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, Revere his consort's faith, his father'st fame, Twin'd with her blushing foe we spread: And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. Wallows beneath the thorny shade. II. "Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The characters of Hell to trace. The shrieks of death, through Berkeley's roofs that ring,* Shrieks of an agonizing king; She-wolf of France,† with unrelenting fangs, wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd; And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind. "Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford Is the sable warrior|| fled? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, prey. "Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare: Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Lance to lance, and horse to horse? Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course, And through the kindred squadrons mow their way. Ye towers of Julius,** London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murther fed, *Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley castle. Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous queen. Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. § Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress. Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father. Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster. ** 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. Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom, Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. III. "Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn : Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! "Girt with many a baron bold, Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old, In the midst a form divine! Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line; * Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled hard to save her husband and her crown. Henry the Fifth. Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown. § The white and red roses, devices of York and Lan. caster. 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. ¶ 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. ** It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, that King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-land, and should re. turn again to reign over Britain. †† Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor. Taliessin, chief of the bards, flourished in the sixth century. His works are still preserved, and his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen. "The verse adorn again Fierce War, and faithful Love, And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest. In buskin'd measures* move Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. A voice,t as of the cherub-choir, And distant warblingst lessen on my ear, Fond impious man, think'st thou, yon sanguine cloud, Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? And warms the nations with redoubled ray. The different doom our Fates assign. He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height THE FATAL SISTERS.§ AN ODE. [From the Norse-Tongue.] IN THE ORCADES OF THORMODUS TORFÆUS; HALFNIÆ, 1697, FOLIO; AND ALSO IN BARTHOLINUS. Vitt er oprit fyrir valfalli, &c. Now the storm begins to lower, (Haste, the loom of Hell prepare,) Iron-sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air. Glittering lances are the loom, Where the dusky warp we strain, Weaving many a soldier's doom, Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane. See the grisly texture grow, ('Tis of human entrails made,) And the weights that play below, Each a gasping warrior's head. * Shakspeare. ↑ Milton. The succession of poets after Milton's time. § The Valkyriur were female divinities, servants of Odin (or Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their name signifies choosers of the slain. They were mounted on swift horses, with drawn swords in their hands; and in the throng of battle selected such as were destined to slaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, the hall of Odin, or paradise of the brave; where they attended the banquet, and served the departed heroes with horns of mead and ale. Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore, Shoot the trembling cords along ; Sword, that once a monarch bore, Keep the tissue close and strong. Mista, black terrific maid, Ere the ruddy Sun be set, Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Blade with clattering buckler meet, Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. (Weave the crimson web of war,) Let us go, and let us fly, Where our friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die. As the paths of Fate we tread, O'er the youthful king your shield. We the reins to Slaughter give, (Weave the crimson web of war.) They, whom once the desert-beach Low the dauntless Earl is laid, Gor'd with many a gaping wound Fate demands a nobler head; Soon a king shall bite the ground Long his loss shall Eirin weep, Ne'er again his likeness see; Long her strains in sorrow steep, Strains of immortality! Horror covers all the heath, Clouds of carnage blot the Sun. Sisters, weave the web of death; Sisters, cease, the work is done Hail the task, and hail the hands! Songs of joy and triumph sing! Joy to the victorious bands; Triumph to the younger king. Mortal, thou that hear'st the tale, Learn the tenor of our song. Scotland, through each winding vale Far and wide the notes prolong. Sisters, hence, with spurs of speed; Each her thundering falchion wield Each bestride her sable steed: Hurry, hurry to the field. Upreis Odinn allda gauir, &c. UPROSE the King of Men with speed, (The groaning Earth beneath him shakes,) Right against the eastern gate, Slowly breath'd a sullen sound. Pr. What call unknown, what charms presume, To break the quiet of the tomb? Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite, And drags me from the realms of night? Long on these mouldering bones have beat The winter's snow, the summer's heat, The drenching dews, and driving rain! Let me, let me sleep again. Who is he, with voice unblest, That calls me from the bed of rest? O. A traveller, to thee unknown, Is he that calls, a warrior's son. For whom yon glittering board is spread, Pr. Mantling in the goblet see The pure beverage of the bee, O. Once again my call obey, Niflheimr, the Hell of the Gothic nations, consisted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all such as died of sickness, old age, or by any other means than in battle: over it presided Hela, the goddess of death. What danger Odin's child await, Pr. In Hoder's hand the hero's doom: His brother sends him to the tomb. Now my weary lips I close: Leave me, leave me, to repose. O. Prophetess, my spell obey: O. Yet awhile my call obey, And snowy veils, that float in air. Pr. Ha! no traveller art thou, O. No boding maid of skill divine Art thou, nor prophetess of good; But mother of the giant-brood! Pr. Hie thee hence, and boast at home, Till Lokt has burst his ten-fold chain. THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. A FRAGMENT. FROM MR. EVANS'S SPECIMENS OF THE WELSH OWEN's praise demands my song, Lok is the evil being, who continues in chains till the twilight of the gods approaches, when he shall break his bonds; the human race, the stars, and Sun, shall disappear; the earth sink in the seas, and fire consume the skies: even Odin himself and his kindred deities shall perish. For a further explanation of this mythology, see Mallet's Introduction to the History of Denmark, 1755, quarto. Owen succeeded his father Griffin in the principality of North Wales, A. D. 112. This battle was fought near forty years afterwards. § North Wales. He nor heaps his brooded stores, Lord of every regal art, Catch the winds, and join the war; Dauntless on his native sands The dragon-sont of Mona stands; * Denmark. ↑ The red dragon is the device of Cadwallader, which all his descendants bore on their banners. In glittering arms and glory drest, TOBIAS SMOLLETT. TOBIAS SMOLLETT, well known in his time for collection, as the author of "The Tears of Scotthe variety and multiplicity of his publications, was land," the Ode to Leven-Water," and some other born in 1720, at Dalquhurn, in the county of Dum- short pieces, which are polished, tender, and picbarton. He was educated under a surgeon in turesque; and, especially, of an "Ode to IndepenGlasgow, where he also attended the medical lec-dence," which aims at a loftier flight, and perhaps tures of the University; and at this early period he has few superiors in the lyric style. gave some specimens of a talent for writing verses. Smollett married a lady of Jamaica: he was, As it is on this ground that he has obtained a place unfortunately, of an irritable disposition, which inin the present collection, we shall pass over his volved him in frequent quarrels, and finally shortvarious characters of surgeon's mate, physician, his- ened his life. He died in the neighborhood of Legtoriographer, politician, miscellaneous writer, and horn, in October, 1771, in the fifty-first year of his especially novelist, and consider his claims as a minor age. poet of no mean rank. He will be found, in this THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn The wretched owner sees afar What boots it then, in every clime, The rural pipe and merry lay O baneful cause, oh, fatal morn, The pious mother doom'd to death, While the warm blood bedews my veins, ODE TO LEVEN-WATER. ON Leven's banks, while free to rovc, Pure stream! in whose transparent wave |