Of twenty hundred Englishmen
Scarce fifty five did flee :
The reft were flain at Chevy-chace,
Under the green-wood tree.
Next day did may widows come,
Their hufbands to bewail;
They wafh'd their wounds in brinish tears;
But all could not prevail.
Their bodies, bath'd in purple blood,
They bare with them away:
They kifs'd them dead a thoufand times,
When they were cold as clay.
The news were brought to Edinburgh,
Where Scotland's King did reign,
That brave Earl Douglas fuddenly
Was with an arrow flain.

Now God be with him, faid our King,
Sith 'twill no better be:

I truft I have in my realm

Five hundred as good as he.
Like tidings to King Henry came,
Within as fhort a space,
That Piercy of Northumberland
Was flain at Chevy-chace.
O heavy news, King Henry said,
England can witnefs be,

I have not any captain more,
Of fuch account as he..
Now of the rest of small account,
Did many hundreds die.

Thus ended the hunting of Chevy-chace,
Made by the Earl Piercy.

God fave the King, and bless the land
With plenty, joy and peace;

And grant henceforth, that foul debates
'Twixt noblemen may ceafe.

The

324

The dying Chriftian to his foul.

OD E.

T

I.

V1

ITAL fpark of heav'nly flame! Quit, Oh quit this mortal frame : Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the blifs of dying! Ceafe, fond nature, ceafe thy ftrife, And let me languish into life..

II.

Hark! they whifper; angels fay,
Sifter fpirit, come away,
What is this abforbs me quite ?
Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight,
Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my foul, can this be death?

III.

The world recedes; it difappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With founds feraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly !
O grave! where is thy victory?
Ŏ death where is thy fting?

Excerpts

Excerpts from Thomson's SEASONS.

SPRING.

OME, gentle Spring, ethereal mildnefs,

COME

come,

And from the bofom of yon dropping cloud, While mufick wakes around, veil'd in a fhower Of fhadowing roses, on our planes defcend.

AND fee where furly, Winter paffes off, Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blafts His blafts obey, and quit the howling hill, The hatter'd forreft, and the ravag'd vale; While fofter gales fucceed; at whofe kind

touch,

Diffolving fnows in livid torrents loft,
The mountains lift their green heads to the

fky.

At laft from Aries rolls the bounteous fun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no

more,

Th' expanfive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold;
But, full of life and vivifying foul,
Lifts the light clouds fublime, and spreads them
thin,

Fleecy, and white, o'er all-furrounding heaven.
Forth fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd,
Unbinding earth, the moving foftnefs ftrays.
Joyous, th' impatient husbandman perceives
Relenting nature, and his lufty steers
Drives from their ftalls, to where the well-us'd

plow

E e

Lies

Lies in the furrow, loofen'd from the froft. There, unrefufing to the harness'd yoke, They lend their fhoulder, and begin their toil, Chear'd by the fimple fong, and foaring lark. Mean while, incumbent o'er the fhining fhare, The mafter leans, removes th' obftructed clay, Winds the whole work, and fidelong lays the glebe.

White, thro' the neighbouring fields the fower ftalks,

With measur'd ftep; and, liberal, throws the grain

Into the faithful bofom of the ground.
The harrow follows harsh, and fhuts the fcene.

From the moift meadow to the wither'd
hill,

Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs,
And fwells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye.
The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees,
Till the whole leafy foreft ftands difplay'd,
In full luxuriance, to the fighing gales;
Where the deer ruftle thro' the twining brake,
And the birds fing conceal'd. At once, ar-

ray'd

In all the colours of the flushing year,
By nature's fwift and fecret-working hand,
The garden glows, and fills the liberal air
With lavish fragrance; while the promis'd

fruit

Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd,
Within its crimson folds. Now from the

town

Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisom damps, Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields,

Where

Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops

From the bent bush, as thro' the verdant maze
Of sweet-bryar hedges I purfue my walk;
Or tafte the smell of dairy; or ascend
Some eminence, AUGUSTA, in thy planes,
And fee the country, far-diffus'd around,
One boundless blush, one white-empurpled

shower

Of mingled bloffoms; where the raptur'd eye Hurries from joy, to joy.

* *. Even mountains, vales, And forests feem, impatient, to demandi The promis'd fweetness. Man fuperior walks Amid the glad creation, mufing praife, And looking lively gratitude. At laft, The clouds confign their treafures to the fields,

And, foftly shaking on the dimpled pool Prelufive drops, let all their moisture flow, In large effufion o'er the freshen'd world. The ftealing fhower is fcarce to patter heard, By fuch as wander thro' the foreft-walks, Beneath th' umbrageous multitude of leaves. But who can hold. the shade while heaven de fcends

In univerfal bounty, fhedding herbs,

And fruits, and flowers, on nature's ample lap?

Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth; And, while the milky nutriment diftills, Beholds the kindling country colour round.'

See, where the winding vale its lavish ftores,Irriguous, fpreads. See, how the lily drinks E e 2

The