"The treachery took: she waited mild; My slave came back and lied 666 Whate'er I wished; she clasped her child, "I felt her tears for years and years Quench not my flame, but stir; "Fame told us of his glory, while And while she blessed his name, her smile "No fears could damp; I reached the camp, "This wound's my meed, my name's Kinghorn, My foe's the Ritter Bann.' The wafer to his lips was borne, And we shrived the dying man. "He died not till you went to fight But I see my tale has changed you pale."- And brought a little page who poured It out and knelt and smiled; The stunned knight saw himself restored And stooped and caught him to his breast, And with a shower of kisses pressed The darling little one. "And where went Jane ?"-"To a nunnery, Look not again so pale Kinghorn's old dame grew harsh to her." "And has she ta'en the veil ?" "Sit down, sir," said the priest, "I bar Rash words."-They sat all three, sir And the boy played with the knight's broad star, As he kept him on his knee. "Think ere you ask her dwelling-place," "Grief may have made her what you can The priest undid two doors that hid And there a lovely woman stood, One moment may with bliss repay Such was the throb and mutual sob GILDEROY. THE last, the fatal hour is come The bell has tolled; it shakes my heart; The trumpet speaks thy name; And must my Gilderoy depart To bear a death of shame ? No bosom trembles for thy doom; Oh, Gilderoy! bethought we then Your locks they glittered to the sheen, Ah! little thought I to deplore Those limbs in fetters bound; Or hear upon the scaffold floor, The midnight hammer sound. Ye cruel, cruel, that combined A long adieu! but where shall fly Yes! they will mock thy widow's tears, Alas! his infant beauty wears Then will I seek the dreary mound STANZAS ON THE THREATENED INVASION. 1803. OUR bosoms we'll bare for the glorious strife, To prevail in the cause that is dearer than life, Or crushed in its ruins to die! Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand, And swear to prevail in your dear native land! 'Tis the home we hold sacred is laid to our trustGod bless the green Isle of the brave! Should a conqueror tread on our forefathers' dust, It would rouse the old dead from their grave! Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand, And swear to prevail in your dear native land! In a Briton's sweet home shall a spoiler abide, Shall a Frenchman insult the loved fair at our side? Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand, And swear to prevail in your dear native land! Shall a tyrant enslave us, my countrymen ?—No! A death-bed repentance be taught the proud foe, THE WOUNDED HUSSAR. ALONE to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube "What voice did I hear? 'twas my Henry that sighed !" |