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As wigwam wild, that shrouds the native frore
On the bleak coast of frost-barr'd Labrador.
Approach, and through the unlatticed window peep,
Loaded and primed, and prompt from desperate hand, Generous as he, who now for freedom bawls,
Rifle and fowling-piece beside him stand, Now gives full value for true Indian shawls;
While round the but are in disorder laid O'er court, o'er custom-house, his shoe who flings, The tools and booty of his lawless trade; Now bilks excisemen, and now bullies kings,
For force or fraud, resistance or escape, Like his, I ween, thy comprehensive mind
The crow, the saw, the bludgeon, and the crape. Holds laws as mouse-traps baited for mankind; His pilfer'd powder in yoo nook he hoards, Thine eye, applausive, each sly vermin sees,
And the fileh'd lead the church's roof affordsThat baulks the snare, yet battens on the cheese; (llence shall the rector's congregation fret, Thine car has heard, with scorn instead of awe, That wbile his sermon 's dry, his walls are wet.) Our buckskin'd justices expound the law,
The fish-spear barb'd, the sweeping nel are there, Wire-draw the acts that fix for wires the pain,
Doe-hides, and pheasant pluines, and skins of hare, And for the netted partridge noose the swain;
Cordage for toils, and wiring for the snare. And thy vindictivearm would fain have broke
Barter'd for game from chase or warren won, The last light fetter of the feudal yoke,
Yon cask holds moonlight, run whicn moon was none: To give the denizens of wood and wild,
And late-snatch'd spoils lie slow'd in hutch apart, Nature's free race, to each her free-born child. To wait the associate higgler's evening cart. Hence hast thou mark'd, with grief, fair London's race Mock'd with the boon of one poor Easter chace,
Look on his pallet foul, and mark his rest : And longd to send them forth as free as when What scenes perturb'd are acting in his breast! Pourd o'er Chantilly tlie Parisian train,
His suble brow is wet and wrung with pain, When musket, pistol, blunderbuss combined,
And his dilated nostril toils in vain, And scarce the field-pieces were left behind!
For short and scant the breath each effort draws, A squadron's charge cach leveret's heart dismay'd,
And 'twixt each cffort Nature claims a pause. On every covey fired a bold brigade :
Beyond the loose and sable neckcloth stretchd, La Douce Humanité approved the sport,
His sinewy throat seems by convulsion twitch'd, For
great the alarm indeed, yet small the hurt; While the tongue fallers, as to utterance loth, Shouts patriotic solemnized the day,
Sounds of dire import-watch-word, threat, and oath. And Seinc re-echo'd Vive la Liberté!
Though, stupified by toil and druge'd with gin, But mad Citoyen, meek Monsieur again,
The body sleep, the restless guest within
Now plies on wood and wold his lawless frade,
« Was that wild start of terror and despair, Of sylvan liberty o'er feudal laws.
Those bursting cyc-balls, and that wilder'd air,
Signs of compunction for a murder'd hare? Seek we yon glades, where the proud oak o'ertops
Do the locks bristle and the eye-brows arch,
For grouse or partridge massacred in March ?>
No, scoffer, no! Attend, and mark with awe,
There is no wicket in the gate of law!
seen, Or straggling hollies spread a brighter green.
He, that would c'er so lightly set ajar Ilere, little worn, and winding dark and steep,
That awful portal must undo each bar; Our scarce-mark'd path descends yon dingle deep :
Tempting occasion, habit, passion, pride, Follow-but hecdful, cautious of a trip.
Will join to storm the breach, and force the barrier wide. In earthly mire philosophy may slip, Step slow and wary o'er that swampy stream,
That ruffian, whom true men avoid and dread, Till, guided by the charcoal's smothering steam,
Whom bruisers, poachers, smugglers, call Black Ned, We reach the frail yet barricaded door
Was Edward Mansell once;-the lightest heart, Of hovel form'd for poorest of the poor;
That ever play'd on holiday his part! No hearth the fire, no vent the smoke receives,
The leader he in
The harvest feast grew blither when he came,
1 Such is the law in the New Forest, Hampshire, tending greatly (Though placed where still the Conqueror's hests o'er- to increase the varions settlemenis of thieves, snugglors, and deer
stealers, who infest it. In the forest courts the presiding judge awe,
wears as a badge of office an antique stirrap, said to have been And his son's stirrup shines the badge of law),
that of William Rufus. See Mr William Rose's spirited poem, enThe builder claims the unenviable boon,
titled - The Red king... To tenant dwelling, framed as slight and soon
2 A cant name for smuggled spirits.
And liveliest on the chords the bow did glance,
But he, whose humours spurn law's awful yoke, Must herd with those by whom law's bonds are broke. The common dread of justice soon allies The clown, who robs the warren or excise, With sterner felons train'd to act more dread, E'en with the wretch by whom his fellow bled. Then, as in plagues the foul contagions pass, Leavening and festering the corrupted mass, – Guilt leagues with guilt, while mutual motives draw, Their hope impunity, their fear the law; Their foes, their friends, their rendezvous the same, Till the revenue baulkd, or pilferd game, Flesh the young culprit, and example leads To darker villany and direr deeds.
"T is at such a tide and hour,
Gleam on the gifted ken;
Among the sons of men :--
Had follow'd stout and stern,
And Morven long shall tell,
Of conquest as he fell.
Wild howl'd the wind the forest glades along, And oft the owl renewd her dismal song; Around the spot where erst he felt the wound, Red William's spectre walk'd his midnight round. When o'er the swamp he cast his blighting look, From the green marshes of the stagnant brook The bittern's sullen shout the sedges shook ; The waning moon, with storm-presaging gleam, Now gave and now withheld her doubtful beam; The old oak stoop'd his arms, then flung them high, Bellowing and groaning to the troubled sky'T was then, that, couch'd amid the brushwood sere In Malwood-walk, young Mansell watch'd the deer: The fattest buck received his deadly shotThe watchful kecper heard, and sought the spot. Stout were their hearts, and stubborn was their strife, O'erpower'd at length the outlaw drew his knife! Next morn a corpse was found upon the fell The rest his waking agony may tell!
'Lone on the outskirts of the lost,
When down the destined plain
And doom'd the future slain.-
For Flodden's fatal plain;
The yet unchristen d Dane.
With gesture wild and dread;
The lightning's flash more red;
And of the destined dead.
THE DANCE OF DEATH.
Nigut and morning were at meeting
Over Waterloo ; Cocks had sung their earliest greeting,
Faint and low they crew, For no paly beam yet shone On the heights of Mount Saint John; Tempest-clouds prolong'd the sway Of timeless darkness over day; Whirlwind, thunder-clap, and shower, Mark'd it a predestined hour. Broad and frequent through the night Flash'd the sheets of levin-light; Muskets, glancing lightnings back, Show'd the dreary bivouack
Where the soldier lay, Chill and stiff, and drench'd with rain, Wishing dawn of morn again,
Though death should come with day.
Wheel the wild dance,
And thunders rattle loud,
To sleep without a shroud.
Shall the welkin's thunders shame; Elemental rage is tame
To the wrath of man.
Our airy feet,
rye, That sinks its head when whirlwinds rave, And swells again in eddying wave,
As each wild gust blows by;
Our fatal steps that bore,
Of blackening mud and gore.
At moro, gray Allan's mates with awe
The legend heard him say;
Ere closed that bloody day-
His comrades tell the tale On piquet-post, when ebbs the night, And waning watch-fires glow less bright,
And dawu is glimmering pale.
Wheel the wild dance,
And thunders rallle loud,
To sleep without a shroud.
FAREWELL TO THE MUSE.
Wheel the wild dance,
you our ring makes room; Makes space
full wide For martial pride,
For banner, spear, and plume. Approach, draw near, Proud cuirassier!
Room for the men of steel! Through crest and plate,
padsword's weight Both head and heart shall feel.
ENCHANTRESS, farewell, who so oft hast decoy'd me,
At the close of the evening through woodlands to roam, Where the forester, lated, willi wonder espied me
Explore the wild scenes he was quitting for home. Farewell, and take with thee thy numbers wild speaking,
The language alternate of rapture and woe; Oh! none but some lover, whose heart-strings are
breaking, The pang that I feel at our parting can know.
Wheel the wild dance,
And thunders ratile loud,
To slecp without a shroud.
Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came
sorrow, Or pale disappointment, to darken my way, What voice was like thine, that could sing of to-morrow,
Till forgot in the strain was the grief of to-day! But when friends drop around us in life's weary waning,
The grief, queen of numbers, thou canst not assuage: Nor the gradual estrangement of those yet
remaining, The languor of pain, and the chillness of age. "I was thou that once taught me, in accents bewailing,
To sing how a warrior lay stretch'd on the plain, And a maiden hung o'er him with aid unavailing,
And held to his lips the cold goblet in vain ; As vain those enchantments, O queen of wild numbers,
. To a bard when the reign of his fancy is o'er, And the quick pulse of feeling in apathy slumbers
Farewell then-Enchantress ! -I meet thee no more.
Sons of the spear!
In many a ghastly dream;
And hear our fatal scream.
Just when to weal or woe
Our choir of death shall know.
Whcel the wild dance,
And thunders rattle loud,
To sleep without a shroud.
EPITAPH ON MRS EPSKINE. Plain, as her native dignity of mind, Arise the tomb of her we have resigo'd: Uoslaw'd and stainless be the marble scroll, Emblem of lovely form, and candid soul.But, oh! what symbol may avail, to tell The kindness, wit, and sense, we loved so well! What sculpture show the broken ties of life, Here buried with the parent, friend, and wife! Or, on the tablet, stamp each title dear, By which thine uro, Euphemia, claims the tear! Yet, taught, by thy meek sufferance, to assume Patience in anguish, hope beyond the tomb, Resign'd, though sad, this votive verse shall flow, And brief, alas! as thy brief span
Burst, ye clouds, in tempest showers, Redder rain shall soon be ours
See, the east grows wan' Yield we place to sterner game, Ere deadlier bolts and drearier flame
ON TAKING LEAVE OF THE EDINBURGH STAGE.
MR KEMBLE'S FAREWELL ADDRESS, But spied in mouse upon her marriage day,
Forgot her spouse and seized
Even thus my bridegroom lawyer, as you saw, As the worn war-horse, at the trumpet's sound,
Threw off poor me and pounced upon papa. Erects his mane, and neighs, and paws the ground
His neck from Hymen's mystic knot made loose, Disdains the ease his generous lord assigns,
He twisted round my sire's the literal noose. And longs to rush on the emballed lines,
Such are the fruits of our dramatic labour, So I, your plaudits ringing on mine ear,
Since the New Jail became our next door neighbour.' Can scarce sustain to think our parting near; To think my scenic hour for ever past,
Yes, times are changed, for in your
fathers' age And that those valued plaudits are my last.
The lawyers were the patrons of the stage; Why should we parl, while still some powers remain,
llowever high advanced by future fate, That in your service strive not yet in vain?
There stands the bench (points to the Pit) that first reCannot high zeal the strength of youth supply,
ceived their weight. And sense of duty fire the fading eye?
The future legal sage, 't was ours to see,
Doom though unwige'd, and plead without a fee.
But now astounding each poor mimic elf,
Jostead of lawyers comes the Law herself; But all too soon the transient gleam is past,
Tremendous neighbour, on our riglit she dwells, It cannot be repew'd, and will not last;
Builds high her lowers and excavates her cells; Even duty, zeal, and gratitude, can wage
While on the left, she agitates the town But short-lived conflict with the frosts of age.
With the tempestuous question, Up or down? 2 Yes! It were poor, remembering wliat I was,
*Twixt Scylla and Charybdis thus stand we, To live a pensioner on your applause,
Law's final end and law's uncertainty. To drain the dregs of your endurance dry,
Lut soft! who lives at Rome the pope must flatter, And take, as alms, thic praise I once could buy, . And jails and lawsuits are no jesting matter. Till every sneering youth around inquires,
Then-just farewell! we wait with serious awe, « Is this the man who once could please our sires!»
Till your applause or cersure gives the law,
We hold you court and counsel, judge and jury.
Ol, say not, my love, with that mortified air, The last, the closing scene, must be
That your spring-time of pleasure is flown,
Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair,
Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine, You look on better actors, younger men:
Its tendrils in infancy curld, And if your hosoms own this kindly debt
'T is the ardour of August matures us the wine Of old remembrance, low shall mine forget
Whose life-blood enlivens the world. O, how forget !- how oft I hither came
Though thy form, that was fashion d as light as a fay's, In anxious hope, how oft return'd with fame!
Has assumed a proportion more round, llow oft around your circle this weak hand
And thy glance, that was bright as a falcon's at gaze, Has waved immortal Shakspeare's magic wand, Till the full burst of inspiration came,
Looks soberly now on the ground, -
Thy steps still with ecstasy move;
For me the kind language of love!
«O Open the door, some pity to show, When e'en your praise falls faltering from my tongue;
Keen blows the northern wind;
"It is necessary to mention, that the allusions in this piece are all local, and addressed only to the Edinburgh audience. The new prisons of the city, on the Calton Hill, are not far from the
: At this time the pablic of Edinburgh was much agitated by a SPOKEN BY MRS 1. SIDDONS.
lawsuit betwixt the magistrates and many of the inhabitants of the
city, concerning the range of new buildings on the western side of A cat of yore (or clse old Æsop lied)
the North Bridge; which the latter insisted should be removed as a Was changed into a fair and blooming bride,
The glen is white with the drifted snow,
And the path is hard to find.
«No outlaw seeks your castle gate,
From chasing the king's deer,
Might claim compassion here.
that she might see him as he rode past. Her anxiety and eagerness gave such force to her organs, that she is said to have distinguished his horse's footsteps at an incredible distance. But Tushielaw, unprepared for the change in her appearance, and not expecting to see her in that place, rode on without recognizing her, or even slackening his pace. The lady was unable to support the shock, and, after a short struggle, died in the arms of her attendants. There is an instance similar to this traditional tale in Count Hamilton's Fleur d'Épine.
O loyers' eyes are sharp to see,
And lovers' ears in hearing;
Can lend an hour of cheering.
And slow decay from mourning,
To watch her love's returning.
« The hare is crouching in her form,
The hart beside the hind;
No shelter can I find.
« You hear the Ettrick's sullen roar,
Dark, deep, and strong is he, And I must ford the Eurick o'er,
Unless you pity me.
All sunk and dim her eyes so bright,
Her form decay'd by pining,
You saw the taper shining.
Across her cheek was flying;
Her maidens thought her dying.
« The iron gate is bolted hard,
At which I knock in vain;
Who hears me thus complain.
« Farewell, farewell! and Mary grant,
When old and frail you be, You never may the shelter want,
That's now denied to me.»
Yet keenest powers to see and hear
Seem'd in her frame residing;
She hcard her lover's riding;
She knew, and waved to greet him;
As on the wing to meet him,
The ranger on his couch lay warm,
And heard him plead in vain ; But oft, amid December's storm,
He 'll hear that voice again :
He came-he pass'd-an heedless gaze,
As o'er some stranger, glancing ;
Lost in his courser's prancing-
Returns each whisper spoken,
Which told her heart was broken.
For lo, when through the vapours dank,
Morn shone on Ettrick fair, A corpse amid the alders rank,
The Palmer welier'd there.
THE MAID OF NEIDPATH.
me, And climb'd the tall vessel to sail
yon There is a tradition in Tweeddale, that when Neid- o weary betide it! I wander'd beside it, path Castle, near Peebles, was inhabited by the Earls of
And bann'd it for parting my Willic and me. March, a mutual passion' subsisted between a daughter of that noble family, and a son of the Laird of Tushie- Far o'er the wave hast thou follow'd thy fortune, law, in Ettrick Forest. As the alliance was thought Oft fought the squadrons of France and of Spain; unsuitable by her parents, the young man went abroad. Ae kiss of welcome 's worth twenty at parting, During his absence, the lady fell into a consumption, Now I hae gotten my Willie again. and at length, as the only means of saving her life, her father consented that her lover should be recalled. On When the sky it was mirk, and the winds they were the day when he was expected to pass through Peebles, wailing, on the road to Tushielaw, the young lady, though I sat on the beach wi' the tear in my ce, much exhausted, caused herself to be carried to the And thought o' the bark where my Willie was sailing, balcony of a house in Peebles, belonging to the family, And wish'd that the tempest could a' blaw on me.