« ПредишнаНапред »
OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF MR. GILL, WHO WAS DROWNED IN THB
RIVER TRENT, WHILE BATHING, AUGUST, 1802.
He sunk-the impetuous river rolled along,
The sullen wave betrayed his dying breath; And rising sad the rustling sedge among,
The gale of evening touched the chords of death. Nymph of the Trent! why didst not thou appear,
To snatch the victim from thy felon-wave! Alas! too late thou camest t embalm his bier,
And deck with water-flags his early grave. Triumphant riding o'er its tumid prey,
Rolls the red stream in sanguinary pride; While anxious crowds, in vain, expectant stay,
And ask the swoln corse from the murdering tide. The stealing tear-drop stagnates in the eye,
The sudden sigh by friendship’s bosom proved, I mark them rise-I mark the general sigh;
Unhappy youth! and wert thou so beloved? On thee, as lone I trace the Trent's green brink,
When the dim twilight slumbers on the glade, On thee my thoughts shall dwell, nor Fancy shrink
To hold mysterious converse with thy shade. Of thee, as early I, with vagrant feet,
Hail the grey-sandaled morn in Colwick’s vale, Of thee, my sylvan reed shall warble sweet,
And wild-wood echoes shall repeat the tale. And, oh! ye nymphs of Pæon! who preside
O’er running rill and salutary stream, Guard ye in future well the halcyon tide,
From the rude death shriek, and the dying scream.
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.
When marshalled on the nightly plain,
The glittering host bestud the sky,
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.
Hark! hark! To God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
It is the Star of Bethlehem.
The storm was loud, the night was dark,
The wind that tossed my foundering bark:
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;
It was the Star of Bethlehem,
It bade my dark forebodings cease;
It led me to the port of peace.
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
The Star! the Star of Bethlehem!
SIR WALTER SCOTT Was born in Edinburgh, A.D. 1771, and educated at the High School and University of Edinburgh, after which he was admitted as an advocate to the Scottish bar. Released from the drudgery of professional labour by the acquisition of two lucrative situations, and the possession of a handsome fortune, Scott was enabled to devote himself to literary pursuits His first publications were translations from the German; but that which opened his path to fame was the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. In 1805 The Lay of the Last Minstrel appeared, which at once stamped his fame as the poet of chivalry. It was followed by Marmion, The Lady of the Lake, Rokeby, The Lord of the Isles, and some others of less note. Finding that his later works did not attain the popularity of the preceding, Scott chose a new department of literature, and, concealing his name, commenced the series now commonly called The Waverley Novels. The rapidity with which these magnificent fictions succeeded each other was truly surprising. Beside the above, Scott produced a Life of Napoleon, some smaller historical works, and some dramas, and edited the works of Dryden, and several others. He was created a baronet in 1820. Sir Walter chiefly resided at his seat at Abbotsford, which he had built, but at length unfortunately sustaining some severe pecuniary losses, his health was shaken, and he was advised to visit Italy. He died at Abbotsford, shortly after his return, on September 21, 1832.
The design of Scott in his poems was to blend the energetic spirit and wild adventure of the ancient minstrels with the graces of modern refinement; and his highest praise is that he completely succeeded.
To mute and to material things,
Deep graved in every British heart, Oh! never let those names depart! Say to your sons-Lo, here his grave! Who victor died on Gadite? wave; To him, as to the burning levin, Short, bright, resistless course was given; Where'er his country's foes were found, Was heard the fated thunder's sound, Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, Rolled, blazed, destroyed, and was no more.
Nor mourn ye less his perished worth,
1 Gadite, belonging to Cadiz, near which is Cape Trafalgar.
2 Hafnia, the classical name of Copenhagen.
Who, when the frantic crowd amain
Hadst thou but lived, though stripped of power,
Oh! think how to his latest day,
Nor yet suppress the generous sigh,
When best employed and wanted most; 3 Palinure, the pilot of Æneas, whom 4 requiescat in pace, “may he rest Virgil describes as clinging to the helm in peace!" a common prayer for the
even in death.
Mourn genius high and lore profound,
this honoured grave;
From THE LADY OF THE LAKE.
He is gone on the mountain,
He is lost to the forest,
When our need was the sorest.
3 Coronach, a funeral song.