Images de page

No more I weep: They do not sleep!
On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
I see them sit, they linger yet,

Avengers of their native land:

With me in dreadful harmony they join, [line". And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy II. 1.

'Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The windingsheet of Edward's race;

Give ample room, and verge enough

The characters of hell to trace.

Mark the year, and mark the night,
When Severn shall reecho with affright

The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that
Shrieks of an agonizing King 14!

[ring, She wolf of France ", with unrelenting fangs, That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled Mate, From thee be born 16, who o'er thy country


The scourge of Heaven. What Terrors round

him wait!

Amazement in his van, with Flight combined, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

II. 2.

'Mighty Victor, mighty Lord,

Low on his funeral couch he lies '7!

13 See the Norwegian ode, The Fatal Sisters, hereafter. 14 Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley Castle. 15 Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous Queen. 16 Triumphs of Edward the Third in France.

17 Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress.

No pitying heart, no eye, afford
A tear to grace his obsequies.
Is the sable warrior fled 18?

Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born?
Gone to salute the rising morn.

Fair laughs the morn 9, and soft the zephyr blows,
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

II. 3.

Fill high the sparkling bowl",

The rich repast prepare,

Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Close by the regal chair

Fell Thirst and Famine scowl

A baleful smile upon their baffled Guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray ",

Lance to lance, and horse to horse;

Long years of havoc urge their destined course, And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.

18 Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father.

19 Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign. See Froissart and other contemporary writers.

20 Richard the Second, as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate Lords in their manifesto, by Thomas of Walsingham, and all the older writers, was starved to death. The story of his assassination, by Sir Piers of Exton, is of much later date.

Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster.


'Ye Towers of Julius ", London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed, Revere his consort's faith 23, his father's fame 24, And spare the meek usurper's holy head". Above, below, the rose of snow


Twined with her blushing foe, we spread: The bristled Boar 27 in infant gore

Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

Now, brothers, bending o'er the' accursed loom, Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

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JII. 1.

Edward, lo! to sudden fate

(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)

Half of thy heart we consecrate 28. (The web is wove. The work is done.) Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:

22 Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. believed to be murdered secretly in the Tower of London. The oldest part of that structure is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar.

23 Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled hard to save her husband and her crown.

24 Henry the Fifth.

25 Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown.

26 The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster. 27 The silver boar was the badge of Richard the Third; whence he was usually known in his own time by the name of the Boar.

28 Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her lord is well known. The monuments of his regret and sorrow for the loss of her are still to be seen at Northampton, Geddington, Waltham, and other places.

In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, They melt, they vanish from my eyes.

But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll? Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!

Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my soul! No more our long lost Arthur we bewail 29, All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail 30! III. 2.

'Girt with many a Baron bold Sublime their starry fronts they rear;

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old In bearded majesty, appear.

In the midst a form divine!


eye proclaims her of the Briton line; Her lion port, her awe-commanding face31, Attemper'd sweet to virgin grace.

What strings symphonious tremble in the air, What strains of vocal transport round her play! Hear from the grave, great Talliessin 3, hear; They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.

29 It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, that King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-land, and would return again to reign over Britain.

30 Both Merlin and Talliessin had prophesied, that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor.

31 Speed, relating an audience given by Queen Elizabeth to Paul Dzialinski, ambassador of Poland, says, 'And thus she, lion-like, rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princelie checkes.'

32 Talliessin, chief of the Bards, flourished in the sixth century. His works are still preserved, and his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen.

Bright Rapture calls, and, soaring as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heaven her many-coloured wings.

III. 3.

'The verse adorn again

Fierce War, and faithful Love 33,
And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction dress'd.
In buskin'd measures move 34
Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,

With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
A voice, as of the cherub-choir 35,
Gales from blooming Eden bear:

And distant warblings lesson on my ear
That lost in long futurity expire.


Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,

Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?

To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me: with joy I see

The different doom our fates assign. Be thine Despair, and sceptred Care, To triumph, and to die, are mine.'

He spoke; and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.

33 Fierce wars and faithful loves shall moralize my song. Spenser's Proem to the Fairy Queen.



35 Milton.

36 The succession of Poets after Milton's time.

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