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No more I weep. They do not sleep. | Revere his consort's faith, his father's + fame,
And spare the meek usurper's † holy head.
Above, below, the rose 9 of snow,
Twin'd with her blushing foe we spread :
Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom,
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. «Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
« • Edward, lo! to sudden fate Give ample room, and verge enough
(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) The characters of Hell to trace.
Half of thy heart we consecrate. I Mark the year, and mark the night,
(The web is wove. The work is done.) When Severn shall re-echo with affright (ring, Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roofs that Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn : Shrieks of an agonizing king;
In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, She-wolf of France +, with unrelenting fangs, They melt, they vanish from my eyes. That tears the bowels of thy mangled mate, But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ? The scourge of Heaven. † What terrours round Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! him wait!
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul ! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd; No more our long-lost Arthur ** we bewail. [hail ! And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind. All-hail, ye genuine kings tt; Britannia's issue, " " Mighty Victor, mighty Lord,
“ Girt with many a baron bold Low on his funeral couch he lies ! S
Sublime their starry fronts they rear ; No pitying heart, no eye, afford
And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old, A tear to grace his obsequies.
In bearded majesty, appear.
In the midst a form divine !
Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.
What strains of vocal transport round her play; In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;
Hear from the grave, great Taliessin ft, hear; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway, Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening- Waves in the eye of Heaven her many-colour'd prey.
wings. * • Fill high the sparkling bowl,
* Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, The rich repast prepare :
who struggled hard to save her husband and her Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast : Close by the regal chair
+ Henry the Fifth. Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
| Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to Heard ye the din of battle bray ,
the crown. Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
§ The white and red roses, devices of York and Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course, Lancaster. And through the kindred squadrons mow their way. | The silver-boar was the badge of Richard the Ye towers of Julius **, London's lasting shame,
whence he was usually known in his own With many a foul and midnight murther fed, time by the name of The Boar.
q Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of Berkley castle.
her affection for her lord is well known. The mo4 Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adul- numents of his regret, and sorrow for the loss of terous queen.
her, are still to be seen at Northampton, GeddingTriumphs of Edward the Third in France. ton, Waltham, and other places. Ś Death of that king, abandoned by his children, ** It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers that King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-land, and and his mistress.
should return again to reign over Britain. 1 Edward the Black Prince, dead some time # Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, before his father.
that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster. this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the
Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, house of Tudor. Edward the Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. be- 11 Taliessin, chief of the bards, flourished in the jeved to be murdered secretly in the Tower of sixth century. His works are still preserved, and London. The oldest part of that structure is vul- his memory' held in high veneration among his çarly attributed to Julius Cæsar.
“ The verse adorn again
Mista, black terrific maid, Fierce War, and faithful Love,
Sangrida, and Hilda, see, And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.
Join the wayward work to aid : In buskin'd measures * move
'Tis the woof of victory. Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, With Horrour, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
Ere the ruddy Sun be set, A voice +, as of the cherub-choir,
Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Gales from blooming Eden bear;
Blade with clattering buckler meet, And distant warblings † lessen on my ear,
Hauberk crash, and helmet ring.
Let us go, and let us fly,
Where they triumph, where they die. And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me: with joy I see
As the paths of Fate we tread, The different doom our Fates assign.
Wading through th' ensanguin'd field; Be thine Despair, and scepter'd Care:
Gondula, and Geira, spread To triumph, and to die, are mine."
O'er the youthful king your shield.
Ours to kill, and ours to spare :
(Weave the crimson web of war.) THE FATAL SISTERS. S
They, whom once the desert-beach
Pent within its bleak domain,
O'er the plenty of the plain.
Low the dauntless Earl is laid,
Gor'd with many a gaping wound: IN THE ORCADES OF THOR MODUS TORFÆUS; HAFNIR, Fate demands a nobler head; 1697, FOLIO; AND ALSO IN BARTHOLINUS.
Soon a king shall bite the ground.
Vitt er oprit fyrir valfalli, &c.
Long his loss shall Eirin weep,
Ne'er again his likeness see;
Strains of immortality!
Now the storm begins to lour,
(Haste, the loom of Hell prepare,) Iron-sleet of arrowy shower
Hurtles in the darken'd air. Glittering lances are the loom,
Where the dusky warp we strain, Weaving many a soldier's doom,
Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane.
Horrour covers all the heath,
Clouds of carnage blot the Sun.
Sisters, cease, the work is done.
See the griesly texture grow,
('T is of human entrails made,) And the weights that play below,
Each a gasping warrior's head. Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,
Shoot the trembling cords along; Sword, that once a monarch bore,
Keep the tissue close and strong. Shakspeare. + Milton. # The succession of poets after Milton's time.
$ The Valkyriur were female divinities, servants of Odin (or Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their name signifies choosers of the slain. They were mounted on swift horses, with drawn swords in their hands; and in the throng of battle selected such as were destined to slaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, the hall of Odin, or paradise of the brave; where they attended the banquet, and served the departed heroes with horns i of mead and ale.
Hail the task, and hail the hands!
Songs of joy and triumph sing!
Triumph to the younger king.
Learn the tenour of our song.
Far and wide the notes prolong.
Each her thundering falchion wield;
Hurry, hurry to the field.
What dangers Odin's child await,
Who the author of his fate?
Pr. In Hoder's hand the hero's doom :
Leave me, leave me, to repose.
0. Prophetess, my spell obey :
Once again arise, and say,
Who th' avenger of his guilt,
By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt?
Pr. In the caverns of the west,
By Odin's fierce embrace comprest, UPROSE the King of Men with speed,
A wondrous boy shall Rinda bear, And saddled straight his coal-black steed;
Who ne'er shall comb his raven-hair, Down the yawning steep he rode,
Nor wash his visage in the stream, That leads to Hela's * drear abode.
Nor see the Sun's departing beam: Him the Dog of Darkness spied,
Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile His shaggy throat he open'd wide,
Flaming on the funeral pile. While from his jaws, with carnage fillid,
Now my weary lips I close : Foam and human gore distill’d;
Leave me, leave me, to repose. Hoarse he bays with hideous din,
0. Yet awhile my call obey, Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin ;
Prophetess, awake, and say, And long pursues, with fruitless yell,
What virgins these, in speechless woe, The father of the powerful spell.
That bend to earth their solemn brow, Onward still his way he takes,
That their flaxen tresses tear, (The groaning Earth beneath him shakes,)
And snowy veils, that float in air. Till full before his fearless eyes
Tell me whence their sorrows rose :
Then I leave thee to repose.
Pr. Ha! no traveller art thou,
King of Men, I know thee now, Where long of yore to sleep was laid
Mightiest of a mighty line. The dust of the prophetic maid.
0. No boding maid of skill divine Facing to the northern clime,
Art thou, nor prophetess of good; Thrice he trac'd the Runic rhyme;
But mother of the giant-brood ! Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread,
Pr. Hie thee hence, and boast at home, The thrilling verse that wakes the dead;
That never shall inquirer come
To break my iron-sleep again;
Pr. What call unknown, what charms pre- Never, till substantial Night
Has re-assum'd her ancient right; Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite,
Till wrapp'd in flames, in ruin hurl'd,
Sinks the fabric of the world.
THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN.
0. A traveller, to thee unknown, Is he that calls, a warrior's son.
FROM MR. EVANS'S SPECIMENS OF THE WELSH POETRY; Thou the deeds of light shalt know;
LONDON, 1764, QUARTO.
Owen's praise demands my song,
Owen swift, and Owen strong;
Fairest flower of Roderic's stem,
Gwyneth's g shield, and Britain's gem. O'er it hangs the shield of gold; *T is the drink of Balder bold :
+ Lok is the evil being, who continues in chains Balder's head to death is given,
till the twilight of the gods approaches, when he Pain can reach the sons of Heaven !
shall break his bonds; the human race, the stars, Unwilling I my lips unclose:
and Sun, shall disappear; the earth sink in the Leave me, leave me, to repose.
seas, and fire consume the skies : even Odin him0. Once again my call obey,
self and his kindred deities shall perish. Por a Prophetess, arise, and say,
further explanation of this mythology, see Mallet's
Introduction to the History of Denmark, 1755, • Niflheimr, the Hell of the Gothic nations, con- quarto. sisted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all | Owen succeeded his father Griffin in the prinsuch as died of sickness, old age, or by any other cipality of North Wales, A. D. 112. This battle Eneans than in battle: over it presided Hela, the was fought near forty years afterwards. goddess of death.
§ North Wales.
He nor heaps his brooded stores,
Big with hosts of mighty name,
Dauntless on his native sands The dragon-son t of Mona stands ;
In glittering arms and glory drest,
† The red dragon is the device of Cadwallader, which all his descendants bore on their banners.
« Ode to
TOBIAS SMOLLETT, well known in his time for the in this collection, as the author of « The Tears variety and multiplicity of his publications, was of Scotland,” the “Ode to Leven-Water,” and born in 1720, at Dalquhurn, in the county of Dum- some other short pieces, which are polished, tender, barton. He was educated under a surgeon in and picturesque; and, especially, of an Glasgow, where he also attended the medical lec- Independence," which aims at a loftier Aight, and tures of the University; and at this early period he perhaps has few superiors in the lyric style. gave some specimens of a talent for writing verses. Smollett married a lady of Jamaica : he was, As it is on this ground that he has obtained a place unfortunately, of an irritable disposition, which in the present collection, we shall pass over his involved him in frequent quarrels, and finally various characters of surgeon's mate, physician, shortened his life. He died in the neighbourhood historiographer, politician, miscellaneous writer, of Leghorn, in October, 1771, in the fifty-first and especially novellist, and consider his claims as year of his age. a minor poet of no mean rank. He will be found,
THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.
O baneful cause, oh, fatal morn,
Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn
The pious mother doom'd to death,
ODE TO LEVEN-WATER.
On Leven's banks, while free to rove,
Pure stream ! in whose transparent wave