle ; there no fortress-wall, 
 With battlement and platform fitted well ; 
 Their workmen had been call'd away at night, 
 To arm the stronger fort of Hougoumont; 
 The very door, that closed their sheltering barn. 
 By wet and weary soldiers was consumed, 
 To feed the fire that warm'd their midnight meal ; 
 But, worst of all, the soldier's life and strength, 960 
 
 The means of saving life by others' death. 
 Wasted and fail'd ; — once — twice — and once again, 
 Did Baring send his urgent messengers; 
 Fresh succours came of men ; but no supply
 
 52 
 
 Of what his hungering rifles needed most : 
 
 None knew where lay the fault ; but Wellington, 
 
 As ever, sparing others, not himself, 
 
 Took all the blame ; ' / should have thoiigJit of that, 
 
 ' But in the heat and Jutrry of the day 
 
 ' I could not take in all! 
 
 So foil'd at last, 970 
 
 Brave Baring with his remnant of brave men. 
 Wounded, but still resisting, leave the place, 
 And join the line. Now with exulting shouts 
 The foemen swarming seize the conquer'd post ; 
 And what had been a strength, becomes henceforth 
 A thorn to vex the side of Wellington. 
 
 Those conquering shouts far sounding o'er the vale 
 Roused all the weary host round Hougoumont 
 To fresh and furious strife ; again the fight 
 
 Within the orchard, wavering to and fro, 980 
 
 From hedge in front to hollow way behind ; 
 But still the dauntless hearts of British Guards,
 
 53 
 
 The loopholed walls, the guarded battlements, 
 Defied all comers, held the fortress safe. 
 
 And when the Prussian Baron, charged to keep 
 Unfailing intercourse between the camps 
 Of Wellington and Blucher, joins the Duke, 
 Where, near his tree, he scans the changeful field, 
 The Duke cries proudly, pointing with his glass, 
 ' You see, ]\IacdoncU still holds Hoiigonnwnt' 990 
 
 Thus all those hours, from noon till now the day 
 Was verging to its close, the battle raged 
 Unceasingly ; and yet no sign appear'd 
 Of vi61:ory, or defeat, on either side : 
 It seem'd that Death, the common foe of all. 
 Should be the only Conqueror that day ; 
 As if each host should sullenly hold at night 
 The post that each had held at morning's dawn ; 
 And that the field that lay between should be 
 Like to that valley, which the Prophet saw 1000 
 
 In vision by the bank of Chebar's stream,
 
 54 
 
 The dreadful open valley, fill'd with bones, 
 And there were very many, very dry. 
 
 Brave Ney, so foil'd with all his cavalry, 
 Sent to Napoleon, pressing urgently. 
 For foot-battalions ; — fretful was the Chief, 
 The day's disasters clouding o'er his brow. 
 New dangers hourly threatening on his flank ; 
 * Where would he have me find them ? does he think 
 ' TJiat I can call up soldiers from the ground?* loio 
 
 And oftimes while the long mid-summer day 
 Wore heavily on, and minutes seem'd like hours, 
 For greatness of the deeds that mark'd their flight. 
 For greatness of the issues hanging on them ; 
 Oftimes the British Leader watch'd the hour, 
 And wish'd that Blucher, or the night, would come. 
 
 And more than once there came a pressing call 
 For fresh supports to weak battalions, thinn'd 
 By that unceasing fire; but */ have none',
 
 55 
 
 He answer'd ; ^ he and I, and every man, lo^o 
 
 * Mttst keep the ground %vc stand on, till zue die' 
 
 And when his dearest friend in battles ask'd, 
 
 * And should you fall, what orders would you leave ?' 
 
 * Hold fast this ground, and bide in Hougoitmont! 
 
 And now, perchance, he wish'd a word might bring 
 Those fresh battalions in his time of need. 
 Which, posted far away for caution's sake, 
 Watch'd lest the foe should turn his right, and seize 
 The western road to Bruxelles ; all the day 
 
 They held their post, and neither horseman came, 1030 
 
 Nor voice of cannon told them of the fight ; 
 Though here ('tis said), in England, anxious ears 
 Caught faint and fitful, on the varying breeze, 
 The battle-thunder borne across the sea. 
 
 And where was Blucher ? toiling on his way, 
 His weary way from Wavre ; since the time 
 When first Napoleon spied that little cloud 
 Above Saint Lambert, he had labour'd on,
 
 56 
 
 Through yielding sand, and through the strait defile, 
 
 Where confluent streams from hills on either side 1040 
 
 Had deepcn'd all the tracks with mire and sludge. 
 
 Right manfully his gunners fought their way, 
 Winning each step by toil and strength of limb : 
 But more than once they cried in sheer despair, 
 'We can no further go — nor horse nor man 
 
 * Can bring our cannon through the pass ' — but he, 
 Whose name was ever 'Forwards!' answer'd quick, 
 'We must, my lads, for I have pledged my word, 
 ' To be with Wellington, ere day decline ; 
 
 'You would not have me fail in time of need; 1050 
 
 * Another pull ! and we are through the worst, 
 
 ' And vi6lory waits us — hark ! the fight grows fierce ! 
 ' Once more ! she moves again ! now roll her on.' 
 
 Thus cheering all along the labouring line, 
 The noble veteran, reckless of himself, 
 Disdaining other carriage than his horse, 
 Forgetful of the rude and perilous fall, 
 That in the field of Ligny laid him low.
 
 57 
 
 While the French cavalry went charging by, 
 
 Moves forward ; till they win the Paris Wood, 1060 
 
 Finding no foe to bar their entrance there ; 
 
 Then wait, till all their elements of war 
 
 Shall gather into one dark brooding cloud. 
 
 But now he waits no longer ; though but half 
 Of Bulow's force is there, half toiling still 
 Up the steep valley's side ; he hears the guns 
 With long deep thunder storming all the line 
 Of Wellington ; he sees the furious charge, 
 The oft-returning tide of cavalry ; 
 
 A horseman comes fast-spurring from the Duke, 1070 
 
 To press his speedy joining on the field; • - 
 
 While, far to left, dark looms Napoleon's Guard, 
 In serried columns, eager for the word 
 To strike the last great blow. 
 
 ' Forwards P he cries ; 
 And with his cannon opening on the line 
 Of Domont's horse, proclaims to friend and foe, 
 That he is come to take his part in fight.
 
 58 
 
 Napoleon hears ; lie sees that cloud of fear 
 Darkenuig his east horizon ; all his flank 
 
 Imperill'd by fresh foes; while Ney in front ' loSo 
 
 Is pressing for supplies of infantry : 
 What infantry has he to spare for Ney ? 
 CompcU'd to succour Domont's yielding line, 
 He sends his last battalions, save the Guard, 
 To check the daring Prussians, ere they come 
 To mar his plan of battle. 
 
 But too late ! 
 Had Lobau timelier seized the Paris Wood, 
 While Blucher struggled through the deep defile 
 Of the rain-swollen Lasne, — far other then 
 Had been the turning of the scales of war. 1090 
 
 Now all too late he comes ; for Bulow's force 
 Completed, in strong columns issuing forth, 
 With all his guns and all his cavalry, 
 Moves down the slopes declining from the wood. 
 And forces gallant Lobau, overmatch'd, 
 Out-flank'd on right and left, but every step
 
 59 
 
 Still fighting while retreating, Parthian-like, 
 Back to the road. And now across that road, 
 Hard by Napoleon's post, the Prussian balls 
 Are falling 'mid his last reserve, the Guard. 
 
 Marr'd is his plan of battle, utterly ; 
 For he had thought to strike with all his Guard 
 Full on the weaken'd line of Wellington, 
 And sup in Bruxelles. * When will Grouchy come ? 
 ' Come soon he must, or Blucher's forward troops 
 * Will seize on Planchenoit, and molest our rear.' 
 
 But Grouchy comes not : and the younger Guard, 
 Eight strong battalions, led by brave Duhesme, 
 With thrice eight guns, must now prevent the foe, 
 And hold the village, till the day is won. 
 
 Meanwhile the Prince of Moskwa, doom'd to fight 
 With weary few, where many fresh have fail'd, 
 Combines the remnants of his infantry. 
 Gathers the fragments of his gallant horse.
 
 6o 
 
 For one more great nssault. Not columns now — 
 Past loss has made him wiser — spreading clouds 
 or skirmishers, \\ith cavalry behind, 
 Shall harass all the line with galling fire. 
 
 From riaye la Sainte, their prize so hardly won. 
 They vex the Rifles on their sandy knoll, 1120 
 
 And force them back ; then from their sheltering walls 
 In swarms out-spreading wide they sally forth, 
 And pour continuous hail on Alten's squares, 
 Indenting with sad gaps each forward face. 
 'Form line!' cried Alten to brave Ompteda, 
 Impatient of such unrequited loss ; 
 Now Ompteda by long experience knew, 
 That curtain'd by that cloud of tirailleurs. 
 Lay cavalry in wait ; but when his Prince 
 
 Repeated in hot haste the rash command, 1130 
 
 Forthwith he broke his square, advanced in line. 
 Drove back the swarm before him ; — and beheld 
 The ambush'd line of steel-clad cavalry 
 Dash quick as thought on his unguarded flank,,
 
 6i 
 
 And crush them utterly ; then fell himself, 
 A martyr to stern duty's high behest. 
 
 Now all along the line, from Papelotte 
 To where the ridge looks down on Hougoumont, 
 Fierce pours that broken but continuous storm ; 
 Fiercest on Maitland's Guards, in square advanced, "40 
 
 And Adam's Rifles ; but the Leader's eye 
 Mark'd how they suffer'd more than they could harm ; 
 He bade the Guards form line, and drive them down. 
 
 'Tis done — the square re-form'd ; the enemy's horse 
 Who thought to take them ere their ranks could close, 
 Met fire and steel, and shatter'd swerved away. 
 By Colborne roughly greeted as they past. 
 
 And now the end draws nigh ; Napoleon deems 
 The Prussians check'd, his flank and rear secured ; 
 Though fierce and furious still round Planchenoit church, J150 
 Thrice taken and re-taken, burns the fight ; 
 He bids his Guard prepare ; right welcome came
 
 62 
 
 That summons to brave souls, who all the day- 
 Had watch'd ina6live, while their comrades fought : 
 And when their Emperor cried ' All follow vie!* 
 Their valour kindled to its highest flame. 
 
 Once more a dreadful lull ; the guns are still ; 
 The Guard is moving ! — but athwart that calm 
 Of nearer thunders came the far-off roar 
 
 Deep-rolling of an hundred mouths of fire, 1160 
 
 On all their right, in answering cannonade. 
 
 It troubled all their host ; and most of all, 
 Napoleon ; but to quell the rising dread 
 He sends his horsemen spurring through the field, 
 To spread the tidings wish'd for, but not true ; 
 *^Tis Grouchy joining battle with our foes^ 
 
 Then while fresh courage breathed from every heart. 
 And flash'd from every eye, he gallop'd down 
 On his white Persian to the forward ridge. 
 Commanding Haye la Sainte : there took his stand, "7°
 
 63 
 
 And watch'd his Guard march past. They marvell'd much, 
 
 As each battalion came, to find him there ; 
 
 Had he not cried aloud, ' All follow me' ? 
 
 And deep through all their ranks, to the last man, 
 
 Had sped the word, * TJie Emperor leads its on' 
 
 But there he stood, and pointed, as they past 
 
 In martial pride before him, to the height 
 
 That he would have them take, and win the way 
 
 For him to Bruxelles : there, not wholly screen'd 
 
 From harm, but shelter'd from the hottest fire, nSo 
 
 He waved them on. 
 
 Far other seen of old. 
 At Lodi's bridge, or when at Areola 
 He dash'd through all the thickest storm of war, 
 A standard in his hand, and won the day ; 
 Their Leader then, now but their Emperor. 
 
 Yet faithful how they march'd ! no faltering step. 
 No quailing brow was there ; but every man 
 Look'd his last look on him for whom they fought, 
 As though they sadly said, in passing by,
 
 64 
 
 Like the doom'd swordsmen of the Flavian shows, "9° 
 
 ' Thy Guard salute thee on their w^ay to death.' 
 
 Oh ! strange sad sight for Heaven and Earth ! to see 
 These veteran warriors of an hundred fights, 
 Men of Marengo, men of Austerlitz, 
 Scar-furrow'd brows, and breasts with glory mark'd, 
 Compell'd to stake their laurels and their lives 
 On the frail chance of that last desperate throw ! 
 
 Yet frail it seem'd not, as they cross'd the vale, 
 With measured tread, two columns deep and strong; 
 With cavalry to rearward ; on their flank 1200 
 
 Stern Drouot with his dread artillery ; 
 And leader of the whole, with voice and sword 
 Breathing around his own unconquer'd hope, 
 Making the brave yet braver, dauntless Ney. 
 
 Now once again NajDoleon's hundred guns 
 Blaze forth above his columns ; and again 
 British and Germans bide the storm unmoved ;
 
 65 
 
 While Wellington with all his best reserves 
 
 Strengthens the shatter'd centre ; from the right 
 
 No longer prest by foes, he brings the men 
 
 Of Holland and of Brunswick, yet unscathed ; 
 
 And from the left, where Ziethen now has join'd 
 
 W^ith welcome succour, come the light brigades 
 
 Of Vandeleur's and Vivian's cavalry. 
 
 Still fresh were they ; they had not borne the brunt 
 
 Of wasting fight ; with dread surprise they view'd 
 
 The central havoc. Where is your brigade? 
 
 Cried Vivian, riding up to Somerset ; 
 
 * Here ! ' said he, pointing to two squadrons thin, 
 
 The remnant of the morning's two brigades ; 
 
 Then to the field, where men and horses lay 
 
 In death, or hopeless life. 
 
 But now the ridge 
 
 Near Haye la Sainte, and every rising knoll, 
 
 Was cover'd all at once with musketeers. 
 
 And iron hail unceasing thinn'd the ranks 
 
 Of Kempt and Lambert ; there in briefest space 
 
 K
 
 66 
 
 The Inniskillings-foot lost half their men : 
 
 Then, bolder still, forth from the covering walls 
 
 Field-guns roll'd o'er the hill, and grapes of death 
 
 Shatter'd the squares of gallant Kielmansegge ; 1230 
 
 'Tis said, one face was wholly blown away, 
 
 And the brave men of Hanover closed in, 
 
 Three sides, where had been four ; and all the while 
 
 The rolling drum-beat, sounding to the charge,- 
 
 Proclaim'd the marching columns in their rear. 
 
 Now came the time of peril ; never yet 
 So trembling hung the balance; never yet 
 So nearly fail'd the centre of the line : 
 For now not with one arm alone they come, 
 But horse and foot combined, with galling fire 1240 
 
 Of musketry, and cannon at close range; 
 In vain did princely Orange lead the men 
 Of Nassau to the charge; they fail'd; the Prince 
 Was smitten to the shoulder-bone; and now 
 Brave Alten sorely wounded left the field ;
 
 6; 
 
 Wounded was noble Halkett, who all day- 
 Had cheer'd his men, and Avith them braved all deaths ; 
 In vain the Brunswick columns hasten'd on 
 To fill the perilous gap ; for there they met 
 A storm of balls, so fierce and merciless, — 1250 
 
 They stagger'd — and the foe was on their front, 
 In strong array, down-bearing — oh ! if then 
 The Leader's eye had slumber'd, if his heart 
 Had quail'd before that onset, — who shall say ? — 
 But Wellington spurr'd forward ! hand and voice 
 And glance of fire roused every fainting soul. 
 And rallied all the line ! 
 
 But once again — 
 While Wellington rides off to right, to watch 
 The coming of the Guard — the daring swarm 
 Of skirmishers press on, and force the men 1260 
 
 Of Brunswick and of Nassau to the rear, 
 Till stopt by the close files of Vivian's Tenth — 
 — Hark ! to the rolling drums ! brave Kiclmansegge 
 Is rushing to the charge, with Hanover,
 
 68 
 
 And ^\■ith the German Legion ; Brunswick now 
 
 Frcsli-couragcd, and the men of Nassau, join 
 
 Tliat forward rush ; brave Vivian cheers them on, 
 
 And gaUant Shakespeare, all their cavalry 
 
 Strengthening the rear, — Hurrah ! the ridge is won, 
 
 The foe is falling back adown the slope ; 1270 
 
 British and German standards crown the height ; 
 
 The sorest peril of the day is past. 
 
 Now through the rolling clouds the Chief descries 
 The two strong columns marching o'er the vale, 
 While, on his left, unconquer'd d'Erlon still 
 Advances ; and on right, round Hougoumont, 
 Fields, wood, and road, are swarming thick with foes. 
 For one more desperate strife. On come the Guard, 
 With shouts so loud and joyous, all men deem'd 
 Full surely that the Emperor led them on. 1280 
 
 It seem'd as if both columns, as they near'd 
 The British height, would join their confluent streams,
 
 69 
 
 Making one torrent irresistible, 
 And bear down all before them. 
 
 But the first 
 Lay open to the forward batteries 
 Of all the right, which smote them flank and front, 
 And cleft their ranks, and laid their Generals low ; 
 There Friant fell, sore smitten ; Michel, slain ; 
 And there was halting, for brief space ; but quick 
 Reviving to de Morvan's thrilling cry, 1290 
 
 'Forward! still forivard T on they charge again: 
 The dauntless Ney, his horse kill'd under him. 
 Unsheathes his sword, and waves it o'er his head, 
 And leads the way on foot. 
 
 . And now they rise 
 Above the ridge, and rising seem to grow 
 To more than human stature ; but there meet 
 A fierce and deadly storm from Napier's guns, 
 Which drives their skirmishers, and breaks the head 
 Of their advancing column ; yet adv-ance
 
 70 
 
 They must and will : and now, the ridge o'erpast, 1300 
 
 Through the dim veil of smoke no force appears 
 To bar their onward march — when suddenly- 
 Scarce fifty paces from their front arose, 
 Call'd up by one brief word from Wellington, 
 As from the bosom of the earth, a line 
 Of British Guards, four-deep, compa6l and strong ; 
 And from that line pour'd forth such deadly sleet, 
 Three hundred fell at once, to rise no more ; 
 Their front was shatter'd. 
 
 All in vain did Ney 
 Cheer them to face that unrelenting storm ; 1310 
 
 They faced it, but it broke them, while they strove 
 To open wider front of answering fire ; 
 Disorder grew each moment; some turn'd round. 
 Some fired at random — 
 
 Then spake Wellington, 
 'Charge! Maitland T then the gallant Saltoun cried, 
 'Noivs the time, hoys T and with a thrilling cheer 
 Forward they rush, and drive the loosening mass,
 
 71 
 
 Rent into fragments, o'er" the ridge again. 
 
 Those two strong columns had not join'd in one ! 
 A brief, but fatal, distance sever'd them — 132° 
 
 Twelve minutes — so the Guards who drove the first, 
 And follow'd them along their downward track, 
 Were ready for the second. 
 
 Ere they came 
 Undaunted by that deep discomfiture, 
 Maitland returning form'd his line afresh, 
 Oblique upon their right ; while on their left 
 Deep-furrow'd, as they march'd, by Adam's guns, 
 The gallant Colborne wheel'd his regiment, 
 His Fifty-second, 'unsurpass'd in arms. 
 
 Since arms were borne,' to make them feel his fire, 1330 
 
 Full on their long-extended flank ; in front 
 They saw the mouths of Napier's battery. 
 
 Brave veterans ! worthy of a better fate, 
 And wiser leaders ; what could soldiers do ? 
 So closely mass'd, so grasp'd in death's embrace ?
 
 72 
 
 They did what soldiers could ; they plied their arms, 
 
 Each for himself; they struggled to deploy; 
 
 They faced on Colborne, gave him fire for fire ; 
 
 But his strong line, four-deep, in firm array, 
 
 Full charging, with three hearty British cheers — 1340 
 
 The Rifles quickly joining on the left — 
 
 Quite broke their shatter'd ranks ; and opening out 
 
 They cover'd all the slope in scattering flight : 
 
 And left upon the field, where they had stood, 
 
 Their column's form and measure sadly traced. 
 
 By dead and dying men. 
 
 Then Wellington, 
 Defensive now no longer, gave the word. 
 And Adam charged still onwards ; that repulse 
 Had turn'd the tide of battle ; on they swept, 
 Driving before them all the mingled crowd, 1350 
 
 The flying Guard, and d'Erlon's fragments, struck 
 With sudden panic dread ; for not alone 
 The Guard's repulse had spread dismay around, 
 But every stiller moment brought the roar
 
 73 
 
 Of Bluchers cannon ; and that false report, 
 
 Of Grouchy's succour, credited no more. 
 
 Now fill'd all hearts with deep despair and rage. 
 
 Still momently the panic terror spreads, 
 Like some mysterious current flashing through 
 The troops that press the British line ; the fire 1360 
 
 Slackens ; the swarm gives way ; the tide is turn'd ; 
 And with one mighty backward-streaming ebb, 
 Like the great wave that drags the beach away. 
 The hosts of France recoil. 
 
 But Wellington — 
 Who saw across the vale some squadrons still, 
 The remnants of the morning's cavalry. 
 In order'd ' files — with Uxbridge counsel takes ; 
 And soon the line of Vivian's light brigade, 
 Cheer'd loudly, as they pass, by Vandeleur's, 
 Is charging down the slope, to strike at once 137° 
 
 Full on that last reserve, ere yet the Guard 
 
 * 
 
 L
 
 74 
 
 Can rally from their overthrow ; ere yet 
 Ney or Napoleon can recover strength, 
 Or rouse brave spirits to fresh enterprise. 
 
 But when the Emperor saw his faithful Guard 
 So broken in that first assault, he cried 
 ' T/icy arc mingled all together f yet with speed 
 He rallied all the remnants that escaped 
 From Maitland's charge ; — but looking once again, 
 He saw his second column, like his first, 1380 
 
 Stopt in their course, pursued along the slope ; 
 And Adam's bayonets in bold advance 
 Down-bearing on his post — his face grew pale 
 As death ; he shook his head for grief, and said ; 
 ^ All over noiv ! His time to save ourselves! 
 
 Yet once again his soldier-spirit spake ; 
 'Better to die upon the field!' but Soult 
 Laid hand upon his rein, and led him off 
 Within strong square of his own Veteran Guard.
 
 75 
 
 The British Chief survey'd with eagle-eye 139^ 
 
 The sudden change that swept across the field ; 
 The mingled throng of his retreating foes, 
 The proud advance of Adam's strong brigade, 
 And Vivian's charge, where Robert Manners rode, 
 A horseman train'd in Belvoir's hunting-field. 
 Cheering his gallant Tenth, in nobler chase ; 
 He saw, and felt that now his time was come, 
 To seize his tide of battle at the flood, 
 And ride upon the crest to Vi6lory : 
 He gave the word to all his line, "ADVANCE." 14C0 
 
 And when some friend, more cautious, faintly urged, 
 ' Our line is weak, the enemy still is strong ; 
 * Were it not better that we wait awhile, 
 'Till in full force the Prussians succour us?' 
 
 ' No r said the Chief 'zvc've waited long enough!'' 
 ^^Tis nozu my tnrn ; let every man ADVANCE !^ 
 
 He saw that their defence was gone from them, 
 Their guard defeated, they would fight no more ; 
 The Prussian guns were thundering on their flank,
 
 76 
 
 Nearer and nearer still ; the British right m'q 
 
 Had curved upon their left ; the wall of fire 
 
 Was closing round them; 'twas the time to strike. 
 
 Then all who liv^ed arose, and mann'd the ridge, 
 All forward pressing as the foe retired ; 
 The Chief himself stood high, and waved his plume ; 
 High floated all his banners, battle-rent ; 
 Loud peal'd the voice of trumpet, and of drum ; 
 And clear and joyful, all along the line, 
 Rang the soul-stirring shout of Vi6lory; 
 
 And wounded men came limping from the rear, 1420 
 
 To share the triumph they had help'd to win, 
 To see the forward march they could not join ; 
 And at that moment, through the sulphurous clouds. 
 Brake out the glorious SUN, with parting ray. 
 Glinted from sword, and lance, and bayonet. 
 Gladdening the hour of triumph. 
 
 But behind 
 That line advancing, far as eye could reach,
 
 77 
 
 His light gleam'd sadly on another line, 
 
 That lay unmoved, nor heard the conquering shout ; 
 
 A long red line of warriors, lock'd in sleep, 1430 
 
 Grasping their weapons, holding thus at eve 
 
 Their morning's post, which they had kept so well ; 
 
 And many a heart that leapt exulting forth. 
 
 And join'd the cheering cry of hard-won fight, 
 
 Wish'd for lost comrades now to share the joy. 
 
 But on they press, for Adam far away, 
 Half o'er the vale, and Cornish Vivian's horse, 
 Are charging onwards ; then, as Adam near'd 
 The ridge where yet the Guard, in square compa6l, 
 Stood rallied, up rode Wellington, and said, 1440 
 
 ^Attack at once ! they will not stand;' — ' Well done I 
 ' Colborne, go on V — and as the line of steel 
 Approach'd, the square broke up, and join'd the flight. 
 
 But Vivian met with some who held their ground. 
 Bodies of horse, and solid infantry, 
 Small islands of resistance in the midst 
 Of that back-streaming tide. There at the head
 
 78 
 
 Of one thin squadron, charging on a square 
 
 That still stood threatening, conscious of its strength, 
 
 In Victory's arms 'young gallant Howard' fell. 1450 
 
 And where was dauntless Nev ? not flying he ; 
 But striving still to gather round him some, 
 Who long'd for victory, or death ; his face 
 Dark with the smoke of many guns ; his clothes 
 All torn by bullets ; with his broken sword 
 Still waving o'er his head, he madly rode, 
 Ciying aloud, ' Come ! folloiu inc, and see 
 ' Hozu dies a Marshal on the battle-field.^ 
 
 And there were a6ls of vengeance and despair. 
 The conquer'd seeking still to expiate 1460 
 
 Their deep disaster in the conquerors' blood ; 
 And guns, that never more should fight for France, 
 Were fired yet once at random. One of these, 
 Right o'er the heads of Colborne's forward line, 
 Shatter'd the leg of Uxbridge — who unharm'd 
 Had weather'd many a deadly storm of fight, —
 
 79 
 
 But did not mar his joy; 'JV/io zvoiild not lose 
 'A Ihnb^ he cried, ^for such a vi£lory!^ 
 
 Amid the whirlwind of that driving storm 
 Rode WelHngton, still watching ; while the balls 147° 
 
 Of friend and foe were flying all around : 
 And Colin Campbell warn'd him of his risk ; 
 ^ This is no place for you ;^ but 'Never viind^ 
 He answer'd calmly, 'let thcni blase aivay, 
 ' TJie battle's ivon ; my life is 7 10 thing noiv^ 
 
 Hark ! to that joyous shout ! they win the line 
 Of cannon, that had wrought them such annoy 
 The livelong day ; then onwards, — who shall tell 
 The wreck and ruin of that great defeat ! 
 
 For guns abandon'd, waggons overthrown, '480 
 
 Munitions and camp-followings numberless, 
 And all the cumbrous train of wasteful war, 
 Block'd up the road ; while soldiers of all arms. 
 And soldiers who had thrown their arms away, 
 In dread disorder struggling moved along.
 
 8o 
 
 Yet honour still was dearer than dear life; 
 No Eagles there were lost ; but many a time 
 Amid the darkening tumult rose the cry, 
 'Room for the colours!' never heard in vain; 
 The Eagles lived to gleam on brighter fields. 1490 
 
 And still a faithful and devoted band 
 Closed round their Emperor, bore him safely through : 
 And near him still, one regiment of horse. 
 In firm array, moved on with stately step ; 
 Disdain'd the foul disorder of the flight, 
 And scorn'd each effort to disturb their march. 
 
 Dim grew the twilight as the rout swept on ; 
 But brightly rose the Moon ; and Wellington 
 Recall'd his weary soldiers from the chase, 
 And bade them rest upon that hard-won field. 1500 
 
 Then, as he turn'd — rejoicing to have met 
 And vanquish'd 'the world's vi(5lor,' crowning thus 
 His life-long warfare with a glorious close —
 
 8i 
 
 Up rode the brave old Marshal, urging on 
 
 His conquering squadrons ; then were greetings glad 
 
 For toils and perils past, for Vi6lory 
 
 So great and full ; and Blucher, not content 
 
 With gratulation cold of palm to palm, 
 
 Embraced him on his horse, and kiss'd both cheeks ; 
 
 While Prussian flutes and clarions sounded forth 1510 
 
 God save the King ; and from both armies rang 
 
 Cheers loud and long. 
 
 Then Blucher took the charge 
 To make their work completer, onward still 
 Driving the foe, and leaving him no rest, 
 Nor any semblance of embattled force. 
 
 And Wellington, who since the early dawn 
 
 Had watch'd and toil'd, all reckless of himself, 
 
 Rode slowly back across the battle-field. 
 
 Over the open valley ; grieved at heart 
 
 For thousands of the brave, now sleeping there, 1520 
 
 Rut thanking GOD for more than hoped result, 
 
 M
 
 82 
 
 He reach 'd his resting-place at Waterloo; 
 And quick alighting at the lowly door 
 From Coi:)enhagcn's back, the noble horse, 
 Untamed by twice ten hours of glorious work, 
 Gave a light gladsome bound for Viftory ; 
 And shook his golden mane aloft in air ; 
 As having help'd his lord to win the da}-, 
 And gain'd himself a name for other times. 
 
 Still'd were the storms of Heaven and Earth : the Moon 1530 
 Look'd calmly down upon the field of death ; 
 The heroes slept ; their blood not vainly shed ; 
 War-wearied Europe rested forty years. 
 
 And when the peace was broken, those who fought 
 The fight of giants on that awful day. 
 With equal daring, but unequal end, 
 Were found in arms, and conquering, side by side, 
 Against the strong oppressor of the weak.
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTE S. 
 
 For the course of the battle, and for many of the descriptions, 
 the Author is indebted to Captain Siborne's excellent History of 
 the War in 1815: for some of the incidents, and for the two 
 accompanying plans, to Jones' History of the Battle. 
 
 A copy of the first Edition of the Lay has been sent to every 
 Waterloo Officer, whose address could be found, and the Author 
 will be thankful for the address of any Waterloo Officer, or Soldier, 
 who has not yet received a copy. 
 
 P. 5, line 80. 
 77^1? English, face to face, witJiiii his grasp. 
 
 'Sa confiance dans le resultat de la journee etait la meme. II 
 voyait toujours Wellington isolc des Prussiens, et viftime prochaine 
 de la defaite la plus signalee.' 
 
 Lt.-Col. dii Charras, Campagne de 1815, p. 262.
 
 85 
 
 P. 5, line 83. 
 
 The boast of one that putteth harness on. 
 
 For putteth read girdeth. "Let not him that girdeth on his 
 harness boast himself as he that putteth it off." I. Kings xx. 11. 
 
 P. 6, Hne 99. 
 
 But., had his army been the same, &c. 
 
 'If I had had my Peninsular army, I would not have fought 
 the battle there, but at Ouatre-Bras.' 
 
 Baron Gurncys Notes of Conversation with the Duke. 
 
 P. 6, line 102. 
 Great Massena. 
 
 'When Massena was opposed to me, and in the field, I never 
 slept comfortably.' 
 
 S. Rogers'' Recolle£lio}is {Duke of Wellington'), p. 201. 
 
 'I was most uneasy when I had Massena in front of me.' 
 
 Baron Gurnefs Notes. 
 
 'Massena said to me (the Duke), Vous niaves rendu les 
 cheveu.r gris.' — S. Rogers, Recollections, p. 201. 
 
 P. 7, line 113. 
 
 Brave C^'aitfird sleeps upon the breach he won. 
 
 'He was buried with all military honours in the breach before 
 which he received his mortal wound.' 
 
 Southeys Peninsular War, Vol. III. p. 404. 
 Siege of Ciudad Rodrigo. Jan. 19, 1812.
 
 S6 
 
 P. 8, lines 135, 6, 7. 
 
 Ne^er had they jiiet, tScc. 
 
 'Buonaparte I never saw; though during the battle wc were 
 once, I understood, within a quarter of a mile of each other. I 
 regret it much ; for he was a most extraordinary man,' 
 
 S. Rogers, RccolleClions, p. 208. 
 
 P. 10, line 174. 
 Macdonell will not leai'e it while he lives. 
 
 'I considered his right wing the weakest point; and Hougoumont 
 in particular I deemed untenable in a serious assault by the enemy. 
 This the Duke disputed, as he had put the old castle in a state of 
 defence, and caused the long garden-wall towards the field of battle 
 to be crenellated ; and he added, "/ have thrown Macdonell into 
 it^^ an officer on whom he placed epecial reliance.' 
 
 Baron Von Miiffling, Passages o/iny Life, p. 243. 
 
 P. 13, lines 238, 9. 
 
 Yonng soldiers rufining in that perilous game. 
 As late they ran in English cricket-Jield. 
 
 'Many of my troops were new; but the new fight well, though 
 they manoeuvre ill ; better perhaps than many who have fought and 
 bled. As to the way in which some of our ensigns and lieutenants 
 braved danger — the boys just come from school — it exceeds all 
 belief. They ran as at Cricket.' 
 
 S. Rogers, Recolledions, p. 209. 
 
 Old Etonians remember a saying of the Duke's, when present 
 at a Cricket-match in the Upper Shooting-fields, "The Battle of 
 Waterloo was won here." 
 
 Many names of lieutenants and ensigns recorded in Jones' 
 History of the Battle, are found in the Eton Lists of the time just 
 preceding 1815. The lists of Harrow and other schools would 
 probably supply many more.
 
 87 
 
 P. 17, lines 309 — 31 r. 
 As Julia came on Pompcfs sleep. 
 
 'Inde soporifero cesscrunt laiiguida somno 
 Membra ducis ; diri turn plena honoris imago 
 Visa caput msestum per hiantes Julia terras 
 ToUere 
 
 Conjuge me l^tos duxisti, Magne, triumphos ; 
 Fortuna est mutata toris.' 
 
 Liicani Pharsalia, Lib. ill. init. 
 
 P. 18, line 325. 
 
 This Is the game 
 He loves to play; Sec. 
 
 'We talked of Napoleon's manoeuvre, by which he decided so 
 many battles.' Duke: " He commenced with a pretty general firing, 
 "that you might not know from whence the attack was to proceed : 
 "then he brought forward a battery of 100 or 150 pieces of cannon, 
 "and, when that had swept away the troops opposed to it, he poured 
 "a large force into the chasm. This he had practised with success 
 "against every other nation ; it did not succeed with us. At Water- 
 "loo he played off his 100 pieces of cannon ; we did not care for 
 "his 100 pieces of cannon; we did not return a shot; we shewed 
 "no troops; no persons appeared, but myself, and a few officers: I 
 "kept my men behind the crest of the hill, most of them lying 
 "down."' 
 
 Baron Gurneys N'oles. 
 
 P. 40, line 739. 
 De Lancey bold. 
 
 *De Lancey was with me, and speaking to me, when he was 
 struck. We were on a point of land that overlooked the plain, and
 
 88 
 
 I had just been warned off by some soldiers ; (laiit as I saw w cU 
 from it, and as two divisions were engaging below, I had said, 
 "Never mind") when a ball came leaping along en ricocliet, as it is 
 called, and striking him on the back, sent him many yards over 
 the head of his horse, lie fell on his face, and Ijoundcd upward 
 and fell again 
 
 'Poor fellow I we had known each other ever since we were boys. 
 But I had no time to be sorry ; I went on with the army, and never 
 saw him again.' 
 
 '■Note. The following remarks are in the original MS. "He 
 said the cannon-ball was not spent, but came from quite close at hand 
 and could not have touched. It was the wind of the shot that 
 wounded him, no skin being broken ; and mentioned another 
 instance of a man close beside him in the trenches at {sic) 
 in India killed without being touched." ' 
 
 ^S". Rogers, Rccolledions, p. 210. 
 
 P. 40, lines 749, 50. 
 
 His oicn brave chestnut, at the rushing ivliiz, 
 So sharp and siirill, uneasy paws the ground; 
 
 (The Duke) 'A horse will wince when a ball makes a noise like 
 this (imitating the sound), but when he hears it the danger is past.' 
 
 S. Rogers, RecolleBions, p. 211, note. 
 
 P. 43, line 802. 
 Poor Cooke.' he''s gone/ 
 
 Lieut-Colonel Richard Haney Cooke, then Captain in tlic 
 Grenadier Guards. He lived till 1856, and was one of the guests 
 at the Duke's last Waterloo Banquet, June 18, 1852. 
 
 Allix (afterwards Colonel Allix), then Captain and Adjutant in 
 the Grenadier Guards, also lived to the age of 80, at Swaffham 
 Prior, Cambs.
 
 89 
 
 P. 49, line 932. 
 Brave Ellis, their Commander. 
 
 ' As the day advanced, Colonel Sir Henry Ellis, perceiving an 
 opening where his regiment might be employed with advantage, 
 moved it up into the line ; where, formed in square, it sustained 
 several charges of the French Cuirassiers. The greater numbers of 
 the men were now, for the first time, in presence of an enemy : but 
 these emulated the steadiness of their veteran comrades, and all 
 nobly maintained the chara<5ler of the regiment.' 
 
 'The glories of the battle of Waterloo were however dearly 
 purchased by the Royal Welsh Fusiliers with the life of their beloved 
 commander. Sir Henry Ellis, who, continuing on horseback in the 
 centre of the square, was struck with a musket-ball in the right 
 breast. Feeling himself faint from loss of blood, he calmly desired 
 an opening might be made in the square, and rode to the rear. At 
 a short distance from the field he was thrown from his horse, while 
 in the act of leaping a ditch ; here he was found soon afterwards 
 much exhausted, and conveyed to a neighbouring outhouse, where 
 his wound was dressed. In the course of the night of the 19th, the 
 hovel in which he was lodged unfortunately caught fire, and he was 
 with difficulty rescued from the flames by Assistant-Surgeon Munro, 
 of the regiment, but exhausted by so many shocks, he soon after 
 expired, (aged 32I The Regiment erefted a tablet to his memory 
 in the Church of Waterloo, and a monument at a cost of 1 200/. in 
 the Cathedral of Worcester, his native city.' 
 
 Historical Record of the 23 rd Foot, i S47 , p. 153. 
 
 P. 53, line 985. 
 
 The Prussian Baron. 
 
 Baron von Miiffling, Ouartennaster-Gcncral of the Prussian 
 army, sent to the English Head- Quarters, to keep u]) the connexion 
 between the Duke of Wellington and Field-marshal Blucher. He 
 died at his estate near Erfurt, Jan. 16, 1 851, aged ']'], 
 
 N
 
 90 
 
 P. 53, line 990. 
 You see, Macdonell still holds Hougoutnont. 
 
 ' I met the Duke in the neighbourhood of Haye la Sainte, holding 
 a telescope raised in his right hand : he called out to mc from a 
 distance : "Well! you sec Macdonell has held Hougoumont!"' 
 
 Baron Muffling, p. 249. 
 
 P. 54, lines 1009, ID. 
 
 Where would he have me find them ? does he think 
 That I can call up soldiers from the ground? 
 
 'De I'infanterie! ou voulez-vous que j'en prenne? Voulez-vous 
 que j'en fasse ?' 
 
 Lt. -Colonel Charras, Campagne de 18 15, p. 296. 
 
 P. 54, line 1015. 
 
 Oftimes the British Leader watched the hour. 
 
 'A friend of ours had the courage to ask the Duke of Wellington, 
 whether in that conjunflure he looked often to the woods from which 
 the Prussians were expeftcd to issue, "No," was the answer, "I 
 looked oftener at my watch than at anything else : I knew if mj 
 troops could keep their position till night, that I must be joined by 
 Blucher before morning, and we would not have left Buonaparte an 
 army next day. But," continued he, " I own I was glad as one hour 
 of daylight slipped away after another, and our position was still 
 maintained." ' 
 
 Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk, {by Sir IV. Scott,) p. 175. 
 
 P. 55, line 1034. 
 
 The battle- thunder borne across the sea. 
 
 In a note to the Correspondence between Sir Isaac Newton and 
 Professor Cotes, (p. xlvii.) the Editor (J. Edlcston) quotes from 
 Nichols's History of Hinckley the following tradition of the noise of 
 battle, borne from Southwold Bay to Cambridge, May 28, 1672.
 
 91 
 
 "'There is a traditional story at Cambridge... [that] Sir Isaac 
 Newton came into the hall of Trinity College and told the other 
 fellows that there had been an allien just then between the Dutch 
 and English, and that the latter had the worst of it. Being 
 asked how he came by his knowledge, he said that being in the 
 observatory, he heard the report of a great firing of cannon, such 
 as could only be between two great fleets, and that as the noise 
 grew louder and louder he concluded that they drew nearer to 
 our coasts, and consequently that we had the worst of it, ^\•hich the 
 event verified.' Jones, in his Physiological Disqtiisitions^ p. 299 
 (quoted ib.), says that he had been informed 'that the great 
 engagement between the Dutch and English at sea in 1672 was 
 heard by the people who were out at work in the fields to the 
 very centre of England: Mr Derham says it was heard 200 miles.' 
 The 'observatory' in the passage quoted above is a prolepsis for 
 the 'great gateway,' which was not converted into an observatory 
 until several years after Newton had left Cambridge." 
 
 P. 62, lines 1 164, 5. 
 He scuds his horsemen spurring throtigh the field, 
 To spread the tidings wisKd for, but not true. 
 
 "A droite, au contraire, du cote de Frichemont, la canonnade 
 redoublait, toute I'affaire semblait s etre portee Ik-bas, et Ton n'osait 
 pas se dire; 'Ce sont les Prussiens qui vous attaquent...unc 
 arm^e de plus qui vient vous ecraser ! ' Non, cette idee vous parais- 
 sait trop epouvantable, quand tout-^-coup un officicr d'etat-major 
 passa comme un eclair en criant : 
 
 '■ Grouchy /..de Marechal Grouchy arrive P' '' 
 
 Waterloo. Erckniann-Chatrian, Paris. 
 
 P. 81, line 1512. 
 Embraced him on his /lorse, and hiss\l both cheehs. 
 'When all was over, Blucher and 1 met at La IMaison Rouge. 
 It was midnight when he came; and riding up, he threw his arms
 
 9^ 
 
 round mc, and kissed mc on both cheeks as I sat in the saddle. I 
 was then in pursuit ; and, as his troops were fresh, I haUed mine, 
 and left the business to him.' 
 
 S. Rogas, p. 212. 
 
 ' // ]tappciis that the meeting took place after ten at night, 
 at the village of Genappe; and any body who attempts to describe 
 with truth the operations of the different armies will see that // could 
 tiot be otherwise ... in truth, I was not off my horse till I returned to 
 Waterloo between eleven and twelve at night. 
 
 Wellington Dispatches, Vol. viii. p. 332. 
 
 ' I asked, whether the story was true of his having ridden over 
 to Blucher the night before the battle of Waterloo, and returned on 
 the same horse? 
 
 '■Duke. No! that was not so. I did not see Blucher the day 
 before Waterloo ; I saw him the day before (or the day of) Ouatre- 
 Bras. 
 
 'I saw him after Waterloo, and he kissed me ; he embraced me 
 on horseback. I communicated with him the day before Waterloo.' 
 
 Baro7i Gurneys Notes. 
 
 P. 82, line 1527, 8. 
 
 From Copenhagen's back, the noble horse, 
 Untamed by twice ten hotirs of glorious work. 
 
 'On that day I rode Copenhagen from four in the morning till 
 twelve at night. And when I dismounted he threw up his heels at 
 me as he went off. If he fed, it was on the standing corn, and as I 
 sat in the saddle. He was a chestnut horse. I rode him hundreds 
 of miles in Spain, and at the battle of Toulouse. He died blind with 
 age — 28 years old — in 1835, at Strathfieldsaye, where he lies buried 
 within a ring fence.' 
 
 6". Rogers, p. 212. 
 
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 L. B. 
 
 ACCIPE, quae nuper, casu deje6lus iniquo, 
 
 yEger adhuc, semperque dolorum oblivia quaerens, 
 
 In le6to meditabar; habens in mente reposta 
 
 Eximii vatis, frontem cui laurea cingit, 
 
 Carmina; qua^ mecum recolens, taciteque revolvens 
 
 Longas insomnis gaudebam fallere no6les. 
 
 Nox autem una fuit, medio fere mense Novembri, 
 Quse sanos segrosque simul spe6lare coegit 
 Mirifico splendore ruentia sidera cceli. 
 
 Si qua notes longo culpanda in carmine ; si qua 
 Archetypae invenias male respondentia chartai, 
 Judicio leni, velut segri somnia, penses : 
 Forsitan et tua te docet experientia, sensum 
 Subtilem, et magni felicia verba poetae, 
 Multaque temporibus non convenientia priscis, 
 "Difficile illustrare Latinis versibus esse."
 
 DOMINO PROCANCELLARIO 
 
 ET 
 
 ACADEMIyE CANTABRIGIENSI. 
 
 VOBIS exopto, qua non fruor ipse, salutem, 
 Efifundens alma pro genitrice preces ; 
 
 Languidus, e le6lo ; sed non languentia vota ; 
 ^groti insolito corda calore tument. 
 
 O Patres, Fratresque, sacratae Lucis alumni, 
 Non leve momentum est, quod tulit una dies^ 
 
 Plena inter vit?e commercia, plena laborum 
 Tempora, ad aeternas procubuisse fores ; 
 
 Et subito lethi affinem sensisse soporem ; 
 
 Hsec sunt quels animum tangit ad ima Deus. 
 
 Vidi etenim, lapsu quamvis confusus iniquo, 
 Guam vigil et fervens istc Paternus Amor ; 
 
 Qui regit errantes stcllas moderamine summo, 
 Et sine quo passer nullus in arva cadit. 
 
 Et sensi, fratrum pietas, e fonte perenni, 
 Ouam laito arentes irriget amnc locos. 
 
 ^ November lo, 1866.
 
 O utinam grates posscm pcrsolvcre dignas, 
 Vobis qui c dura mc relcvastis humo^: 
 
 Vobis qui cura vigilanti, atque arte medendi", 
 Fovistis la^si membra caputque viri : 
 
 Vobis, quos scala angelica consccndcre coelum, 
 Et laticem ex Agni promere fonte juvat. 
 
 Et tu, qui, juvenum rapidissime, non ita justo 
 Tramite, seu nimium praepete raptus equo, 
 
 Sive ipse impellens, lapsus mihi causa fuisti ; 
 Tu mihi, sub DoMiNO, causa quietis, ave ! 
 
 Sed precor, hoc posthac reminiscere; carpe sinistraiu; 
 Dextram occurrenti linquere norma jubet. 
 
 Omnibus ex animo grates ! det Maximus Ille 
 Omnibus seterna luce et amore frui. 
 
 GULIELMUS SELWYN, 
 
 DOM. MARGARET/E IN SACRA THEOLOGIA LECTOR. 
 
 Nov. 10, A. D. 1866. 
 
 1 W. Kennedy, King's Coll. 
 Ravenscroft Stewart, Trin. Coll. 
 W. H. Anable, 
 J. Halls, 
 
 of the Pitt Press. 
 
 2 G. E. Paget, M.D. Caius Coll, 
 C. Lestourgeon, M.A. Trin. Coll.
 
 LiTORE/E rupes ubi fissse in chasma recedunt, 
 Spumaque Oceanus flavas conspergit arenas, 
 Angustum circa portum stant tegmina rubra 
 Confertim, templumque vetustum ; hinc scandere coepit 
 Vicus ad excelsa dominantem turre molinam ; 
 Altius, in coelo, clivi juga cana supini, 
 Consita • Danorum tumuHs ; et grata juventse 
 Silva, nucum genitrix, autumni tempore laeto, 
 Anfraclum clivi viridanti vestit ami6lii.
 
 Centum abicrc anni, ex quo lusit littore in isto 
 Parva trias, tribus ex domibus ; formosa puella, 
 Filiolas inter parvi pulcherrima portus, 
 Annia, Laiorum de stirpe ; puerque Philippus, 
 Raiorum soboles, alta; spes una molinai ; 
 Enochusque, orbum genitor quern feccrat, Arden, 
 Naufragus hibernis in flu6libus ; hasce per oras, 
 Hos inter cumulos, disjeftos litore in udo, 
 Retia jam fuscata mari, durosque rudentes, 
 Qua lintres inter subdu6los scabra jacebat 
 Anchora, munibant castella madentis arenas, 
 Spe redeuntis aquae ; et pelagi cristata sequentes 
 Agmina, vel rursus fugientes, tenuia passim 
 Linquebant delenda salo vestigia primo. 
 
 Cernis ubi angustum penetrat sub rupibus antrum? 
 Hie pueri hospitium tenuere, alterna vicissim 
 Jura exercentes ; dominai munera semper 
 Annia complebat ; sed forti corpore pollens 
 Interdum Enochus per sabbata tota tenebat 
 Imperium ; hcec domus est inea, ct hcec inca parvula coiijux
 
 Et vica clamavit par lex utrique Philippus ; 30 
 
 Turn rixae, Enocho semper vi6lore ; Philippus, 
 
 Caeruleos largo lacrymarum flumine ocellos 
 
 Exundans, saevire odio ; dum parvula conjux 
 
 Fletibus ac precibus satagens componere lites, 
 
 Uxorem sese puero spondebat utrique. 
 
 Mox ubi, jam vitse puerili flore peraclo, 
 Coepit in ambobus pariter nova flamma calere ; 
 Virgine in hac una defixus fervet uterque ; 
 Acrior Enochus lingua declarat amorem, 
 
 Alter amat tacite ; virgoque favere Philippo 40 
 
 Visa quidem, Enochum vixdum sibi conscia, amavit ; 
 S^epe rogata negans. Operi se devovet uni 
 Enochus, sumnia quae possit cogere cura, 
 Mercarique sibi lintrem, casulamque parare 
 Uxori optatse ; tarn felix ille laborum, 
 Fortior haud alius, nee fortunatior usquam 
 Piscator, meliusve sagax urgente periclo, 
 Sulcabat fluclus in litora longa furentes.
 
 4 
 
 Ouinctiam Integrum in ponto complcvcrat annum, 
 Ediscens artem ; sic plcno jure potitus so 
 
 Navita; robustaquc manu scrvarat ab undis 
 Bis terque horrcndo raptam sub gurgitc vitam: 
 Egregieque ilium vicinia tota colebat. 
 Ncc prius attigcrat bis dcnos providus annos, 
 Ouam sibi navigium emisset, casulamque parasset 
 Uxori optatre, modico sub tegmine nidum, 
 In medio ad celsam vico scandente molinam. 
 
 Evocat interea ad corylos de more popellum 
 Aurea tempestas autumni ; et vespere leeto 
 
 Magna cohors juvcnum, saccis et onusta canistris, co 
 
 Egreditur, raptura nuces : sed patre Philippum 
 ^grotante domi pietas retinebat in horam ; 
 Tum clivum scandens, ubi prono limite silva 
 Vergit in anfra6lum, fixus stetit : ecce sedebant 
 MoUiter implicitis Enochus et Annia dextris ; 
 Enochi facies durata, et cassia flamma 
 Lumina flagrabant sacra, velut ignis in ara
 
 5 
 
 Numinis accensi ; videt, agnoscitque Philippus 
 
 Amborum ex oculis, praesago pe6lore, fatum: 
 
 Utque genae accessit propior gena, pe6lore toto 70 
 
 Ingemuit ; pedibusque aversis intima, qualis 
 
 Cerv^a gerens vailnus, silvze in penetralia repsit ; 
 
 Dumque alii implebant laetis clamoribus umbras, 
 
 Solus ibi tcnebras lu6lumque fovebat amarum ; 
 
 Evasitque famem diuturnam in pectore celans. 
 
 Conjugio pa6lo, campanse Iseta sonabant ; 
 Laeti currebant anni, feliciter anni 
 Septeni ; nee firma salus, nee copia rerum 
 Defuit, ingenuum studio fallente laborem ; 
 
 Prima viro movit vagitu infantula primo £0 
 
 Nobile consilium, cura asservare fideli 
 Omnigenos quaestus ; ut posset parvula nata 
 Quae non contigerat matrive, patrive, doceri ; 
 Crevit et hoc votum, cum mox vicesima volvens 
 Luna tulit puerum, genitrici dulce periclum, 
 Cum saepe, Enocho iratas errante per undas,
 
 Vel terras obeunte, domi Annia sola sedcret. 
 Albus enim Enoch! gravida cum corbe caballus, 
 Occani spoHa, Oceanum redolcntia late, 
 Et vultus vento scaber atque hiemalibus undis, 
 Vix melius fuerant vicino cognita pago, 
 Ouam procul umbrosis in callibus, ulteriora 
 Trans juga, qua catulo stat custodita leonis 
 Aula vetus, taxi pavonem imitantis in umbra ; 
 Vi6lum jejunis ubi praebuit ille dicbus. 
 
 Nunc subiere vices (ea sors communis ubiquc ;) 
 Haud procul angusto a portu, Borealia versus, 
 Largior incurrit sinus ; illuc ire solebat 
 Enochus, terrave marive, negotia curans ; 
 Hie, malum in portu scandens, pede lapsus ab alto 
 Decidit in puppim ; quem fra6lo crure tulerunt ; 
 Invalidusque diu jacuit ; dum tertia proles 
 Nata domi est, infans male debilis ; et simul alter 
 Surripit Enochi qusestus, unde Annia vi6lum 
 Et soboles habuere ; et quamvis ille serena
 
 Cum gravitate Deum et submisso corde colebat, 
 Cura virum tamen et caligo oppressit inertem. 
 
 Vidit, (ut in somnis cum somnia Iseva fatigant 
 ^grotum) dulces natos miseranda trahentes 
 Tempora, solicitos quid eras sibi restet edendum ; 
 Mendicam uxorem : tum toto eorde precatur, 
 Hcec Dens avcrtat, mala shit mihi qutjslibct ipsi ; 
 Vix prece finita, navis venit ecce magister, 
 Quo duce servierat, casum miseratus iniquum, 
 (Norat enim Enochum, et pretii non vilis habebat,) 
 Navigium memorans ad Serica litora iturum ; 
 Deficiente tamen proreta ; quid tibi visum ? 
 Tempus ad hue restat quod sufficit ; evehiuiurque 
 Hoe ipso ex portu ; si te juvct ire, videto : 
 Enochus studio promptissimus annuit, ibo; 
 Laetus, quod voti compos feliciter esset. 
 
 Atque ita nil gravius visa est gravis umbra doloris, 
 Quam cum flagrantem Solis nubecula lucem
 
 Abscindit propius, dum splendet luminc pontus 
 
 Ulterior; — scd quid tcncra de conjuge fict ? 
 
 Dc pucris ? sine patre — marito — quid faciendum ? 
 
 No6lcs atque dies jacuit, secum omnia volvcns : 
 
 Vendendus linter ? scd lintrem totus amavit ; 
 
 Pra^ruptos quoties flu61us supcrarat in illo ! 
 
 Miles cquum veluti, dilexit navita lintrem: 130 
 
 Vendere sed constat tandem, pretioque recepto, 
 
 Omnigenas merces, quas Annia vendat, cmendas ; 
 
 Ouicquid erit nautis — uxoribus — utile, vendat ; 
 
 Sic poterit casulam servare absente marito. 
 
 Ipse ego, nonne geravi lotigc Jiiiic eonimercia? pontuni 
 
 Tyansciirram vice plus unci / dcimnnqiic revertcns 
 
 Dives opiim, cymbal domimis mclioris, liabcbo 
 
 Majorcs quccstus, Icvioris prccinia vitce ; 
 
 Omnia tuin nati disccnt, qncE diseere prosit ; 
 
 Ipse meos inter transibo Icniter cevuni. 140 
 
 Sic secum Enochus statuit rem fervidus omnem ; 
 Inde domum rediens uxori intervenit; ilia
 
 Fallens, infantemque foveas amplexibus aegrum, 
 Prosiluit, lactam rumpens e pe6lore vocem ; 
 Et dedit infantem tenerum genitoris in ulnas ; 
 Qui pueruni laudans traclavit amore paterno 
 Invalidos artus, et quanti ponderis esset 
 Conjecit ; sed non potuit nova promere verbis 
 Consilia ; haec demum patefecit luce sequenti, 
 
 Primum tunc, ex quo digitum sibi cinxerat auro iso 
 
 Annulus Enochi, obnixe stetit Annia contra ; 
 Venturos etenim vidit praesaga dolores ; 
 At non multa loquens, nee amaris ilia querelis, 
 Sed prece multiplici lacrymisque frequentibus urgens, 
 Osculaque ingeminans no6luque dieque, maritum 
 Orabat supplex, si quid pietatis haberet, 
 Ne se, ne dulces pueros ita linqueret orbos. 
 Ille nihil pro se, totam pro conjuge curam 
 Exercens, puerisque, preces permisit inanes, 
 Propositumque dolcns tenuit, plcnequc pcregit. iSo
 
 lO 
 
 Voiulidit I'-nocluLS liiitrcm, qucm totus amavit, 
 Omnigcnasque emit mcrces, uxoris in usum, 
 Et cameram instruxit tenuem, quae proxima vico, . 
 Cellis ac pluteis, ubi merces rite jacerent. 
 Jamque dies totos, donee supremus adesset 
 Ante abitum Enoclii, casulam quassabat amrenani 
 Malleus, et serr?c stridor gravis ; ilia sibi ipsi 
 Credidit interea mortis tabulata parari : 
 Tandem opus exa6lum est ; Enochi callida dextra 
 Angustis spatiis merces aptaverat omnes, 170 
 
 Vix minus exa6le quam tenuia germina claudit 
 Natura in loculis ; turn demum desiit, ut qui 
 Parcere ne minima; voluit pro conjuge cura;, 
 Lassusque ascendens in lucem dormiit altam. 
 
 Mane novo cum jam conjux linquenda, domusque, 
 I lie hilaris fortisque fuit ; quot quanta timeret 
 Annia, ridebat, si non tam cara fuisset ; 
 Sed quoniam DOMINUM summa gravitate colcbat, 
 Enochus genibus flexis secreta recludens
 
 II 
 
 Pe6lora, qua coeunt divina humanaque in uiium, iSo 
 
 Uxori et puerls cjelestia dona precatur, 
 
 Ouaelibet eveniant ipsi ; dein talia profert ; 
 
 Annia, si favcat Donivuis, dmn curriinus <2quor, 
 
 Prodcrit hoc nobis, inclioraquc tcnipora ficiit. 
 
 Splcndcat iste focus ; casulani mihi provida scrva ; 
 
 Et priiis ipsa virimi qiiam expcclcs, cava, rcdibo. 
 
 Inde agitans leviter pueri cunabula, Et ilh\ 
 
 D chilis, cegivtus, scd formosissimiis infans, — 
 
 Et quia dcbilior, taiito mihi carior iUc, — 
 
 Det DEUS, ut fclix posthdc gen i to re r ever so 190 
 
 Insidcat gcnibns, duni qucB miracula ahitndent 
 
 Trans maria aiiscnltans, avidas vix expleat aurcs : 
 
 Annia, pone vietus, animiimqiie rccolligc fortcni. 
 
 Talia dum fudit spe fervidus, audiit ilia, 
 Ipsa velut sperans : sed cum, graviora capessens, 
 Nautarum ritu, ccepit sermonibus uti, 
 De vigilante DEO ut bene sit fidentibus Ipsi, 
 Auribus, baud animo, pcrccpit verba : puella 
 
 2 — 2
 
 12 
 
 Rustica ecu vivo urccolum sub fonte reponit, 
 
 Et juvcncm mcditans qui quondam implere solcbat, 
 
 Audit, lion audit, dum lympha superfluit oras. 
 
 Turn fatur ; Semper sapiens, Enoche, fuisti, 
 Sed qucevis tiia sit sapientia, res miJd certa est ; 
 His oenlis postJiac non aspicicndiis ahibis. 
 
 Siceine? respondit, eertt tamen aspiciain te ; 
 Et in — nostra ratis prcelabitnr, Annia, portnm 
 Mane, die quarto — cape tn prospeSlile vitriim, 
 Explora Jianc faciem, et vanos dispelle timores. 
 
 Cum vero extremam tempus fugisset ad horam, 
 Annia! sis aninw forti ; solatia qucure ; 
 Tn cura pneros, et donee me tibi reddani, 
 Omnia rite tene ; nnnc instat tempns ; cnndnm est ; 
 Nil de me timeas ; vel si timor ingrnat, omnes 
 Mitte DEO cnras ; nunqnam ancJiora deficit ilia. 
 Nonne DEUS partes illas Oricntis adusti
 
 13 
 
 Occitpat extrcmas? ilhic si dcferar, Ilhnn 
 Effiigere hand potcro : Maria omnia possidct Ilk, 
 Ille creavit aquas. 
 
 Turn surgit, certus eundi, 
 Fortia circumdans uxori brachia lapsae, 
 
 Osculaque attonitis infigens ultima natis ; 220 
 
 Sed qui sopitus cunis, infantulus seger, 
 Post no6lem insomni vexatam febre jacebat ; 
 Annia cum relevare pararet, noluit ille ; 
 Ne moveas ; dormire sinas ; meminisse did 
 Infans qui potcrit ? clausisque dat oscula ocellis. 
 Annia cincinnum tenuem de fronte puelli 
 Decerpens dat— triste !— viro ; quern collocat ille 
 In gremio ; amplexusque uxorem, fasciculumque 
 Arripiens, dextra valedicit, iterque capessit. 
 
 Ilia die quarto, cum navis raderet oras, 230 
 
 Explorat vitro ; sed frustra ; sive nequiret 
 Aptare insolito vitrum, cum vellet, ocello ;
 
 14 
 
 Sen manibus tremor, aut oculis ofifecerit humor ; 
 Cernere non potuit ; dum dextram commovct illc 
 E puppi, navis cita praeterit, effugit hora. 
 
 Donee supremum vidit vancscere velum, 
 Invigilat, repetitque domum lacrimosa rcli6lam ; 
 
 Turn, licet absentem quasi raptum funere fleret, 
 
 Moesta voluntatem studuit complerc mariti ; 
 
 Sed nil profecit ; non ilia assueta negoti 240 
 
 Artibus, ingeniove artem supplere parata ; 
 
 Non fuel, fraudisve capax ; nee poscere callens 
 
 Quod nimium, pretio demum contenta minori ; 
 
 Et semper secum reputans, quid diceret ille ? 
 
 Nam vice plus una, torquentibus obruta curis, 
 
 Dum gravis ingrueret paupertas, Annia merces 
 
 Vendidit baud tanti, quanti prius emerat ipsa ; 
 
 Rem minui sensit paulatim, crescere curas ; 
 
 Et non venturam sperans de conjuge famam, 
 
 Ipsa sibi tenuem vi6lum, puerisque parabat, 250 
 
 Producens tacito vitam tristissima lu6lu.
 
 15 
 
 Tertius ille infans, ex ortu debilis, ibat 
 In pejus, quanquam materna sedula cura 
 Omnia qus fieri potuerunt Annia fecit ; 
 Sen quia ssepe alias traxere negotia matrem, 
 Seu quia non, morbum quod fallere posset, habebat ; 
 Vel quod turn medico pro do6la voce nequiret 
 Solvere quod solitum ; quid prsecipitaverit, anceps ; 
 Sensim languescens, cum nil ea tale timeret, 
 
 Evolat ut claustro volucris captiva repente, 260 
 
 Vita tenellula pura suas evasit in auras. 
 
 Jam quintus postquam sepeliverat Annia natum 
 Vesper erat, cum corde pio veroque Philippus 
 Exoptans illi pacem, et felicia cun6la, 
 (Ex abitu Enochi prudens non viderat illam) 
 Culpavit sese, quod tarn diuturnus abesset. 
 Nunc illam ccrtc liccat mihi viscre, dixit ; 
 Solari paulhun possim ; sic ille locutus, 
 Intrans per cameram vacuam, quae proxima vico, 
 Substitit interius, dubitans ; paullumque moratus 270
 
 i6 
 
 Pulsavit bis, tcrquc : ct cum vox nulla reponat, 
 Ingreditur ; scd sola scdens, intenta dolori, 
 Aniiia, quippc rcccns ab acerbo funcrc nati, 
 Non valuit quemquam coram spe6lare ; scd ipsa 
 Aversa facie lacrymas stillabat amaras ; 
 Accedens propius tremula sic voce Philippus, 
 Aunia ! paulisper favcas, wmvigne i-ogabo. 
 
 Dixerat ; ilia gemens, ingenti concita lu6lu, 
 Mcne rogarc aliqiud? inc tain miser am at que 7'elielani? 
 Obstupuit pavidus ; sed mox, licet ilia taceret, 280 
 
 Dum pudor et pietas urgebant corda vicissim, 
 Assedit lateri, compellans voce benigna : 
 
 Paiica velini fari; no turn est quid semper averet 
 Vir tuiiSy EnocJms ; solitus sum seepe faieri, 
 Te nnpsissc viro, inter nos fortissimns onines 
 Qui foret ; ille animo quiequid statuisset agendum, 
 Fortiter imposuit dextram, pleneque peregit : 
 Et quo nunc motus longinquum navigat cuqnor, 
 Te plorante donii? studio loea viuita videndi?
 
 17 
 
 Ut se delcftctf nihil hoc; scd amove hicrandi 2<3o 
 
 Q,iio mcliiis possit sobolcs dilc^a doccri, 
 
 Quant vestrum alterutcr ; solum hoc sibi dcstinat illc. 
 
 Et si forte domum rcmcdrit, crcdc, dolcbit, 
 
 Pcrdita ciim nor it %^ cm ant is temper a vit<2 ; 
 
 Atque ctiam in terra vcxabit cura sepultum, 
 
 Si natos sciat incultos sine lege vagari, 
 
 Ceu pullos juga per descrta ; cia I Annia, qua^so, 
 
 — Nonne ego tc, tu me, a primis jam novimus annis ? — 
 
 Per quem tam fido coluisti semper amore, 
 
 Per pueros, nc mc posccntem avers a repel las — 3co 
 
 Nam, si fert animus, cum rursus venerit illc. 
 
 Omnia restituet, — modo sic tibi certa voluntas, 
 
 Annia — nam largus rerum mild suppetit usus : 
 
 Eia I sine ad ludum puerum viittam, atque pucllam ; 
 
 Hoc nnum est quod me dixi tc vcllc rogare. 
 
 Annia moesta, premens adverse pariete frontem, 
 Respondit ; non possum oculos attoilcre coram ; 
 Me iniscram, sum fra£la adco, labcfa£laquc prorsus ; 
 
 3
 
 i8 
 
 Ut priniuDi iiitrdsti, dolor accr me labcfccit ; 
 
 Nunc "verb rursus bonitas tiia me labcfaflat ; 3'o 
 
 Scd mens Enoclius vivit — ccrtuin id mihi constat — 
 
 Et tibi rcstitnet ; mcra possunt csra rependi ; 
 
 Gratia tanta ncquit. 
 
 Leni turn voce Philippus, 
 Annia, conccdesnc igit2ir? 
 
 Conversa repente 
 Surrexit, spe6lans oculis manantibus ilium, 
 Paulisper faciem perlegit fixa benignam, 
 Implorans illi de caelo dona faventi, 
 Arripiensque manum comprcssit fervida ; deinde, 
 Praepes in areolam retro sublapsa refugit ; 
 Atque animo elatus celsam petit ille molinam. 32° 
 
 Protinus ad ludum mittit puerum atque puellam, 
 Suppeditat libros, et in omnibus, haud aliter quam 
 Fungitur officio genitor, propriosque tuetur,
 
 19 
 
 nils se tradit ; tenera formidine ver6, 
 
 Annia ne levis oppeteret convicia vulgi, 
 
 Saepe pedem, votumque ante omnia dulce repressit, 
 
 Et rar6 casulam intravit ; sed munera multa 
 
 Per pueros, fru6lus horti, vel oluscula, misit ; 
 
 Primas vere rosas, serosque aestatis honores ; 
 
 A clivo leporem ; quandoque, at parcius illud, 330 
 
 Praetendens aliquid rari in similagine pura, 
 
 Ne forte offensam pareret bonitate, farinam 
 
 E celsa et late circuni stridente molina. 
 
 Femineam vero mentem penetrare Philippus 
 Nofi potuit ; quoties interfuit, Annia pleno 
 Pe6lore, et immensa meritorum mole laborans, 
 Vix habuit vocem, grates qua solveret, unam : 
 Cum pueris autem pun6lum tulit omne Philippus ; 
 Currebant vici longinquo a limite, laeta 
 
 Voce salutantes laeta qui voce vocavit ; 340 
 
 Imperiumque domus et celsae habuere molina; ; 
 Sollicitaverunt patientcm questibus aurem,
 
 20 
 
 Et precibus ; patrem vocitabant ; lusibus ilium 
 
 ImpHcLicrc suis : sic carior esse Philippus, 
 
 Inque diem propior fieri ; sic cedere retro 
 
 Enochus semper ; neque crat jam certior illis 
 
 Enochus, quam vana animum quae ludit imago 
 
 In somnis ; vcl cum sublustri mane videtur 
 
 Forma viri long^ silvarum rara sub umbra, 
 
 Vanescens dubi^ ; decimus sic vertitur annus, 350 
 
 Ex quo dilc6lam casulam patriamque reliquit 
 
 Enochus ; sed nulla absentis nuntia fama. 
 
 Forte, iterum nucibus maturis, vespere festo 
 Annia promisit pueris, cupientibus ire 
 Ad corylos, sese simul affbre ; tum rogitarunt 
 Ut sineret secum 'patron^ sociare ' Philippuni:' 
 Ilium, apis in morem perfusre polline florum, 
 Albentem farre inveniunt ; multumque rogatus, 
 ' Eia ! PJnIippe pater, vcnias sIjuh/,' ille recusat ; 
 Ut vero prensare manu coepere, trahentes, 36° 
 
 Risit, et assensum facilem dedit — Annia mater 
 Stabat cum pueris — ad silvam protinus itur.
 
 21 
 
 Cum ver6 medium ccepissent scandere clivum, 
 Haud procul a corylis, ubi prono limite silva 
 Vergit in anfra6lum, sibi vires Annia sensit 
 Prorsus deficere ; et sine, mlirmurat ilia, qiiicscam : 
 Asseditque, sua contentus sorte, Philippus. 
 Multiplici intere^ exultans clamore juventus, 
 Elapsa ex manibus seniorum, effusa tumultu, 
 
 Per corylos albescentes, in concava silvse 37>j 
 
 Ima ruit ; sparsique dolentes cedere ramos 
 Fle6lunt certatim, aut frangunt, fulvosque corymbos 
 Deripiunt, socios alterna voce vocantes, 
 Complentesque hilari late nemus omue loquela. 
 
 Laetitiae ver6 praesentis paene Philippus 
 Immemor, unam illam recolit lugubriter horam, 
 Hac ipsa in silva, cum qualis saucia cerva, 
 Cessit in umbrarum latcbras ; turn fatur, honestam 
 Attollens frontem, paull6 jucundius, Audin'' f 
 
 A )inia ! qitaiii IcEtis rcso)icnt clavtoribtis wiibrcs. 380 
 
 Annia! lassa adcb ? nam voccm haud reddidit ulhun ;
 
 22 
 
 Lassa ? sed in palmas facics delapsa quicvit ; 
 Turn, quasi vix iram cohibens in cordc, Philippus, 
 AbjcHa est uavis, dixit; dcsiste qucrelis ; 
 Abjc6la est navis ; man vis te absiimefe liiflti, 
 Et pneros orhos penitas facere ? Annia vcro ; 
 Non illud vcrsabani aninio ; sed, nescio qiiare, 
 Vocibns adnioiieor IcEtis, qiiani sola reliiiqnar. 
 
 Accedens propius leni sic voce Philippus ; 
 Annia, paiica loqiiar ; res est mild iiicnte reposta, 39° 
 
 Taniqiie diu tacito celata in pe6lore viansit, 
 Ut, qiianivis neqneam revoeare ab origine prima, 
 Non fieri possit, qnin prodcat. Annia, fab or ; 
 Extra spejn positimi est, Jmntand sorte negatiim, 
 Ilium, qni dcnos absit, jamque aniplius, annos, 
 Vivere adJnic ; agednm, liceat miJdpancaprofari; 
 Te spe£lare inopem doleo, adjiitore carentcm ; 
 Nee possum tibi opem quam vellem ferre, tuisque, 
 Te nisi — sed quoniam prcesentit femina semper, 
 Novisti forsan quod nunc tibi dieere conor ; 400
 
 23 
 
 Tc aipio nxorem. Pncros crga hosce libcntcr 
 
 Muneribus fuugav patriis ; ct credere fas est 
 
 Illis me caruni, ac si esseni pater ; Hoe seio eerie, 
 
 Me, vehiti soboles essent inea, diligere illos : 
 
 Et viiJii persiiasuvi est, si te miJii jiingere vellcs 
 
 Conmibio, post Jkec incertci ct tristia vitcs 
 
 Tempora, possemns f dices vivere, quantum 
 
 Dat Dens in tcrris. Hcue, ■ Annia, mente revolve ; 
 
 Nam miJii res amp/a est ; sine C2ira^fcenoris expers ; 
 
 Nil, nisi eura tui, quod me gravet, atque tuorum ; 410 
 
 Nonne ego te, tu me, a priviis jam novimus annis ? 
 
 Et plures annos ego te quam credis amavi. 
 
 Annia respondens tenero sic corde profatur ; 
 Angelus e ccelo tu semper, amice, fuisti, 
 Tcgminc sub nostro ; Doniinus tibi rite repcndai, 
 A tque aliquid donet longi felicius, oro ; 
 An bis amare datur? tu, credin^f amaberis unquam, 
 Ceu prior Enochus ? quid proderit, esse quod optas ? 
 
 Illc, nihil metuens ; Bene sum contcntus ajnari 
 Paulo post Enochum. Ilia hoc quasi territa verbo, 420
 
 24 
 
 O parcc ! exclamat, paulispcr, care Philippe ; 
 
 Enocho redeiDite — scd Jieu ! nunqtiajii illc rcdibit — 
 
 Aniiu)>i cede iaiiien, quccso ; cito vertitur annus ; 
 
 Elapso certi: fiani sapientior anno ; 
 
 Expe6la panlnni ! Tristi turn voce Philippus, 
 
 Annia, qui vitaui cxpc^lando perttdit omneiii, 
 
 Fas expcriet adJiuc. Uli/ii fidas, Annia clamat, 
 
 Constringor, pepigi venicntcm fcedus in annum ; 
 
 Nonne pari viecuni tu sorte ina?iebis in annum ? 
 
 Annum ego, respondit, sed tristius, ille, inancbo. 430 
 
 Conticuere ambo ; donee sursum ora Philippus 
 Attollens, lapsi morientia lumina Solis 
 Danorum a tumulis sensim vanescere vidit : 
 Turn, vespertinum ne carperet Annia frigus, 
 Surrexit, vocemque cavas demisit in umbras, 
 Et pueros silvae spoliis revocavit onustos ; 
 Fit brevis ad portum descensus ; ibique Philippus 
 Substitit ad limen casulae, dextraque prehensa, 
 Leniter alloquitur ; tibi cum mea vota profarcr,
 
 25 
 
 A Jiuia, tu fucras labefa6la ; ignosce locuto ; 044 
 
 Constringor tibi pcrpetuo ; tic libera rcstas. 
 Annia turn lacrimans, Constringor fcvdcre pa6lo. 
 
 Dixerat : et veluti momento temporis uno, 
 Dum satagebat adhuc curis intenta diurnis, 
 Dum volvebat adhuc secum ultima verba Philippi, 
 Quod plures annos illam, quam sciret, amasset ; 
 Ecce iterum Autumni tempestas aurea fulsit, 
 Atque iterum attonitae stetit illi ante ora Philippus, 
 Promissum repetens. Afiniis fngitne? rogavit ; 
 Si qua fides nueibus inaturescentibits, ille ; 450 
 
 Egredere, lit videas. Ast ilia elusit amantem ; 
 Tot facienda prius — mutanda fere omnia — mensem, 
 Cede mihi mensem — constringor foedere pa6lo — 
 Mensem — ;/// ultra. Tremula turn voce Philippus, 
 (Ceu cum populeam movet aura levissima frondem) 
 Sicca fame nunquam satianda lumina figens ; 
 Snme tibi quantum placcat — sume, Annia, tempus. 
 Annia vix lacrimas reprimit, miserata dolentem :
 
 26 
 
 Attamen optatam cun6lando distulit horam, 
 
 Et vix crcdibilcs nc6tcbat pendula causas, 460 
 
 Explorarc fidcin, ct longum quasi vellct aniorcm, 
 
 Duni vcrnis itcrum recrcat se floribus annus. 
 
 Intcrea angusti vicinia garrula portus, 
 Non tolcrans frustrata diu pra^sagia, coepit 
 Accepto vcluti stomachari et fervere damno : 
 Nil nisi migari quidam dixere PJiilippiun ; 
 Illam alii diffcrrc, nt spe laclarct aviantcui : 
 Et multi risere illam, risere Philippum, 
 Ceu fatuos qui non quid vellent sat bene nossent : 
 Unus item, qui prava animo commenta fovebat, 47° 
 
 Serpentum vclut ova tcnaci interlita visco, 
 Pejus utrique aliquid risu intentabat amaro. 
 
 Filius, ore tacens, oculis facundior orat ; 
 Sed prece perpetua genitricem nata fatigat, 
 Nubere velle viro, qui carior omnibus esset, 
 Pauperiemque foras, ct edaces pellere curas. 
 Pallere interea facics rubicunda Philippi, 
 Et rugae signare genas ; atque Annia sensit
 
 27 
 
 Ceu culpae stimulo cruciari pe6lora. 
 
 Tandem 
 No6le sub obscura insomnis jacet Annia, tota , 480 
 
 Mente petens signum ; Evasitne Enochus in auras? 
 Turn, C£eco no6lis veluti circumdata muro, 
 Non valuit cordis praesagum ferre pavorem ; 
 Prosiluit le6lo — scintillam excudit — et amens 
 Arripuit sacrum, fuit ha;c spes ultima, Librum ; 
 Explicuit subito, optati cupidissima signi ; 
 Et subito digitum vocem defixit in illam, 
 Sub palmd. Nihil hoc : dubize hoc solatia menti 
 Nulla dedit ; clauso Libro, sopita quievit, 
 
 Ecce autem Enochus, clivo sublimis in alto, 490 
 
 Sub palmd residens ; Sol desuper aureus ; Ecce ! 
 Evasit ! clamat, fclix est ille, canitque 
 ^Gloria in excels is :' fulgentem desuper illi 
 Justitics Solem video, palmasquc saci^atas, 
 Unde olini stravere viam gens Iccta eanentuni 
 'Gloria in cxcclsis ;' hic somno excussa, Philippum 
 Fixa animo arcessit, trcpidaque ita voce profatur, 
 
 4—2
 
 28 
 
 Nil supercst quod jam coiuuibia nostra viorctiir. 
 
 Ergo, pcrqiie Dcinn, et per comvioda nostra, Philippus, 
 Niibcrc si constat, cave ne quid differat horatn. yo 
 
 ConJLigio pa6lo, campaiice laeta sonabant ; 
 Laiititi^ sonitum sparsere per retliera vent'. 
 Sed nunquam Ireto exultavit pc6lorc felix 
 Annia ; cui, quocunque iret, comes additus ibat, 
 Invisus gradiens ; auditus in aure susurrus, 
 Nesciit unde cadens ; neque erat contcnta relinqui 
 Sola, domo vacua, nee sola exire volebat. 
 Ecquid e**at causae, quod vespere saepe revertens 
 Ante fores staret, clavemque incerta teneret, 
 
 Formidans intrare ? unum se scire Philippus sio 
 
 Credidit ; hoc dubios inter fluitare timores 
 Parturientis erat : sed cum semel editus infans, 
 Turn novus ille infans vitam renovavit et ipsi, 
 Tum nova fervebat circum praecordia mater, 
 Tum complebat ei bonus omnia vota Philippus, 
 Exoluitque pavor non enarrabilis ille.
 
 29 
 
 AST Enochus ubi ? laeto dedit omine vela 
 Navigium FORTUNA; dies licet baud ita multos 
 Post abitum Oceani moles Atlantica, flu6tus 
 
 Praeruptos cumulans ad Gallica litora, quassam 520 
 
 Paene ratem obruerit; tanto hoc erepta periclo 
 Tuta per aestivum mundi translabitur orbem ; 
 Turn ja6lata diu circa Caput, omnimodasque 
 Ccelorum perpessa vices, pelagique dolosi. 
 Ilia, per aestatem rursus transve6la, perennes 
 Accepit velis gavisa tumentibus auras ; 
 Thuriferasque inter labens feliciter oras, 
 Eoo tandem in portu composta quievit. 
 
 Illic Enochus commercia propria gessit, 
 Miraque monstra, domi rursus vendenda, coemit, 53° 
 
 Et pueris placiturum auro squamisque draconcm. 
 
 Sors non tam felix redeunti : primitus autem 
 iEquora per tranquilla, polo laqueata sereno, 
 Leni vix nutans libraminc, no6le dieque,
 
 30 
 
 FORTUNA intentis ocuHs, gremioque tumcnti, 
 
 E prora dcspexit aquas utrinque comantes ; 
 
 Turn marc scdatum, ct semper variabilis aura ; 
 
 Inde dies multos contraria cun6la ; supremum, 
 
 Dum navem abripiunt nigra sub no6le procclla;, 
 
 Per tcnebras subito vox est audita pcricli 540 
 
 Instantis ; fragor horrendus ; funesta ruina ; 
 
 Cum binis aliis Enocho sospite. 
 
 No6lem 
 Dimidiam, tabulis sustenti, et fragminc multo, 
 Hi ja6lantur aquis : quos insula mane recepit, 
 Dives ea, in solo sed desertissima ponto. 
 
 Illic nulla erat humani penuria vi6tus, 
 Sponte tulit mites fru6lus uberrima tellus, 
 Sponte nuces magnas, radices robur alentes ; 
 Et, sineret pietas, animalia plurima prajdam 
 
 Perfacilem, feritate ipsa mansueta, dedissent. 550 
 
 Tres ergo e multis silvcstri in mentis hiatu 
 Fecerunt caveam, longa aequora prospicientem,
 
 31 
 
 Vivum claudentes foliis palmestribus antrum : 
 Et sic, frugifera in paradise sorte locati, 
 Sed male contenti, vixere, jestate perenni, 
 
 Unus enim, natu minimus, primaque juventa, 
 Naufragio illius no6lis subitaque ruina 
 Laesus, tres vitam traxit moribundus in annos ; 
 Soliciti fovere ilium. Post funera, bini 
 
 Mcerentes socii truncum invenere jacentem ; 560 
 
 Quern, lintrem meditans, dum vitje prodigus alter 
 Igne cavat, ritu Indorum, sub sole furenti 
 Concidit iclus humi : Enochusque, superstes et unus, 
 Agnovit DOMINUM geminata morte monentem. 
 
 Montes vestiti silvis ad culmina ; saltus, 
 Gramineaeque viae, scandentes ardua caeli ; 
 Plumigera insignis cocos gracilenta corona ; 
 Muscarum et volucrum splendentior igne volatus ; 
 Effulgcns late convolvolus, atque columnas 
 Arboreas cingens sinuosis flexibus, usque s7o
 
 32 
 
 Ad maris ct ternne confinia ; fulgidus ardor, 
 
 Quo semper splendct zona hasc latissima mundi ; 
 
 HiEc illi ante oculos ; scd, quod super omnia avcbat 
 
 Cernerc, nusquam aderat facies humana, bcnigne 
 
 Arridens ; nee vox audita est dulce loquentis : 
 
 Audiit innumeros ululare ad litora mergos ; 
 
 Immanes flu6lus submersa in saxa tonantes ; 
 
 Perpctuum murmur procera ex arbore, ramis 
 
 Floriferis findente polum ; lapsumve loquacem 
 
 Prsecipitis rivi ex alto properantis in sequor ; 580 
 
 Litore ut in solo errabat, vel saepe diebus 
 
 Continuis speftabat aquas e montis hiatu ; 
 
 Naufragus, expe6lans si posset cernere velum. 
 
 Mille dies, bis mille dies, nullum undique velum ; 
 Mille dies, bis mille, orientis spicula Solis 
 Per palmas rutilant, per fronde comantia saxa ; 
 Fulgor ab Eois radians innubilus undis ; 
 Fulgor ab a^therio descendens acrior axe ; 
 Fulgor ab occiduis radians innubilus undis ; 
 Inde globi astrorum ingentes per concava coeli, 590
 
 33 
 
 Oceani gravior fremitus; rursusque diei 
 
 Spicula surgentis rutilant ; — nullum undique velum. 
 
 Saepe ibi dum, similis vigilanti, in sede manebat, 
 Aurea non timult coram spe6lare lacerta ; 
 Tum speftra ante oculos, multis variata figuris, 
 Injussu fluitare; vel ultro spe6lra ciebat, 
 Res at personas, quas insula noverat olim, 
 Orbe alio, ardentique minus sub sole remota ; 
 Infantes balbos, humili sub tegmine matrem, 
 
 Scandentem vicum, dominantem turre molinam, ^oo 
 
 Frondiferos calles, ubi solis stabat in agris 
 Aula vetus, taxi pavonem imitantis in umbra ; 
 Cornipedem socium, lintrem quern totus amavit, 
 Sub matutino juga frigida rore Novembris, 
 Stillantes pluvias, silvae marcentis odorem, 
 Et circa, marium glaucorum flebile murmur. 
 
 Immo, cum variis tremerent tinnitibus aures, 
 Audiit, at raptim, pelagi super aequora longe, 
 E templo vcteri campanas Ircta sonantes;
 
 34 
 
 Turn, quanquam causae ignarus, formidinc tristi cio 
 
 Concitus cxsiluit ; cumquc insula dives, egena. 
 
 In mcntcm rcdiit, nisi toto pc6lore moercns 
 
 Orasset Dominum, qui cum simul omnibus adsit, 
 
 Fidentes ipsi penilus vetat esse rcliftos, 
 
 Solus ibi vacuas vitam expirassct in auras. 
 
 Jam caput Enochi, canescens ocyus aequo, 
 Pertulerat soles, pluviosaque tempora, longa 
 Annorum scrie ; nee spes diuturna vidcndi 
 Dile6los iterum vultus, iterum ar\'a vagandi 
 
 Per nota, occiderat, cum sors ea sola gravisque 620 
 
 Finem habuit subitum. Casu ratis altera, siccis 
 Paene cadis, ventoque, velut FORTUNA, frementi 
 Abrepta, haec eadem prope litora mansit, ubi esset 
 Nescia; nauclerusque orienti sole notarat, 
 (Qua potuit, nebulas per hiantes, insula cerni) 
 Lympharum tacitos lapsus de collibus; et jam 
 Orae cymba subest, nautae potiuntur arena, 
 Fuslque exultim, quaerentes undique rivum,
 
 35 
 
 Vel salientis aqua; fontem, clamoribus implent 
 
 Litora. Silvestri gradiens de montis hiatu 630 
 
 Descendit, barbaque comans et crinibus Exul 
 
 Horridus incomptis, ardenti sole perustus, 
 
 Vix specie humana, pannoso mirus ami6tu, 
 
 Balba loquens, quasi mentis inops, similisque furenti, 
 
 Murmure confuso mussans, nutuque manuque 
 
 Signa iterans penitus non intellecla; sed ille 
 
 Interea ad loca nota nimis, viridantia rivis, 
 
 Duxit, ubi dulces trepidabant in mare lymphae ; 
 
 Dumque ibi se nautis ultro sociabat, eorum 
 
 Colloquia auscultans, in vocem et verba soluta est 640 
 
 Lingua ligata diu, renovans commercia vitse ; 
 
 Et quae narravit, fra6lim licet, ordine nullo, 
 
 Credita vix primo, sed mox magis et magis, omnes 
 
 Attonitos tristesque simul fecere loquendo. 
 
 Jamque, cadis plenis, secum cepere benigni 
 
 In navem, vestesque ultro reditumque dedere 
 
 In patriam; sed sponte sua Sc-epe ille laborem 
 
 Participat, vitai solius vincula gaudcns 
 
 5—2
 
 36 
 
 Excutere. At nemo regione exortus eadcm 
 
 Omnibus ex nautis aderat, nee dicere quisquam 650 
 
 Enocho potcrat, quod primum scire pctcbat. 
 
 Tarda ratis, longaeque morae ; compagibus ipsis 
 
 Vix secura fides ; semper tamen ille morantes 
 
 Gaudebat veloci animo prasvertere ventos 
 
 Festinans ; donee dubiae sub lumine lunae, 
 
 Lsetus amator uti, per venas imbibit omnes 
 
 Mane novo gelidis stillantes roribus auras, 
 
 Litoris Angliaci super ardua moenia ve6las : 
 
 Et sole exorto cun6li, nautaeque ducesque, 
 
 Unanimi pietate sibi imposuere tributum, C6o 
 
 Soliusque viri miserantes fata dederunt: 
 
 ^quore tum placido radentes litora, porta 
 
 Enochum exponunt unde olim excesserat ipso. 
 
 Illic non verbum fari, non visere quemquam, 
 Vult — mora nulla, domum — sibi si domus ulla supersit — 
 Ire pedes properat. Claro Sol pronus in undas 
 Temperat orbe gelu ; donee per chasmata bina,
 
 37 
 
 Qua maris in gremium pandit se portus uterque, 
 
 Glaucus ab Oceano volvens tegit omnia nimbus, 
 
 Porre6lamque viam ante oculos prsecludit eunti, 670 
 
 Et spatium brevius concedit utrinque, rubeti 
 
 Marcentis, prati viridis, vel arabilis agri : 
 
 Arbore de nuda queribunda rubecula lu6lum 
 
 Ingeminat, passimque per aera rore madentem 
 
 Pondere vi6la suo frons mortua decidit: et jam 
 
 Guttatim pluere, et circum densarier umbrae ; 
 
 Vivida lux demum, sed multa in nube laborans, 
 
 Ante oculos effusa, locum declarat avitum. 
 
 Tum lentis pedibus declivi in tramite vici 
 Descendens, animo praelibans omnia mcesta, eso 
 
 Defixis oculis, casulam devenit, ubi olim 
 Annia conjugio felix adamaverat ipsum, 
 Et soboles septem nimium felicibus annis 
 Nata fuit; sed cum sileant sine luce fenestras, — 
 (Praiconis jam cliarta fores signaverat) — ultra 
 Descendit, rcputans, vel mortua, vcl mihi saltan.
 
 38 
 
 Jamquc sinum, atque ar6la devcnit margine portum, 
 Hospitium qua^rcns, longinquo a tempore notum; 
 Frons cujus fuerat tignis contexta vetustis, 
 
 Fulta, labansque adco, lentaque exesa ruina, 690 
 
 Ut vix speraret supercssc ; superstitc vcro 
 Hospitio, dominus decesserat ; ct viduata 
 Martha domum, qua^stu semper minuente, tenebat : 
 Nautis ilia frequens oHm rixantibus, at nunc 
 Tranquilla, et fessis requiem preebere parata ; 
 Tristis ibi Enochus longum tacitusque quievit. 
 
 Martha autem exundans pictate, et garrula linguse, 
 Non solum sinit esse virum ; sed saepe recurrens 
 Narravit, portus inter memoranda (quis esset 
 
 Nescia, tam capite incurvo, tam sole perustus, 700 
 
 Tam miser ille,) domus fuerint quae fata reli6lse; 
 Infantis mortem, dum semper egentior uxor; 
 Miserit ut pueros ad ludum cura Philippi 
 Nunquam deficiens; ut longum solicitata, 
 Annia vix votis potuisset cedere ; sero
 
 39 
 
 Tandem conjugio jun6los, natumque Philippo 
 
 Infantem : perque ora viri non transllt umbra, 
 
 Non tremor insolltus : qui prresens forte fuisset, 
 
 Dixisset sentire ilium demissa per aures 
 
 Narratrice minus : solum cum clauderet ilia, 710 
 
 EnocJuis, miser ille, abjccld est nave pereintuSy 
 
 Ille, caput canum quassans ad tristia verba, 
 
 Ingeminat moerens, abjeftd nave pere^ntiis ; 
 
 Interiusque gemens iterum imo a corde, peremtns. 
 
 Ardebat vero dile6lum cernere vultum 
 Enoch us ; si posse vi itcruni seine I aspieere illam, 
 Si scirem cert^ felicem vivere. Voti 
 Impatiens tandem, ct stimulo quasi concitus acri, 
 Exiit ad clivum, cum lux obscura Novembris 
 
 Pallidior fieret, tegerentque crepuscula coelum : 720 
 
 Illic consedit, contemplans subdita cun6ta, 
 Dum mille angebant vit^ simulacra prions 
 Infando mcerore animum. Mox ccce per umbras 
 EfTulsit rutilans geniali luce fenestra.
 
 40 
 
 (Posterior pars ilia domtls bene nota Philippi) 
 Allexitque ilium, ceu signifer allicit ignis 
 Migrantem volucrem, dum fati nescia penna 
 Praicipiti impingat, vitamque extundat anhclam. 
 
 Ultima enim vici stabat domus ampla Philippi, 
 Fronte viam spe6lans ; adversa ex parte jacebat 73° 
 
 Hortulus, ad clivum ducens, (unde exitus unus) 
 Ouadratus forma, muro circumdatus ; illic 
 Taxus perpetuo frondcns annosa vigebat ; 
 Semita circuitum cingebat, strata lapillis 
 Litoreis, mediumque secabat semita septum. 
 Sed mediam Enochus refugit, furtimque propinquans 
 Muro subrepit, taxo celatus ; et inde 
 Vidit quae melius vitasset, si quid in ilia 
 Fortuna melius possit pejusve vocari. 
 
 Pocula enim in lauta nituere argentea mensa, 740 
 
 I6la coruscanti circum genialiter igne ;
 
 41 
 
 Conspexitque foci dextr^ de parte Phillppum, 
 
 Non ita felicem quem norant tempora prisca, 
 
 Robustum, rubicundum, infans cui genua premebat; 
 
 Et superimpendens patri post terga secundo, 
 
 Serior at forma procerior Annia, flavis 
 
 Crinibus, et vultu stabat spe6landa ; manuque 
 
 Taenia ab elata discum vibrabat eburnam, 
 
 Infanti illecebras, qui brachia mollia tendens, 
 
 Captabat, semper frustra, ridentibus ilHs. 730 
 
 Atque ibi visa foci genitrix de parte sinistra, 
 
 Quae repetens oculis infantem saepe tenellum, 
 
 Interdum tamen aspexit, cervice reflexa, 
 
 Astantcm lateri juvenili robore natum, 
 
 Lsetum aliquid memorans, nam risum verba movebant. 
 
 Mortuus ut vero redivivus talia vidit, 
 Uxorem, nee ut ante suam, tenerumque puellum, 
 Ex ilia genitrice, alio genitore, paternis 
 In genibus, pacemque foci et felicia cun6la ; 
 Progeniemque suam, juvenili robore pulchram, 760
 
 42 
 
 Adscitumquc ilium, rcgnantcm in scde paterni, 
 Jure novo in pucros dominantem ct amorc frucntcm ; 
 Turn quanquani rem Martha prius narraverat omncm, 
 Sed quia visa magis mentem quam audita lacessunt, 
 Contremuit, ramumque tenens vix continuit se, 
 Ouin subito invitus clamorem emitteret acrem, 
 Qui veluti clangens tuba, mundi fine propinquo, 
 Laetitiam pacemque foci confringeret omnem. 
 
 Ille igitur furtim retro vestigia torquens, 
 Ne streperet sonitu sibi sub pede glarea duro ; 
 Contreftansque manu murum, ne forte labaret 
 Deliquio, inventusque jacens se proderet illis ; 
 Ad portam repens, aperit, clauditque, cavendo 
 Solicite, a^groti cameram ceu claudit amicus; 
 Exitque in clivum, coeli sub tegmine solus.. 
 Turn si non infirma nimis sibi genua labassent, 
 Orasset supplcx ; sed labens pronus in udam 
 Figit humum digitos, imoque ex corde precatur ; 
 
 770
 
 43 
 
 Diira nimis ! cur me exilio raptiistis ah illo ? 
 Deus 07nnipotcns, Salvator Maxime, qui me 780 
 
 Fovisti, solo ducentem in litore vitam ; 
 Avipliiis O tueare, Pater, nam solus in or be, 
 Solus adJinc vivo: adsistas mihi, dcs mild vires, 
 Ne voccm cmittam, nc me sciat ilia reversnin ; 
 Auxiliare, domlis ne paceni abrnmpere cogar. 
 A t mca progenies I nee compcllare licchit 
 Ignaros qid sim ? ipse mei sed proditor cssem ; 
 Oscula nulla mihi, cinn sim pater — Jiei mihi, matri 
 Filia tan I similis, genitori filius ille. 
 
 Turn voce, atque animo paullum defecit ; humique 790 
 
 Deliquium passus jacuit ; tandemque resurgens 
 Ille domum versus repetens vestigia solam 
 Ibat descendens angusto tramite vici, 
 Ingeminans lasso tristissima verba cerebro, 
 Ceu decantato redeuntem in carmine versum, 
 Ne vocem eniittani, ne me sciat ilia rcversuni.
 
 44 
 
 Non erat omnino infclix ; duravit in illo 
 Firma fides, animusquc tenax ; scmpcrquc pcrenni 
 Fonte preces sursum salientes pe6lore ab imo, 
 
 Urgentesque viam per amari flumina lu6lus, Soo 
 
 Ccu lymph?e dukes salientes aequore salso, 
 Vitaleni fovere animani : Scd nnpta PJiilippi 
 Quain niiJil commeiuoras, Martham sic illc rogavit, 
 Nomie timet ne vivat adJiuc prior ille maritus ? 
 
 Mc iniserani ! timet ilia nimis, pia fcniina clamat ; 
 Si posses ilhim testari mortc peremtuvi, 
 Non Icve solamen dederis ; sibi murmurat ille, 
 Postquam vie Dominus dimiserit, omnia noscet, 
 Rxpeelanda dies. Operam turn suscipit ultro, 
 
 Undo alimenta paret, spernens ex munere vitam ; Sio 
 
 Artibus ille manum variis aptaverat usu ; 
 Dolia compingit, tra61:at fabrilia ; no6lu 
 Retia contexit, genti metuenda marinae ; 
 Saepe rates celsas onerando, aut exonerando, 
 (Quae saecli illius commercia parva ferebant,) 
 Auxilium praebens, tenuem sibi comparat escam :
 
 45 
 
 At pro se solo, nee spe fallente laborem, 
 
 Impendebat opus, neque erant solatia in illo, 
 
 Unde aleret vitani ; et eum se revolubilis annus 
 
 Verteret, atque diem jam bruma ineunte ixTcrret s-^o 
 
 Enochi memorem reditus, turn languidus ilium 
 
 Oppressit torpor, tabes lentissima, vires 
 
 Absumens, tandemque operi decedere cogens ; 
 
 Intusque affixit sellae, demumque cubili. 
 
 Sed forti Enochus toleravat peclore morbum ; 
 
 Nam certe, nave abjefla, non laitior unquam 
 
 Apparet, glauci per hiantia fragmina nimbi, 
 
 Jam desperatis inopinam ferre salutem 
 
 Linter festinans, quam tunc apparuit illi 
 
 Exoriens lethi facies, finisque malorum. 830 
 
 Hoc etenim augurio cxoritur spes Knetior illi, 
 Dicenti secum, ciiui vita rcliqucrit artiis, 
 7^ inn discct conjux, me ad fijicni semper amdsse ; 
 Martham ergo appellans elata voce profatur ; 
 Areaiutm servo, mnlier — sed /// hoe milii jura —
 
 46 
 
 Noil prills edicam — L ibro dans oscnla Jura, 
 
 Te nihil ante for as — quani Dior tuns ipse qniescam. 
 
 J\Iortinis, cxclamat bona femina, qiialia fatur ! 
 Crede ini/ii, amissas vires rcparare liccbit. 
 
 Enochus graviter, Libro dans oscnla, jura. 840 
 
 Et ta6lo exanimis juravit femina libro. 
 CiEsia turn volvens Enochus lumina in illam, 
 Norasne Enochwn, gcnitor cui nanfragus, A rdcn ? 
 
 Ilium ego nujn nossem ? longinquo a tempore noram : 
 Immo etiam memini, ut vicum dcscenderet olim, 
 Elato capitc, hand qnenquam respexerit ilk. 
 Enochus lenta suspirans voce reponit ; 
 Nunc huniili capite est, ncc quisquam rcspicit ilium : 
 Vix mihi quatriduum durabit spiritus ; audi, 
 
 Ille ego sum, Audito mulier dedit excita vocem, 850 
 
 Ceu non credibili mentem pessundata verbo : 
 Tune ille Enochus f quis crederet I altior ille 
 Te inulto fuit ille: Enochus tristior addit, 
 Me Deus incurvum fecit, qualcm aspicis esse ; 
 Me f regit dolor, ct solius tcsdia vitce ;
 
 47 
 
 Ne verb dubites, ego sum qui tanpore prisco 
 
 Duxi — sed qiiam te uicmorem, bis nomine verso ? — 
 
 Ilia fnit eonjux mea, qiue nunc nnpta Pliilippo est ; 
 
 Asside, et auscnlta. Turn cun6la ex ordine narrat, 
 
 Naufragium, exiliique moras, reditusque dolorem ; 860 
 
 Ut furtim uxorem conspexerit, ut sibi legem 
 
 Impositam servarit adhuc : dumque audiit ilia, 
 
 Manavit facili lacrimarum copia rivo, 
 
 Dum corde impatiens arcani femiiia tanti 
 
 Ardebat totum circa discurrere portum, 
 
 Enochi reditum vulgans, et tristia fata ; 
 
 Sed perculsa metu, pa6loque astri6la quievit : 
 
 Mox pneros prim inn v ideas ait ilia neccsse est ; 
 
 Eia ! sine accersam, surgitque ut deferat illos, 
 
 Haesit enim Enochus pauUum ; sed protinus instat ; 870 
 
 Nc me tnrbdris, mnlier, jam fine propinquo, 
 Sed sine propositnm suprcma ad funera scrvem. 
 Assideas itcrum, et teneas qnce dicerc pcrgo, 
 Dum mihi vox super est. Te nunc impensiiis oro,
 
 48 
 
 Cnm vctiias coram, dicas, bona ciiiula prccantciii 
 
 Me vitcB ad Jinan coluissc fidditcr illain ; 
 
 Me paritcr, si non fatnni proJdberct, amdsse, 
 
 Ac quando inecum vinclo fiiit nna jngali. 
 
 Et natce, inca qitaui vidcrunt hiinina, matri 
 
 Tain similcni, rcfcras, lit spiritus ultinins oris sso 
 
 Illi exoptando fclicia cuncla incdrit ; 
 
 Et nato tradas moribundi vota parentis ^ 
 
 Sorte, precor, patreni superet ; dicasque Philippo, 
 
 Ilium ctiam partem votorum Jiabuissc incorum ; 
 
 Ilk nihil nisi quod nobis prodcssct avebat. 
 
 Quod si mc pueri cupiant post fata videre, 
 
 Qui me vix norant viventcm, nil moror illos, 
 
 Fas genitorem adcant ; modo ne quis deferat illam, 
 
 Morttia nam fades venicntes angeret annos. 
 
 Units restat adJinc — units do sanguine nostro 890 
 
 Qui me complexit vita recreabit in ilia; 
 
 En ! hunc cincinnitm, abscissum de f route pitelli, 
 
 Ilia dcdit ; nice unique titli tot seditlus annos, 
 
 Et mihi mens fucrat vel ad ipsum ferre sepulcrum ;
 
 49 
 
 Sed nunc consilium vmtavi ; ilium ipse bcatos 
 Inter conspiciam : ciim vita reeesscrit ergo, 
 Hunc matri tradas ; spcro, hie solabitur illam, 
 Saltcm erit indicio, quo certe agnoseere possit, 
 Hune esse Enochum. 
 
 Dixit ; promtissima Martha 
 Respondit, nimiaque volubilis omnia lingua 900 
 
 Praestitit ; ille autem morientia lumina volvens 
 Solicite mandata iterat, rursusque rogatam 
 Martha fidem prasstat. 
 
 Sed cum nox tertia venit, — 
 Dum jacet in leclo pallens, immobilis, ille, 
 Dum vigilat mulier bona, dormitatque vicissim, — 
 Infremuit subito taii cum turbine surgens 
 Pontus, ut angusti streperent tefta omnia portus ; 
 
 it 
 
 Audiit — exsiluit — ^ja6lavit brachia late, 
 
 Exclamans voce altisona, velum I aspiee I velum I 
 
 Salvus sum ! salvus ! rcciditquc hand plura locutus. 910
 
 50 
 
 Sic anima invi6ta pollens virtutc rcccssit ; 
 Cum vero ciTerrcnt funus, vix lautior unquam 
 Porturrt per tenuem dedu6la est pompa sepulcri. 
 
 CANTABRIGI^ 
 TYPIS ACADEMICIS EXCUDEBAT C. J. CLAY, A.M.
 
 GENEVIEVE. 
 
 GENOVEVA
 
 GENEVIEVE. 
 
 All thoughts, all wishes, all delights, 
 Whatever stirs this mortal frame : 
 All are but ministers of Love, 
 And feed his sacred flame.
 
 GENOVEVA. 
 
 Impulsus animorum omnes, et gaudia vitae, 
 Quicquid mortalem temperiem stimulat ; 
 
 Omnia certatim dio famulantur Amori, 
 Et flammam acccnsi c<xlitus ignis aluiit.
 
 GENEVIEVE. 
 
 Oft in my waking dreams do I 
 Live o'er again that happy hour, 
 When midway on the mount I lay, 
 Beside the ruined tower. 
 
 The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, 
 Had blended with the lights of eve ; 
 And she was there, my hope, my joy, 
 My own bright Genevieve. 
 
 She leant against the armed man, 
 The statue of the armed knight ; 
 She stood and listened to my lay 
 Amid the lingering light. 
 
 Few sorrows hath she of her own, 
 My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! 
 She loves me best whene'er I sing 
 The songs that make her grieve.
 
 GENOVEVA. 
 
 Saepe ego, dum vigiles oblectant somnia sensus, 
 Vivo iterum vite quae fuit hora meae 
 
 Felix ante omnes ; ubi turris propter avitse 
 Relliquias medio in colle reclinis eram. 
 
 Luna, per aethereas labens argentea nubes, 
 Sublustri lucem vespere mista dabat ; 
 
 Atque ibi, lux melior, vitse spes unica nostrae, 
 Laetitiae saliens fons, Genoveva, fuit. 
 
 Stabat ibi acclinis statuae dilecta vetustse, 
 Effusa attingens militis arma coma ; 
 
 Stabat ibi auscultans, mea dum sub luce moranti 
 Fundebat cithara vox comitante melos. 
 
 Perpaucas fovet ilia suo sub pectorc curas, 
 Lsetitiac saliens fons, Genoveva, meae ; 
 
 Ncscio cur illi placeam magis, ista canendo 
 Carmina quae tencro corda dolore movent.
 
 GENEVIEVE. 
 
 I played a soft and doleful air, 
 I sang an old and moving story ; 
 An old rude song, that suited well 
 That ruin wild and hoary. 
 
 She listened with a flitting blush. 
 With downcast eyes, and modest grace ; 
 For well she knew I could not choose. 
 But gaze upon her face. 
 
 I told her of the Knight that wore 
 Upon his shield a burning brand ; 
 And that for ten long years he wooed 
 The Lady of the Land. 
 
 I told her how he pined ; and ah ! 
 The deep, the low, the pleading tone, 
 With which I sang another's love, 
 Interpreted my own.
 
 GENOVEVA. 
 
 Tangebam lente chordas modulamine maesto, 
 
 Fabula cui tristis consociata fuit ; 
 Fabula qus, veteri tantum germana ruinae, 
 
 Ex ipso poterat nata fuisse loco. 
 
 Auscultat, volitante vago super ora rubore, 
 Ingenuos oculos fixa decenter humi ; 
 
 Sensit enim nullo moderamine posse teneri 
 Ouin faciem haurirent lumina nostra suam. 
 
 Narravi quantus Miles viguisset in armis, 
 Cui clipei signum flammea taeda fuit ; 
 
 Qui prece perpetua decimum exoptavit in annum 
 Terrarum dominam quas maris unda lavat. 
 
 Narravi ut longo absumtus langucret amore, 
 Voce mea teneras restituente preces ; 
 
 Dum sic alterius suspiria ma;sta canebam, 
 Intcrprcs nostri carmen amoris erat.
 
 GENEVIEVE. 
 
 She listen'd with a flitting blush, 
 With downcast eyes and modest grace ; 
 And she forgave me, that I gazed 
 Too fondly on her face. 
 
 But when I told the cruel scorn, 
 That crazed that bold and lovely Knight ; 
 And that he crossed the mountain-woods, 
 Nor rested day nor night: 
 
 That sometimes from the savage den. 
 And sometimes from the darksome shade ; 
 And sometimes starting up at once 
 In green and sunny glade ; 
 
 There came and looked him in the face 
 An angel beautiful and bright : 
 And that he knew it was a fiend, 
 This miserable Knight.
 
 GENOVEVA. 
 
 Auscultat, volitante vago super ora rubore ; 
 
 Ingenues oculos fixa decenter humi ; 
 Ignovitque mihi, nimio quod amantia tractu 
 
 Haurirent faciem lumina nostra suam. 
 
 Ut vero cecini crudelem virginis iram, 
 Qua cecidit magni mens labefacta viri ; 
 
 Ut montes nemorumque vagus percurreret umbras, 
 Nee requiem misero noxve diesve daret ; 
 
 Ut nunc horrenti egrediens in aperta caverna, 
 Nunc ubi celaret densior umbra diem ; 
 
 Et nunc prosiliens, velut herba nata virenti, 
 Qua daret apricum silva reducta locum ; 
 
 Obvia se prodens coram spectaret imago, 
 Caelicolum referens ora comasque decus : 
 
 I He tamen scirct quam noxia luderet umbra ; 
 Hie miseri summus terror amantis erat.
 
 lo GENEVIEVE. 
 
 And that unknowing what he did, 
 He leapt amid a murderous band, 
 And saved from outrage worse than death 
 The Lady of the Land. 
 
 And how she wept, and clasped his knees, 
 And how she tended him in vain ; 
 . And ever strove to expiate 
 
 The scorn that crazed his brain. 
 
 And that she nursed him in a cave. 
 And how his madness went away ; 
 When on the yellow forest-leaves 
 A dying man he lay. 
 
 His dying words — but when I reach'd 
 That tenderest strain of all the ditty ; 
 My faultering voice and pausing harp 
 Disturbed her soul with pity.
 
 GENOVEVA. II 
 
 Prodigus Lit vitae, nullo comitante, ferocem 
 
 Irruerit, facti nescius ipse, manum : 
 Damno erepturus, quod morte indigiiius ipsa, 
 
 Terrarum dominam quas maris unda lavat. 
 
 Ut flerit virgo, genibusque pependerit jegris, 
 
 Et frustra advigilans nocte dieque toro 
 Tentarit semper saevum placare dolorem, 
 
 Quo fuerat magni mens labefacta viri : 
 
 Ut pietate fovens ^grum curarit in antro, 
 
 Deficeret victus dum ratione furor ; 
 Ut foliis stratus marcentibus ille jaceret, 
 
 Marcidior foliis, et moribundus, humi. 
 
 Ut vero ventum est morientis ad ultima verba, 
 
 Quo nihil in toto carmine flebilius ; 
 Vox mea deficicns cithaneque silentia ma^sta 
 
 Turbarunt dominam rcligionc mcam.
 
 12 GENEVIEVE. 
 
 All impulses of soul and sense 
 Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve ; 
 The music and the doleful tale, 
 The rich and balmy eve ; 
 
 And hopes, and fears that kindle hope. 
 An undistinguishable throng : 
 And gentle wishes long subdued, 
 Subdued, and cherished long. 
 
 She wept with pity and delight, 
 She blushed with love and virgin-shame ; 
 And like the murmur of a dream, 
 I heard her breathe my name. 
 
 Her bosom heaved ; she stept aside, 
 As conscious of my look she stept : 
 Then suddenly, with timorous eye, 
 She fled to me, and wept.
 
 GENOVEVA. 13 
 
 Omnia quns tangunt sensus, animumque, movebant 
 
 Imitus expertem te, Genoveva, doH ; 
 Et citharae melos, et nimium lacrimabile carmen, 
 
 Plenaque deliciis vesperis hora suis, 
 
 Et spes, spemque novam soliti stimulare timores, 
 
 Turba frequens, nullo dissocianda modo : 
 Et frsenata diu necdum sopita voluntas, 
 
 Dum reprimit motus corde fovente suos. 
 
 Lastitia in lacrimas simul et pietate soluta est ; 
 
 Dulcis amor rubuit, virgineusque pudor ; 
 Et velut auditum dubie per somnia murmur, 
 
 Audivi nomen, contremuique, meum. 
 
 Intumuerc sinus ; pauUum conversa retraxit, 
 Conscia quid faccrent lumina nostra, pedem ; 
 
 Scd redicns subito, timidoque imbcllis ocello, 
 Ad mca confugiens pcctora flcvit ibi.
 
 14 GENEVIEVE. 
 
 She half enclosed nie with her arms, 
 She prest me with a meek embrace ; 
 And bending back her head, looked up, 
 And gazed upon my face. 
 
 'Twas partly Love, and partly Fear, 
 And partly 'twas a bashful art. 
 That I might rather feel than see 
 The swelling of her heart. 
 
 I calmed her fears, and she was calm ; 
 And told her love with virgin-pride ; 
 And so I won my Genevieve, 
 My bright and beauteous Bride.
 
 GENOVEVA. 15 
 
 Et diducta meo circumdans brachia collo, 
 
 Amplexu pressit me tenuitque diu ; 
 Mox rediere animi, et leviter cervice reflexa 
 
 Hauserunt faciem lumina Iseta meam. 
 
 Partim suasit amor, partim timor aemulus egit, 
 
 Et partim ingenui forma pudoris erat ; 
 Scilicet ut sentire magis quam cernere possem, 
 
 Quo niveum quaterent corda tremore sinum. 
 
 Composui fluctus animi ; tranquilla quievit ; 
 
 Virgineumque loquens se patefecit amor ; 
 Sic, cithara victor, candcntem flore juventce 
 
 Accepi sponsam te, Genoveva, meam.
 
 IN DOMO PROCERVM. Jvl. 20, a.d. 1869. 11. 15 p.m. 
 
 • 173—95- 
 
 W, E. G. 
 PALIXODIA. 
 
 In medio gradiens mortalis tramite vitae, 
 
 Hie ubi celabat densior umbra diem ; 
 Erravi, tenuitque diu me devius error, 
 
 Incertos cogens ferre, referre, pedes; 
 Vox subito audita est, qus me revocavit ab umbris, 
 
 Dura quidem audita vox, sed amica mihi ; 
 Tum Luna auxilio, tingens argentea nubes, 
 
 Fimbria ceu puliae Candida vestis, erat ; 
 Agnovi errorem, et retro vestigia torquens 
 
 Amissam invcni la;tus ovan.sque viam ; 
 Et vidi Templum, cui scriptum in limine prostat, 
 
 ERROREM FASSOS PVLCRA CORONA MANET.
 
 IN DOMO PROCERVM. JvL. 3, A.D. 1871. 5.15 r.M. 
 
 CANONICUS MULTA GKMEXS. 
 
 Si neque COMMVNES, PROCERESVE in praelia prostaiit, 
 
 Restitui ut cogant jura negata mihi; 
 Quid misero restat? — multum plorante crumena, 
 
 Regin^ ad BANCVM lis referenda mihi est: 
 Concilii Prasses validum MANDAMVS habeto, 
 
 Quod fieri debet protinus ut faciat 
 Mens etenim stat fixa animo, defendere LEGES, 
 
 Nee sinere antiquum corruere IMPERIVM.
 
 IN CVRIA BANC REG. Jan. i8, a.d. i8;2. 
 
 PER BLACKBURN, J. 
 
 Si Populus, Proceres, Regina, in lege ferenda 
 Unanimes fierent — sit procul ille dies — 
 
 Ut me damnarent, decollarentque repente, 
 Lex ea — me saltern judice — firma foret. 
 
 ' REGIN/E Consiliarivs. 
 
 Causidicos inter, mihi credas, optime Judex, 
 Lege super tali nulla querela foret.
 
 A.D. 1869 . 1 87 1. 
 
 CvM triplices legum muros perrumperet audax 
 Lselapis, Hibernas et spoliaret opes: 
 
 Nee vocem emisit, sociosve vocavit in arma, 
 Nee Summus Judex, causidieusve minor. 
 
 Ut vero legem Vir Carbonarius unam 
 Transilit, extemplo perstrepit omne forum. 
 
 W. S. 
 
 Cantabrigi^.
 
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