"And on its sides the torrents gray

"Shone to the morning's orient ray.

"When Arthur bowed his haughty crest, "No princess, veiled in azure vest,

"Snatched him, by Merlin's potent spell,

"In groves of golden bliss to dwell;

"Where, crowned with wreaths of misletoe,

"Slaughtered kings in glory go:

"But when he fell, with winged speed,

"His champions on a milk-white steed,

"From the battle's hurricane,

"Bore him to Joseph's towered fane,

"In the fair vale of Avalon;

"There, with chanted orison,

"And the long blaze of tapers clear,

"The stoled fathers met the bier;
"Through the dim aisles, in order dread

"Of martial woe, the chief they led,

Line 13th, Glastonbury abbey, said to be founded by Jo. seph of Arimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley of Avalonia.

"And deep entomb'd in holy ground,

"Before the altar's solemn bound.

"Around no dusky banners wave,

"No mouldering trophies mark the grave :

"Away the ruthless Dane has torn

"Each trace that time's slow touch had worn;

"And long, o'er the neglected stone,

"Oblivion's veil its shade has thrown :

"The faded tomb, with honour due,

" "Tis thine, O Henry, to renew !

"Thither, when conquest has restored

"Yon recreant isle, and sheath'd the sword,

"When peace with palm has crown'd thy brows,

"Haste thee, to pay thy pilgrim vows.

"There, observant of my lore,

"The pavement's hallow'd depth explore;

"And thrice a fathom underneath

"Dive into the vaults of death.

"There shall thine eye, with wild amaze,

"On his gigantic stature gaze;

"There shalt thou find the monarch laid,
"All in warrior-weeds array'd;

"Wearing in death his helmet-crown,

"And weapons huge of old renown.
"Martial prince, 'tis thine to save
"From dark oblivion Arthur's grave!

"So may thy ships securely stem
"The western frith: thy diadem

"Shine victorious in the van,

"Nor heed the slings of Ulster's clan:
"Thy Norman pike-men win their way
"Up the dun rocks of Harald's bay:
"And from the steeps of rough Kildare
"Thy prancing hoofs the falcon scare:

"So may thy bow's unerring yew

"Its shafts in Roderick's heart imbrew."

Line 12th, The bay of Dublin. Harald, or Har-Fager, the Fair-haired King of Norway, is said, in the life of Gryffudh ap Conan, Prince of North Wales, to have conquered Ire land, and to have founded Dublin.

Line 16th, Henry is supposed to have succeeded in this enterprise, chiefly by the use of the long-bow, with which the Irish were entirely unacquainted.

Amid the pealing symphony,
The spiced goblets mantled high;
With passions new the song impress'd
The listening king's impatient breast:
Flash the keen lightnings from his eyes;
He scorns a while his bold emprise :
Ev'n now he seems, with eager pace,

The consecrated floor to trace ;

And ope,

from its tremendous gloom,

The treasure of the wonderous tomb :
Ev'n now, he burns in thought to rear,
From its dark bed, the ponderous spear,
Rough with the gore of Pictish kings:
Ev'n now fond hope his fancy wings,
To poise the monarch's massy blade,

Of magic-temper'd metal made;

And drag to day the dinted shield

That felt the storm of Camlan's field.

O'er the sepulchre profound

Ev'n now, with arching sculpture crown'd,

He plans the chantry's choral shrine,

The daily dirge, and rites divine.

LV.

BIRTH-DAY ODE, 1787.

WARTON.

THE noblest bards of Albion's choir

Have struck of old this festal lyre.
Ere science, struggling oft in vain,

Had dared to break her Gothic chain,
Victorious Edward gave the vernal bough

Of Britain's bay, to bloom on Chaucer's brow:
Fired with the gift, he changed to sounds sublime
His Norman minstrelsy's discordant chime;

In tones majestic, hence he told
The banquet of Cambuscan bold;
And oft he sung (howe'er the rhyme
Has moulder'd to the touch of Time)