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Yes! they can meet his eye,

| Thus, though abroad perchance I might That only beams with patient courage now;

appear Yes! they can gaze upon those manly limbs,

Harsh and austere, Defenceless now and bound.

To those who on my leisure would intrude

Reserved and rude, And that eye did not shrink

Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be As he beheld the pomp of infamy;

Like the high leaves upon the flolly-Trec. Nor did one rebel feeling shake those limbs When the last moment came.

And should my youth, as youth is apt I What though suspended sense

know, Was by their damned cruelty revived,

Some harshness show, What though ingenious vengeance lengthen'All vain asperities I day by day life

Would wear away,
To feel protracted death ;

Till the smooth temper of my age should be

Like the high leaves upon the Holly-Trec. What though the hangman's hand Graspt in his living breast the heaving heart, In the last agony, the last sick pang, And as when all the summer-trees are seen Wallace had comfort still.

So bright and green,

The Holly-leaves their fadeless hues display He call’d to mind his deeds

Less bright than they ; Done for his country in the embattled field ; But when the bare and wintry woods we sce, He thought of that good cause for which What then so chearful as the Holly-Tree!

he died, And that was joy in death!

So serious should my youth appear among Go, Edward, triumph now!

The thoughtless throng, Cambria is fallen, and Scotland's strength So would I seem amid the young and gay is crush'd;

More grave than they, On Wallace, on Llewellyn's mangled limbs That in my age as chearful I might be The fowls of Heaven have fed.

As the green winter of the Holly-Tree.

Unrivalled, unopposed,
Go, Edward, full of glory to thy grave!
The weight of patriot blood upon thy soul,

Go, Edward, to thy God!


- THERE, in the eye
Of light and in the face of day, the rites

Began. Upon the Stone of Covenant

The sheathed sword was laid; the Master

then O READER! hast thou ever stood to see

Upraised his voice, and cried: Let them The Holly-Tree?

who seek The eye that contemplates it well perceives | The high degree and sacred privilege Its glossy leaves

of Bardic science, and of Cimbric lore, Order'd by an intelligence so wise

Here to the Bards of Britain make their As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.

claim ! Thus having said, the Master bade the youths

Approach the place of peace, and merit there Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen The Bard's most honourable name. With Wrinkled and keen;

that, No grazing cattle through their prickly round Heirs and transmittors of the ancient light, Can reach to wound;

The youths advanced; they heard the CimBut as they grow where nothing is to fear,

bric lore, Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves From earliest days preserved; they struck appear.

their harps,

And each in due succession raised the song. I love to view these things with curious eyes,

And moralize : And in this wisdom of the Holly-Tree Last of the aspirants, as of greener years, Can emblems see

Young Caradoc advanced ; his lip as yet Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant Scarce darkened with its down, his flaxen rhyme,

locks One which may profit in the aftertime. | Wreathed in contracting ringlets waving low; 654

ROBERT SOUTHEY'S MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Brightened his large blne eyes, and kindled | Have they their home, where central in now

maintain With that same passion that inflamed his Perpetual summer, where one emerald in


Through the green element for ever for Yet in his cheek there was the sickliness Which thought and feeling leave, wearing


Twice have the sons of Britain left hersher The hue of youth. Inclining on his harp, As the fledged eaglets quit their native e He, while his comrades in probation song Twice over ocean have her fearless sos Approved their claim, stood hearkening, as For ever sailed away. Again they landi ' it seemed,

Their vessels to the deep.-Who we And yet like unintelligible sounds

the bark? He heard the symphony and voice attuned; The son of Owen, the beloved Prince, Even in such feelings as, all undefined, Who never for injustice reared his ar Come with the flow of waters to the soul, Respect his enterprize, ye ocean-waves! Or with the motions of the moonlight-sky. Ye Winds of Heaven, waft Madoc on his wa But when his bidding came, he at the call The Waves of Ocean, and the Wind Arising from that dreamy mood, advanced,

Heaven Threw back his mantle, and began the lay. Became his ministers, and Madoc found

The world he sought. Who seeks the beer

land? Where are the song of Gavran? where his Who mounts the vessel for the world tribe,

peace? The faithful? Following their beloved Chief, He who hath felt the throb of pride, to be They the Green Islands of the Ocean sought; Our old illustrious annals; who was taer Nor human tongue hath told, nor human ear, To lisp the fame of Arthur, to revere Since from the silver shores they went their Great Caratach's unconquered soul, and al


That gallant chief his countryman, who ko Hath heard their fortunes. In his crystal Ark, The wrath of Britain from her chalky sbor Whither sailed Merlin with his band of To drive the Roman robber. He who be


His country, and who feels his country Old Merlin, master of the mystic lore?

shaine, Belike his crystal Ark, instinct with life, Whose bones amid a land of servitade Obedient to the mighty Master, reached Could never rest in peace; who if he set The Land of the Departed; there, belike, His children slaves, would feel a par They in the clime of immortality,

heaven, Themselves immortal, drink the gales' of He mounts the bark, to seek for libert!

bliss, Which o'er Flathinnis breathe eternal spring, Blending whatever odours make the gale Who seeks the better land? The price Of evening sweet, whatever melody

one, Charms the wood-traveller. In their high-Whose joys are blasted all, whose beart! roofed halls

sick, There, with the Chiefs of other days, feel Who hath no hope, to whom all cher they

gain, The mingled joy pervade them ?-Or beneath To whom remembered pleasures strike a part The mid-sea watera, did that crystal Ark Which only guilt should know ;-he neur Down to the secret depths of Ocean plunge

the bark! Its fated crew ? Dwell they in coral bowers | The Bard will mount the bark of banisher With Mermaid loves, teaching their para- The harp of Cambria shall, in other lan


Remind the Cambrian of his father's fam The songs that stir the sea, or make the The Bard will seck the land of liberty.

| The world of peace.-0 Prince, receive Hush, and the waves be still? In fields of joy!






No more the brake-flowers, o'er thee piled,

Shall mar thy tones and measures wild : Now burst, ye winter-clouds that lower, Harp of the Forest, thou shalt be Fling from your folds the piercing shower; Fair as the bud on forest-tree! Sing to the tower and leaflegg tree,

Sweet be thy strains, as those that swell Ye cold winds of adversity;

In Ettrick's green and fairy dell; Your blights, your chilling influence shed, / Soft as the breeze of falling even, On wareless heart, and houseless head,

And purer than the dews of heaven. Your ruth or fury I disdain, 've found my Mountain-Lyre again.

Of minstrel-honours, now no more;

Of bards who sung in days of yore; Come to my heart, my only stay!

Of gallant chiefs, in courtly guise; Companion of a happier day!

Of ladies' smiles, of ladies' eyes; [hou gift of Heaven, thou pledge of good, Of royal feast and obsequies; Iarp of the mountain and the wood ! When Caledon, with look severe, little thought, when first I tried

Saw Beauty's hand her sceptre bear,Thy notes by lone Saint Mary's side, By cliff and haunted wild I'll sing, When in a deep untrodden den,

Responsive to thy dulcet string. found thee in the braken glen, little thought that idle toy

When wanes the circling year away, ihould e'er become my only joy!

When scarcely smiles the doubtful day,

Fair daughter of Dunedin, may, A maiden's youthful smiles had wove

Hast thou not heard, at midnight deep, | round my heart the toils of love,

Soft music on thy slumbers creep? Vhen first thy magic wires I rung,

At such a time, if careless thrown ind on the breeze thy numbers flung,

Thy slender form on couch of down, The fervid tear played in mine eye;

| Hast thou not felt, to nature true, trembled, wept, and wondered why.

The tear steal from thine eye so blue ? weet was the thrilling ecstasy :

If then thy guiltless bosom strove know not if 'twas love or thee.

In blissful dreams of conscious love,

And even shrunk from proffer bland Weened not my heart, when youth had

Of lover's visionary band, flown,

On such ecstatic dream when brake "riendship wonld fade, or fortune frown;

The music of the midnight Wake, Vhen pleasure, love, and mirth were past,

"Hast thou not weened thyself on high, 'hat thou shouldst prove my all at last!

List'ning to angels' melody, eered by conceit and lordly pride,

'Scaped from a world of cares away, flung my soothing harp aside ;

To dream of love and bliss for aye?
Vith wayward fortune strove a while;
V recked in a world of self and guile.
gain I sought the braken hill;

The dream dispelled, the music gone, gain sat musing by the rill;

Hast thou not, sighing, all alone, 1y wild sensations all were gone,

Proffered thy vows to Heaven, and then nd only thou wert left alone.

Blest the sweet Wake, and slept again? ong hast thou in the moorland lain, Tow welcome to my heart again!

Then list, ye maidens, to my lay,

Though old the tale, and past the day; The russet weed of mountain gray Those Wakes, now played by minstrels poor, To more shall round thy border play; At midnight's darkest, chillest hour,

Those humble Wakes, now scorned by all, 1 Light on her airy steed she sprong Were first begun in courtly hall,

Around with golden tassels hung, When royal Mary, blithe of mood,

No chieftain there rode half so free, Kept holiday at Holyrood.

Or half so light and gracefully.
How sweet to see her ringlets pale

Wide waving in the southland-gale, Scotland, involved in factious broils,

Which through the broom-wood bless Groaned deep beneath her woes and toils,

flew, And looked o'er meadow, dale and lea,

To fan her cheeks of rosy hue! For many a day her Queen to see ;

Whene'er it heaved her bosom's screc. Hoping that then her woes would cease,

What beauties in her form were seen. And all her valleys smile in peace.

And when her courser's mane it swung The Spring was past, the Summer gonc;

A thousand silver bells were rung. Still vacant stood the Scottish throne:

A sight so fair, on Scottish plain, But scarce had Autumn's mellow band

A Scot shall never see again.
Waved her rich banner o'er the land,
When rang the shouts, from tower and tree,

When Mary turned her wondering is That Scotland's Queen was on the sea.

On rocks that seemed to prop the skies, Swift spread the news o'er down and dale, Tón

On palace, park, and battled pile; Swift as the lively autumn-gale;

On lake, on river, sea, and isle; Away, away, it echoed still,

O'er woods and meadows bathed in da O'er many a moor and Highland hill,

To distant mountains wild and blue; Till rang each glen and verdant plain,

She thought the isle, that gave her bu. From Cheviot to the northern main.

The sweetest, wildest land on earth.

Each bard attuned the loyal lay,

Slowly she ambled on her way And for Dunedin hied away;

Amid her lords and ladies gay. Each harp was strung in woodland-bower, Priest, abbot, layman, all were there. In praise of beauty's bonniest flower. And presbyter with look severe: The chiefs forsook their ladies fair;

There rode the lords of France and SF The priest his beads and books of prayer; Of England, Flanders, and Lorraine The farmer left his harvest-day,

While serried thousands round then The shepherd all bis flocks to stray; From shore of Leith to Holyrood. The forester forsook the wood And hasted on to Holyrood.

Though Mary's heart was light a

To find a home so wild and fair; After a youth, by woes o’ercast,

To see a gathered nation by, After a thousand sorrows past,

And rays of joy from every cye; The lovely Mary once again

Though frequent shouts the welkin er

Though courtiers bowed and ladies Set foot upon her native plain;

An absent look they oft could trace Kneeled on the pier with modest grace,

Deep settled on her comely face. And turned to heaven her beauteous face.

Was it the thought that all alone 'Twas then the caps in air were blended,

She must support a rocking throne? A thousand thousand shouts ascended;

That Caledonia's rugged land
Shivered the breeze around the throng;
Gray barrier-cliff's the peale prolong;

Might scorn a Lady's weak commend

And the Red Lion's hanghty eye And every tongue gave thanks to Heaven,

Scowl at a maiden's feet to lie? That Mary to their hopes was given.

No; 'twas the notes of Scottishwa Her comely form and graceful mien, Soft pealing from the countless that Bespoke the Lady and the Queen;

So mellowed came the distant swell. The woes of one so fair and young,

That on her ravished ear it fell Moved every heart and every tongue. Like dew of heaven, at evening-clow Driven from her home, a helpless child, On forest-flower or woodland-rose To brave the winds and billows wild; | For Mary's heart, to nature true An exile bred in realms afar,

The powers of song and music knew Amid commotion, broil, and war:

But all the choral measures bland. In one short year her hopes all crossed, - or anthems sung in southern land. A parent, husband, kingdom lost!

Appeared an riseless pile of art, And all ere eighteen years had shed

Unfit to sway or melt the heart. Their honours o'er her royal head.

Compared with that which floated For such a Queen, the Stuarts' heir, Her simple native melody, A Queen so courteous, young, and fair, Who wonld not every foe defy!

As she drew nigh the Abber-etike Who would not stand! who would not die! She halted, reined, and bent the wb

he heard the Caledonian lyre

| Yet, though at table all were seen 'our forth its notes of Runic fire;

To wonder at her air and micn; lut scarcely caught the ravished Queen Though courtiers fawned and ladies bung, he minstrel's song that flowed between ; Still in her ear the accents rung,intranced upon the strain she hung, Watch thy young bosom, and maiden cye, I'was thus the gray-haired minstrel sung: For the shower must fall, and the floweret die.

These words prophetic seemed to be

Foreboding woe and misery; "! Lady dear, fair is thy noon,

And much she wished to prove, ere long, fut man is like the inconstant moon:

The wond'rons powers of Scottish song. vast night she smiled o'er lawn and lea; "hat moon will change, and so will he.

When next to ride the Queen was bound, "hy time, dear Lady, 's a passing shower; To view the city's ample round, 'hy beauty is but a fading flower; On high amid the gathered crowd, Vatch thy young bosom, and maiden eye, A herald thus proclaimed aloud: 'or the shower must fall, and the floweret die.

“Peace, peace to Scotland's wasted vales, What ails my Queen ? said good Argyle, To her dark heaths and Highland dales; Vhy fades upon her cheek the smile? To her brave sons of warlike mood, lay, rears your steed too fierce and high? To all her daughters fair and good; Jr sits your golden seat awry?

Peace o'er her ruined vales shall pour,

Like beam of heaven behind the shower. Ah! no, my Lord! this noble steed,

Let every harp and echo ring; Df Rouen's calm and generous breed,

Let maidens smile and poets sing; las borne me over hill and plain,

For love and peace entwined shall sleep, wift as the dun-deer of the Seine.

Calm as the moon-beam on the deep, lut such & wild and simple lay,

By waving wood and wandering rill, Youred from the harp of minstrel gray,

On purple heath and Highland hill. ly every sense away it stole,

The soul of warrior stern to charm, Ind swayed a while my raptured soul.

And bigotry and rage disarm, > say, my Lord, (for you must know

Our Queen commands, that every bard What strains along your valleys flow

Due honours have, and high regard. ind all the hoards of Highland lore)

If, to his song of rolling fire,
Vas ever song so sweet before ?--

He join the Caledonian lyre,
And skill in legendary lore,

Still higher shall his honour soar.
Replied the Earl, as round he flung,

For all the arts beneath the heaven, eeble the strain that minstrel sung!

That man has found, or God has given, ly royal Dame, if once you beard

None draws the soul so sweet away, The Scottish lay from Highland bard,

As music's melting mystic lay; l'hen might you say, in raptures meet,

Slight emblem of the bliss above, Yo song was ever half so sweet!

It sooths the spirit all to love. t nerves the arm of warrior wight

To cherish this attractive art, l'o deeds of more than mortal might;

To lull the passions, inend the heart, I'will make the maid, in all her charms,

And break the moping zealot's chains, 'all weeping in her lover's arms;

Hear what our lovely Queen ordains.
I'will charm the mermaid from the deep;
Take mountain-oaks to bend and weep;
Thrill every heart with horrors dire,

“Each Caledonian bard must seek Ind shape the breeze to forms of fire.

Her courtly halls on Christmas-week, Vhen poured from green-wood-bower at

P at That then the Royal Wake may be even,

Cheered by their thrilling minstrelay. Twill draw the spirits down from heaven;

No ribaldry the Queen must hear, Ind all the fays that haunt the wood, lo dance around in frantic mood,

No song unmeet for maiden's ear,

No jest, nor adulation bland, Ind tune their mimic harps so boon

But legends of our native land; Beneath the cliff and midnight-moon.

And he whom most the court regards, Ih! yes, my Queen! if once you heard

High be his honours and rewards. Che Scottish lay from Highland bard,

Let every Scottish bard give ear, Then might you say, in raptures meet,

Let every Scottish bard appear; Vo song was ever half so sweet.

He then before the court must stand,

In native garb, with harp in hand. Queen Mary lighted in the court; At home no minstrel dare to tarry : Queen Mary joined the evening's sport; High the behest. God save Queen Mary!

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