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Far overleaps all bound, and joys to see
That wept her bleeding love, and princely Clare, * Its ancient lord secure of victory :
And Anjou'st heroine, and the paler rose, I The theatre's green height and woody wall
The rival of her crown and of her woes, Trembles ere it precipitates its fall;
And either Henry 5 there, The pond'rous mass sinks in the cleaving ground,
The murder'd saint, and the majestic lord, While vales and woods and echoing hills rebound.
That broke the bonds of Rome. As when from Ætna's smoking summit broke,
(Their tears, their little triumphs o'er, The eyeless Cyclops heav'd the craggy rock,
Their human passions now no more, Where Ocean frets beneath the dashing oar,
Save Charity, that glows beyond the tomb,) And parting surges round the vessel roar;
All that on Granta's fruitful plain 'Twas there he aim'd the meditated harm,
Rich streams of regal bounty pour'd, And scarce Ulysses 'scap'd his giant arm.
And bade these aweful fanes and turrets rise, A tiger's pride the victor bore away,
To hail their Fitzroy's festa) morning come; With native spots and artful labour gay,
And thus they speak in soft accord A shining border round the margin rolld,
The liquid language of the skies.
“ What is grandeur, what is power ?
What the bright reward we gain?
The grateful memory of the good.
JULY 1, 1769, AT THE INSTALLATION OF HIS The bee's collected treasure's sweet,
Foremost and leaning from her golden cloud
The venerable Margʻret || see ! And Ignorance with looks profound,
“ Welcome, my noble son," she cries aloud, And dreaming Sloth of pallid hue,
“ To this, thy kindred train, and me: Mad Sedition's cry profane,
Pleas'd in thy lineaments we trace Servitude that hugs her chain,
A Tudor's T fire, a Beaufort's grace. Nor in these consecrated bowers
Thy liberal heart, thy judging eye, Let painted Flattery hide her serpent-train in flowers.
The flower unheeded shall descry, Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain,
And bid it round Heaven's altars shed Dare the Muse's walk to stain,
The fragrance of its blushing head : While bright-ey'd Science watches round:
Shall raise from Earth the latent gem, Hence, away, 't is holy ground !"
To glitter on the diadem. From yonder realms of empyrean day
“ Lo Granta waits to lead her blooming band, Barsts on my ear th' indignant lay :
Not obvious, not obtrusive, she There sit the sainted sage, the bard divine,
No vulgar praise, no venal incense flings; The few, whom genius gave to shine
Nor dares with courtly tongue refin'd Through every unborn age and undiscoverd clime.
Profane thy inborn royalty of mind: Rapt in celestial transport they,
She reveres herself and thee. Yet hither oft a glance from high
With modest pride to grace thy youthful brow They send of tender sympathy
The laureat wreath, that Cecil** wore, she brings, To bless the place, where on their opening soul
And to thy just, thy gentle hand First the genuine ardour stole.
Submits the fasces of her sway, 'T was Milton struck the deep-ton'd shell,
While spirits blest above and men below And, as the choral warblings round him swell,
Join with glad voice the loud symphonious lay. Meek Newton's self bends from his state sublime,
Through the wild waves as they roar And nods his hoary head, and listens to the rhyme.
With watchful eye and dauntless mien Ye brown o'er-arching groves,
Thy steady course of honour keep, That Contemplation loves,
Nor fear the rocks, nor seek the shore : Where willowy Camus lingers with delight!
The star of Brunswick smiles serene,
And gilds the horrours of the deep."
* Elizabeth de Burg, Countess of Clare, was wife of John In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of Folly,
de Burg, son and heir of the Earl of Ulster, and daughter of With Freedom by my side, and soft-ey'd Melancholy.” Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, by Joan of Acres,
daughter of Edward the First. Hence the poet gives her the But bark! the portals sound, and pacing forth epithet of princely. She founded Clare-Hall. With solemn steps and slow,
† Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry the Sixth, foundress of
Queen's College. The poet had celebrated her conjugal High potentates and dames of royal birth,
fidelity in a former ode. And mitred fathers in long order go:
Elizabeth Widville, wife of Edward the Fourth (hence Great Edward,* with the lilies on bis brow,
called the paler rose, as being of the house of York). She From haughty Gallia torn,
added to the foundation of Margaret of Anjou. And sad Chatillon,+ on her bridal morn
Henry the Sixth and Eighth. The former the founder
of King's, the latter the greatest benefactor to Trinity Col• Edward the Third; who added the fleur-de-lis of France lege.
Ü Countess of Richmond and Derby; the mother of Henry to the arms of England. He founded Trinity College. † Mary de Valentia, Countess of Pembroke, daughter of
the Seventh, foundress of St. John's and Christ's Colleges. Guy de Chatillon, Comte de St. Paul in France: of whom The Countess was a Beaufort, and married to a Tudor; tradition says, that her husband, Audemar de Valentia, Earl hence the application of this line to the Duke of Grafton, of Pembroke, was slain at a tournament on the day of his who claims descent from both these families. nuptials. She was the foundress of Pembroke College or ** Lord-treasurer Burleigh was chancellor of the University Hall, under the name of Aula Mariæ de Valentia,
in the reign of Queen Elizabeth,
She-wolf of France, * with unrelenting fangs,
That tears the bowels of thy mangled mate,
From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
The scourge of Heaven, + What terrours, round him
wait ! “ Ruin seize thee, ruthless king !
Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd;
And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
“ • Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Helm, nor hauberk's * twisted mail,
Low on his funeral couch he lies ! Nor e'en thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail
No pitying heart, no eye, afford
A tear to grace his obsequies.
The swarm, that in the noon-tide beam were born,
Gone to salute the rising Morn.
Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
Regardless of the sweeping Wbirlwind's sway, Frowns o’er old Conway's foaming flood,
That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening-prey. Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,
“ • Fill high the sparkling bowl, With haggard eyes the poet stood ;
The rich repast prepare: (Loose his beard and hoary hair
Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast :
Close by the regal chair
Fell Thirst and Famine scowl Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. “ Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
Heard ye the din of battle bray,|| Sighs to the torrent's aweful voice beneath!
Lance to lance, and horse to horse? O'er thee, oh king ! their hundred arms they wave,
Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course, Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ;
And through the kindred squadrons mow their way. Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
With many a foul and midnight murther fed, " Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
Revere his consort's** faith, his father's ++ fame, That hush'd the stormy main ;
And spare the meek usurper's It holy head. Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed :
Above, below, the roses of snow, Mountains, ye mourn in vain
Twin'd with her blushing foe we spread : Modred, whose magic song
The bristled boar || || in infant gore Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-top'd head.
Wallows beneath the thorny shade. On dreary Arvon's shore g they lie,
Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom, Smeard with gore, and ghastly pale:
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
“Edward, lo! to sudden fate Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,
(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
Half of thy heart we consecrate. I Ye died amidst your dying country's cries
(The web is wove. The work is done.) No more I weep. They do not sleep.
Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:
* Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous queen. With me in dreadful harmony they join,
+ Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even
robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress. II.
$ Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his
father. " • Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
|| Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster. The winding-sheet of Edward's race :
Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Give ample room, and verge enough
Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. believed to be murdered seThe characters of Hell to trace.
cretly in the Tower of London. The oldest part of that strucMark the year, and mark the night,
ture is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar. When Severn shall re-echo with affright
** Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled
hard to save her husband and her crown. The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roofs that ringill
ft Henry the Fifth. Shrieks of an agonizing king ;
11 Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of
Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown. * The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings in
$ $ The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster. terwoven, forming a coat of mail, that sat close to the body, 11 | The silver-boar was the badge of Richard the Third ; and adapted itself to every motion.
whence he was usually known in his own time by the name of + Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester
The Boar. and Hertford, son-in-law to King Edward.
1 Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of Edmond de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore.
Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her lord The shores of Caernarvonshire opposite to the Isle of is well known. The monuments of his regret, and sorrow for Anglesea.
the loss of her are still to be seen at Northampton, Geddingv Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley castle. ton, Waltham, and other places.
Ev'ry warrior's manly neck
In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
A LONG STORY.
ADVERTISEMENT. MR. GRAY's Elegy, previous to its publication,
was handed about in MS. and had, amongst other admirers, the Lady Cobham, who resided in the mansion-house at Stoke-Pogeis. The performance induced her to wish for the Author's acquaintance; Lady Schaub and Miss Speed, then at her house, undertook to introduce her to it. These two ladies waited upon the Author, at his aunt's solitary habitation, where he at that time resided, and not finding him at home, they left a card behind them. Mr. Gray, surprised at such a compliment, returned the visit; and as the beginning of this intercourse bore some appearance of romance, he gave the humourous and lively account of it which the Long Story contains.
In Britain's isle, no matter where,
To raise the ceiling's fretted height,
Full oft within the spacious walls,
His bushy-beard and shoe-strings green,
What, in the very first beginning,
A house there is (and that's enough)
THE DEATH OF HOEL. From the Welsh of Aneurim, styled the Monarch
of the Bards. BE FLOURISHED ABOUT THE TIME OF TALIESSIN,
A. D. 570.
To Cattraeth’s vale, in glittring row,
Twice two hundred warriors go : * It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, that King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-land, and should return again to + 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.
| Taliessen, chief of the bards, flourished in the sixth century. His works are still preserved, and his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen. Shakspeare.
| Milton. The succession of poets after Milton's time.
reign over Britain.
* The mansion-house at Stoke-Pogeis, then in the possession of the Viscountess Cobham. The style of building, which we now call Queen Elizabeth's, is here admirably described, both with regard to its beauties and defects; and the third and fourth as delineate the fantastic manners of her time with equal truth and humour. The house formerly belonged to the Earls of Huntingdon and the family of Hatton.
+ Sir Christopher Hatton, promoted by Queen Elizabeth for his graceful person and fine dancing.–Brawls were a sort of a figure dance then in vogue, and probably deemed as elegant as our modern cotillons, or still more modern quadrilles.
1 The reader is already apprized who these ladies were ; the two descriptions are prettily contrasted; and nothing can be more happily turned than the compliment to Lady Cobham in the eighth stanza.
The first came cap-a-piè from France,
Yet on his way (no sign of grace, Her conqu’ring destiny fulfilling,
For folks in fear are apt to pray) Whom meaner beauties eye askance,
To Phæbus he preferr'd his case And vainly ape her art of killing.
And begg'd his aid that dreadful day. The other Amazon kind heav'n
The godhead would have back'd his quarrel : Had arm’d with spirit, wit, and satire !
But with a blush, on recollection, But Cobham had the polish giv'n,
Own'd that his quiver and his laurel And tipp'd her arrows with good nature.
'Gainst four such eyes were no protection. To celebrate her eyes, her air
The court was sat, the culprit there ; Coarse panegyrics would but tease her;
Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping, Melissa is her nom du guerre;
The lady Janes and Joans repair Alas: who would not wish to please her:
And from the gallery stand peeping: With bonnet blue and capuchin,
Such as in silence of the night And aprous long, they hid their armour,
Come (sweep) along some winding entry, And veil'd their weapons, bright and keen,
(Styack* las often seen the sight) In pity to the country farmer.
Or at the chapel-door stand sentry; Fame, in the shape of P-t, *
In peaked hoods and mantles tarnish'd (By this time all the parish know it)
Sour visages enough to scare ye, Had told that thereabouts there lurk'd
High dames of honour once that garnish'd A wicked imp they call a Poet.
The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary! Who prowl'd the country far and near,
The peeress comes : the audience stare, Bewitch'd the children of the peasants,
And doff their hats with due submission; Dry'd up the cows and lam'd the deer,
She court'sies, as she takes her chair, And suck'd the eggs, and kill'd the pheasants.
To all the people of condition. My Lady heard their joint petition,
The Bard with many an artfal fib Swore by her coronet and ermine,
Had in imagination fenc'd him, She'd issue out her high commission
Disprov'd the arguments of Squib, To rid the manor of such vermin.
And all that Groom could urge against him. The heroines andertook the task;
But soon his rhetoric forsook him, Thro' lanes anknown, o'er stiles they ventur'd,
When he the solemn hall had seen; Rapp'd at the door, nor stay'd to ask,
A sudden fit of ague shook him; But bounce into the parlour enter'd.
He stood as mute as poor Maclean. The trembling family they daunt,
Yet something he was heard to mutter, They flirt, they sing, they laugh, they tattle,
How in the park, beneath an old tree, Rummage his mother, pinch his aunt,
(Without design to hurt the butter, And up stairs in a whirlwind rattle.
Or any malice to the poultry) Each hole and cupboard they explore,
“ He once or twice had penn'd a sonnet, Each creek and cranny of his chamber,
Yet hop'd that he might save his bacon; Run harry scurry, round the floor,
Numbers would give their oaths upon it, And o'er the bed and tester clamber.
He ne'er was for a conj'rer taken." Into the drawers and china pry,
The ghostly prudes with bagged || face, Papers and books, a huge imbroglio!
Already had condem'd the sinner: Under a tea-cup he might lie,
My Lady rose, and with a graceOr creas'd like dogos-ears in a folio.
She smild, and bid him come to dinner. I On the first marching of the troops,
“ Jesu-Maria! Madam Bridget, The Muses, hopeless of his pardon,
Why, what can the Vicountess mean!" Convey'd him underneath their hoops
Cry'd the square hoods, in woeful fidget ; To a small closet in the garden.
“ The times are alter'd quite and clean! So Rumour says; (who will believe)
Decorum's turn'd to mere civility! Bat that they left the door a-jar,
Her air and all her manners shew it: Where safe, and laughing in his sleeve, .
Commend me to her affability; He heard the distant din of war?
Speak to a Commoner and Poet !" Short was his joy : he little knew
(Here 500 stanzas are lost.) The power of magic was no fable;
And so God save our noble king, Out of the window whisk they flew,
And guard us from long winded lubbers, But left a spell upon the table.
That to eternity would sing,
And keep my lady from her rubbers.
* The Housekeeper.
1 Groom of the chamber. And chains invisible the border.
$ A famous highwayman, hanged the week before. So cunning was the apparatus,
|| Hagged, i.e. the face of a witch or hag. The epithet The pow'rful pot-hooks did so move him,
hagard has been sometimes mistaken as conveying the same That will he nill he to the great house
idea, but it means a very different thing; viz. wild and faHe went as if the devil drove him.
rouche, and is taken from an unreclaimed bawk, called an
Hagard. * It has been said that this gentleman, a neighbour and ac
| Here the story finishes, the exclamation of the ghosts,
which follows, is characteristic of the Spanish manners of the quaintance of Mr. Gray in the country, was much displeased age when they are supposed to have lived; and the 500 at the liberty here taken with his name, yet surely without any stanzas said to be lost, may be imagined to contain the regreat reason.
mainder of their longwinded expostulation.
THE FATAL SISTERS.*
Hail the ta x, 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 tenour 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 ber sable steed:
Hurry, hurry to the field.
THE DESCENT OF ODIN.
(From the Norse-Tongue.) IN TAB ORCADES OF THOR MODUS TORFÆUS; RAT. NIR, 1697, FOLIO; AND ALSO IN BARTHOLINUS.
Vitt er oprit fyrir valfalli, &c.
(Haste, the loom of Hell prepare,)
Hartles in the darken'd air.
Where the dusky warp we strain,
Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane.
('T is of human entrails made,)
Each a gasping warrior's head.
Shoot the trembling cords along;
Keep the tissue close and strong.
Sangrida, and Hilda, see,
T is the woof of victory.
Pikes must shiver, javelins sing,
Hauberk crash, and helmet ring.
Let us go, and let us fly,
Where they triumph, where they die.
Wading through th' ensanguin'd field ;
O'er the youthful king your shield.
Ours to kill, and ours to spare:
(Weave the crimson web of war.)
Pent within its bleak domain,
O'er the plenty of the plain.
Gord with many a gaping wound :
Soon a king shall bite the ground.
Ne'er again his likeness see;
Strains of immortality!
Clouds of carnage blot the Sun.
Sisters, cease, the wo is done.
(From the same.) IN BARTHOLINUS, DE CAUSIS CONTEMNENDK
MORTIS; AAFNIÆ, 1689, QUARTO.
Upreis Odinn allda gauir, &c.
Right against the eastern gate,
Pr. What call unknown, what charms presume,
0. A traveller, to thee unknown,
Pr. Mantling in the goblet see
* 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 Valkallah, 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.
* Niflheimr, the Hell of the Gothic nations, consisting 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.