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SYR KEGINALDE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 Cfje Elacfe Cotoer. 
 
 A Romance of the Twelfth Century, 
 
 WITH 
 
 TALES 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD WEDLAKE BRAYLEY 
 
 AND 
 
 WILLIAM HERBERT. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by J. Swan, Angel Street; 
 FOR VERNOR AND HOOD, POULTRY. 
 
 1803. 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 Thi Initials of the Authors are inserted after the Names of 
 their respective Pieces. 
 
 TALES. 
 
 Page 
 
 Syr Regimlde H fy B 3 
 
 Devil and the Lawyer B 41 
 
 Exciseman s Blunder B 49 
 
 Cambridge Scholar; or, the Ghost of a Scrag of 
 
 Mutton B 57 
 
 Flitch of Bacon B 67 
 
 Origin of Female Beauty B 75 
 
 Traveller and Sexton //.... 81 
 
 Fair Ellen H 93 
 
 The Bloody Hand B 99 
 
 ODES. 
 
 The Storm H 123 
 
 Summons to arms B 131 
 
 To Superstition H . . . . 135 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The First Lesson B 149 
 
 Tlie Mariner s Comfort B 150 
 
 The Poet B 151 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Address to a Spider B 152 
 
 Disappointment /?.■.,. 153 
 
 Summer Evening.. //.... 154 
 
 Valentine's Morn B 157 
 
 The Tears of Laura B 159 
 
 Spring Morning H. . . . 1 60 
 
 The Cowslip Girl B 162 
 
 Genius and Industry //..♦• 164 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Engaged in pursuits far different to those 
 of poetry, the authors of the following pages 
 do not present them to the world as the bril- 
 liant corruscations of superior genius : most 
 of them, indeed, were w r ritten with no higher 
 aim than to amuse a circle of friends; yet, 
 they have no wish to urge their claim to at- 
 tention from these reasons, being convinced 
 that private partiality is too frequently the 
 bane of public reputation. If the pieces are 
 deemed unworthy in other respects, friendly 
 approval will constitute but a weak apology 
 for their defective properties, and the authors 
 shall feel no desire to preserve their offspring 
 from a deserved neglect. That they are at 
 present thought worthy of notice, is proved 
 by their publication ; for, had they been sup- 
 posed entirely destitute of merit, the world 
 would never have been troubled to peruse 
 
ADVERTISEMENT, 
 
 them, c If I am convicted of dullness/ says 
 Burns, whom Nature nursed, and Harmony 
 taught to speak, • consign me to my native 
 oblivion!' — The sentiment is congenial to the 
 feelings of those with whom these pages ori- 
 ginate; and, if condemned, they will not 
 murmur at the infliction of the sentence. 
 
 Nov. 1, 1803. 
 
SYR REGINALDE; 
 
 CI;e SBlacfc Cotoer. 
 
'• 
 
SYR REGINALDE; 
 
 OB, 
 
 €i)e Black £otoer. 
 
 High on the Black Tower's ruin'd walls 
 
 Shone the red gleams of parting day ; 
 Whilst onward, by the Vaga's rapid falls, 
 
 A Pilgrim wound his toilsome way. 
 His furrow'd cheek bespoke a heart where Care 
 
 Had batten'd deep, delighted with her prey $ 
 And, ever and ano»in sad despair, 
 
 He ftruck his breast, and heav'd a piteous sigh, 
 Whilst tears of bitter anguish stream'd from either eye. 
 
6 syr "reginald'e; 
 
 Him winding up the steep a Hermit saw, 
 
 As home he sped, to trim his ev'ning blaze 
 With gather'dleaves,which,chiird by Nature's law, 
 
 Had fallen with the autumn's closing rays, 
 And, mould'ring, strew'd in heaps the forest ways. 
 
 Much wond'ring at the sight, with hasty tread, 
 He sought the path, and met the stranger's gaze; 
 
 Who, at the Hermit's coming, rais'd his head, 
 A nd listen'd to his speech in silence and amaze. 
 
 " Pilgrim, whither would' st so faft ? — 
 Shrewdly bites the northern blast ! 
 Black the gath'ring tempest lours \ 
 Teems the gale with whelming show'rs -, 
 Cold the mists of twilight grey 
 O'er the freezing vallies play : 
 
 M Stormy roars yon blust'ringj^ea ! 
 
 -Pilgrim, bend thy steps with me !" 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 7 
 
 ' Oh ! rev'rend Hermit," quick the ftranger cried, 
 
 * Yon mouldring towers attract my weary soul, 
 That raise their ruins high in sullen pride, 
 
 Where o'er their rocky base the big waves roll." — 
 " Those towers that threaten o'er the green-sea flood, 
 
 Know'st thou not, Pilgrim, tortur'd souls intest ? 
 There screams are heard ; and groans, and sights of blood 
 
 The sad benighted traveller molest, 
 And fill with visionary fears his lab'ring breast," 
 
 u Father," the Pilgrim said, " those gloomy walls 
 
 Inclose a secret, pregnant with my fate ; 
 To that dread roof not chance, but duty calls j 
 
 Attend me there, the tale I will relate, 
 And paint the sorrows of my hapless state."— 
 
 " Not for a thousand worlds !" the thermit cries, 
 ' ' Will I await thee to that haunted place ; — 
 
 There spirits howl, and loathsome f6frris arise, 
 And fiends malignant stalk with wild and hurried pac 
 
 H 
 
 
8 Syr reginalde; 
 
 u And canst een thou believe such idle tales ?" 
 
 The Pilgrim ask'd with a disdainful smile ; 
 " Thou o'er whose head so many wintry gales 
 
 Have chilling past? — or does thy dress beguile, 
 Clothing in holy garb some purpose vile?" 
 
 " Not so, my son," the Hermit made reply, 
 u Religion burns with fervour in my heart; 
 
 Nor ever did my language truth belie, 
 Nor I in schemes of rapine take a friendly part. — 
 
 (t But, ah ! my son, if you had heard, like me, 
 
 The direful secrets of that mystic tower, 
 Not all the charms of sweetest minstrelsy, 
 
 Nor sacred writ, nor beauty's 'witching pow'r, 
 Would e'er deftroy the mem'ry of that hour." 
 
 " I know in part," the Pilgrim firmly said, 
 " The horrors shrouded by yon castle-wall, 
 
 And Twill fathom them, or with the dead, 
 ignobly and unknown, this weary frame shall fall ! 
 
 r ••- 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 
 
 <c Ere morning gleams upon those turrets hoar, 
 
 Chacing the dank, cold mists of night away, 
 The direful chambers all will I explore, 
 
 And spread their secrets to the eye of day. — 
 Once more will you attend, oh, father say ? 
 
 No desp'rate motives urge — nor rash despair 3 
 'Tis honour, virtue, calls 3" — " Then I obey 5 
 
 Boldly lead on, my son : — but, ah! beware, 
 For dangers great and manifold await us there." 
 
 And now they reach the mountain's brow 
 With many a painful step — when, lo ! 
 The frowning castle high uprears its crest : 
 On its dim towers the last faint sun-beams rest 5 
 Silence and desolation reign around, 
 And noxious weeds and ruins strew the ground ; 
 With signs of fear the Hermit lifts his eyes; — 
 The Pilgrim's bosom heaves unwonted sighs. 
 
10 syr reginalde; 
 
 A moat and draw-bridge now appear, 
 And next a court, wild, dark, and drear ; 
 Portals of brass, with studded steel, 
 A gloomy Gothic hall reveal ! 
 Where sculptures from th* historic page, 
 Rudely bespeak the Saxon age. 
 The " antique columns massy proof" 
 Support the high and vaulted roof; 
 Deep scarr'd by Time, the rifted floor 
 Full many a weed and nettle bore; 
 And ivy, in luxuriant pride, 
 Mantled the ruins' rugged side. 
 
 The Hermit strikes a light, the sticks in order lays, 
 
 And soon they crackling burn, and make a cheerful blaze ; 
 
 Then from his scrip pulls out the careful hoard, 
 
 And spreads the light repast upon the board : 
 
 t 
 Cresses, and fruit, and water crystal-clear, 
 
 Supply the homely, though substantial, cheer. 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 11 
 
 ** Now father tell ! — why is this rev rend pile 
 
 Deserted thus?" — the Pilgrim sighing said; 
 t( Why from these walls is mirth a sad exile? — 
 
 Hollow they echo to the silent tread, 
 As if we pac'd the chambers of the dead !" 
 
 " These gloomy halls, where now rude nettles grow, 
 Rich triumphs grac'd, by winning beauty led ; 
 
 But fate unpitying struck the sudden blow, 
 Which crush'd Syr REGiNALDE/andlaidMATiLDA low- 
 
 " Syr Reginalde, a brave and virtuous knight, 
 
 The lordly owner was of this domain 5 
 And he had sometime woo'd a virgin bright, 
 
 The lov'd Matilda •> — seeking wedlock's chain, 
 To bind their hearts where soft affections reign. 
 
 At length the maiden to his ardent pray'r 
 Had blush'd consent; — and soon became his own : 
 
 But, ah ! felicity on earth how rare ! 
 How quick their ev'ry hope of happiness was flown ! 
 
12 syr reginalde; 
 
 " The knight was brave, and at his sov'reign's call, 
 Eftsoons he hurried to the tented plain; 
 Thence home returning, on the foe's proud fall, 
 His heart with rapture beats, his bride to see again. 
 
 " High on the Black Tower, ev'ning's breath 
 Wav'd the sable flag of death $ 
 Loud the neighb'ring Convent bell 
 Swung the slow and solemn knell ; 
 Wafted by the rising gale, 
 The sad response enwrapp'd the vale ; 
 The mass and requiem swell the lays \ 
 With tapers did the chapel blaze, 
 And to the poor, in bounteous shares, 
 They give the dole, to gain their prayers, 
 
 " Now the ev'ning's blasts 'gin bjow; 
 Grey mists on the mountain's ride 5 
 The trav'ller feels thin flakes of snow, 
 And cold airs waft his cloak aside. 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 13 
 
 Syr Reginalde soon heard the toll, 
 As he ad vane d — it struck his soul 5— 
 Alarm 'd, he spurs his foaming steed, 
 And through the forest flies at utmost speed. 
 
 Now distant sounds of woe his ear assail 
 1 Matilda — dies! 
 Vain are your sighs! 
 Syr Reginalde turns pale. 
 
 He wheels his steed around, 
 To see whence comes the sound. — 
 £Jo friendly visage cheers, 
 Still— vacant — all appears ! — 
 Save the oft' quiv'ring of the leafless trees, 
 That spread their naked arms, and sigh with ev'ry breeze. 
 
 Again he spurs his lingering steed, 
 And urges him to swifter speed. 
 
14 SYR REGINALD?; 
 
 Now to the gloomy heav'ns the coming night 
 Is usher'd fast, — the forest path grows dim, 
 Low wheels the web-wing'd bat her murm 'ring flight, 
 And through the air the mystic shadows skim. 
 
 Syr Reginalde heaves a sigh — 
 And now he sees a thousand rays 
 Through the stain d priory windows blaze, 
 And dreads to draw a-nigh : — 
 Hears louder yet the high mass swell, 
 And more distinct and deep the funeral bell ! — 
 
 A voice, like that 'was heard before. 
 Whispers — ( Matilda is no more! — 
 To heavn site's Jled.' 
 
 In agony he turns his head - 
 
 But nothing meets his eyes. 
 Again he spurs his steed, and onward breathless flies ! 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWEK. 15 
 
 Now loud he blows the horn, 
 Suspended at the portal of the tower, 
 Whose walls have often borne 
 The rage of foes, and still defiance lour ! — 
 
 The vaulted courts resound the echoing blast, 
 Arousing from her nest the bird of night; 
 Which (as their lord through weed-clad vaffals past) 
 Fl app'd her dull wings , scream'd loud, and took her flight ! 
 
 \ Are then my fears fulfilled V he wildly cried, — 
 And, rushing, gain'd th' apartment where she died. 
 — There lay his lov'd Matilda — breathless,cold : 
 No crimson tide adown her blue veins roll'd, 
 But shrouded-eyes, wan cheeks, lips deadly pale, 
 (Though red before as roses in the vale) 
 
 Half hid a placid smile 
 
 Her tresses were with flow'rets bound} — 
 Her maidens, weeping, stood around -, 
 
16 SYR REGINALDS J 
 
 And on each side the corse, o'erwhelm'd with woes, 
 A kneeling monk 'sought heav'n for her repose. 
 
 The knight distracted fell ; — and thence convey'd, 
 
 Insensible, was in his chamber laid! 
 
 Ah, had you known her ! — such a heav'nly face ! 
 
 Where shone reflected ev'ry mental grace ! — 
 
 The poorer vassals all at coming eve, 
 
 Were sure her angel bounty to receive : 
 
 Oft on the neighbouring cliff, whose beetling brow 
 
 Frowns on the flood that rolls its stream be low 5 
 
 Mild to her harp she tun d the plaintive song, 
 
 Which Echo still delighted to prolong, 
 
 The spirits of the stream inclind their heads, 
 
 In mute attention on their oozy beds, 
 
 And ling'ring Zephyrus, inticd to stay, 
 
 Sigh'd fragrance as he listen'd to her lay 5 — 
 
 Such was Matilda ! — such the dear ador'd, 
 
 Whose loss so deeply Reginalde deplor'd!" 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 17 
 
 c< O'erwhelm'd with grief, and wedded to despair, 
 
 The caftle own'd no more his mild command 5 
 To join the Crusade did the knight prepare, 
 
 And soon, attended by a pious band, 
 He sought the Pagans in the Holy Land. 
 
 There, as he bravely stemm'd a host of foes, 
 Dying with purple gore pale Judah's sand, 
 
 'Tis said he fell; — more weaken'd by his woes 
 Than by the battle's strife, or pow'r of adverse blows. 
 
 Full seven times circling round the fruitful earth, 
 
 The vivifying sun, with potent ray, 
 Has since renew'd the charms of Nature's birth, 
 
 Op'ning her blossoms to the eye of day, 
 Making her pastures rich, her vallies gay. 
 
 That time I've spent in penitence and pray'r, 
 And pass 'd my hours in solitude away— 
 
 For sights of dread, and noises in the air, 
 Did soon the fear-struck vassals from the mansion scare/' 
 B 
 
18 syr reginalde; 
 
 The Hermit ended — and, with curious eye, 
 Ask'd the sad mystery of the stranger s woes -, — 
 He mark'd the meaning, — heav'd a mournful sigh. 
 And thus began his story to disclose. 
 
 u Syr Reginalde I knew, — the self-same gale 
 
 Wafted our barks to Siloam's holy valej 
 
 And there, contending where the Saviour died, 
 
 We zealous fought the Pagans, side by side. 
 
 Full oft we bravely dar'd the vengeful strife, 
 
 Risk'd every blow that gave the battle life, 
 
 And still escap'dj — but, ah ! one fatal day, 
 
 As ev'ning clos'd upon the doubtful fray, 
 
 A poison'd arrow, wing'd by deadly hate, 
 
 The chosen minister of adverse fate, 
 
 Pierc'd my friend's breast 5 — the venom slowly spread, 
 
 And soon its victim numbered with the dead. 
 
 Yet ere the fleeting ebb of life was run, 
 
 Ere yet his closing eyes exclude the sun, 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 19 
 
 The dying youth fast held my trembling hand, 
 And of his sorrows past thus made me understand. 
 
 • While red -hair'd William wore our English crown, 
 
 On Vaga's stream I liv'd, of high renown, 
 
 My castle grac'd with a most peerless bride, 
 
 I pass'd the cheerful days in festive pride j 
 
 In social revelry the moments flew, 
 
 And my rapt heart nor care nor sorrow knew. 
 
 1 While thus pure happiness my soul engross'd, 
 One fatal night I dear Matilda lost !— 
 Robb'd of a gem, like heav'n's own glories bright, 
 Ah ! who can paint the horrors of that night ! 
 For she was beauteous as the summer's morn, 
 Which azure skies and golden suns adorn j 
 Health smil'd upon her cheek, and in her eye 
 Beam'd meekness, love, and angel charity !— 
 Arrang d like even snow-drops were her teeth, 
 Like the dew'd rose-bud glow'd her fragrant breath, 
 
20 SYR reginalde; 
 
 And when with winning smiles the charmer spake, 
 The playful dimples revel'd in her cheek ! — 
 Adown her fine curv'd shoulders flow'd her hair, 
 Rich yellow ringlets floating in the air. 
 A golden cross which costly gems endeck, 
 With sparkling blaze adorns her snow-white neck, 
 Whilst o'er her taper limbs, of heav'nly mould, 
 The dazzling whiteness of her garments fold, 
 And vainly emulate her purer mind, 
 Enrich'd with every virtue, and refin'd: 
 — But she is gone! — and with her fled content, 
 And all the joys that heav'n, benignant, lent ! 
 
 * Weary of life, disgusted with my home ! 
 
 To Palestine I then rCsolv'd'to roam ; — 
 
 A Norman knight, Syr Mortimer by name, 
 
 Was my near neighbour — friendship's hallow'd flame 
 
 Was lighted up by offices of love, 
 
 And each in acts of kindness mutual strove; 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 21 
 
 To him I told the purpose of my mind, 
 And, if I died, my property consign'd : — 
 My stately castle, all my vast domains, 
 My fertile forests, and well-cultur'd plains. 
 
 ( Soon as my feet had reach'd the destin'd shore, 
 The chosen troop entrusted to my pow'r, 
 Thou know'st, 'twas mine to lead to Jordan's side, 
 Where the stern Saracen our hosts defied. 
 There, as we form'd, expectant of the fight, 
 Our banners waving high, our lances bright $ 
 Gallia's fam'd chief, the haughty Adhermar, 
 Drew off his bands, and shunn'd the coming war, 
 Soon through the camp the deadly schism ran, 
 And anger spread the storm which pride began. 
 Vex'd and disgusted at the wordy strife, 
 Careless of fame, and slightful e'en of life, 
 To England's shores I took my thoughtful way, 
 Unbless'd, alas ! by hope's all-cheering ray 5 
 
22 syr reginalde; 
 
 But ere we reach'd proud Calpe's rocky height, 
 A diftant bark fast gain d upon the sight. 
 Full to the breeze she hoisted every sail, 
 And rapid flew before the swift-wing'd gale; 
 The streamers, deep-em boss'd with golden trim, 
 Glow'd with the semblance of the cherubim ; 
 The flag of peace from her high prow unfurl'd, 
 Display d the Saviour's mission to the world ; 
 And the red-cross, the Christian warrior's sign, 
 Bespoke the goodly ship from Palestine. 
 
 Fast she approach'd, and on her highrwrought deck, 
 A knightly messenger was seen to stand; 
 
 The union cross hung pendant from his neck, 
 
 And palm and olive branches wav'd in either hand. 
 
 * Glory to God on high /' he loudly cried, 
 < Peace to his friends, but vengeance to his foes ! — 
 
 Again with Paynim blood is Judah dy'd, — 
 Again our Christian bands the Pagan hosts oppose ! 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 23 
 
 ' The deadly feuds are quell'd, 
 Which erst depress'd the vigour of our arms!— 
 
 The cause of strife dispelled, 
 Once more our camp resounds to war's alarms. 
 
 # Sir knight, to thee my message chiefly tends ! — 
 
 Our sovereign bids me say, 
 That he impatient waits thee, and thy friends, 
 
 To join the hostile fray!' 
 
 The herald ceas'd — no choice remain'd — and I 
 On Palestine's scorch'd plains resolv'd to die ! 
 
 ' Three days our bark flew gaily o'er the tide 1 , 
 Spurning the waves that lash'd her crimson side; 
 The fourth, — a fearful tempest check'd her course^ 
 Each hour increasing with redoubled force : 
 The billows rushing swell, and the vex'd skies 
 
 Tremendous lour, 
 And, as before the blast the vessel flies, 
 
 Headlong in torrents pour ! 
 
24 SYR reginalde; 
 
 ' The fear-struck pilot leaves the open sea, 
 - And to Sicilia's island bears away. 
 
 ' Long in the sheltering port our anxious sail 
 Watch'd the slow progress of the adverse gale, 
 Whilom my evening custom 'twas to hie 
 Along the beach, if chance I something might espy. 
 
 ' Thus bent— as now the broad and setting sun, 
 Redd'ning the skies — spoke twilight's still return, 
 Unwittingly I reach'd the haven's side; 
 Near which a bark at anchor seem'd to ride. 
 Soon from her boat I saw a party land ; 
 Dark gleam'd their shadows on the yellow strand — - 
 Scarce had they left my ken, when all in sight 
 Appear'd, on barbed steed, a warrior knight; 
 His coated mail was of a sable hue, 
 X funeral plume wav'd solemn o'er his brow; 
 He nearer came, then, slackening his pace, 
 Stopp'd sudden— and gaz'd earnest on my face. 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 25 
 
 * His business I demanded ? — " Knight," said he; 
 w My message high imports much secrecy, 
 And this is public ground — that forest near, 
 Forbids intrusion — On ! and nothing fear V 
 I started ! — dark suspicion, in my breast, 
 Pointed the danger of his bold request. 
 e Stranger/ I answer' d, ( say, does it behove, 
 Unknown, to follow thee to yonder grove? 
 Danger may lurk unseen, or treachery base 
 
 Skulk in the covert of that darksome place/ 
 
 " Knight, you have arms — I'm single and have none, 
 Say, will you follow, or shall I be gone?" 
 
 ' Grasping my sword, I cried, or foe or friend, 
 Lead on, Syr Knight, — thy footsteps I attend ! 
 
 1 And now through many a devious wild he led, — ' 
 
 At last a lonely grassy cirque we tread ; 
 
 The caitiff turns — his scowling eyebrows lour; 
 
 4 Now knight/ he cries, < I have thee in my pow'r !' 
 
26 syr reginalde;" 
 
 Mad furynerv'd my arm— he stamp d the ground — i 
 Fierce hostile villains instantly surround, 
 And clashing arms and armour loud resound. 
 
 ' They strove to se"rze me — I, with well-tried steel 
 And lion-rage, soon made the traitors reel; 
 The recreant knight, ere we began the fray, 
 Sure of success, had silent slunk away; 
 The coward ruffians follow'd — 1 pursu'd, 
 And, ere I reach'd the confines of the wood, 
 Beheld their leader with an arrow's flight 
 Skim the wide plain, and mingle with the night. 
 Fill'd with amaze, distrust confounds my brain, 
 When, from the bosom of a villain slain, 
 A letter, half unfolded, I espied, 
 Which thus the hidden cause of this attempt supplied. 
 * When you have done the deed — instant take horse. 
 And in the forest leave the mangled corse; 
 —I shall have sail'd-^-his vassals much I dread, 
 And they must not suspect — If there found dead, 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 27 
 
 Banditti bear the blame — but prying eyes 
 Montalbert must deceive by some disguise y 
 Nor to the castle come till friendly night 
 Has veiFd surrounding objects from the sight : 
 — Be resolute ! — be bloody ! — be discreet ! — 
 And wealth and Mortimer thy coming greet!"— 
 
 Such were the lines — I like a statue stood. 
 Horror a moment curdled all my blood ! — 
 Dire rage and vengeance high my bosom swell, 
 As from my unnervd hands the billet fell ; 
 Full oft 1 deprecate the treach'rous name, 
 And vow my injur'd honour to reclaim 5 — 
 — But 'twill not be — I feel my approaching end \ 
 The mighty trust devolves upon my friend; 
 — Life ebbs apace ! — R evenge m e — Oh ! — / die ! 
 Farewell /' — He could no more — a deep-drawn sigh, 
 Announc'd the end of frail humanity." 
 
28 syr reginalde; 
 
 The Pilgrim ceas'd — big woes distend his breast, 
 
 And tears 'gin trickle down his furrow'd cheek ! — 
 Him the good man, by answering grief opprest, 
 
 With pity ^* iews, and vainly strives to speak, 
 When noises loud and strange the silence break;— - 
 
 With ponderous sound a massy fragment falls, y 
 The vaulted roofs vibrating seem to quake, 
 
 Volumes of dust bestrew the crumbling walls, 
 And clamour's lengthen'd din th' affrighted ear appals ! 
 
 The fire burnt low and look'd all deadly pale, 
 And soon a loud and piercing shriek was heard, 
 Blue light'nings flash'd, and instantly appear'd 
 
 A warrior all in mail! — 
 His casque was up, and o'er its polish'd gloom 
 
 High watfd a sable plume, 
 Shading with darker lines his lengthen'd face, 
 Which gleam'd, bereft of every mortal grace. 
 

OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 29 
 
 Haggard and wan, the por i aiture of death ; 
 Onwar ' he seem'd to glide, devoid of breath; 
 No word he spake — his glaring orbs of sight 
 Were fix'd and glaz'd — the Hermit sunk with fright, 
 The stranger started — ire flash'd from his eyes, 
 Off flew his Pilgrim's dress, and arm'd, he cries — 
 
 BEHOLD SYR REGINALDE!! 
 
 His words, endowed with more than magic pow'r, 
 
 Y -wrought a wonder strange; the spectre fled! 
 Swift as night's shades, when from his golden bow'r 
 
 The beaming sun lifts his refulgent head, 
 O'er dewy fields his genial warmth to shed. 
 
 Him, scarce less swift, enflam'd by angers glow, 
 Syr Reginalde pursues with hasty tread; 
 
 The Hermit's features mix'd emotions show, 
 And aw'd, he follows on with trembling steps and slow. 
 
30 syr reginalde; 
 
 And now a thick-spread gloom, around, they find 
 
 Unpierc'd, save by a solitary ray 
 That up a narrow staircase seems to wind, 
 
 By which to grope their doubtful, tedious, way, 
 Midst sights of desolation and decay; — 
 
 And oft with outspread arm they grasp the air, 
 As still the ruin d steps would lead astray, 
 
 And oft the Hermit offers up a prayV, 
 And well nigh falls a prey to horror and despair. 
 
 At length they gain the steep and toilsome height, 
 
 And onward pass with caution and with fearj. 
 And now is seen a partial gleam of light, 
 
 And far before a distant tread they hear, 
 That quickens as they still approach more near. 
 
 The knight pursues with wild, increasing pace> 
 When, lo ! an iron portal does appear ! 
 
 With anxious search the hidden spring they trace; 
 It flies — and, op'ning — showsawide and gloomy space 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 31 
 
 Watchful they enter — a new cause alarms— 
 
 For now resounds loud clash and martial din, 
 And ever and anon, the cry " to arms!" 
 
 Urges the mortal conflict to begin, 
 Though fierce contending warriors none are seen. 
 
 The spectre turns — and aims a deadly blow \ 
 The knight eludes the glitt'ring weapon keen, 
 
 And fiercely closes — groans are heard! — and, lo! 
 Unhelm'd — Syr Mortimer's pale cheeks all ghastly show ! 
 
 Help! help! — I'mslain! — oh! help!' he doleful cries. 
 
 — Instant a thousand torches round them blaze, 
 And feed, with marvels new, their straining eyes, 
 
 That eager bend to meet the wishful gaze 
 Of ancient friends, fast rushing different ways! — 
 
 Wonder enchains in adamantine band 
 The straining faculties— 'tis wild amaze ! — 
 
 And for a moment all unconscious stand, 
 Nor eke a single wight a sentence can command! 
 
32 syr reginalde; 
 
 " Some friend this mighty mystery unfold!" 
 
 Syr Reginalde exclaims with heart elate; 
 " Say, whence these pleasing scenes my eyes behold, 
 
 That greet with dreams of bliss my hapless state, 
 And speak the dawning of a brighter fate?" — 
 
 'List,list! — Syr Reginalde!' — a hollow groan, 
 Sepulchral, answers — c ere 'tis yet too late, 
 
 Ere dying Mortimer's for ever gone, 
 For to him only is the mournful secret known.' 
 
 All eyes were in a moment there 'y-bent, 
 
 And panting Expectation tiptoe stood, 
 To mark what now might be the strange event 5 
 
 For well it deem'd the myst'ry meant no good, 
 
 But crimes of dreadful note, and horrid scenes of blood! 
 
 j 
 The kn igh t with dying glance the group survey 'd, 
 
 Guilt, conscious guilt, o'erwhelm'd him like a flood, 
 
 And thrice tospeak his fault'ring tongue essay 'd, 
 
 And thrice with shame's deep blush he turn'd aside his head ! 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWEH. 33 
 
 " Pardon, Syr Knjght, ^h! pardon to my soul ! — 
 
 Ere for my awful reckoning I depart, 
 A fearful list of crimes I must unrol: 
 
 The throbs of conscience wring my tortur'd heart, 
 And at my dreadful weight of guilt I start. 
 
 No crafty subterfuge will now avail, 
 Nor comrort to my wounded mind impart 5 
 
 My hour draws nigh, my senses 'gin to fail, 
 Then hear, oh ! Reginalde, my last, yet hateful tale. 
 
 * When to your envied friendship I aspir'd, 
 
 My bosom rag'd with an unhallow'd flame : — 
 Matilda s beauty every thought had fir'd, 
 
 And deep-laid plots I fram'd — oh! lasting shame, 
 To cause your absence from the peerless dame. 
 
 Too well I sped : — caird to the camp away, 
 You left a traitor guardian of your fame 5 
 
 For, scarcely had you join'd the hostile fray, 
 When with a damned scheme your faith I did betray. 
 c 
 
34* SYR REGINALDS; 
 
 To lure Matilda's heart my wiles prov d vain -, 
 
 Her virtue left me then but this resource ! — 
 A villain — one Montalbert, of my train, 
 
 I brib'd to make a drug, whose potent force 
 Would stop the vital currents in their course, 
 
 But not destroy — twin'd in a flow'ry wreath, 
 A dew-wash'd rose imbib'd the subtle bane, 
 
 Whose scent impeded fair Matilda's breath, 
 And at her lord's return she lay, the counterfeit of death. 
 
 " Lives she !" — Syr Reginalde all wildly cried. 
 
 " Tell me, ah ! tell me, whither does she stray?" 
 " A moment's pause," Syr Mortimer replied, 
 
 Oh ! yet a little moment deign to stay ; — 
 Ere the cold sepulchre receives its prey, 
 
 Your fate mysterious, it is mine to clear ! 
 Fast, fast, I feel my vital powers decay, 
 
 While life remains, oh ! then the sequel hear, 
 And every hidden spring of anguish shall appear. 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 35 
 
 04 To aid my guilty cause the monks had sworn, 
 
 And scarce in earth the injur'd fair was laid, 
 When on a bier, all secretly borne, 
 
 Still sleeping she was hither back convey 'd, 
 And in the dungeon's gloom a prisoner made. — 
 
 Too weak the storm of sorrow to withstand, 
 For change of scene you from your mansion sped. 
 
 And join'd the crusade to the Holy Land, 
 Leaving your castle, servants, ivift at my command . 
 
 *' The better to complete my purpose vile, 
 
 And from the world Matilda's bondage hide, 
 Your vassals subtiliy I did beguile, 
 
 And to their superstition so applied, 
 That none within the castle would abide. 
 
 Your letters at this period homeward sent, 
 Alarm'd me for my safety to provide ) 
 
 And, full resolv'd, I to Sicilia went, 
 There by th'assasin'sblow, your coming to prevent !" 
 
36 SYR REGINALD*; 
 
 " Oh ! base ingratitude !" the hero cries, 
 
 " But much remains to tell — say why this night 
 A second time, in that well-known disguise, 
 
 With added horror burst you on my sight? 
 Why are your followers here in martial plight ? — • 
 
 My vassals too, by some strange chance I see, 
 All ready to oppose in armour bright ! 
 
 Say, what the mighty cause of this can be, 
 Nor longer veil your deeds in trackless mystery ?" 
 
 * I hasten, Reginalde, to tell thee all j — 
 
 Matilda firm oppos'd my curs'd design, 
 And, though my fiery passions urg'd her fall, 
 
 With fresh excuse evaded to be mine, 
 And at her lord's sad loss did inward pine. 
 
 Still I continued humbly to request, 
 Nor did I e'er the suitor soft resign, 
 
 Till whisper d plots alarm'd my jealous breast, 
 And made me instant swear to be of her possess'd. 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 37 
 
 « This night, her faith determined to extort, 
 
 I chose the nuptial bonds to celebrate; 
 But, well appris'd, where I could trust report, 
 
 That from your faithful vassals' deadly hate, 
 Some brooding mischief did my schemes await ; 
 
 I quick resolv'd to practice on their fear, 
 Ere they the rash attack should perpetrate \ — 
 
 All things combin'd, the night was wild and drear. 
 And like a spectre, hence, to you I did appear." 
 
 He stopt — the Hermit Reginalde address'd 
 
 In strains of wonder at the guilty tale; 
 The vassals loud their heart-felt joy expressed, 
 
 And shouts and greetings through the dome prevail, 
 When, lo ! a piercing shriek their ears assail. 
 
 A momentary fear each breast alarms; 
 Syr Reginalde' s flush'd cheeks grow deadly pale, 
 
 And a fair form, with more than mortal charms, 
 Rushes, and, fainting, sinks within his arms^ 
 
38 SYR REGINALDS,* 
 
 " My Reginalde! my long-lost lord r she cries, 
 
 H 'Tis she ! Matilda! my soul's fond desire !" 
 The eager knight with frantic joy replies, 
 
 And gazes on her with a lover s fire, 
 While she with new-born hope seems ready to expire. 
 
 Triumphal strains the vaulted roofs rebound, 
 And rack, with madd'ning pangs and tortures dire, 
 
 The wretched Mortimer, — who, wildly round, 
 Throws a last look, and falls a corse upon the ground, 
 
 w Let his sad obsequies be duly paid," 
 
 Syr Reginalde exclaims, " by morn's pale light, 
 His vassals too release, and, for the dead, 
 
 Let holy church perform the accustom'd ritej 
 For mirth and joy alone shall reign to night." 
 
 He said — and fair Matilda leading on, 
 A splendid banquet meets the wondering sight j— 
 
 The tapers blaze, the vivid lustres shone, 
 Bright with a thousand gems, and glitt 'ring like the sun. 
 
OR, THE BLACK TOWER. 39 
 
 Innumerous vassals, clad in rich array, 
 
 On ev'ry side their glitt'ring ranks unfold, 
 While liv'ried minstrels wake the warbling lay ; 
 
 And silken banners gorgeously unroll'd, 
 Wave their translucent ensigns, starr d with gold ! 
 
 The beam of rapture burns in every eye, 
 Love carols wild his tale, so often told, 
 
 And breathes his soft and most impassion'd sigh, 
 And shakes his roseate wings in joyous extacy. 
 
 The blissful tear bedew'd Matilda s cheek, 
 
 As, turning to her lord with fond delight; 
 She full explain'd, in tuneful accents meek, 
 
 The gorgeous scene that open'd to the sight, 
 And rais'd the wonder of th' admiring knight. 
 
 u Oh ! my lov'd Reginalde, my only joy ! 
 This hall, so gaily spread, so rich bedight, 
 
 But late my utmost hatred did employ, 
 And threaten d every hope for ever to destroy l 
 
40 syr reginalde; 
 
 w Twas here the fallen Mortimer aspir'd, 
 
 To revel in the fulness of his pride ! 
 'Twas here, as lawless love his bosom fir'd, 
 
 He swore, though hell's dire vengeance should betide, 
 That thy Matilda should be made his bride ! — 
 
 But, mark th' unerring rectitude of Heaven, 
 Whose just decrees Guilt's purposes deride! 
 
 Thou to my anxious heart art once more given, 
 Whilst he from life and hope is in an instant driven! 
 
 \ 
 
THE DEVIL 
 
 THE LAWYER. 
 
THE DEVIL 
 
 THE LAWYER. 
 
 Skewing how a knavish Lawyer rode abroad; and wh*t 
 happened*. 
 
 A rogue of a Lawyer rode out one day; 
 O'er a desolate heath he gallop'd away : 
 The wind chilly blew, and the rain fell fast, 
 And the Lawyer shook at the sound of the blast. 
 
 • The idea of this tale originated in perusing a ballad 
 written in a similar measure, in the Annual Anthology, 
 in which a young man becoq^es a victim to the "Destroyer 
 of men" from curiosity. — A proceeding somewhat inconsis- 
 tent with poetical justice. The catastrophe of the above 
 seems less objectionable — the author having expressly de- 
 clared the Lawyer to be a Rogue. 
 
44 DEVIL AND THE LAWYER. 
 
 In the midst of the heath stocd an old oak tree. 
 And the form of its branches was lovely to see; 
 And this beautiful oak as the Lawyer rode under, 
 Was severed in twain by the loud-rolling thunder. 
 
 More cold blew the wind — more fell howl'd theblast, 
 The Lawyer thought ev'ry moment his last; 
 When, to add to his fear, he espied on the road, 
 A monstrous, and ugly, black, venomous toad. 
 
 The blood of the Lawyer was chiH'd at the sight, 
 And even his horse started back with affright; 
 For most foul was the toad, most enormous its size, 
 And the living fire seem'd to flash from its eyes. 
 
 The Lawyer could hardly keep firm on his seat, 
 His pulse for an instant neglected to beat; — 
 When, raising his hand, he his whip gave a smack, 
 And the monster,- so venomous, struck on the back. 
 
DEVIL AND THE LAWYER. 45 
 
 But. nlas! how his frame shook with agoniz d wonder, 
 As the reptile's dark skin he saw parting asunder, 
 And beheld on his haunches the Author of Evil ! 
 'As 1 live/ cried the wretch/'tis Old Nick! 'tis the Dart/ 
 
 The Devil leap'd up with a horrible cry, 
 And his stature was quickly eleven feet high ! — 
 His forehead and cheeks were glowing with flame, 
 Ajid he seem'd to rejoice at the sound of his name. 
 
 O'er his shoulders a quiver of arrows was thrown, 
 In his right claw he grasp'd a huge marrow-bone j— 
 In his left, a large roll of sulphur burnt blue, 
 For pastime, to smoke when he'd nought else to do. 
 
 The Lawyer, with fear grew as pale as a corse, 
 And thrilling with dread, turn'd the head of his horsef \ 
 Then back o'er the heath flew as swift as the wind, 
 In hopes to leave hell's grimly monarch behind. 
 
46 DEVIL AND THE LAWYER. 
 
 More cold blewthe wind, — more fell howl'd the blast, 
 The Lawyer thought every moment his last ; 
 Every tooth in his head chatter'd quick with his fears, 
 For the cry of the Devil still rung in his ears. 
 
 He gallop'd with might — he gallop'd with main, 
 And, when almost arriv'd at the edge of the plain, 
 He look'd round, but his blood in an instant ran colder, 
 For the Old One himself was close to his shoulder. 
 
 The rogue of a Lawyer was ready to drop, 
 His head seem'd whirling around like a top; 
 For, look this side, or that side, or which way he will, 
 O'er his shoulder the Devil was peeping still. 
 
 Then the Lawyer, who feared some dreadful disaster, 
 Clapp'd spurs to his horse, and rode faster and faster; 
 But ride this way, or that way, or which way he will, 
 O'er his. shoulder the Devil was peeping still. 
 
DEVIL AND THE LAWYER. 47 
 
 ■ Why gallop so fast ? — Old Lucifer cried, 
 
 As he padded the hoof by the criminal's side: 
 
 Not a word in reply the Lawyer said, 
 
 But his eyes seem'd ready to burst from his head* 
 
 Why gallop so fast?" — said the Devil again, 
 And he flx'd his claw in the horse's mane 5 
 The heart of the Lawyer shiver'd with dread, 
 And his limbs quak'd with terror, but nothing he said. 
 
 4 Why gallop so fast f — cried the Devil once more, 
 And the Lawyer's teeth chatter'd worse than before : 
 He attempted to speak, but attempted in vain, 
 For fear and remorse were consuming his brain. 
 
 The Wicked One then snatch'd the reins from his hand, 
 And the Lawyer's horse stcpp'd at the word of command. 
 ' When the deeds of a man? quoth Old Nick 'havebeen evil, 
 'lis madness to think he canfyfrom the Devil.' ■■ ■ 
 
48 DEVIL AND THE LAWYER. 
 
 Then Lucifer drew from his quiver a dart, 
 And at once struck it into the Lawyer's heart; 
 And the Lawyer s heart was as black as a coal;— - 
 So the Devil flew away with the Lawyer s soul. 
 
 Henceforth, let all knavish attornies take warning, 
 For the Devil's abroad even, noon, night and morning. 
 
THE 
 
 EXCISEMAN'S BLUNDER. 
 
 D 
 
THE 
 
 EXCISEMAN'S BLUNDER. 
 
 Founded on fact; and attempted to be told in the manner of 
 Peter Pindar. 
 
 W hen rav'nous wolves are cheated of their prey, 
 A sheep suppose, a heifer, or a calf; 
 
 My temper, jocund as the summer's day, 
 Enjoys their disappointment with a laugh. 
 
 So when rapacious ministers of state 
 
 Of ill-form'd speculations feel the smart ; 
 
 With glee my buoyant spirits are elate, 
 
 And dancing are the cockles of my heart. 
 
 Once on a time — no matter when — 
 One of those greedy gentlemen, 
 
 Y'celpt of the Excise; 
 And whom the all-providing law* 
 Have dignified with vulture claws, 
 
 To make of every thing — a prize 3 
 
52 exciseman's blunder. 
 
 Was pacing slow where Thames does swiftly glide, 
 Ergo, was creeping by the river's side, 
 Near to that spot where Billingsgate's sweet dames 
 Politely give, to those who wish 
 For little money to buy fish, 
 A score or two of harsh, ill-sounding names — 
 A something he espied 
 All floating on the tide, 
 That pond'rous seemed and bulky ; 
 But what it was, in vain 
 He strove to ascertain; 
 Its distance from the beach 
 So far beyond his reach, 
 Quite puzzled him, and made him more than sulky — 
 It made him almost mad ! — 
 
 Yet what was to be done r — 
 Of boats there were but one, 
 And that not to be had; 
 For he who own'd the boat had also spied 
 This something floating on the rising tide, 
 
exciseman's blunder. 53 
 
 And, like a dart, 
 With sudden start, 
 Had snatch'd his oars, and row'd away 
 More fast than he had ever row'd before, 
 Thinking, at least, it would the trouble pay 
 Of bringing it on shore. 
 
 Soon he arrived — and our broad arrow spark 
 Perceiv'd, with bounding heart and beaming eye, 
 A monstrous hogshead on the water lie : — 
 Well lined, he hop'd, with brandy, 
 Sugar, or sugar-candy, 
 For over nice he certainly was not, 
 And so that it werejiWd, he little cared with what. 
 
 And now the hogshead, 'midst the exulting crowd, 
 
 That stood upon the strand, 
 And welcom'd its approach with clamours loud, 
 
 Was haul'd to land. — 
 
54 exciseman's blunder. 
 
 But who can paint the Waterman's sad wonder/ 
 
 Or the mobility's surprise ! 
 When the Exciseman — busy son of plunder ! — 
 
 Much like a hungry shark, 
 
 Sprung on the fated mark : 
 " 'Tis mine! 'tis mine!" — he cried, " and this here thing, 
 In the name of George, I seize, our gracious king.' 
 
 The people round about were sorely vex'd 
 At this elucidation of the text, 
 
 Which says, that l might, 
 Will often vanquish right;' 
 They wish'd the vile Exciseman at the deuce, 
 And fairly loaded him with foul abuse, — 
 No matter, 
 Their threats he laugh'd at, and despis'd their clatter". 
 
 In fact, the officer, quite charm'd, delighted, 
 To find his zeal with such a prize requited, 
 
exciseman's blunder. 55 
 
 Permitted them to say whate'er they pleas'd, 
 Whilst he, himself, a wooden hammer seiz'd, 
 And, as the hogshead with the mallet rung, 
 Out flew the bung. 
 
 " Rare stuff! rare stuff! by Jove," th' Exciseman cried, 
 When he the rich and sparkling liquor ey'd : 
 
 * I'll taste a glass"— one glass was not enough 
 Of this most rare, rich, and delicious stuff; — 
 
 He took another — lick'd his lips — and shook his head- 
 
 * Ah ! fine indeed ! 'tis fine old rumj" — he said, 
 " But may I never go to kingdom come, 
 
 If I don't think there's something in the rum!* — 
 Now what this something was he could not say, 
 Yet curiosity, all piping hot 
 To know what in the hogshead he had got, 
 Made him resolve a stave to take away. 
 This was accomplish'd soon — 
 When, lo ! to glut his wond 'ring eyes, 
 
56 exciseman's blunder. 
 
 He saw, amidst the liquor rise, 
 A snake, — a lizard, — and a huge baboon; 
 All which, some virtuoso's itch to tickle, 
 Had been, like cabbages, preserved in pickle. 
 
 Shout after shout — huzzas, and laughter loud, 
 Proclaim'd the satisfaction of the crowd j 
 Till the Exciseman, struck with sore dismay, 
 Much like the greedy hound 
 That burning pudding found, 
 Amidst the general hissing, sneak'd away. 
 
THE 
 
 CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR, 
 
 THE GHOST OF A SCRAG OF MUTTON. 
 
THE 
 
 CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 
 
 In the days that are past, by the banks of a stream 
 
 Whose waters but softly were flowing, 
 With ivy o'ergrown, an old mansion-house stood, 
 That was built on the skirts of a chilling damp wood, 
 Where the yew-tree and cypress were growing. 
 
 The villagers shook as they pass'd by the doors, 
 When they rested at eve from their labours 5 
 And the traveler many a furlong went round, 
 If his ears once admitted the terrific sound 
 Of the tale that was told by the neighbours. 
 
60 CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 
 
 They said, that the house on the skirts of the wood 
 
 By a saucer-ey'd Ghost was infested, 
 Which fill'd ev'ry heart with confusion and fright, 
 By assuming strange shapes in the dead o' the night, 
 Shapes monstrous, and foul, and detested. 
 
 And truly they said — and the Master well knew 
 
 That the Ghost was the greatest of evils ; 
 For no sooner the bell of the mansion tollcl one, 
 Than the frolicksome imp in a fury began 
 To caper like ten thousand devils. 
 
 He appeard in all forms the most strange and uncouth- 
 Sure never was goblin so daring ! 
 He utter' d loud shrieks and most horrible cries, 
 Curs'd his body and bones, and his sweet little eyes* 
 Till his impudence grew beyond bearing. 
 
CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 6l 
 
 Just at this nick o'time, as the Master's sad heart 
 
 With anguish and sorrow was swelling, 
 He heard that a Scholar, with science replete, 
 Full of mystical lore as an egg is with meat, 
 Had taken at Cambridge a dwelling. 
 
 The Scholar was vers'd in all magical arts, 
 
 Mest famous was he throughout College: 
 To the Red Sea full many an unquiet ghost, 
 To repose with King Pharoah and his mighty host, 
 He had sent, through his powerful knowledge. 
 
 To this Scholar so learn d, Master he went, 
 
 And, as lowly he bent with submission, 
 Told the freaks of the Ghost, and the horrible frights 
 That prevented his household from resting o' nights> 
 And offer'd this humble petition : 
 
62 CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 
 
 u That he, the said Scholar, in wisdom so wise, 
 Would the mischievous fiend lay in fetters ; 
 And send him, in torments for ever to dwell, 
 To the nethermost pit of the nethermost hell, 
 For destroying the sleep of his betters." 
 
 The Scholar, so vers'd in all mystical lore, 
 
 Told the Master his pray r should be granted -, — 
 Then order'd his horse to be saddled with speed, 
 And perch'd on the back of the cream-colour'd steed, 
 Trotted off to the house that was haunted. 
 
 He enter d the doors at the fall o' the night — 
 
 The trees of the forest 'gan shiver; 
 The hoarse raven croak'd, and blue burnt the light, 
 The owl loudly shriek'd, and, pale with affright, 
 
 The servants like aspins did quiver. 
 
CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 63 
 
 " Bring some turnips and milk!" theScholar he cry'd, 
 
 In a voice like the echoing thunder : — 
 They brought him some turnips, and suet beside, 
 Some milk and a spoon, and his motions they ej d, 
 Quite lost in conjecture and wonder. 
 
 He took up the turnips and peel'd off the skin, 
 
 Put them into a pot that was boiling j 
 Spread a table and cloth, and made ready to sup, 
 Then call'd for a fork, and the turnips fish'd up 
 In a hurry, for they were a-spoiling. 
 
 He mash'd up the turnips with butter and milk \ — 
 
 The hail at the casement 'gan clatter j 
 Yet the Scholar ne'er heeded the tempest without, 
 But, raising his eyes, and turning about, 
 Ask'd the maid for a small wooden platter, 
 
64 CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 
 
 He mash'd up the turnips with butter and milk — 
 
 The storm came on thicker and faster: 
 The lightnings blue flash'd, and with terrific din 
 The wind at each crevice and cranny came in, 
 Tearing up by the roots lath and plaster. 
 
 He mash'd up the turnips with butter and milk — 
 
 The mess would have ravish'd a glutton j 
 When, lo ! his sharp bones hardly cover'd with skin, 
 The Ghost, from a nook o'er the window peep'd in, 
 In the form of a Boil'd Scrag of Mutton. 
 
 "Ho ! ho !" said the Ghost, "what art doing below,?** 
 
 The Scholar look'd up in a twinkling — 
 u The times are too bad to afford any meat, 
 So, to render my turnips more pleasant to eat, 
 A few grains of pepper I'm sprinkling." 
 
CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 65 
 
 Then he caught up a fork, and the Mutton he seiz'd, 
 
 And sous'd it at once in the platter ; 
 Threw o'er it some salt, and a spoonful of fat, 
 And before the poor Ghost could tell what he was at, 
 He was gone! — like a mousedown the throat of a cat. 
 
 And this is the whole of the matter* ! 
 
 * The idea of this tale was derived from the following re- 
 lation, which the writer met with in a miscellaneous vo- 
 lume entitled The Gleaner. The relation itself is pro- 
 fessed to have been extracted from a work called, Jackson's 
 State of the Defunct. P . 9 7 , 
 
 " An acquaintance of mine, an Oxford scholar, hath to 
 my certain knowledge and belief, cured many disorders, and 
 laid the ghosts of many disturbed people, when no other 
 person could do them. In a village where I lived, I do 
 know that there was a great house, a mansion-house, 
 haunted by a spirit that turned itself into a thousand 
 shapes and forms, but generally came in the figure of a 
 boiled scrag of mutton, and had baffled and defied the 
 learned men of both Universities ; but this being told to 
 my friend, who was a descendant and relation of the learn- 
 ed Friar Bacon, he undertook to lay it, and that even with- 
 out his books ; and it was done in this manner : he ordered 
 
66 CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 
 
 some water to be put into a clean skillet, that was new, and 
 had never been on the fire. When the water boiled, he 
 himself pulled off his hat and shoes, and then took seven 
 turnips, which he pared with a small penknife that had 
 been rubbed and whetted on a loadstone, and put them into 
 the water. When they were boiled, he ordered some but- 
 ter to be melted in a new glazed earthen pipkin, and then 
 mashed the turnips in it. Just as this was finished, 1 
 myself saw the ghost in the form of a Boiled Scrag of Mut- 
 ton, peep in at the window, which I gave him notice of, 
 and he stuck his fork into him, and soused both him and 
 the turnips into a pewter dish, and eat both up. And the 
 house was ever after quiet and still. Now this 1 should 
 not have believed, or thought true, but 1 stood by, and saw 
 the whole ceremony performed!!!" 
 
THE FLITCH OF BACON. 
 

THE FLITCH OF BACON. 
 
 As long as old Albion shall skirt the blue sea, 
 
 And the laws of the empire endure, 
 A manor, which lies in the east country, 
 
 Will be held by this tenure secure; 
 
 • 
 H That a Flitch of fat Bacon, so fine and so fair, 
 
 And second to none in the nation, 
 Shall be given to him who may freely repair 
 
 To the mansion, and make application. 
 
 " Provided that he, so applying, will swear, 
 Though his hands have in wedlock been tied 
 
 A twelvemonth complete, that he, through the year, 
 Never wish'd himself rid of his bride !" 
 
70 FLITCH OF BACON. 
 
 A Farmer went lately, and put in his claim 
 
 To the Bacon, so sleek and so nice 3 
 He entered the hall, told his business and name, 
 
 And the Bailiff was call'd in a trice. 
 
 Now the Bailiff was grown a very old man, 
 
 And a very old man was he ! 
 And he, since the dawn of his reason began, 
 
 Of the mansion had kept the key. 
 
 The Bailiff straightway gave the Farmer a book; 
 
 The Farmer saluted it duly, 
 Laid his hand on his heart, and a solemn oath took 
 
 To answer enquiries most truly. 
 
 u My friend," said the Bailiff, " now answer me this! 
 
 By the oath you so solemn have taken ; 
 By the transport you shar'd in the first bridal kiss ; 
 
 By your every hope of the Bacon ; 
 
FLITCH OF BACON. 71 
 
 " Since now a full twel vemon th you wedded have been, 
 Have you never with scolding grown sick; 
 
 Nor e'er wish'd your mill-clacking, turbulent quean 
 In the hot-house below with Old Nick r" 
 
 The Farmer said, f€ Hearken, my answer is this, 
 
 By the oath I so solemn have taken ; 
 By the transport I shard in the first bridal kiss, 
 
 By my every hope of the Bacon ; 
 
 " Though now a full twelvemonth I wedded have been, 
 
 I have never with scolding grown sick 5 
 Nor e'er wish'd my mill-clacking, turbulent quean 
 
 In the hot-house below with Old Nick." 
 
 The Bailiff then said, " through the faults of your wife, 
 
 Have none of your plans miscarried ? 
 Nor have you, within the last year of your life, 
 
 Ever wished yourself unmarried. 
 
72 FLITCH OF BACON. 
 
 The Farmer replied, " through the faults of my wife 
 Not one of my plans have miscarried; 
 
 Nor have I within the last year of my life 
 Ever wished myself unmarried. 
 
 Now the Bailiff was grown a very old man, 
 
 And a very old man was he ; 
 And he, since the dawn of his reason began, 
 
 Of the mansion had kept the key. 
 
 The Bailiff exclaim'd in a tone of amaze, 
 
 " Many claimants have knock'd at this door, 
 
 But I never knew one in the whole of my days, 
 Prove his right to the bacon before." 
 
 Then the Farmer the Bacon put into a sack, 
 
 The better to bear it away; 
 Yet, just as the load he had got on his back. 
 
 The Bailiff desired him to stay. 
 
FLITCH OF BACON. 73 
 
 " I prithee, good Farmer, yet one question more, 
 
 Yet one question more answer mej 
 And I do beseech, by the oath which you swore, 
 
 That you'll answer explicit and free. 
 
 * How comes it that you have avoided, alone, 
 All the cares that with life intermingle} 
 
 Nor e'er since the plague of a woman you've known, 
 Ever wished that you had kept single?" 
 
 " Oh ! if that's all," the Farmer replied with a leer, 
 
 I'll inform you, my friend, how it come; 
 You, yourself, will acknowledge the reason is clear, 
 As soon as I tell you that my pretty dear, 
 Has been all her life — deaf and dumb* ! m 
 
 * ** Amongst the jocular tenures of England," observes 
 an historian of Essex, "none have been more talked of than 
 the Bacon at Dunmow. The prior and canons were obliged 
 to deliver it to him who took the oath, by virtue of some 
 
74 FLITCH OF JBACON. 
 
 injunction of a founder or benefactor, by which they held 
 lands, rather than of their own singular frolic and wanton- 
 ness. The Pilgrim, as he was upon this occasion styled, 
 was to kneel upon two sharp-pointed stones in the church- 
 yard; there to take the oath which was administered with 
 long process and solemn singing. The last time that the 
 Bacon was delivered to any claimant was in the year 175 1," 
 The above tale was founded on these circumstances, 
 though the catastrophe is merely the invention of the 
 author. 
 
ORIGIN 
 
 FEMALE BEAUTY. 
 

ORIGIN 
 
 OP 
 
 FEMALE BEAUTY. 
 
 Sent to a young lady with a present of artificial fruits and 
 flowers. 
 
 JDehold, my Fair one, every tint 
 That blooms in thy complexion, 
 Then listen while my lines unfold 
 The mystic cause — till now untold— 
 Of this abstruse connection. 
 
 When Jove, the sire of gods and men, 
 
 First imaged the creation, 
 He knew that man's divergent mind 
 The heaven of heavens would never find 
 
 Without a long probation. 
 
78 FEMALE BEAUTY. 
 
 He knew, and placed him on the earth, 
 Which, cheerd by balmy showery 
 
 On every side began to shoot 
 
 Aurelian buds, ambrosial fruit, 
 And rainbow- vested flowers. 
 
 When man beheld the splendid dyes, 
 
 Full soon with rapture bending, 
 Strange worship to the Unknown God 
 Who spread with gems the desert sod, 
 His bosom was intending. 
 
 With grief Jove heard the half-form'd vow, 
 
 And, quick, to save his creatures, 
 Cull'd froraifiS'Own immortal bower 
 The charms of ev'ry fruit and flower, 
 And blended all with plastic power, 
 In Woman's lovely features. 
 
FEMALE BEAUTY. 79 
 
 Language, alas ! can never paint 
 
 This beauty, earth adorning; 
 Her cheeks were like the blushing rose, 
 Her eyes were black as ebon sloes, 
 
 Yet radiant as the morning. 
 
 Soft as the sighing reed her voice, 
 
 When zephyrs sweep the valliesj 
 And tuneful as the lark's, her song, 
 Which echoing woods, encharm'd, prolong, 
 High as the wild note sallies. 
 
 Sweeter than spicy gales her breath $ 
 
 Her lips were glowing cherries ; 
 Love, archly peering o'er her vest, 
 Display 'd the lilies of her breast 
 
 Blazon'd with crimson berries. 
 
80 FEMALE BEAUTY. 
 
 Man gaz'd, enraptur'd, on her form ! 
 
 And, fir'd with wild emotion, 
 Low bending to the earth his knee, 
 Vow'd Woman only, thence, should be 
 
 His object of devotion! 
 
THE 
 
 TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 
 

THB 
 
 TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 
 
 A Traveller, at the close of day* 
 
 Just as the sun went down, 
 With riding tir'd, pursu'd his way 
 Towards where, involv'd in clouds so grey., 
 
 Dim gleam'd the distant town. 
 
 Chill gloomy mists the heavn's o'ercart, 
 
 The clouds look'd big with rain : — 
 He wrapp'd his cloak, and ey'd the blast,, 
 And spurr'd his steed, and gallop'd fast 
 O'er the wide dreary, plain. 
 
84 TRAVELLER AND SEXTON, 
 
 n t 
 
 Thus, hastening on— the night grows dark, 
 
 Black frowns the lonely dell ! 
 No road appears, nor house, nor mark, 
 To guide his doubtful way 5 — but, hark! 
 Deep tolls a funeral bell ! 
 
 Loud and more loud, upon the breeze, 
 
 The mournful murmers spread, 
 When, turning quick, alarm'd he sees 
 A village spire o'ertop the trees, 
 Where rest the lowly dead. 
 
 What shall he do ? — where shelter seek* 
 
 To skreen him from the show'r ? — 
 The rising winds blow cold and bleak. 
 Blue lightnings flash, and thunders break, 
 And rattling torrents pour. 
 
if? •'■ ■■■■■-: ■•'..-. • • ■ ■ •- • ■ • 
 TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 85 
 
 Perplex'd, he throws his head around, 
 
 Wild with a thousand fears; — 
 And, while his thoughts with cares abound, 
 Bright glitt'ring o'er the flooded ground, 
 Sudden — a light appears ! — 
 
 He turns to view — the tinted rays 
 Bespeak it from the church;— 
 Tis gone ! — but now a lantern s blaze 
 Its pale yet social beam displays, 
 Dim glimmering in the porch. 
 
 It chanc'd the squire, that afternoon, 
 Had buried been, in state; — 
 The rites were o'er, the people gone, 
 Yet, ere the Sexton's task was done, 
 The evening, had grown late. 
 
86 TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 
 
 The Traveller asks with eager haste, 
 " Friend, is the village nigh?" - ■ ■ 
 • * Tis two or three good miles at least, 
 
 And all across a dreary waste," — 
 The Sexton made reply. 
 
 " Is there no inn, nor house a-near?" 
 
 u None ! — you had best alight, 
 Tie up your horse, take shelter here, 
 And when the stormy clouds shall clear, 
 I then will set you right. 
 
 H 'Tis a long, dark, and dangerous way, 
 
 And there are pits beside, 
 That would the stoutest heart betray, 
 And ten to one you go astray, 
 Unless you have a guide/* 
 
TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 87 
 
 No choice remains — for now again 
 
 The bellowing thunders roll, 
 Down rush deep-whelming floods of rain, 
 And, wildly o'er the neighbouring plain, 
 
 Impetuous whirlwinds howl. 
 
 The Traveller quits his smoking steed, 
 
 And ties him to the porch ; 
 And with the Sexton then agreed, 
 That, while the angry storms proceed^ 
 
 He'd shelter in the church. 
 
 The Sexton turns the creaking key, 
 
 The doors wide open fly ; 
 And, by the partial gleam, they sec, 
 Involv'd in deep obscurity, 
 
 A fabric rude and high. 
 
88 TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 
 
 Banners and 'scutcheons, round the pile, 
 
 With gloomy grandeur rose, 
 And down the dark and " long-drawn" aisle, 
 Where sculptur'd forms the thoughts beguile, 
 
 The silent dead repose. 
 
 Deep shadows o'er the pathway glide, 
 The Traveller shrinks with fear 3 — 
 And now upon the tombstone s side, 
 Fierce warriors, arm'd in martial pride 
 And trophied pomp, appear. 
 
 The moon's pale beam, the aisles between, 
 
 Play'd feebly o'er the wall 5 — 
 And, though no forms distinct are seen, 
 Loud, dismal shrieks, from birds obscene, 
 
 The Traveller's soul appal. 
 
TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 89 
 
 u AdvanctT the Sexton cries; "advancer — 
 Sounds from the hollow walls. — 
 
 The Traveller starts ! when, dire mischance, 
 
 As if to mock his fearful glance, 
 Adown the lantern falls ! 
 
 " Good God !" exclaims the luckless wight, 
 
 Now what is to be done !" — 
 " Done ! — why, I'll go and strike a light : 
 Stay here, you have no cause for fright, 
 
 I shall be back anon." 
 
 " Be quick, for heav'n s sake," cries the man; 
 
 u This is a dreadful place !" — 
 The stumbling Sexton slow went on, 
 While hollow echoes solemn ran 
 
 Around the vaulted space. 
 
90 TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 
 
 His rallied spirits now dispel 
 
 The Traveller's former fears, 
 Compos'd he sits, when, dread to tell !~ 
 Alarming thoughts again impel, 
 As something strikes his ears ! 
 
 The Sexton's step! — It was not that! 
 
 'Twas a deep rattling sound, 
 That, with a thund'ring pit-a-pat* 
 Advanc d near where the Traveller sat, 
 
 And shook the hollow ground. 
 
 Aghast, and terror-struck, he rose 
 
 Speechless with wild surprise 5 — 
 When, as the rapid lightning glows, 
 Through the stain'd windows, they disclose, 
 A flaming pair of eyes ! 
 
TRAVELLER AND SEXTON, 91 
 
 In chilly currents moves his blood. 
 
 No power is left to fly 5 
 When, lo ! as air-form'd shadows scud, 
 Before his glance a Phantom stood, 
 
 Dread, monstrous, dark, and high. 
 
 With scream prolong'd, it shook its head— 
 
 The Traveller at the sound 
 Thinks he hears roused the sheeted dead, 
 And, soon with quaking limbs outspread, 
 
 Drops fainting to the ground. — 
 
 The noise, alarm'd, the Sexton hears., 
 
 And hastily returns 5 
 For well he wot the Travellers fears 
 Would vanish when the light appears, 
 
 Which once more dimly burns. 
 
92 TRAVELLER AND SEXTON. 
 
 " What, ho !" he cries, u how goes the night?' 1 
 
 The Traveller, like a corse, 
 With fearful glance beholds the light 
 Display the cause of all his fright, 
 
 In one grim form — his Horse! 
 
 ' Brutes have no souls/ the Schoolmen say — 
 
 And yet our Traveller's pad, 
 Had from the tempest run away— 
 Thus making of his wits display, 
 
 As much as if he had. 
 
 Left to himself, he quickly tore 
 
 The fast'ning from the porch, 
 And, ent'ring the wide-open door, 
 Slow pacing o'er the marble floor, 
 
 Sought refuge in the Church. 
 
FAIR ELLEN, 
 
 THE MANIAC. 
 
 i 
 
FAIR ELLEN, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MANIAC. 
 
 otranger, if sight of human woe, 
 Thy gentle bosom swelling, 
 
 E'er taught soft Pity's tear to flow> 
 Twill stream for lovely Ellen !— 
 
 Yonder wood conceals the maid, 
 
 Tenant of the rural shade, 
 
 A fairer Nature never made 
 
 Than beauteous love-lorn Ellen! 
 
 * 
 
96 FAIR ELLEN. 
 
 Her tale would melt a heart of stone ; 
 
 Sad it is— ah ! past expressing; 
 Insanity usurps the throne 
 
 Of Reason, heav'n's supremest blessing. 
 O Death ! thou dreadful, sad alloy 
 Of human bliss — thou foe to joy, 
 How could'st thou, cruel, thus destroy 
 
 The hopes of blooming Ellen ! 
 
 The day was fix'd, the village throng 
 With pipe and tabor hail the dawn; 
 
 But, ah ! the sprightly nuptial song, 
 
 With funeral, plaints, too soon they mourn. 
 
 How near is Grief to Mirth allied ! — 
 
 The cup of bliss was dash'd aside, 
 
 For that same morn young Henry dy'd $ 
 The joy, the hope of Ellen ! 
 
FAIR ELLEN. 97 
 
 E'er since distracted doth she roam, 
 
 All human habitation scorning 5 
 The field, the wild-wood is her home, 
 
 There lone she wanders night and morning. 
 Ha^ad employ is still the same — 
 She weaves the garland's poppy'd flame. 
 Or wildly calls on Henry's name; 
 
 Distracted, crazy Ellen ! 
 
 And oft she doth the darkness brave, 
 While mortals rest so sound and weary, 
 
 To strew fresh flow'rs o'er Henry's grave, 
 Beneath the yew-tree, black and dreary; 
 
 And wails her sorrows to the moon, 
 
 Queen of the night, the Maniac's noon ! 
 
 Fix'd, gazing on that heav'n, where soon 
 Shall end the cares of Ellen ! 
 G 
 
98 FAIR ELLEN. 
 
 Yes, hapless maid, thy woes, ere long, 
 Death shall destroy, thy cares allaying $ 
 
 And thou Elysian fields among, 
 
 With peace and Henry, shalt be straying. 
 
 Remov'd from ev ry mortal ill, 
 
 Eternal Love thy cup shall fill, 
 
 For thee each heav'nly joy instil, 
 And make thee blest, oh! Ellen. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 SPECTRE QUEEN. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND; 
 
 on, THE 
 
 SPECTRE QUEEN- 
 
 " Ho ! who has seen the Spectre Queen ?" — 
 ^Sxclaim'd a shadowy form, 
 That with eyes of light illum'd the night, 
 As he rode on the wings of the storm. 
 
 " Ho! who has seen the Spectre Queen?" — 
 
 Unnumber'd phantoms cry, 
 That with hideous glare through the troubled air 
 
 On viewless pinions fly. 
 
 Far, far below, did the ocean flow; 
 
 Rude blasts its surface sweep; 
 Like a sea of blood appear d the flood. 
 
 And its murmurs were loud and deep. 
 
 • 
 
• 
 
 102 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 With lurid gleam the lightning's beam 
 
 Flash'd ardent o'er the wave 5 
 And the thunder's roll appall'd the soul 
 
 Alike of the coward and brave. 
 
 O'er the foaming tide, with rapid glide, 
 
 A vessel held her course; 
 Torn were her sails by the driving gales 
 
 And the sweeping whirlwind's force. 
 
 High on her masts, as rush the blasts, 
 
 Pale streaming meteors glow 5 
 And lights, all blue, affright the crew, 
 
 Quick darting to and fro. 
 
 As the vessel flew, and the shrill winds blew 3- 
 
 By mortal eye unseen, 
 With vengeful brow, rais'd on the prow, 
 
 Dim gleam'd the Spectre Queen. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND. 103 
 
 O'er her sable stole the grey mists roll. 
 
 Gaunt forms her robe emboss; 
 Its folds between, coil'd snakes are seen, 
 
 That hiss as the wild waves toss. 
 
 " Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do ? 
 
 Wherefore this dinning cry?" — 
 Said the Spectre Queen, with clouded mien, 
 
 To the phantoms that flew on high. 
 
 " Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do ? 
 
 Wherefore this dinning cry?" — ■ 
 
 4 
 " The glass is run, our work is done !" 
 
 The phantoms loud reply. 
 
 " The glass is run, our work is done; — 
 
 Low does Rinaldo sleep, 
 And the Flaming Brand, and the Bloody Hand, 
 
 Unwearied vigil keep." 
 
104 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 " Then urge the night to its wildest plight/ 
 
 The Spectre Queen replies ; 
 " Till the billows roll from the utmost pole, 
 
 And mingle with the skies." 
 
 Straight at the sound the demons round 
 
 Drive on the lagging storms; 
 And the elements crash beneath the lash 
 
 That Nature's face deforms. 
 
 The billows rise to the burning skies, 
 
 As if to quench their fire; 
 And the whirlwinds sweep o'er the angry deep, 
 
 Howling in thunders dire. 
 
 The seamen brave scan the boiling wave,. 
 
 But, alas ! no help is near; 
 And, pale through dismay, as the helm gives way, 
 
 The pilot swoons with fear. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND. 105 
 
 The seamen brave eye the boiling wave, 
 
 But, alas ! no help is nigh ; n 
 For the breakers roar on the rocky shore, 
 
 And the lightnings blaze in the sky. 
 
 From its gliding car, as a shooting star, 
 
 Impetuous hurls its fires, 
 So the vessel flew as the wild winds blew, 
 
 And the forceful blast inspires. 
 
 Ah ! vain is the craft, as the wild winds waft, 
 
 The craft of the seamen is vain, 
 His bark to secure, and its safety insure, 
 
 From the demon who now rules the main. 
 
 Hark! through the air how the shrieks of despair 
 
 Most wildly in echoes resound, 
 As, with thund'ring shock, all bulg'd on a rock, 
 
 The bark seeks the deep profound. 
 
106 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 " Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do F — 
 
 Loud howls the Spectre Queen, 
 " Let the fates pursue the sinking crew, 
 
 And the Maiden in mantle green." 
 
 " The fates shall pursue the sinking crew !" 
 
 The phantoms shrill exclaim, 
 " But the Maiden in green, wears a charm unseen, 
 
 That defeats our subtlest aim. 
 
 " Accurs'd be the charm that our wiles disarm, 
 
 Accurs'd be the Maiden in greeny 
 For, behold ! on a wave she escapes from the grave, 
 
 And the pow'r of the Spectre Queen." 
 
 High o'er the deep frown'd a beetling steep, 
 
 Deform'd by impending rocks 3 
 Where the eagle's brood seek their callow food, 
 
 And, nestling, the sea-mew flocks. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND. 107 
 
 From the steep's dread height gleam'd a fearful light j 
 Twas the light of the Flaming Brand, 
 
 That, with lurid glare through the troubled air, 
 Shone tremulous over the strand. 
 
 Its rays were seen by the Maiden in green, 
 Whom the waves now cast on shore 5 
 
 And who onward went, with confirmed intent, 
 The lustrous path to explore. 
 
 O'er many a crag her footsteps drag; 
 
 And many a chasm rude, 
 When worn with toil, made her heart recoil, 
 
 As their yawning jaws obtrude. 
 
 But what can stay a Maiden's way, 
 
 When Love inspires her breast ? 
 What fears subdue when, with fervour true, 
 
 Hope reigns her bosom's guest ? 
 
108 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 On the billows tost, had she not cross'd, 
 
 In storms, the raging main ! 
 By death unscar'd, had she not dar'd 
 
 The vengeful hurricane ! 
 
 Then, wherefore shrink on the mountain's brinks 
 Where gleam'd the Flaming Brand! 
 
 Whose lurid glare, through the troubled air, 
 Illum'd the darksome strand ! 
 
 And see, e'en now, on the mountain's brow, 
 
 Where glows the mystic flame 5 
 With stedfast gaze she eyes the blaze — 
 
 For courage nerv'd her frame. 
 
 The mystic light burns clear and bright, 
 
 But its rays turn livid green, 
 And thus fulfil the artful will 
 
 Of the vengeful Spectre Queen. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND. 109 
 
 With rays of green the Brand is seen, 
 
 Upborne by magic power, 
 O'er rocks all grey to bend its way, 
 
 To a distant castle hoar. 
 
 Huge fragments fall from its ruin'd wall, 
 As the Flaming Brand draws nigh, 
 
 And dolorous sounds through the air resounds, 
 From its courts as the ravens fly. 
 
 O'er the massive gates, the flame awaits 
 The approach of the Maid in green, 
 
 Who, with hasty tread, soon trembling read, 
 ' Here dwells the Spectre £ueen!' 
 
 " Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do ?" 
 
 Sung a voice in accents drear, 
 * The feast prepare, and the banquet share, 
 
 For the Maiden shrinks with fear." 
 
110 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 With bewilder'd mien the Maiden in green 
 Look'd wistful through the waste 5 
 
 For her heart beat strong as she heard the song 
 Of the demon's voice, unchaste. 
 
 Her heart beat strong as she heard the song,—- 
 But a pray'r to heav n address'd, 
 
 With sov'reign balm restor'd the calm, 
 Which erst inform' d her breast. 
 
 She blew a blast as she onward past, 
 
 A blast with the horn she blew, 
 At the portal which hung — and its echoes rung 
 
 Round the dome of the phantom crew. 
 
 u Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do ?" 
 
 A voice howl'd shrill and high $ 
 And with sudden jar the gates unbar, 
 
 And wide, wide, open fly. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND, HI 
 
 u Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do ? 
 
 Where goes the Flaming Brand ? — 
 Its lustre green is vivid seen 
 
 In the hall of the Bloody Hand! 
 
 " The storm abates, the banquet waits, 
 
 The festive cauldron burns ; 
 The cymbals clash, the sulphurs flash, — 
 
 This way the victim turns ! 
 
 " The thread is rove, the web is wove, 
 
 Triumphs the Spectre Queen ! 
 With magic fraught our spells have caught 
 
 The Maiden in mantle green!" 
 
 Each direful word Gwendola heard, 
 Speechless with wild surprise, 3 
 
 And shadows dim tei rinc skim 
 Before her fear-struck eyes. 
 
112 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 Ah ! hapless maid, how near betray *d ! 
 
 Stand but a moment more — 
 All, all is lost, thy love is cross'd, 
 
 And every hope is o'er ! 
 
 O'er the deadly yew, the screech-owls flew, 
 Grey bats rush'd flickering by ; 
 
 And drops of blood, as the Maiden stood, 
 She saw on her kerchief lie. 
 
 The portents dire her senses fire, 
 She dares th' impending fatej 
 
 With eager tread she onward sped, 
 And pass'd the brazen gate. 
 
 ' * Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do } 
 Where goes the Flaming Brand? 
 
 Its beams of green are vivid seen, 
 In the Hall of the Bloody Hand." 
 
THE BLOODY HAND. l'JS 
 
 " The storm abates, the banquet waits, 
 
 The glass has spent its sand j 
 The cymbals clash, the sulphurs flash, — 
 
 Where goes the Flaming Brand ?'* 
 
 Through the womb of night, the mystic light, 
 
 Convey'd by hands unseen, 
 With lurid ray, directs the way 
 
 Of the Maid in mantle green. 
 
 As she cross'd the moat, the bloated throat 
 
 Of the toad its venom shed ; 
 And adders hiss in the dark abyss \ 
 
 The sounds might wake the dead ! 
 
 Gaunt phantoms pass o'er the dewy grass, 
 
 And jostle round her ear 5 
 And hollow moans and piercing groans 
 
 Burst from a shadowy bier. 
 H 
 
114 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 Impell'd by Love, the Maiden strove 
 
 To quell the rising sigh ; 
 Nor strove in vain — her cares attain 
 
 A bold tranquillity. 
 
 Through the womb of night, the mystic light, 
 The light of the Flaming Brand, 
 
 She follows, dire, till its rays expire 
 In the Hall of the Bloody Hand ! 
 
 Now darkness shrouds the phantom crowds, 
 
 That erst were sporting wild $ 
 And silence dread, with death-like tread, 
 
 Sudden, all sounds exil'd. 
 
 With curdled blood for a moment stood 
 The Maiden in mantle green; — 
 
 When, lo ! — at her heart, a fiery dart, 
 Was hurl'd by the Spectre Queen. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND. 115 
 
 The furies waft the vengeful shaft, 
 
 Yet ere it reached her breast, 
 The charm she wore destroy d its pow'r, 
 
 It barely pierc d her vest. 
 
 " Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do ? 
 
 Quick from the lowest hell, 
 As the darkness flies, let the fiends arise, 
 
 And weave the fatal spell. 
 
 *' Arise, arise ! as the darkness flies, 
 
 Quick weave the fatal spell;'* 
 Said the Spectre Queen, with death -like mien, 
 
 " Now triumphs Heaven or Hell ! " 
 
 She spake, and lo ! — tremendous glow 
 
 Blue flames the hall around ; 
 And, whizzing dire, red flakes of fire, 
 
 Dart through the shaking ground. 
 
116 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 The vivid light, to the Maiden's sight, 
 
 The awful dome reveal'd ; 
 And forms accurs'd before her burst, 
 
 Which erst the gloom conceal'd. 
 
 Round the vast pile, with eyes of guile 
 Unnumber'd shadows stand, 
 
 Of aspects drear — and, high in air, 
 Slow wav'd the Bloody Hand. 
 
 ' ' Halloo, halloo ! what is't ye do ?" — 
 Loud howl'd the Spectre Queen 5 
 
 " Let the cauldron blaze before the gaze 
 Of the Maid in mantle green. 
 
 " Let the victim bleed, the rites proceed; 
 
 Hither Rinaldo bring! 
 His heart must burn in thefl aming urn, 
 
 Ere the bat enfolds its wing. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND. H7 
 
 " Let the victim bleed, the rites proceed; 
 
 Prepare the fatal spell 5 — 
 The fiends arise, Rinaldo dies ! 
 
 Now triumphs Heaven or Hell !" 
 
 The Maid in green heard the impious Queen;— 
 
 And, lo ! dread forms appear ! 
 Her lover true met Gwendola's view, 
 
 Low borne on a sable bier. 
 
 With hellish din the rites begin, 
 
 Loud laugh the frantic band; 
 While a chosen few of the spectre crew, 
 
 Chaunt round the Bloody Hand. 
 
 u Ere the night-stars fade, unsheath the blade 
 
 The glittering blade unsheath ; 
 The deed must be done, ere the morning sun 
 
 Has shadow'd the blasted heath." 
 
118 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 As the notes resound the dome around— 
 At the Spectre Queen's command, 
 
 A reeking blade was high display'd, 
 In the grasp of the Bloody Hand. 
 
 With solemn knell, a funeral bell 
 Toll'd deeply through the hall j 
 
 And the weapon keen was fearful seen 
 To point at Rinaldo's pall. 
 
 " Stay, hell hounds, stay ! your willing prey, 
 
 Gwendola bows her head 3 
 The direful stroke she dares provoke 5 
 
 But spare, ah ! spare the dead ! 
 
 " Stay, hell hounds, stay ! behold your prey, 
 
 On me your fury rest."-— 
 So spake the Maid, and disarray'd 
 
 Her snow-white, panting breast. 
 
THE BLOODY HAND. 119 
 
 Ah ! God, how strange the wondrous change ! 
 
 The phantoms yelling fled; 
 And from the bier, Rinaldo dear 
 
 Uprose as from the dead ! 
 
 But wherefore grew this scene so new ? 
 
 Say what, in that dread hour, 
 With potent sway made hell obey 
 
 The issues of its power ? 
 
 As her bosom sheen the Maid in green 
 
 Expos'd to the vengeful blade, 
 A Holy Cross, which gems emboss, 
 
 Her open breast displayed. 
 
 This was the sight, whose sparkling light, 
 
 The demons trembling fled ! 
 This was the charm, whose pow'rs disarm 
 
 The empire of the dea^! * k 
 
120 THE BLOODY HAND. 
 
 The Spectre Queen no more was seen;— 
 
 Vanish'd the Bloody Hand ! 
 The flames expire, the storms retire ! 
 
 The pow'rs of hell disband ! 
 
 Gwendola flew to her lover true. 
 And press'd him to her heart ; — 
 
 " Now, love," she cried, u receive thy bride, 
 Henceforth we never part. " 
 
 ,- 1 1 
 
ODES. 
 
 «**' 
 
THE STORM. 
 
THE STORM. 
 
 H ark ! heard ye that sigh ? 
 
 Solemn and deep, it seem'd like Misery's tone 3 
 'Tis the grim tempest hovYing in the sky, 
 
 It louder swells, again — and hark— a groan ! 
 
 See the lurid air overcast, 
 Onward drives the furious blast, 
 The broken fragments clatter round, 
 The forest bends — the whirlwind sweeps the ground. 
 Half o'erwhelming my retreat, 
 Now the rushing torrents beat 5 
 Down the slope impetuous roll : 
 Burst the barriers of control! — 
 Now the gust has blown its fill, 
 And softly whistles round the hill, 
 
126 THE STORM. 
 
 The forest trees forget to bend, 
 
 Mild and more mild the showers descend, 
 
 Pattering o'er a thousand leaves, 
 
 Or shook in drops from off the eaves. 
 
 O'er those mountains to the right, 
 
 Veil'd in shades of coming night, 
 
 The congregated lightnings play, 
 
 And emulate the blaze of day. 
 
 Now in the dismal, lone church-yard, 
 
 Imaginary plaints are heard, 
 
 And spirits, from the yawning tomb 
 
 Thickly dart athwart the gloom -, 
 
 With quicken d step and hurried eye, 
 
 I see the fear-slruck rustic fly! — 
 
 While through the steeple's latticed frames, 
 
 The rising gust a passage claims ; 
 
 Striking oft a fancied knell, 
 
 As it sweeps the great death bell! 
 

THE STORM. 127 
 
 Now wild and wilder howls the night, 
 
 Ah, me! — what is the traveller s plight, 
 
 Chilly, and cold, and drench'd with rain, 
 
 Nor hope nor cordial to sustain, 
 
 Nor cheerful blaze, nor vestment warm, 
 
 How will he bide the pelting storm ! — 
 
 Yet, oh ! how happier far is he, 
 
 Than the poor wretch, whose flutt'ring sail 
 
 Scarcely withstands the blust'ring gale, 
 
 That swells the billows of the angry sea. 
 
 With whirlwind sweep, 
 
 Borne o'er the deep, 
 My muse adventurous flies 5 
 I see the mad tornadoes rise^ 
 1 hear the wild waves roar; 
 The desolating spirits howl, 
 And sea-mews, clamorous and foul, 
 Affright the trembling shore. 
 
128 . THE STORM. 
 
 Hark ! a warning voice in air, 
 Alarms the watchful mariner, — 
 Soon a thousand fiends assail, 
 And load with shrieks the echoing gale; 
 Sleep, startled at the wild affray, 
 On frighted pinions speeds away $ 
 Whilst on feliest errand bound, 
 The demons of Disorder round 
 Heave and convulse the vast profound. 
 Now to heaven the vessel flies, 
 Now buried in earth's centre lies, 
 Meantime a thick Egyptian gloom 
 Hides from each pale wretch his doom ! 
 Save when bursting clouds conspire, 
 Darting gleams of forked fire, 
 By whose momentary light, 
 Wrapt in shades of darkest night, 
 On the rock, or beetling steep, 
 Danger, his watch is seen to keep, 
 
 .!i 
 
THE STORM. 129 
 
 And, adding to the dire alarms, 
 Opens wide his giant arms 5 
 Whilst, on each surrounding wave, 
 Death, grinning, sits, and points — the grave! 
 But, hark! — that crash ! — with tenfold rage 
 The warring elements engage : 
 Loud and more loud the impetuous thunders roll, 
 And " earth unbalanc'd" shakes from pole to pole. 
 
 Eternal Power ! — thy will 
 These agents but fulfil 5 
 Thy nod bids ocean know its bound, 
 The earthquake shakes no more the solid ground; 
 In the dire conflict of the wind and tide, 
 Sublime, directing, thou delight'st to ride; 
 They know thy voice, O God, the waters know 
 Thy voice — and dare no further go ! 
 E'en now the fiat is gone forth, 
 And, see — the demons of the north 
 I 
 
130 THE STORM. 
 
 Retire. — In that last blast, 
 Their fiercest rage was spent— is past.- 
 So, when from chaos rose this order bright, 
 This earth so fair, and yon celestial light, 
 The Almighty word, 
 Obedient, every atom heard $ 
 The winds in haste to their pent caverns rush'd, 
 Calm'd was the sea, and every sound was hush'd. 
 
 =K£= 
 
BRITONS! TO ARMS! 
 
BRITONS! TO ARMS! 
 
 TO YOU THE AVENGER DELEGATES HIS POWER. 
 
 1 he dogs of war, again in blood, 
 Their iron fangs prepare to dye; 
 And Mars, impending o'er the flood, 
 His crimson banner waves on high. 
 Britons, arise : to arms ! to you in charge is given, 
 To dart the lightnings of avenging Heaven. 
 
 Through the blue vault, the cannon's roar 
 
 Spreads wide the dreadful note of death; 
 The peal resounds from Gallia's shore, 
 Issued by mad Ambition's breath. 
 Britons, arise: to arms ! to you in charge is given, 
 To show'r destruction on the curs'd of Heaven. 
 
134 britons! to arms! 
 
 The blood-stain'd legions of the foe 
 
 Advance their standards high in air j 
 And steeVd to pity human woe, 
 Fervent, the work of hell prepare. 
 Britons, arise : to arms ! to you in charge is given, 
 To blast the projects of the curs'd of Heaven. 
 
 High tow'ring o'er their marsh al'd host, 
 
 The cormorant marks his destin'd prey 3 
 The vulture hovers round the coast, 
 Wheeling impatient for the fray. 
 Britons, arise : to arms ! to you in charge is given, 
 To hurl the avenging thunderbolt of Heaven. 
 
 The storm comes on! — the battle roars ! 
 
 Britannia's sons will never yield : 
 And, see ! the wide destruction pours 
 On every foe who dard the field! 
 The fight is o'er ! The charge to Britain given, 
 Ascends, accomplished, to the God of heaven. 
 
TO SUPERSTITION. 
 
w 
 
 TO SUPERSTITION. 
 
 JJread tyrant of the human soul, 
 Whose strongest energies thy powers control, 
 Thou, who with 'unreal' phantoms lov'st to dwell 
 In the deep gloom of some monastic cell, 
 Or castle's reverend walls, 
 Where oft the ruin falls, 
 Startling the pilgrim's step, as sad he strays 
 
 Mid'st unfrequented ways; 
 O Superstition! — foe to hated day, 
 
 I feel, I feel thy sway ! — 
 
138 TO SUPERSTITION, 
 
 The awful hour of midnight now comes on ; 
 Hark ! — it strikes one ! — 
 
 On the lone, blasted heath, 
 Hoarse creaks the gibbet with the murd'rer s weight} 
 
 The monumental caves of death, 
 
 Resound the voice of fate. 
 
 A-near the abbey's time-worn side, 
 
 Now the flitting spectres glide — 
 
 In shadowy bands they meet the view, 
 
 And give thy legeftds credence due; 
 
 Now to the mental eye display 
 
 (While Fancy startles with dismay) 
 
 Other scenes and other days, 
 Ere yet enlfghten'd Science threw her blaze : 
 What time fierce Woden's sons, or Dania's band, 
 The enchanted Reafan hoisted on our strand} 
 
 Or, earlier yet, when Mona's oak 
 
 Felt the golden sickle's stroke. 
 
TO SUPERSTITION. 139 
 
 Through the long perspective of distant years, 
 Lo ! what a shadowy line appears !— > 
 
 Burst distant centuries on my sight 5 
 
 Ye plains, ye hallow'd circles, rise, 
 Where bards, with beards ail silvery white, 
 
 In awful strains invoke the skies, 
 
 'Mid sacred groves, and forests dim, 
 
 Hark ! louder swells th' immortal hymn ! — 
 
 The milk-white steers are slain, 
 The golden axe reeks with the purple stain ; 
 Their blooded hands toward heav'n the Druids raise ] 
 
 Hush'd are the shuddering woocfl; 
 The cromlechs smoke, the wicker idols blaze, 
 Th' adoring votaries swell the note of praise, 
 
 And call the list'ning gods ! 
 
140 TO SUPERSTITION'. 
 
 Other horrors now appal : 
 Hid in the gloomy realms of night, 
 The Scald performs his direful rite, 
 
 Grim Odin hears the call!— 
 
 Now the potent charm's begun, 
 
 Backward shrinks the darken d sun, 
 Blue flames, sulphureous, speak the coming god : 
 His thunders roll: blood! — blood! — they call for blood!- 
 'Mid deeper glooms the solid mountain rends, 
 
 The enpanguin'd Deity descends ! 
 
 Dyed with clots of purple gore, 
 Sinks the time-blanch' d head so hoar ! 
 Pierce that breast — 'tis white as snow, 
 See the life-blood gushing flow ! 
 The mother falls — Barbarian, stay ! — 
 Ah ! why that tender victim slay ? 
 See how it smiles !— he strikes— they die!^-*- 
 Son, mother, grandsire, bleeding lie ! 
 
TO SUPERSTITION. 141 
 
 Sprinkled warm, 
 The ensanguin'd charm, 
 Each votary now receives 5 
 With frantic cries 
 . They rend the skies, 
 And praise the joys that Odin gives. 
 His realms seem open d to their frenzied view, 
 They swear to make the prize their due) 
 And, see ! they grasp the warrior's skull ! 
 'Tis with vengeful beverage full- 
 Now they quaff — 'tis dreadful — Hold ! 
 I feel the vital current cold ! 
 
 Scenes like these the fancy tire; 
 Let less terrific sights inspire 5 
 To yonder castle, wild, and dread, 
 Where the moonbeams faintly spread, 
 Be now my pensive footsteps led, 
 
142 TO SUPERSTITIOK. 
 
 n 
 
 Scene of many a murder old, 
 
 By village dames devoutly told $ 
 
 Where shrieks affright the midnight hour, 
 
 And mystery lurks in every tower : 
 
 Scarce dare imagination trace 
 
 The secrets of that dreadful place: 
 
 Rooms shut up from prying eyes, 
 
 With long forsaken galleries ; 
 
 Gloomy caverns — dungeons deep, 
 
 With dire descents, damp, dark, and steep, 
 
 And arms that centuries' rust have stood, 
 
 Floors and poniards stain'd with blood; 
 
 All the horrors that belong, 
 
 Of right, to ancient tale or song.— ~ 
 
 Then, as gloomy thoughts enchain, 
 
 On my wrapt, deluded brain, 
 
 Each deed of death act o'er again. 
 
TO SUPERSTITION, 143 
 
 Enough ! — On Fancy's wing I fly, 
 
 Through the moon-enlighten'd sky. 
 
 Near the forest's antique brow, 
 
 Where faintly beams the worm's pale glow, 
 
 Deep retir'd in lonely glen, 
 
 Far from all the haunts of men, 
 
 Whirl'd on besoms through the air, 
 
 What forms grotesque are those I see ! 
 That, like the inhabitants of earth appear, 
 
 Yet earthly cannot be ! 
 
 The infuriate dance, the hellish shout. 
 Proclaims the Witches' nightly rout, 
 Burthen of many a village theme, 
 When the glowing embers' beam, 
 Brighten'd by the frost so hoary, 
 Prompts the grannum's midnight story. 
 
144 TO SUPERSTITION. 
 
 Now hours begin and terminate, 
 And three, and three, and three, and three, 
 
 Bring ^n the unit dear to fate, 
 And hang in even scales the night and day. 
 
 Nameless deeds are now begun, 
 Deeds that scare th' affrighted moon; 
 Blacker frowns the funeral yew, 
 Teeming with unwholsome dew; 
 Poison, — if the cattle eat 
 The grass where dance their cloven feet. 
 Hark ! — the cock breaks up the meeting, 
 
 They require no second warning, 
 Home in various shapes retreating, 
 
 Vanish all ere blush of morning. 
 
 y 
 
 Dim as the phantoms back retire, 
 Let other strains and sights inspire; 
 
TO SUPERSTITION. 145 
 
 'Mid the vaulted choir so high, 
 
 Swells the full tide of sacred harmony; 
 
 The solemn chaunt, the organ's blqw, 
 
 Speak the joys of heav'n below; 
 While, glitt'ring on the eye, the cloister'd throng, 
 Through the long aisles, move solemnly along. 
 
 Pleas'd, I there can contemplate 
 
 Thy power in less terrific state, 
 
 And feel my mind, in raptures clear, 
 
 Ascend above this earthly sphere; 
 
 Till feelings, like devotion, raise 
 
 A thousand nameless extacies ! 
 
 Anon, with scenes of old romance, 
 Thus wrapt— each joyous sense entrance, 
 Where pomps and pageants meet the eye, 
 And cavalcades move slowly by; 
 While minstrels high-born actions sing, 
 And cheerful bells in concert ring. 
 K 
 
l46 TO SUPERSTITION. 
 
 Or sway my thoughts to former days, 
 And all my fond affections raise 
 To many a long-forgotten tale, 
 On which my infant years would dwell 
 With warmest feelings of the heart : — 
 Ah ! what can now such bliss impart ! 
 Thus oft delight each ravish'd sense, 
 And take thy willing votary hence ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
^ 'Jcmr- 
 
 
THE FIRST LESSON. 
 
 Addressed by a Parent to his Child, on the day the latter had 
 completed the first y tar of his age. 
 
 Jjoy, love thy Mother ! — She with tearful eye 
 Tends the slow progress of thy opning mind j 
 
 Removes the cause of every infant sigh, 
 And by her practice lures thee to be kind. 
 
 Boy, love thy Mother! — calm her beating heart, 
 That throbs, affectionate, with care for theej 
 
 Compose her anxious breast with playful art, 
 Press her soft lips, and prattle at her knee. 
 
 Boy, love thy Mother ! — Let thy lisping tongue 
 In broken accents charm her wond'ring ear, 
 
 And, when again upon her bosom hung, 
 
 Say, c Oh, Mamma ! I love, I love you dear/ 
 
 Boy, love thy Mother! — The reflected rays 
 
 Will beam neiv lustre oer thy Father's days. 
 
IMITATIONS OF MODERN SONNETS. 
 No. L 
 
 THE MARINER'S COMFORT. 
 
 Jlvude howls the wind across the surgy deep, 
 
 Loud rolls the thunder through the murky sky, 
 Blue o'er the main the forked lightnings sweep, 
 
 Swift to the clouds the roaring billows fly : 
 Enrag d, old Ocean rives the trembling shore, 
 ' And fills heav'n's concave with his wild uproar ! 
 See, see, alas ! upon yon horrid rock 
 
 A vessel's wreck'd ! the rude cliffs pierce her side 
 One Mariner alone survives the shock, 
 
 Whose glowing bosom stems the rushing tide, 
 And all the fury of the whirlwind braves, 
 That lashes into foam the ( yesty waves.' 
 Hold! seaman, hold! — here sfaalm to sooth thy cares 
 Here's half a farthing' sivorth of hot baked pears. 
 
IMITATIONS OF MODERN SONNETS. 
 No. II. 
 
 f HE POET. 
 
 Hark, hark! what joyful sounds tumultuous float, 
 
 Loud on the pinions of the swelling blast 3 
 Sounds of delicious import, that denote 
 
 The solace of my cares is coming fast ! 
 Sweet, sweet reward to such a heart as mine, 
 
 That loves on delicacies rich to feed 5 
 How much on thee do I delight to dine ! 
 , How much thou cheer' s.t me in the hour of need ! 
 Let Epicureans still insatiate prowl, 
 Still barbicue their pig, their fish, and fowl 5 
 
 Still feed on soups delectable and nice -, — 
 I envy none of them, so I have got 
 
 That most delicious treat, a nut-brown slice, 
 
 Of HOT SPICE GINGERBREAD, ALL SMOKING HOT. 
 
IMITATIONS OF MODERN SONNETS, 
 No. III. 
 
 ADDRESS TO A SPIDER, 
 
 That had taken refuge in the Poet's garret. 
 
 1 hou busy Reptile, wherefore dost thou ply 
 
 Thy nimble feet? why spin a web so mazy? 
 Is it to snare an inconsiderate fly ? 
 
 Or, by example, animate the lazy ? — 
 Poor wretch, begone ! I'll prove in either case 
 
 That thou hast made a most egregious blunder ; 
 Here, Want so long hath dwelt with haggard face, 
 
 That no wing d insect ever seeks for plunder; 
 And dire Necessity,' that nipping quean, 
 
 So plays the devil with thy hungry Poet, 
 That never Indolence can step between 
 
 Him and his rhymes, but all his bowels know it. 
 Nay, even now — so dooms the goddess cruel — 
 He has nought to eat, but sprats and water gruel. 
 
n 
 
 V 
 
 ' / // 
 
DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 \Jn the lone, solitary strand, 
 
 The shipwreck'd wanderer oft does listless stray; 
 Pondering upon his friends and native land, 
 
 Now from his eyes remov'd far, far away: 
 And, in the shifting clouds, at close of day, 
 
 Fondly imagines forms of succour nigh; 
 Deluded by the mists that idly play, 
 
 Amid the fervours of the evening sky. 
 So I — sad pilgrim, in life's dreary scene, 
 
 Goaded by Disappointment's keenest stings, 
 Still trust the flatterer, Hope, still trust, nor ween 
 
 She but her gaudiest tints and colours brings, 
 To warm some glowing scene of distant joys, 
 
 Some picture, rich in sunshine prospects fair, 
 Which sad reality too oft destroys 3 — 
 
 Dissolves each golden vision into air, 
 And leaves, ah me ! — her dupe, a victim still to care. 
 
SUMMER EVENING. 
 
 Mow the setting sun withdraws 
 From the west his fervid ray, 
 
 Greeting, with a welcome pause, 
 The lengthened labours of the day. 
 
 Fainter floats the various hum, 
 Wafted on the rising breeze 5 
 
 Darker waves, amid the gloom, 
 The rustling verdure of the trees-. 
 
 Glitt'ring in the dusky air, ^ : 
 
 Shoots the tapering village spire : — 
 
 Where the landscape shines afar, 
 Slow the blue-top t hills retire. 
 
SUMMER EVENING. 155 
 
 Scarcely rippling Ocean's breast, 
 
 Now the stealing zephyrs creep \ 
 Steady burning in the east, 
 
 The night-star gleams upon the steep. 
 
 At the shelt'ring cottage door, 
 Rests the hind, from labour free X 
 
 Laden with the honied store, 
 Home returns the busy bee. 
 
 Hark ! the coachman winds his horn, 
 
 Now he knows the inn is near \ 
 Glad their wonted task is done, 
 
 See the smoking steeds appear. 
 
 By the parlours blazing fire, 
 
 While the supper cloth is spread; 
 
 Soon unharness'd, they retire, 
 
 Warm beneath the straw- roof d shed. 
 
166 SUMMER EVENING. 
 
 Gathering breezes, chilly, keen, 
 Usher in the twilight hour; 
 
 Spangling fast the glimrnring scene, 
 Now descends the dewy shower. 
 
 Hush'd each murmur, silent, still, 
 u Fades the landscape on the sight;" 
 
 Darkness shrouds the distant hill, 
 Evening yields the world to night. 
 
' 
 
 VALENTINE'S MORN. 
 
 Arise, my Delia, come away, 
 
 This is the hour of love 5 
 Sweet sings the linnet on the spray. 
 
 And sweetly cooes the dove. 
 
 Blithely the village-church bells ring, 
 
 To usher in the day ; 
 The lark spreads wide his airy wing. 
 
 And bears to heaven his lay. 
 
 Arise, my Delia, come away, 
 And taste the breath of morn 5 
 
 The dew-drops glisten on the spray, 
 The thrush sings on the thorn. 
 
158 valentine's morn. 
 
 It is the morn of Valentine, 
 
 My Delia, then arise $ 
 For thee the golden sun shall shine, 
 
 And tint the azure skies $ 
 
 For thee each herb shall scent the vale, 
 Each flower its bloom display; 
 
 Zephyrs shall waft the gentle gale, 
 And balmy gifts convey. 
 
 Arise, my Delia, come away, 
 
 It is the hour of love; 
 Arise, and let me bless the day 
 
 Thou didst my truth approve. 
 
THE TEARS QF LAURA. 
 
 The hours are past! the days are flown! 
 
 When I, so bless'd, with Henry stray d, 
 And vainly thought that death alone 
 
 Could break the ties which love had made. 
 
 Forgive me, Henry, tears will start, 
 As Fancy paints the joys we've known ; 
 
 And sighs distend my breaking heart, 
 To think those joys for ever flown. 
 
 Oft as I ponder, deep, intent, 
 
 My soul, enrapt, still pictures thee $ 
 
 Recals the blissful hours I've spent, * 
 Encharm'd by Love's sweet revelry ! 
 
 But soon the sad reverse I view, 
 And every joy forsakes my breast j 
 
 Yet still thy image I'll pursue, 
 
 On that alone my thoughts find rest. 
 
SPRING MORNING. 
 
 .N ow Winter is past, and the frost is all gone. 
 And the day smiles serenely and clear ; 
 
 And the sky, and the birds, and the warm rising-sun, 
 Proclaim it the Spring of the year. 
 
 With king-cups and daisies bright glitters the mead, 
 The hedges with buds are in blow ; 
 
 And peeps up the crocus its gold-burnish'd head, 
 No more silver d by remnants of snow. . 
 
 O'er the wild upland furrows as melts the grey dawi\, 
 
 The dew-drop enamels the spray $ 
 And, hark ! — from a neighbouring thicket, the horn 
 
 Blends its tones with the concert of day. 
 
SPRING MORNING. l6l 
 
 How sweet now to roam with the girl of one's heart, 
 
 Amid scenes so enchanting and fine 
 In her kindred bosom each wish to impart — 
 
 'T would indeed make the landscape divine ! 
 
 Could I find such a nymph, and she'd share half my cot, 
 
 Of Fortune no more I'd complain -, 
 Together we'd seek out some favourite spot, 
 
 And never see cities again. 
 
THE COWSLIP GIRL. 
 
 % 
 
 JN ear yonder grove, within the dell 
 
 Where birds their nestlings feed, 
 Beneath a lonely cot blooms Nell, 
 
 The cowslip of the mead. 
 The flower that in the garden grows, 
 
 The blossom on the tree, 
 The snow-drop, pink, and budding rose, 
 Are all less mild than she. 
 
 But cruel fate her youth o'ercast, 
 And Fortune blew so rude a blast, 
 That she is forced, no aid being nigh, 
 To get her living by the cry 
 Of, e Sweet and pretty cowslips, 
 Come buy my sweet cowslips, 
 Three bunches a penny.' 
 
 
THE COWSLIP GIRL. 1 63 
 
 Behold where, o'er the dewy vale, 
 
 The maiden trips along, 
 And, sweeter than the morning gale, 
 
 Breathes, softly breathes a song; 
 But, see! why does the damsel start? 
 
 Ah, why her footsteps turn ? 
 Kind Heav n reward her tender heart ! 
 
 She fears to crush a worm ! 
 But cruel fate, &c. 
 
 4 
 
 Yet, why should we her fate lament, 
 
 Why wipe the tearful eye ? 
 Her guileless bosom feels content, 
 
 Nor ever heaves a sigh. 
 She knows, though she has felt the smart, 
 
 Which cheerless want has given , 
 That those who act a virtuous Dart, 
 
 Will happy be in heaven. 
 But cruel fate, &c. 
 
GENIUS AND INDUSTRY. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 On every hand it is agreed, 
 That Genius never can succeed 
 In forming an exalted mind, 
 Unless with perseverance join'd y 
 But multitudes, to folly prone, 
 Move idly onward, like the drone, 
 Nor heed the truth applies to them, 
 Though foremost others to condemn. 
 
 To such, the Muse presents a tale — 
 Examples teach where precepts fail. 
 
GENIUS AND INDUSTRY. 165 
 
 In days of yore — a wondrous Well 
 There was — so ancient stories tell ; 
 Amid whose waters, glitt'ring bright, 
 Unnumber'd jewels met the light 5 
 Rich, sparkling gems, a glorious show, 
 More vivid than Aurora's glow j 
 In substance solid as — you see 
 I cannot find a simile* 
 
 These gems were free to every lout, 
 Who'd take the pains to draw them out. 
 It happen'd on a certain day, 
 A youth, call'd Genius, pass'd that way.— * 
 A starry zone his loins embrac d, 
 A flowing vest his shoulders grac'd, 
 On which was drawn, in tints sublime, 
 The varied produce of each clime. 
 
166 GENIUS AND INDUSTRY. 
 
 A flowery wreath his temples bound, 
 And scatter'd odours all around ; — 
 His eye-balls flash'd the living fire, 
 In his left hand he held a lyre, 
 Which oft he swept, while, from the lofty key, 
 Burst sweetest strains of heavenly harmony. 
 
 Enwrapt with wonder and surprise, 
 The glittering scene he quickly eyes, 
 And, quite transported with delight, 
 Scarce stops to feast his eager sight 5 
 Tumultuous hopes his breast swell high, 
 The rope is seiz d — his lyre laid by 5 
 The wheel revolves like lightning round, 
 The bucket sweeps the sparkling ground, 
 And now he tugs and works away; 
 But, ah! how deep the treasure lay ! — 
 
GENIUS AND INDUSTRY. \67 
 
 It seem'd a heavy, tiresome load, 
 Scarce worth the labour he bestow'd, 
 With joy no more his bosom burns, 
 The lazy axle hardly turns \ — 
 When, looking carelessly around, 
 He thinks he hears a whizzing sound, 
 And soon in air his piercing eye 
 Perceives a beauteous gilded fly. 
 
 Mad to possess the gaudy prize, 
 He quits the wheel, and sudden flies, 
 While every gem neglected lies. 
 With ardour now he skims the plain, 
 Eager the painted toy to gain; 
 And runs, and runs, but runs in vain. 
 The fly, as Genius nearer drew, 
 Still higher soar'd, still faster flew 3 — 
 
168 GENIUS AND INDUSTRY. 
 
 Till tir'd — the youth with slackend pace, 
 Unwillingly gave up the chace, 
 And back return d to seek the Well 5 
 But, ah ! his grief what tongue can tell ! 
 When, leaning o'er with doubtful gaze, 
 He sees no more rich jewels blaze, 
 But muddy waters in their stead, 
 O'er all the black en'd surface spread.— 
 A ruddy youth, call'd Industry, 
 Had in the interim been by, 
 And, toiling hard, by labour won 
 What Genius would have made his cnm> 
 Had fancy been abstracted less, 
 And reason curb'd his mind's excess. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 J. Swan, Printer. 
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