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llad satisfied his heart, and given it peace,
And the repented fault became a joy.
One night upon the shore his chapel-bell
Was heard; the air was calm, ard its far sounds
Over the water came, distinct and loud.
Alarm'd at that unusual hour to hear
Its toll irregular, a monk arose,
And crost to the island-chapel. Ou a stone
Henry was sitting there, dead, cold, and stiff,
The bell-rope in his hand, and at his feet
The lamp chat stream'd a long unsteady light.'

1799.

ST GUALBERTO.

ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.

Tus work is done, the fabric is complete;

Distinct the Traveller sees its distant tower, Yet ere his steps attain the sacred seat,

Must toil for many a league and many an hour. Elate the Abbot sees the pile and knows, Stateliest of convents now, his new Moscera rose. Long were the tale that told Moscera's pride,

Its columns' cluster'd strength and lofty state, How many a saint bedeck'd its sculptured side,

What intersecting arches graced its gate; Its towers how high, its massy walls how strong, These fairly to describe were sure a tedious sony. Yet while the fane rose slowly from the ground,

But little store of charity, I ween, The passing pilgrim at Moscera found;

And ofien there the mendicant was seen Hopeless to turn him from the conveni-door, For this so costly work still kept the brethren poor. Now all is perfect, and from every side

They tlock to view the fabric, young and old. Who now can tell Rodulfo's secret pride,

When on the Sabbath-day his eyes behold The multitudes that crowd his chapel-floor, Some sure to serve their God, to see Moscera more!

«'T was but a sorry welcome then you found,

And such as suited ill a guest so dear.
The pile was ruinous old, the base unsound;

It glads me more to bid you welcome here,
For you can call to mind our former state!
Come, brother, pass with me the new Moscera's gate.'
So spake the cheerful Abbot, but no smile

Of answering joy relaxed Gualberto's brow; lle raised his hand and pointed to the pile,

« Moscera better pleased me then than now! A palace this, befitting kingly pride! Will holidess, my friend, in palace pomp

abide?
« Aye,» cries Rodulfo, « 't is a stately place!

And pomp becomes the house of worship well.
Nay, scowl not round with so severe a face!

When earthly kings in seats of grandeur dwell,
Where art exhausted decks the sumptuous hall,
Can

poor and sordid huts beseem the Lord of all ? « And

ye

have reard these stately towers on high
To serve your God!» the monk severe replied.
«lt rose from zeal and earnest piety,

And prompted by no worldly thoughts beside?
Abbot, to him who prays with soul sincere
In humble hermit cell, God will incline his ear.
« Rodulfo! while this haughty building rose,

Still was the pilgrim welcome at your door?
Did charity relieve the orphans' woes?

Clothed ye the naked ? did ye feed the poor?
He who with alms most succours the distrest,
Proud Abbot! know, he serves his licavenly Father best.
« Did they in sumptuous palaces go dwell

Who first abandon'd all to serve the Lord ?
Their place of worship was the desert cell,

Wild fruits and berries spread their frugal board,
And if a brook, like this, ran murmuring by,
They blest their gracious God, and thought it luxury. »
Then anger darken'd in Rodulfo's face;

« Enough of preaching,» sharply he replied,
« Thou art grown envious : 't is a common case,

Humility is made the cloak of pride.
Proud of our home's magnificence are we,
But thou art far more proud in rags and beggary.
With that Gualberto cried in fervent tone,

« 0, Father, hear me! if this splendid pile
Was for thine honour reard, and thine alone,

Bless it, O Father, with thy fostering smile!
Still may it stand, and never evil know,
Long as beside its walls the eternal stream shall flow.

But, Lord, if vain and worldly-minded me!

Have wasted here the wealth which thou hast leni, To pamper worldly pride; frown on it then!

Soon be thy vengeance manifestly sent!
Let yonder brook, that flows so calm beside,
Now from its base sweep down the upholy house of

pride!»
He said, -and lo, the brook no longer flows!

The waters pause, and now they swell on hizbu;
High and more bigla the mass of water grows;

The affrighted brethren from Moscera ilv.
And on their Saints and on ihcir God they call,
For now the mountain bulk o'ertops the conventu!

So chanced it that Gualberto pass'd that way,

Since sainted for a life of holy deeds.
He paused the new-reard convent to survey,

And, whilst o'er all its bulk his eye proceeds,
Sorrows, as one whose holier feelings deem
That ill so proud a pile did humble monks beseem.

Him, musing as he stood, Rodulfo saw,

And forth he came to greet the holy guest;
For he was known as one who held the law

Of Benedict, and each severe behest
So duly kept with such religious care,
That Heaven had oft vouchsafed its wonders to his

prayer.

« Good brother, welcome!» thus Rodulfo crics,

« In sooth it glads me to behold you here; It is Gualberto! and mine aged eyes

Did not deceive me: yet full many a year Hath slipt away, since last you bade farewell To me your host and my uncomforiable cell.

This story is related in the English artyrology, 1603.

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it me.

It falls, the mountain bulk, with thundering sound ! Now do I bless the man who undertook
Full on Moscera's pile the vengeance falls !

These monks and martyrs to biographize;
Its lofty tower now rushes to the ground,

And love to ponder o'er luis ponderous book,
Prone lie its columns now, its high arch'd walls, The mingle-mangle mass of truth and lies,
Earth shakes beneath the onward-rolling tide,

Where Angels now, now Beelzebubs appear, That from its base swept down the unholy house of And blind and honest zeal, and holy faith sincere. pride.

All is not very truth, and yet 't were hard

The fabling Priests for fabling to abuse;
Were old Gualberto's reasons built on truth,

What if a monk, from better theme debarr'd,
Dear George, or like Moscera's base unsound?

Some pious subject for a tale should chuse, This sure I know, that glad am I, in sooth,

How some good man the flesh and fiend o'ercame, He only play'd his pranks in foreigo ground;

Mis taste methinks, and not his conscience, were to

blame.
For had he turn'd the stream on England too,
The Vandal monk had spoilt full many a goodly view.

In after years, what he, good Christian, wrote,

As we write novels to instruct our youth,
Then Malmesbury's arch had never met my sight,
Nor Battle's vast and venerable pile;

Went travelling on, its origin forgot,
I had not traversed then with such delight

Till at the length it past for gospel-truth.
The hallowed ruins of our Alfred's isle,

A fair account! and slouldst thou like the plea,
Where many a pilgrim's curse is well bestowd

Thank thou thy valued friend, dear George, who taught
On those who rob its walls to mend the turnpike-road.
Wells would have fallen, dear George, our country's

All is not false which seems at first a lie.
pride ;

Fernan Antolinez,' a Spanish knight,
And Canning's stately church been rear'd in vain,

Knelt at the mass, when lo! the troops hard by
Nor had the traveller Ely's tower descried,

Before the expected hour began the fight.
Which when thou seest far o'er the feony plain,

Though courage, duty, honour, summond there,

fle chose to forfeit all; not leave the unfinish'd prayer.
Dear George, I counsel thee to turn that way,
Its ancient beauties sure will well reward delay.

But while devoutly thus the unarm'd knight
And we should never then have heard, I think,

Waits till the holy service should be o'er,

Even then the foremost in the furious fight
At evening hour, great Tom's tremendous knell.
The fountain streams that now in Christ-church stok,

Was he beheld to bathc his sword in gore,
Had niagara'd o'er the quadrangle ;

First in the van his plumes were seen to play,
But, as 't was beauty that deserved the flood,

And Spain to him decreed the glory of the day.
I
ween,
dear George, thy own old Pompey might have

The truth is told, and all at once exclaim,
stood.

His guardian angel Heaven bad deign’d to send;
Then had not Westminster, the house of God,

And thus the tale is handed down to fame.
Served for a concert-room, or signal-post ;

Now if our good Sir Feroan had a friend

Who in the hour of danger served him well,
Old Thames, obedient to the father's nod,

Dear George, the tale is true, and yet no miracle.
Had swept down Greenwich, England's noblest boast;,
And, eager to destroy the upholy walls,
Fleet-ditch lad rolld up hill to overwhelm St Paul's.

I am not one who scan with scornful eyes
The dreams which make the enthusiast's best de-

light;
George, dost thou deem the legendary deeds

Nor thou the legendary lore despise
Of Romish saints a useless medley store

If of Gualberto yet again I write,
Ollies, that he flings time away who reads ?
And wouldst thou rather bid me puzzle o'er

Aconteció en aquella' batalla una cosa digna de memoria.-
Matter and Mind and all the eternal round,

Fernan Antoliper, hombre noble y muy devoto, oia missa al tiempo Plunged headlong down the dark and fathomless pro- pelea : por no desarla començada, se quedó en el templo quando se

que se dió señal de acometer, costumbre ordinaria suya antes de la found ?

tocó a la arma. Esta piedad quan agradable foesse á Dios, se en

tendió por un milagro. Estávase primero en la Iglesia, despues es' Era amigo de pobreza, en tanto grado, que sentia macho, que condido en su casa, temia no le afrentassen como á cobarde. En los Monasterios se edificassen sumptuosamente: y assi visitando el tanto, otro á él semejanto, és á saber, su Angel bueno, pelea entre de Noscera y viendo un edificio grande, y elegante, buelto a Rodol- los primeros tan valientemente, que la vitoria de aquel dia se atripbo, que era alli Abad, cou el rostro nyrado le dixo: Con lo que buyó en gran parte al valor de el dicho Antolinez. Confirmarov o hos gastado, siguiendo tu parecer, cu este majnitico edificio, las milagro las señales de los golpes, y las manchas de la sangre que se' quitado el sustento a muchos pobres. P'uso los ojos en un pequeño hallaron frescas en sus armas y cavallo. Assi publicado el caso, y arroyo, que corria alli cerca, y dixo, Dios Omnipotente, que suelos sabido lo que passava , quedó mas conocida la inocencia y esfuerço hacer grandes cosas de pequeñas criaturas, yo te ruego, que voa por

de Autolinez.- Mariana. medio de este pequeño arroyo venganza de este gran edifirio. Dixo

Perhaps this miracle, and its obvious interpretation, may leave esto, y fuese do alli como abominando el lugar; y siendo oido, el suggested to Florian the circumstance by wbich his Gonsalvo is arroguelo comenzó a crecer, y fue de suerte, que recogiendo un

prevented from combating and killing the brother of bis mistress. wonte de agua, y tomando de atràs la corriente, vino con tan grande Florian was fond of Spanish literature, impetu, que llevando piedras y arboles consigo, derribo el edificio.- Cerca de Santisterpo de Gormaz, a la ribera del rio Ducro.Flos Sanctorum, por El Maestro Alons, de Villenas.

How first impelld he sought the convent-cell;

Save when a falling leaf came fluttering by, A simple tale it is,' but one that pleased me well. Save the near brooklet's stream that murmurd quietly.

Is there who has not felt the deep delight, Fortune had smiled upon Gualberto's birth,

The hush of soul, that scenes like these imparı? The heir of Valdespesa's rich domain.

The heart they will not soften is not right, An only child, he grew in years and worth,

And young Gualberto was not hard of heart. And well repaid a father's anxious pain.

Yet sure he thinks revenge becomes him well, Oft had his sire in battle forced success,

When from a neighbouring church he heard the vesperWell for his valour known, and known for haughtiness.

bell. It chanced that one in kindred near allied

The Catholic who hears that vesper-bell, Was slain by his hereditary foe;

Howe’er employed, must send a prayer to Heaven. Much by his sorrow moved and more by pride,

In foreign lands I liked the custom well, The father yowd that blood for blood should flow,

For with the calm and sober thoughts of even And from his youth Gualberto had been taught

It well accords; and wert thou journeying there, That with unceasing hate should just revenge be sought. It would not hurt thee, George, to join that vesper

prayer. Long did they wait; at length the tidings came That through a lone and unfrequented way,

Gualberto had been duly taught to hold Soon would Anselmo, such the murderer's name,

Each pious duty with religious care, Pass on his journey home, an easy prey.

And,

,- for the young man's feelings were not cold,

He never yet had mist his vesper-prayer. « Go,» cried the father, « meet him in the wood ! »

But strange misgivings now his heart invade, And young Gualberto went, and laid in wait for blood.

And when the vesper-bell had ceased he had not pray'd ? When now the youth was at the forest shade

And wherefore was it that he had not pray'd ? Arrived, it drew toward the close of day;

The sudden doubt arose within his mind, Anselmo haply might be long delay'd,

And many a former precept then he weigh'd, And he, already wearied with his way,

The words of Bim who died to save mankind; Beneath an ancient oak his limbs reclined,

How 't was the meek who should inherit heaven, And thoughts of near revenge alone possess'd his mind.

And man must man forgive, if he would be forgiven.

Slow sank the glorious sun, a roscate light

Troubled at heart, almost he felt a hope,
Spread o'er the forest from his lingering rays ; That yet some chance his victim mighe delay,
The glowing clouds upon Gualberto's sight

So as he mused adown the neighbouring slope
Soften'd in shade,-he could not chuse but gaze; He saw a lonely traveller on his way;
And now a placid greyness clad the heaven,

And now he knows the man so much abborrd, Save where the west relain'd the last green light of even. His holier thoughts are gone, he bares the murderous

sword, Cool breached the grateful air, and fresher now

The fragrance of the autumnal leaves arose; « The house of Valdespesa gives the blow! The passing gale scarce moved the o'erhanging bough, Go, and our vengeance to our kinsman tell!»And not a sound disturb'd the deep repose,

Despair and terror seized the unarm'd foe, Llamòse el padre Gualberto, y era señor de Valdespesa, que està

And prostrate at the young man's knees he fell, entre Sepa, y Florencia : seguia la milicia ; y como le matassen un

And stopt his hand and cried, «Oh, do not take su deudo cercano injustamente, indignados, assi el hijo, que era ya A wretchied sinner's life! mercy, for Jesus' sake!» hombre, como el padre, con mucho caydado buscavan ocasion, como vengar aquella muerte. Sucedió, que veniendo à Florencia el hijo,

At ibat most blessed name, as at a spell, con un criado suyo, hombre valiente, y los dos bien armados, à ca

Conscience, the God within him, sinote his heart. vallo, vió su enemigo, y en lugar que era impossible irseles: lo qual considerado por el contrario, y que tenia cierta su muerte,

His hand, for murder raised, unharming fell; descendió de un cavallo, en que venia, y puesto de rodillas le pi He felt cold sweat-drops on his foreluead start; dió, juntas las manos, por Jesu-Christo cracificado, le perdonasse

A moment mute in holy horror stood, la vida. Enternecióse Juan Gualberto, oyendo el nombre de JesuChristo crucificado; y dixolo, que por amor de aquel Señor, que Then cried, « Joy, joy, my God! I have not sled his rogó en la Craz por los que le pusieron en ella, él le perdonava.

blood!” Pidióle, que se levautasse, y perdiesse el iemer, que ya no por enemigo, sino por amigo le queria, y que de Dios, por quien bacia esto, He raised Anselmo up, and bade him live, esperava el premis. Passo adelante Gualberto: y viendo una Iglesia

Apd bless, for both preserved, that holy name : en un monte cerca de Florencia, llamada de San Miniato, que era de Monges negros, entró en ella para dar gracias á Jesu-Cbristo nuestro And pray'd the astonish'd foeman to forgive Señor por la merced, que le havia hecho en favorecerle, de que per The bloody purpose led by which he came. donasse, y no tomasse venganza de su enemigo: púsose de rodillas Then to the neighbouring church he sped a way, delante de un Crucifixo, el qual, viendolo él, y otros que estavan

Ulis over-burden'd soul before his God to Jay. presentes, desde la Cruz inclinó la cabeza à Gualberto, como apradeciendo, y dándolo gracias, de que por su amor haviesse perdonado la vida à sa enemigo. Descubrióse el caso, y fuo público, y muy ce He ran with breathless speed, -he reach'd the door, lebrado, y el Crucifixo fue tenido en grande reverencia en aquella With rapid throbs his feverish pulses swell, -Iglesia de S. Miniato. Quedó Juin Gualberto de este acaecimiento, trocado en otro varon, y determinó dexar el mundo, y las cosas pe

He came to crave for pardon, lo adore recedera, de él.- Ftos Sanctorum.

For grace vouchsafed; before the cross he fell,

And raised his swimming eyes, and thought that there He saw the imaged Cbrist smile favouring on his prayer.

Or on some half-demolish'd tomb,
Whose warning texts anticipate my doom,

Mark the clear orb of night
Cast through the storying glass a faintly-varied light.

A blest illusion! from that very night

The monk's austerest life devout he led ; And still he felt the enthusiast's deep delight,

Seraphic visions floated round his head; The joys of heaveu foretasted fill'd his soul, And still the good man's name adorys the sainted roll.

1799.

Nor will I not in some more gloomy hour Invoke with fearless awe thine holier power,

Wandering beneath the sainted pile
When the blast moans along the darksome aisle,

And clattering patters all around
The midnight shower with dreary sound.

LYRIC POEMS.

TO CONTEMPLATION.

Και παγάς φιλέoιμι τον εγγύθεν ήχον ακούειν Ατέρπει ψοφέoισα τον άγγικoν, ουχί ταράσσει.

ΜΟΣΚΟΣ. .

Faint gleams the evening radiance through the sky,

The sober twilight dimly darkens round;
In short quick circles the shrill bat flits by,
And the slow vapour curls along the ground.

But sweeter 't is to wander wild
By melancholy dreams beguiled,
While the summer moon's pale ray
Faintly guides me on my way
To some lone romantic glen,
Far from all the haunts of merr;
Where no noise of uproar rude
Breaks the calm of solitude;
But soothing Silence sleeps in all,
Save the neighbouring waterfall,
Whose hoarse waters falling near
Load with hollow sounds the ear,
And with down-dasht torrent white
Glcam hoary through the shades of night.
Thus wandering silent on and slow,
I'll nurse Retlection's sacred woe,
And muse upon the happier day
When Hope would weave her visions gay,
Ere Fancy, chill'd by adverse fate,
Left sad Reality my mate.

Now the pleased eye from yon lone cottage sees On the green mead the smoke long-shadowing play;

The Red-breast on the blossom'd spray

Warbles wild her latest lay,
And lo! Che Rooks to yon higli-lufted trees

Wing, in long files vociferous, their way. Calm ContemPLATION, 't is thy favourite hour!

Come, tranquillizing Power!

O CONTEMPLATION! when to Memory's eyes
The visions of the long-past days arise,
Thy holy power imparts the best relief,
And the calm'd Spirit loves the joy of grief.

1792.

I view thee on the calmy shore
When Ocean stills his waves to rest;
Or when slow-moving on the surges

hoar
Meet with deep hollow roar

And whiten o'er his breast; And when the Moon with softer radiance gleams,

And lovelier heave the billows in her beams.

TO HORROR.

When the low gales of evening moan along
I love with thee to feel the calın cool breeze,
And roam the pathless forest wilds among

Listening the mellow murmur of the trees Full-foliaged, as they lift their arms on liigh, And wave their shadowy lieads in wildest melody.

Or lead me where amid the tranquil vale The broken stream flows on in silver light;

And I will linger where the gale

O'er the bank of violets sighs, Listening to hear its soften'd sounds arise; And hearken the dull beetle's drowsy flight,

And watch the horn-eyed snail Creep o'er his long moon-glittering trail, And mark where radiant through the night Shines in the grass-green hedge the glow-vorm's

living light.

I extract the following picture of consummate borror from the notes to a poem, written in twelve-syllable verse, upon the campaign of 1794 and 1793; it was during the retreat 10 Deventer. - We could not proceed a hondred yards witbout perceiving the dead bodies of men, women, children, and horses in every direction. One scene made an impression upon my memory which time will never be able to efface. Near another cart we perceived a stout-looking man, and a beautiful young woman with an infant, about seven months old, at

be breast, all tbree frozen and dead. The mother had most certainly expired in the act of suckling her child; as with one breast exposed, shu lay upon the drifted snow, the milk to all appearance in a stream drawn from the nipple by the babe, and instantly concealed. The infant seemed as if its lips bad but just then been disengaged, and it reposed its little head upon the mother's bosom, with an overflow of milk, frozen as it trickled from tbe mouth; their countedances were perfectly composed and fresh, resembling those of persons in a sound and tranquil slumber.»

The following description of a field of battle is in the words of one who passed over the field of Jemappe, after Dumourier's victory.-.lt was on the third day after the victory obtained by Gen. Damourierover the Austrians, ibat I rode across the field of battle. The scene lies on a waste common, rendered then more drsary by the desertion of the misorable hovels before occupied by peasants. Every thing that resembledh a buman babitation was desolated, and for the most part they had been burnt or pulled down, to prevent their affording shelter to the posts of the contending, armies. The ground was ploughed up by the wheels. of the artillery and waccons; every thing like herbage was trodden into mire ; broken carriages, arins, accouirements, dead horses and men were strewed over the beata. This was the chinl day after the

Thee, meekest Power! I love to meet,

As oft with solitary pace The shatter'd Abbey's liallowed rounds I trace,

And listen to the echoings of my feet.

battle: it was the beginning of November, and for three days a bleak On many a carcase shine the dews of nicht, wind and heavy rain had continued incessantly. There were still re

And a dead silence stills the vale, maining alive several hundred of horses and of the human victims of Save when at times is heard the glutted Raven's scream. that dreadful fight. I can speak with certainty of baving seen more than four hundred men still living, unsheltered, without food, and without any human assistance, most of tbem confined to the spot Where some wreck'd army from the Conqueror's miclit where they bad fallen by broken limbs. The two armies had pro

Speed their disastrous flight, ceeded, and abandoned these miserable wretches to their fate. Some

With thee, fierce Genius ! let me trace their way, of the dead persone appeared to have expired in the act of embracing each other. Two young French officers, who were brothers, bad

And hear at times the deep heart-groan crawled under the side of a dead horse, where they bad contrived a

* Of some poor sufferer left to die alone, kind of sbelter by means of a cloak; they were both mortally wound

Dis sore wounds smarting with the winds of night, ed, and groaning for each other. One very fine young man had jnst

And we will pause, where, on the wild, strength enough to drag bimself out of a hollow partly filled with water, and was laid upon a liule billock groaning with agony; a

The mother to her frozen breast, grupe-shot had cut across the upper part of his hely, and he was keeping On the heap'd snows reclining, clasps her child, in his bowels with a handkerchief and hat. Ne begeed of mo for God's

And with him sleeps, chill'd to eternal rest! sake to end his misery! be complained of dreadful thirst. I filled him the bal of a dead soldier with water, which be pearly drank off at once, and left him to that end of his wretchodness which could Black Horror! speed we to the bed of Death, not be far distant..

Where he, whose murderous power afar I hope I have always felt and expressed an honest and christian

Blasts with the myriad plagues of war, abhorrence of wars, and of the systems that produce them; but my ideas of their immediate borrors fell infinitely sbort of this authentic

Struggles with his last breath; picture.

Then to his wildly-starting eyes

The phantoms of the murder'd rise;
Τιν γαρ ποταείσομαι

Then on his frensied ear
ταν και σκυλικες τρομέοντι

Their groans for vengeance and the Demon's yeli 'Ερχομεναν εκύων ανά τ’ήρια, και μελαν αίμα.

In one heart-maddeping chorus swell;
ΘΕΟΚΡΙΤΟΣ.

Cold on his brow convulsing stands the dew,

And night eteroal darkens on his view.
DARK Horror! hear

my
call!

Horror! I call thee yet once more!
Stern Genius, hear from thy retreat

Bear me to that accursed shore,
On some old sepulchre's moss-canker'd seat

Where round the stake impaled the Negro writhes.
Beneath the Abbey's ivied wall
That trembles o'er its shade;

Assume thy sacred terrors then! dispense
Where wrapt in midnight gloom, alone,

The blasting gales of Pestilence !
Thou lovest to lie and hear

Arouse the race of Afric, holy Power!
The roar of waters near,

Lead them to vengeance! and in that dread hour
And listen to the deep duli groan

When ruin rages wide,
Of some perturbed sprite
I will behold and smile by Mercy's side.

1791
Borne fitful on the heavy gales of night.

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