They come! but oh! shall GALLIC SLAVES
Give ENGLISH FREEMEN laws?

By ALFRED's Spirit, No!

-Ring, ring the loud alarms;
Ye drums, awake! ye clarions, blow!
Ye heralds, shout "To arms!"

To arms our Heroes fly;

And, leading on their lines, The BRITISH BANNER in the sky,

The star of conquest shines.

The lowering battle forms

Its terrible array;

Like clashing clouds in mountain-storms,
That thunder on their way :—

The rushing armies meet;

And while they pour their breath, The strong earth shudders at their feet, The day grows dim with death.

-Ghosts of the mighty dead!

Your children's hearts inspire ; And while they on your ashes tread, Rekindle all your fire.

The dead to life return;

Our Fathers' spirits rise;

-My brethren, in YOUR breasts they burn,

They sparkle in your eyes.

Now launch upon the foe

The lightning of your rage;

Strike, strike the assailing giants low,

The TITANS of the age.

They yield, they break,-they fly;

The victory is won:

Pursue they faint,-they fall,-they die:

VOL. II.

SPIRIT OF VENGEANCE! rest:

Sweet MERCY cries, " Forbear!"

She clasps the vanquish'd to her breast;
Thou wilt not pierce them there?

-Thus vanish BRITAIN'S foes

From her consuming eye;

But rich be the reward of those

Who conquer,

-those who die.

O'ershadowing laurels deck.

The living HERO's brows;
But lovelier wreaths entwine his neck,
-His children and his spouse.

Exulting o'er his lot,

The dangers he has braved,

He clasps the dear ones, hails the cot,
Which his own valour saved.

Daughters of Albion, weep:
On this triumphant plain,

Your fathers, husbands, brethren sleep,

Oh! gently close the eye

That loved to look on you;

Oh! seal the lip whose earliest sigh,

Whose latest breath was true:

With knots of sweetest flowers

Their winding-sheet perfume;

And wash their wounds with-true-love showers,
And dress them for the tomb.

For beautiful in death

The WARRIOR's corse appears,
Embalm'd by fond AFFECTION's breath,
And bathed in WOMAN's tears.

-Give me the death of those
Who for their country die;

19

1804.

And oh! be mine like their repose,
When cold and low they lie!

Their loveliest mother Earth

Enshrines the fallen brave;

In her sweet lap who gave them birth
They find their tranquil grave.

THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK.

RETURNING from their evening walk,
On yonder ancient stile,
In sweet, romantic, tender talk,
Two lovers paused awhile:

EDMUND, the monarch of the dale,
All conscious of his powers;

ELLA, the lily of the vale,

The rose of AUBURN's bowers.

In airy Love's delightful bands
He held her heart in vain :

The Nymph denied her willing hands
TO HYMEN's awful chain.

"Ah! why," said he, "our bliss delay ?
Mine ELLA, why so cold?

Those who but love from day to day,
From day to day grow old.

"The bounding arrow cleaves the sky,
Nor leaves a trace behind;
And single lives like arrows fly,
-They vanish through the wind.

"In Wedlock's sweet endearing lot,
Let us improve the scene,
That some may be, when we are not,
To tell-that we have been."

""Tis now," replied the village Belle,
"St. Mark's mysterious Eve;

And all that old traditions tell
I tremblingly believe ;—

“How, when the midnight signal tolls,
Along the churchyard green

A mournful train of sentenced souls
In winding-sheets are seen.

"The ghosts of all whom death shall doom Within the coming year,

In pale procession walk the gloom,
Amid the silence drear.

"If EDMUND, bold in conscious might,

By love severely tried,

Can brave the terrors of to-night,

ELLA will be his bride."

She spake, and, like the nimble fawn,
From EDMUND's presence fled :

He sought, across the rural lawn,
The dwelling of the dead ;-

That silent, solemn, simple spot,

The mouldering realm of peace, Where human passions are forgot, Where human follies cease.

The gliding moon through heaven serene
Pursued her tranquil way,

And shed o'er all the sleeping scene
A soft nocturnal day.

With swelling heart and eager feet

Young EDMUND gain'd the church,

And chose his solitary seat

Within the dreadful porch.

Thick, threatening clouds assembled soon,
Their dragon wings display'd;
Eclipsed the slow retiring moon,
And quench'd the stars in shade.

Amid the deep abyss of gloom
No ray of beauty smiled,

Save, glistening o'er some haunted tomb,
The glow-worm's lustre wild.

The village watch-dogs bay'd around,
The long grass whistled drear,
The steeple trembled to the ground,
Ev'n EDMUND quaked with fear.

All on a sudden died the blast,
Dumb horror chill'd the air,

While NATURE seem'd to pause aghast,
In uttermost despair.

-Twelve times the midnight herald toll'd,

As oft did EDMUND start;

For every stroke fell dead and cold
Upon his fainting heart.

Then glaring through the ghastly gloom,

Along the churchyard green,

The destined victims of the tomb
In winding-sheets were seen.

In that strange moment EDMUND stood,
Sick with severe surprise!
While creeping horror drank his blood,
And fix'd his flinty eyes.

He saw the secrets of the grave;
He saw the face of DEATH:

No pitying power appear'd to save-
He gasp'd away his breath.