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He clench'd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand;
He stretch'd with one buffet that page on the strand;
As back from the stripling the broken casque rolla,
You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold.
Short time had Count Albert in horror to staré
On those death-swimming eye-bails, and blood-clotted

hair;
For down came the Templars, like Cedron in flood,
And dyed their long lances in Saracen blood.
The Saracens, Kurdmans, and Ishmaelites yield
To the scallop, the saltier, and crosletted shield;
And the eagles were gorged with the infidel dead,
From Bethsaida's fountains to Napthali's head.

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used, the timorous prey moss, and moor, and holt, and hill; run, he feels his strength decay, And trusts for life his simple skill.

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High o'er the sinner's humbled head

At length the solemn silence broke; And from a cloud of swarthy red,

The awful voice of ikunder spoke.

« Oppressor of creation fair!

Apostate spirits' hardend tool! Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor!

The measure of thy cup is full.

The author had resolved to omit the following version of a well-known poem, in any collection which he might make of his poctical trifles. But the publishers having pleaded for its admission, the author has consented, though not unaware of the disadvantage at which this youthful essay (for it was written in 1795) must appear with those wbich have been executed by much more able hands, in particular that of Mr Taylor of Norwich, and tbat of Mr Spencer,

The following translation was written long before the author saw any other, and originated in the following circumstances. A lady of high rank in the literary world read this romantic tale, as translated by Mr Taylor, in the house of the celebrated Professor Dugald Stewart of Edinburgh. The author was not present, nor indeed in Edinburgh at the time; but a gentleman, who had the pleasure of hearing the ballad, afterwards told him the story, and repeated the remarkable chorus

« Be chased for ever through the wood;

For ever roam the affrighted wild; And let thy fate instruct the proud, God's meanest creatare is his child.s

"T was bushid: one flash, of sombre glare,

With yellow tinged the forests brown; L'p rose the Wildgrave's brisding hair,

And horror chill'd each nerve and hone.

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High o'er the sinner's humbled head

At length the solemn silence broke; And from a cloud of swarthy red,

The awful voice of thunder spoke.

« Oppressor of creation fair!

Apostate spirits' harden'd tool ! Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor!

The measure of thy cup is full.

The author had resolved to omit the following version of a well-known poem, in any collection which he might make of his poetical trifles. But the publishers having pleaded for its admission, the author has consented, though not unaware of the disadvantage at which this youthful essay (for it was written in 1795) must appear with those which have been executed by much more able hands, in particular that of Mr Taylor of Norwich, and that of Mr Spencer.

The following translation was written long before the author saw any other, and originated in the following circumstances. A lady of high rauk in the literary world read this romantic tale, as translated by Mr Taylor, in the house of the celebrated Professor Dugald Stewart of Edinburgh. The author was not present, nor indeed in Edinburgh at the time; but a gentleman, who had the pleasure of hearing the ballad, afterwards told him the story, and repeated the remarkable chorus

« Be chased for ever through the wood;

For ever roam the affrighted wild; And let thy fate instruct the proud,

God's meanest creature is his child.»

*T was hushid: one flash, of sombre glare,

With yellow tinged the forests brown; U'p rose the Wildgrave's bristling hair,

And horror chill'd each nerve and bone.

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