POEMS AND BALLADS 
 
 JUIIA Till
 
 f 
 
 Vf 
 
 4 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 POEMS 
 
 AND BALLADS. 
 
 BY 
 
 JULIA TILT. 
 
 SwontJ drUitum.-tottf) attritions. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 E. CHURTON, 26, HOLLES STREET. 
 
 1847.
 
 •PR 
 
 ~~fzi2 An 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 In presenting these my first attempts to the 
 public, many of them begun, and written, I 
 may say, during my years of almost early 
 girlhood, I hope I may be permitted to be- 
 speak the favour and consideration of all into 
 whose hands this little book may chance to 
 fall. 
 
 I cannot but feel aware that, entirely unas- 
 sisted by any one competent to give me either 
 advice or assistance, I must send it forth sub-
 
 vi PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 ject to all the defects such ignorance is liable 
 to. 
 
 The very peculiar and arduous life I have 
 (from stern necessity) been compelled to lead, 
 and am still leading, leaves me but little time 
 for an interchange with those few talented 
 persons, whom it was the happiness of my 
 family at one time to know, unfortunately at 
 an age when I was incapable of appreciating 
 their worth. 
 
 Many of them are now numbered with the 
 dead ; the rest separated from me by distance, 
 and the changes in my short life. 
 
 But if I am ignorant in the technical form 
 of Books, my pen wants no advice, no words, 
 to express the deep, the devoted gratitude, I 
 feel to those illustrious and distinguished per-
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. \ ii 
 
 sonages who have honoured this little work 
 with their names, and to those kind and gene- 
 rous benefactors who favoured me not only 
 with their names, but what was a great deal 
 better, their kind encouragement to proceed in 
 what at first appeared an effort far beyond 
 my humble means. 
 
 In conclusion, I must throw myself on the 
 generous feelings of a kind and indulgenl 
 public, always inclined to be considerate to 
 the failings and faults of a young and inex- 
 perienced girl. 
 
 Julia Tilt. 
 
 60, Charlotte Street, 
 Portland Place, Mai 1st I ->"
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK. 
 
 List of Subscribers 15 
 
 To Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Glou- 
 cester 27 
 
 Written on seeing a Picture of Her Royal Highness 
 Princess Victoria, taken at the Spitalfields Ball, 
 1838 
 
 Written on seeing Her Majesty open Parliament, 
 
 1847 32 
 
 Written on the Queen's Visit to Arundel, December, 
 
 1846 34 
 
 Written on hearing of the Annexation of Cracow to 
 
 the Austrian Dominions .... 38
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 PACK. 
 
 Lines on seeing the Countess of C dressed 
 
 for the Queen's Grand Fancy Ball, June 6th, 
 
 1845 41 
 
 Lines written on seeing the Infant Daughter of Lord 
 
 and Lady Ashley 44 
 
 On seeing Lady Clementina Villiers 46 
 
 Written on seeing the Picture of Miss Pennant, of 
 
 Downing, in the Exhibition of 1846 
 
 On seeing the Picture of the Baroness North, her 
 Husband and Son, in the Royal Academy, 
 
 1846 ; ' ( ' 
 
 Lines addressed to Lady Darling on the Marriage of 
 
 Sir Francis and Lady Ford '- 
 
 Lines addressed to Lady Ford, on her quitting Eng- 
 land ; ' 4 
 
 Lines on the Death of the ever to be lamented Miss 
 
 Egerton, of Tatton Park, Cheshire : '<> 
 
 Lines suggested on hearing of the Sale of the Pavilion 
 
 at Brighton 58 
 
 To my 
 
 Beloved Mother (J0
 
 CONTENTS. XI 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Lines written on the night of December the Second, 
 on hearing of the Death of the Lady Emma 
 Pennant °- 
 
 Lines inspired by Gratitude °~* 
 
 To the Memory of Miss Eliza Wyatt, eldest daughter 
 
 of the late — Wyatt, Esq {uj 
 
 Lines on first seeing Charles Mathews at Brighton, 
 
 a 
 
 1846 <i7 
 
 To niv Sister UJ 
 
 Hvmn for Night 
 
 71 
 
 Lines addressed to a Young Lady who had suddenly 
 
 lost her Sight ' A 
 
 Written on hearing of the death of a Gentleman who 
 was shortly to be united to the object of his 
 affections ' ° 
 
 Lines addressed to Ireland at the present time 77 
 
 To Arthur, Duke of Wellington, on his rising to give 
 " to the memory of those that fell at Waterloo " 
 
 Lines on seeing the picture of the Lady Constance 
 Levison Gower, in the Exhibition of 18 17 ■ • •
 
 x 'l CONTENTS. 
 
 PACE. 
 
 Lines inspired by a view of the monument to the 
 memory of Major Somerset, who fell gallantly 
 
 fighting in the Battles of the Sutlej 84 
 
 To the memory of Daniel O'Connell, Esq s; 
 
 Lines on the Banquet at Apsley House in commemo- 
 ration of the Battle of Waterloo 89 
 
 To the memory of my only Brother, who was unfor- 
 tunately drowned September 9th, 1828 !>2 
 
 The Wish 95 
 
 Napoleon 97 
 
 Resignation 101 
 
 Lines to the memory of Sir Robert Sale and his 
 
 brave Companions in Arms 103 
 
 Lines to the memory of my Father 106 
 
 Mary Queen of Scots' Farewell to Scotland 108 
 
 Lines to Jenny Lind 110 
 
 Lines on Landseer's Picture of her Majesty and his 
 
 Royal Highness the Prince of Wales 113 
 
 Lines on first seeing the Lady Anthony De Roths- 
 child, :it her Easel 115
 
 CONTENTS. Xlii 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Lines to the memory of Frederick Albert Loinsworth, 
 late Inspector General of her Majesty's Medical 
 Staff in India \lf 
 
 Chatsworth \\g 
 
 Hagar and Ishmael. A Sacred Poem .... 123 
 
 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 The Leopard Knight ; or, the False Signal. Adapted 
 
 from Scott's Tales of the Crusades 135 
 
 The Poisoned Arrow ; or, Eleanor of Castile 1-15 
 
 Fair Rosamond ; or, Woodstock Bower 151
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
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 H. R. H. the Princess Sophia . . 
 
 H. R. H. the Duke of Cambridge. . 
 
 Her Grace the Duchess of Norfolk 
 
 Her Grace the Duchess of Inverness 
 
 The Dowager Marchioness of Ely 
 
 The Marchioness of Ely . . 
 
 The Marchioness of Douro 
 
 The Countess of Arundel and Surrey 
 
 The Countess of Carnarvon . . 
 
 The Countess of Chichester 
 
 The Countess of Brownlow . . 
 
 The Countess of Dalhousie 
 
 The Countess of Bridgwater 
 
 The Countess of Wilton 
 
 The Countess of Manvers 
 
 The Countess of Mount Edgecombe 
 
 The Countess Dowager of Craven. . 
 
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 XVI LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 The Viscountess the Lady Marian Alford 
 
 The Viscountess the Lady Frances Sandon 
 
 The Viscountess Palmerston 
 
 The A T iscountess Castlereagh 
 
 The Viscountess Lewisham 
 
 The Viscountess Fielding 
 
 The Viscountess Jocelyn 
 
 The Viscountess Guernsey 
 
 The Baroness North 
 
 The Baroness De Rothschild 
 
 The Baroness Dowager De Rothschild 
 
 The Lady De Rothschild 
 
 The Lady John Russell 
 
 The Lady Lyndhurst 
 
 The Lady Leigh 
 
 The Lady Fitz Wygrara 
 
 The Honourable Lady Myddleton . . 
 
 The Lady Fellows 
 
 The Lady Augusta Seymour 
 
 The Lady Anne Beckitt 
 
 The Lady Augusta Baring 
 
 The Lady Mary Egerton 
 
 The Lady Dalrymple 
 
 The Lady Darling . . 
 
 The Lady Ford. . 
 
 
 
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 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. XV11 
 
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 The Lady Mary F. Howard . . . . 10 
 
 The Lady Adeliza F. Howard. . . . 10 
 
 The Lady Clementina Villiers . . ..0100 
 
 The Lady Fanny Howard . . . . 10 
 
 The Lady Mary Howard . . . . . . 10 
 
 The Lady Henrietta Pelham . . . . 10 
 
 Mrs. Egerton, Tatton Park . . . . 1 
 
 Mrs, Barrat, Pavilion Parade, Brighton. . 10 
 
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 Mrs. Spencer Stanhope . . . . ..0100 
 
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 Mrs. P. Clutterbuck 
 
 Mrs. F. Reade 
 
 Mrs. Le Bass 
 
 Mrs. Pegg 
 
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 Mrs. Standard 
 
 Mrs. Bui-nell 
 
 Mrs. Baker 
 
 Mrs. Nuthall 
 
 Mrs. Harrington 
 
 Mrs. Penfold 
 
 Mrs. Mabbott, Priory, Lewes 
 
 Mrs. John Bethell . . 
 
 Mrs. George Wood, Lewes 
 
 Mrs. Wood, Chestham 
 
 Mrs. Hare, Lewes 
 
 Mrs. R. Bown 
 
 Mrs. R- Becher. . 
 
 Mrs. Johnston 
 
 Mrs. Neville 
 
 Mrs. Mortimer 
 
 The Hon. Miss Foley . . 
 
 The Hon. Miss A. Foley . . 
 
 The Hon. Miss Neville 
 
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 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. xix 
 
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 Miss Juliana Somerset 
 
 Miss Lovell, Cumberland Place 
 
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 The Marquis of Northampton . . 10 
 
 b 2
 
 XX LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 The Marquis of Bute 
 
 The Earl of Cardigan 
 
 R. Newnham. Esq. 
 
 William Furner, Esq. 
 
 H. M. Blaker, Esq. 
 
 Dr. Hall . . 
 
 R. Philpott, Esq. 
 
 E. Furner, Esq. 
 
 G. Battcock, Esq. 
 
 Benjamin Vallanee, Esq. 
 
 R. Taylor, Esq. 
 
 J. Mills, Esq. 
 
 R. Locke, Esq. 
 
 Hamlyn Borer, Esq. 
 
 Mr. Smithers 
 
 Mr. Walton 
 
 H. Faithfull, Esq. 
 
 Dr. Pickford 
 
 C. Mortlock, Esq. 
 
 C. Derby, Esq. 
 
 Somers Clarke, E*q. 
 
 Captain Carr 
 
 Horace Smith, Esq. 
 
 Rev. J. Vaughan . . 
 
 W. II. Stafford, Esq. 
 
 H. Bethune, Esq. 
 
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 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. XXI 
 
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 Rev. Spencer Drummond . . 10 
 
 Rev. T. Cooke . . . . . . 10 
 
 Rev. T. Troake . . . . ..0100 
 
 J. Boys, Esq. .. .. .. 10 
 
 Major-General Ashworth .. .. 10 
 
 F. Cooper, Esq. . . . . . . ..0100 
 
 W. J. Williams, Esq. . . . . 10 
 
 T. West, Esq. . . . . . . . . 10 
 
 E. N. Hall, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 J. H. Smith, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 J. C. Burrowes, Esq. . . . . 10 
 
 H. Shank, Esq. .. .. .. 10 
 
 E. Vallance, Esq . . 10 
 
 B. Lewis, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 R. Upperton, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 T. Palmer, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 G. P. Hill, Esq. .. .. .. 10 
 
 L. Johnson, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 H. Tamplin, Esq. . . . . ..0100 
 
 W. Colbatch, Esq. . . . . • . 10 
 
 G. Vallance, Esq. .. .. . . 10 
 
 John Dill, Esq. 
 B. Davies, Esq. 
 
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 Herbert Holtham, Esq. . . . . ..0100 
 
 Charles Bellingham, Esq. . . • • 10
 
 XX11 
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 T. L. W. Dennett, Esq. 
 
 Dr. King 
 
 Dr. Jenks 
 
 Rev. T. S. Wiggett . . 
 
 J. Ellis, Esq. . . 
 
 Dr. Kebble 
 
 M. Whicheto, Esq. 
 
 W. Manfield, Esq. . . 
 
 J- Cordy, Esq. 
 
 F. Boxall, Esq. 
 T. Palmer. Esq. 
 Ewen Evershed, Esq. 
 
 John Blaker, Junr., Esq., Lewes . 
 A. R. Briggs, Esq., Lewes 
 Polhill Kell, Esq., Lewes 
 James Walter Carey, D.D., Lewes 
 I. Smith, Esq., Lewes 
 
 G. II. Gell, Esq., Lewes 
 
 T. Attree, Esq., Queen's Park 
 
 G. Dempster, Esq. 
 
 C. Cobby, Esq. 
 
 John Baker, Esq. 
 
 G. Royde, Esq. 
 
 Major Willard 
 
 G. Dempster, Esq. 
 
 W. Conningham, Esq. 
 
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 C. Rogers, Esq. .. .. .. 10 
 
 B. Vallance, Esq., Hove . . . . . . 10 
 
 E. Duke, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 Albert Creasy, Esq. .. .. . . 10 
 
 W. M. Bigden, Esq., Hove .. .. 10 
 
 Bright Smith, Esq., Hove . . . . 10 
 
 M. Ricardo, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 Dr. Hurlock . . . . . . . . 10 
 
 F. King, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
 W. Wilton, Esq. . . . . ..0100 
 
 J. Standen, Esq. . . . . . . 10 
 
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 Mr. Mitchelson. . . . . . ..0100
 
 XXIV LIST OF SUBCRIBERS. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
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 Mrs. Barratt . . . . . . 10 
 
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 Mrs. Charles Barwill . . . . 10 
 
 Mrs. Chatfield, Lewes . . . ..0100 
 
 Mrs. Fuller . . . . . . 10 
 
 Mrs. Bushman . . . . . . ..0100 
 
 Mrs. Charles Scott . . . . . . 10 
 
 Miss Rose Dillon . . . . . . 10 
 
 Miss Bent.. .. .. .. 10 
 
 Miss Weston .. .. .. . . 10 
 
 Miss Baker . . . . . . 10 
 
 Miss Green . . . . . . ..010 
 
 Miss Evatt . . . . . • 10 
 
 Miss Gordon . . . . . . . . 10 
 
 MissStreeter .. .. .. 10 
 
 Miss Dunn, Lewes . . . . ..0100 
 
 Sir James Mac Grigor, Bart. . . . . 10 
 
 G. Basevi, Esq. . . . . ..100 
 
 Horace Smith, Esq. . . . • 10 
 
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 R. Williams, Esq. . . . . • • 10 
 
 M. Mocatta, Esq . . . . . ..0100
 
 %kt of Subscribers. 
 
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 The Lady Willoughby De Eresby . . . . 10 
 
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 The Hon. Mrs. Hanbury Tracy . . . . 10 
 
 Mrs. Heneage Dering . . 10 
 
 Mrs. Bridger, of Buckingham . . . . 10 
 
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 Miss Ellen Marshall . . . . . . 10 
 
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 Lord Fitzroy Somerset . . . . . . 10 
 
 Lord Alfred Hervey.. .. .. 10 
 
 Sir George Westphall, Bart. .. . . 10 
 
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 Rev. C. Maitland . . . . ..0100 
 
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 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 H. Labourebere, Esq. .. .. 10 
 
 W. A. Soames, Esq.. .. .. 10 
 
 Rev. T. Combe .. .. . . 10 
 
 ft. S. Cahill, Esq. .. .. .. 10 
 
 R. Bevan, Esq... .. .. . . 10 
 
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 Lieut. Powell . . . . . . ..0100 
 
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 Capt Down .. .. .. . . 10 
 
 Mr. Palmer .. .. .. 10 
 
 Mr. King .. .. .. .. 10 
 
 A. R. Venables, Esq. . . . . 10
 
 P E M S. 
 
 TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS 
 OF GLOUCESTER. 
 
 These Lines, expressive of the deepest gratitude, are most 
 humbly dedicated by her Royal Highness' 's most duti- 
 ful, most humble, and most grateful Servant, 
 
 JULIA TILT. 
 
 Oh, Royal Lady, whom the virtues graced 
 
 E'en from thy natal hour, 
 And blessed thee with an heart to give, 
 
 The richest gift of power. 
 
 Happy are those, who come within 
 Thy mild angelic sphere ;
 
 28 TO THE DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER. 
 
 No suppliant e'er preferred a prayer 
 Thou didst not deign to hear. 
 
 For, great as royal favours are, 
 They are doubly blest when given, 
 
 By one whose open hand and heart 
 Make earth a second heaven. 
 
 Yes, heaven lays in every breast 
 That feels another's woe, 
 
 And that it's in thy gracious heart, 
 Your deeds of mercy show. 
 
 Then, Royal Lady, may you long 
 Be spared by grace divine — 
 
 A bright example here on earth, 
 Where all thy virtues shine.
 
 29 
 
 WRITTEN ON SEEING A PICTURE OF HER R. H. 
 PRINCESS VICTORIA TAKEN AT THE SPITAL- 
 FIELDS BALL, 1838. 
 
 A form of grace, a brow of snow, 
 
 Is now King William's heir, 
 A face that never dreamt of woe, 
 
 Sorrow, sin, or care. 
 All thy days so joyous glide, 
 
 Life is like a summer tide. 
 
 Happiness attends thy steps, 
 
 Flowers strew the way, 
 Not a thorn beneath them lur 
 
 All is bright and gay ;
 
 30 ON A PICTUKE 
 
 No dark shadow steps between 
 Joy and England's future Queen. 
 
 May that fair and sunny brow 
 
 Ne'er be seared by time, 
 And those bright expressive eyes 
 
 Be the mark and sign — 
 That pleasure strewed thy way with flowers, 
 
 Whilst dreaming still of fairy bowers. 
 
 But, no, it cannot be ; 
 
 A throne must bring its cares, 
 The fairest field of ripened corn 
 
 Is strewed beneath with tares ; 
 So, beneath thy splendid gear, 
 
 Thou shalt drop full many a tear. 
 
 Tears, when thou must sign away 
 
 An erring being's life, 
 Though to let him free again 
 
 Were with peril rife ; 
 And stern justice grave demands 
 
 Blood for blood at those fair hands.
 
 OF PRINCESS VICTORIA. 31 
 
 Yes, all happy as thou art, 
 
 Thou still shalt need a prayer ; 
 Then let it be thy people's part 
 
 To pray for England's heir ; 
 To pray that thou may live to be 
 
 All thy mother wished to see. 
 
 Pray, when love shall touch thy heart — 
 
 A pure and holy flame, 
 He who reigns within thy breast 
 
 May well deserve the name ; 
 So then our prayers shall answered be 
 
 By all the blessings thou shalt see.
 
 32 
 
 WRITTEN ON SEEING HER MAJESTY OPEN- 
 PARLIAMENT, 1847. 
 
 The prayers have been fulfilled — 
 
 Our fair and youthful Queen 
 Has lived to realize the biiss 
 
 That seemed as but a dream : 
 Lived, to make that bliss her own 
 
 Which many seek, but few have known. 
 
 The graceful form is still the same, 
 
 The snowy brow unchanged, 
 Though five young cherub forms around 
 
 The mother's chair arc ranged, 
 And, gazing on with looks of pride, 
 
 Saxe-Gotha's Prince stands by her side.
 
 ON SEEING THE QUEEN OPEN PAKLIAMENT. 33 
 
 Yes, earth's choicest gifts have fell 
 
 Upon that happy pair, 
 Their home with heavenly bliss is crowned 
 
 Which each alike must share ; 
 For Hymen's torch burns pure and bright 
 
 Which length of time shall never blight. 
 
 No, though years may pass away, 
 
 And age must set his seal, 
 The same undying love shall live — 
 
 No change shall o'er it steal ; 
 Like our British oak, 'twill stand, 
 
 The glory of our English land. 
 
 And as the youthful scions spring, 
 
 To raise up England's name, 
 We'll feel our prayers have answered been, 
 
 In hearing of their fame ; 
 And Britannia, proud shall tell 
 
 Deeds of those she loves so well.
 
 34 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO ARUNDEL, 
 DECEMBER, 1846. 
 
 In Howard's noble halls to night 
 
 Are ranged a glittering band ; 
 The music and the revelry 
 
 Make all seem Fairy Land. 
 
 But much of state and Majesty 
 
 Is mixed with mirth and glee, 
 Fur know, the guests are come to night 
 
 Their Sovereign Queen to see. 
 
 Yes England's Queen a second time 
 
 Has crossed the threshold o'er, 
 A widowed and a Maiden Queen 
 
 Have stepped it twice before.
 
 ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO ARUNDEL. 35 
 
 And while she stands the Queen confest 
 
 By every youthful grace, 
 The proud emotions of her breast 
 
 Add lustre to her face. 
 
 For gazing round those ancient halls, 
 
 The portraits meet her view 
 Of noble knights, who for her sires 
 
 Had fought so bold and true. 
 
 Who glory earned, on Cressy's field, 
 
 And dared the foreign foe, 
 Who reared the Cross in Palestine, 
 
 And laid the Crescent low. 
 
 And bolder still, was belted Will, 
 
 Who fought upon the border, 
 A better Warden ne'er was known 
 
 To keep the Scots in order. 
 
 Yet stay and turn thy glance on him, 
 
 Of chivalry the flower — 
 
 c 2
 
 36 ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT 
 
 The bravest knight that ere broke lance, 
 Or sang in lady's bower. 
 
 Surrey, the gentle, and the good, 
 The pride of minstrel songs, 
 
 A tear shall fall in every age, 
 A tribute to thy wrongs. 
 
 Yes, Howard is a noble name, 
 
 A loyal one I ween ; 
 In counsel sage, on battle field 
 
 A braver ne'er was seen. 
 
 Go, search through England's chivalry, 
 Throughout the British lands, 
 
 For valiant knights, and fairest dames — 
 An Howard foremost stands 
 
 Then may the Lord of Arundel, 
 
 Whose virtues all confess, 
 Live with his Duchess many years, 
 
 The hearts of all to bless.
 
 TO ARUNDEL. 37 
 
 May every blessing earth affords 
 
 Be showered on their head, 
 And happiness attend their steps 
 
 Till numbered with the dead. 
 
 So when their sands are fully run 
 
 And earthly pleasures cease ; 
 In heaven, may their reward be found, 
 
 Where all is joy and peace.
 
 38 
 
 WRITTEN ON HEARING OF THE ANNEXATION 
 OF CRACOW TO THE AUSTRIAN DOMINIONS. 
 
 Poland, thy name is no more, 
 
 Thy sorrows can never be healed, 
 Your last sigh of freedom is o'er, 
 
 And thy fate upon earth is now sealed. 
 
 For thy kingdom is parted away, 
 
 Where a Stanislaus reigned in his glory, 
 
 And nations unborn, in long ages to come, 
 Shall weep o'er thy desolate story. 
 
 How the Kings of the earth rose together, 
 And stretched forth a merciless hand ; 
 
 And trampling on feeling and honour, 
 Made slaves of both thee and thy land.
 
 THE ANNEXATION OF CRACOW TO AUSTRIA. 39 
 
 For the patriots' arm was in vain, 
 When opposed to the power of gold ; 
 
 Their blood, it might flow like the rain, 
 Their sword might be steady and bold. 
 
 But Russia and Austria, combined, 
 
 Rose like Giants, whom might had arrayed, 
 
 They shivered the sword in the wind, 
 And their life was the penalty paid. 
 
 And Cracow, the last dying flame 
 
 Of freedom has burnt out at last, 
 And Poland, and liberty's name, 
 
 Is now but a dream of the past. 
 
 But tremble thou spoilers of earth ! 
 
 When God's final trumpet shall sound, 
 And the archangel's fiat goes forth, 
 
 To number the nations around — 
 
 Then Poland shall not be forgot, 
 
 She shall rise like a phoenix from fire,
 
 40 THE ANNEXATION OP CRACOW TO AUSTRIA. 
 
 And the sorrows that now are her lot, 
 In the blood of her foes shall expire. 
 
 For a terrible vengeance shall fall 
 
 On those that have trampled her down. 
 
 Who, deaf to humanity's call, 
 
 Despoiled her of kingdom and crown.
 
 41 
 
 LINES ON SEEING THE COUNTESS OF C- 
 
 DRESSED FOR THE QUEEN'S GRAND FANCY 
 BALL, JUNE 6th, 1845. 
 
 The lights are lit, the rooms are bright, 
 
 And rank and pride are there, 
 It is a scene of rare delight, 
 
 To gaze on forms so fair. 
 
 But what has caused proud Briton's dames, 
 
 To congregate en masse, 
 And mix with such a social air 
 
 With those of different class. 
 
 They are come to view the Lady bright, 
 
 That owns that noble hall, 
 Go forth to meet her Queen to night, 
 
 Dressed for the fancy ball.
 
 42 ON THE COUNTESS OF C- 
 
 And see she moves with stately grace, 
 If years could backward tread, 
 
 You might believe that noble Dame 
 Had risen from the dead. 
 
 The powdered head, the sweeping train, 
 The hoop that claims command, 
 
 And gives her such a sovereign air, 
 You would stoop to kiss her hand. 
 
 But ah, the spell is soon dissolved 
 
 By childhood's merry tone, 
 And from her children's joyous cries 
 
 C 's pride is known. 
 
 Yes ; known thou art by every grace, 
 
 That dignifies the mind, 
 No heart within the female breast 
 
 E'er beat more truly kind. 
 
 Then lady go, in all thy pomp, 
 In all thy grandeur go,
 
 ON THE COUNTESS OF C . 43 
 
 Shine forth a bright resplendent star, 
 Mid all the glittering show. 
 
 And know, amid the dames to night 
 
 That circle round their Queen, 
 Not one of more intrinsic truth 
 
 Within those walls are seen. 
 
 For stately grandeur, honest worth, 
 
 Are both in thee combined, 
 A noble compact when it's found : 
 Alas ! how hard to find. 
 
 Then Lady, may you brightly shine 
 
 Throughout a well spent life, 
 A model for example held, 
 
 A pure and blameless wife. 
 
 So when thy final hour is come, 
 
 Which all alike must share, 
 May'st change your earthly coronet 
 
 For one that angels wear !
 
 44 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON SEEING THE INFANT 
 DAUGHTER OF LORD AND LADY ASHLEY. 
 
 Sweet Babe, I gaze with deep delight 
 
 Upon that cherub face, 
 No trace of care, no touch of thought, 
 
 Has marr'd its spotless grace. 
 
 Thy brow is like a summer lake 
 
 So calmly pure and even, 
 The eye in its reflected light 
 
 Might raise our thoughts to heaven. 
 
 For resting in thy tiny cot, 
 
 The image of repose, 
 Thy dimpled cheek might put to blush 
 
 The fairest flower that blows.
 
 ON THE DAUGHTER OF EORD ASHLEY. 45 
 
 Then fairy babe, if e'er a prayer 
 
 Shall 'waft to God on high, 
 I'll pray that not a tear shall dim 
 
 The brightness of thine eye. 
 
 That life may prove a sunny tide 
 
 Whereon thy bark may swim, 
 As gently as that cradle bower 
 
 Thou art reposing in.
 
 46 
 
 ON SEEING LADY CLEMENTINA VILLI ERS. 
 
 A fairy form, a snowy arm, 
 
 A face with every youthful charm 
 
 Wherein sat purity and truth, 
 
 She might have heen a second Ruth. 
 
 With eyes, whose look so calm and bright, 
 
 Like stars upon a moonlight night, 
 
 Shed deeper lustre o'er her face, 
 
 And gave it quite a Seraph's grace. 
 
 Then the hair, whose silken bands 
 
 When left to flow had swept her hands, 
 
 But, parted o'er her classic brow, 
 
 Reminded you of heaven's bow. 
 
 And Oh, the mouth, what pen can tell 
 
 The glories that within it dwell ?
 
 ON LADY CLEMENTINA VILLIERS. 
 
 Ten thousand beauties round it roll, 
 And seem to touch the very soul : 
 No opening bud, no promised flower, 
 That ever grew in fairy's bower, 
 Disclosed a tint more pure and true 
 Than those sweet lips in opening do ; 
 Within are pearls that rival snow, 
 Or whitest flower on earth that blow, 
 While on the cheek the rose combine 
 To make the lily doubly shine. 
 And all these charms, so rare to view, 
 Lady, are found at once in you. 
 
 47
 
 48 
 
 WRITTEN ON SEEING THE PICTURE OF MISS 
 PENNANT, OF DOWNING, IN THE EXHIBITION 
 OF 1846. 
 
 Fair daughter of a lovely race, 
 
 Whose charms are stamped upon thy face, 
 
 Thy coral lip, thine eye of blue, 
 
 The glance that speaks the heart so true. 
 
 Must certainly, beyond compare, 
 
 Rank thee the fairest of the fair. 
 
 But yet 'tis not the golden hair 
 That's parted o'er thy forehead fair ; 
 'Tis not the cheek, whose radiant dye 
 Adds lustre to thine azure eye ; 
 Nor yet the soft and graceful form 
 That doth the painting most adorn.
 
 ON MISS PENNANT. 49 
 
 No, it's the air of sweet repose 
 
 That o'er the face such beauty throws ; 
 
 It is the look devoid of art, 
 
 That leaves its memory on the heart, 
 
 And makes one wish, but wish in vain, 
 
 We might return, and gaze again. 
 
 Then may you tread life's thorny way 
 Without a cloud to mar thy day. 
 May all thy hours be serene, 
 Thy path be like a sunlit dream 
 Till melting soft from earth away 
 In heaven you'll bloom in endless day. 
 
 r>
 
 50 
 
 ON SEEING THE PICTURE OF THE BARONESS 
 NORTH, HER HUSBAND AND SON IN THE 
 ROYAL ACADEMY OF 1846. 
 
 Lady, I could for ever gaze 
 
 Upon that form and face, 
 The painter has embodied thee 
 
 With such a matchless grace. 
 
 That form so truly feminine, 
 With eyes, so mild and kind, 
 
 Thy face in all its purity, 
 The transcript of thy mind. 
 
 And while those dark and earnest eyes 
 
 llest on that happy boy, 
 His upward glance reflects it back 
 
 With looks of love and joy !
 
 THE BAE0NESS NOETH. 51 
 
 Yes happy boy ! indeed thou art, 
 
 The Fairies blest thy birth, 
 And gave thee every bounteous gift 
 
 That grace the sons of earth. 
 
 And as the years revolving roll, 
 And manhood stamps thy brow, 
 
 May thy parents' look cf happiness 
 Be bright and true as now ! 
 
 May all the good they do on earth 
 
 Be given back in thee, 
 And they live many blissful years 
 
 Thy happiness to see ! 
 
 D2
 
 52 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY DARLING UPON 
 THE MARRIAGE OF SIR FRANCIS AND LADY 
 FORD. 
 
 The bridal train at the altar stood, 
 
 And the lovers side by side, 
 The mother gazed on her daughter fair 
 
 With all a mother's pride. 
 
 But she thought, as she watched her fairy form 
 
 And caught her sunny smile, 
 That ere a month had passed away 
 
 She would be in a distant Isle. 
 
 And the thought was one of bitterness, 
 
 But yet her soul was calm, 
 For she felt that God is everywhere, 
 
 To shield her child from harm.
 
 TO LADY DARLING. 53 
 
 For who could doubt, the faith expressed 
 
 On the bridegroom's noble brow, 
 Or feel if love ere reigned on earth 
 
 You felt its influence now. 
 
 She knelt upon the sacred ground, 
 
 And raised her hands on high. 
 And prayed they might come back again, 
 
 To cheer her ere she die. 
 
 Yes, lady, sure thy prayers are heard, 
 
 Where none can pray in vain, 
 The good thou sowest here on earth 
 
 Shall bloom in heaven again. 
 
 The widow and the fatherless 
 
 Shall daily pray to see, 
 That all thy wishes be fulfilled, 
 
 And sweetly smile on thee.
 
 54 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY FORD, ON HER 
 QUITTING ENGLAND. 
 
 On lady, when you quit this shore 
 
 To grace a foreign land, 
 And young, and old, shall feel thy care, 
 
 And bless thy fostering hand — 
 
 Permit two grateful sisters' prayers 
 To swell the favouring breeze, 
 
 And waft thee, fairest of the fair, 
 In safety o'er the seas. 
 
 And though, we miss thy gracious smile, 
 
 Yet will we not repine, 
 But think that o'er this happy isle, 
 
 A Saviour's love doth shine.
 
 TO LADY FORD. 55 
 
 Then go ; and when the dark man's prayer 
 
 Ascends to God, on high, 
 It will be to thee an angel's voice, 
 
 To cheer you when you die.
 
 56 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF THE EVER TO BE 
 LAMENTED MISS EGERTON, OF TATTON PARK.. 
 CHESHIRE. 
 
 The mourners fill the sacred aisle, 
 
 The snowy plumes proclaim, 
 That one of earth's own lovely ones, 
 
 Hath passed to Heaven again. 
 
 They lay her in the silent grave, 
 
 And flowers strew her head, 
 Deep grief o'erwhelms their heavy hearts, 
 
 To think the loved one's dead. 
 
 And yet a bed of death like hers, 
 
 All sure, might pray to win, 
 Her spirit winged its way to God, 
 
 Without a thought of sin.
 
 OS THE DEATH OF MISS EGERTON. 57 
 
 She, like a lily, bowed her head, 
 
 And yielded to the blast, 
 The storm passed over her, and proved 
 
 To be her first and last. 
 
 Her mother tarries here on earth, 
 
 And mourns from hour to hour, 
 To think her child has passed away, 
 
 So like a perished flower. 
 
 But fairest flowers must fade away, 
 
 And wither as they bloom, 
 The brightest beauty must be hid 
 
 Within the silent tomb. 
 
 It is to this we all must come, 
 
 The mighty and the poor, 
 The prince, and peasant, young and old, 
 
 Must reach death's silent door. 
 
 Ah, then, the spirits God hath lent, 
 
 Return to Christ above, 
 And joyful wing their upward flight 
 
 To dwell in peace and love.
 
 58 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED ON HEARING OF THE SALE 
 OF THE PAVILION, AT BRIGHTON. 
 
 Oh, Royal domes, oh, fairy spires, 
 
 Must thou be levelled low ? 
 Can nothing save thy sacred towers, 
 
 Or shield them from the blow ? 
 
 Can we forget the days gone by, 
 
 When Royal George first came. 
 And raised thee from obscurity 
 
 Unto a princely fane ? 
 
 The trees, he planted with his hand, 
 
 "Wave mournful in the breeze, 
 The thought, that they must bloom no more, 
 
 Vibrates through all their leaves.
 
 LINES ON THE PAVILION. 59 
 
 And though thy king has passed away, 
 
 And royalty has fled, 
 Oh, let his palace still remain, 
 
 In memory of the dead. 
 
 Nor should his brother be forgot, 
 
 Our brave and sailor king, 
 Who made thy walls with merriment, 
 
 Through all their arches ring. 
 
 Then let it be retained for one, 
 
 Whom we will hope and pray 
 May live to prove a Prince of Wales 
 
 As fondly loved as they.
 
 60 
 
 
 TO MY BELOVED MOTHER. 
 
 Mother, thy beauty doth impart, 
 
 A charm that never dies, 
 Time feels within his envious heart 
 
 That he will lose a prize. 
 
 For who, upon that forehead fair, 
 
 Or in the speaking eye, 
 Or o'er that cheek of roseate hue, 
 
 Time's finger can descry ? 
 
 Then, what can cause thee so to bloom, 
 
 A never fading flower, — 
 Art thou possessed of heavenly charms. 
 
 That time has lost his power ?
 
 TO MY MOTHER. 61 
 
 Ah no ! the cause lies deeper still, 
 
 It is "the charm of soul 
 That sheds its glory o'er the face, 
 
 And animates the whole. 
 
 Or if, as ancient poets write, 
 
 Thou wert of Goddess birth, 
 Or left the heavenly realms above, 
 
 To grace this lower earth. 
 
 Oh, then, it is thy daughter's prayer, 
 
 Those charms may long remain, 
 Till sweetly, without pain, or care, 
 
 Thou 'It pass to Heaven again.
 
 62 
 
 LSr 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER 
 THE SECOND, ON HEARING OF THE DEATH 
 OF THE LADY EMMA PENNANT. 
 
 There is joy in heaven to night, 
 
 An angel's course is run, 
 She has winged her way to paradise, 
 
 Before the set of sun. 
 
 Yes, if an angel deigned to leave 
 The mansions of the sky, 
 
 And choose our earthly heritage, 
 To wither, fade, and die — 
 
 That seraph lay in Pennant's breast, 
 The gentle, and the kind :
 
 ON THE DEATH OF LADY PENNANT. 63 
 
 God gave her every grace on earth 
 That could adorn the mind. 
 
 And when her final hour was come, 
 
 He still, in peace and love, 
 Let kindred angels bear the saint 
 
 To dwell with Christ above.
 
 64 
 
 LINES INSPIRED BY GRATITUDE. 
 
 To tell thee how grateful I am, 
 
 It surely were vain to repeat ; 
 But, believe me, I feel it within, 
 
 And shall till my heart cease to beat. 
 
 Oh say, can I ever repay 
 
 The kindness you have shown unto me ? 
 Is it only to God, I can pray, 
 
 That His blessings may shower on thee ? 
 
 For the good that thou doest on earth, 
 Is noted and treasured above ? 
 
 It is there thy reward is laid up, 
 In those regions of heavenly love.
 
 £5 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF MISS ELIZA WYATT, 
 ELDEST DAUGHTER OF THE LATE — WYATT, 
 ESQ. 
 
 Oh, heard you that bell, tolling sad on the air ? 
 It's the requiem of one, that was lovely and fair. 
 Her spirit has passed from its earthly clay, 
 To inhabit the realms of eternal day. 
 
 While she lingered on earth, it was painful to view 
 The sufferings of one so youthful and true. 
 Though erjdured with a patience, that seemed like 
 
 divine, 
 From one like a lily bowed down in her prime. 
 
 But now she has passed like the lily away. 
 
 And the cold hand of death it has shortened her day 
 
 E
 
 66 TO THE MEMORY OF MISS WYATT. 
 
 Like the perishing flower, who dies to restore 
 
 Its beauty and bloom, she shall flourish once more. 
 
 Then weep not for her, for her soul is at rest. 
 Her sorrows are hushed on her Saviour's breast. 
 Then weep not, nor wish to recall her again, 
 To this cold world of sorrow, where all things are 
 vain.
 
 67 
 
 LINES ON FIRST SEEING CHARLES MATHEWS, 
 AT BRIGHTON, 1846. 
 
 Mathews, thy varied powers of speech 
 
 Would rouse the very dead ; 
 To sit unmoved, and hear thee speak, 
 
 One must be made of lead. 
 
 They tell me, yours is acting ; 
 
 And it truly may be so ; 
 But of one thing I am certain — 
 
 It is impossible to know. 
 
 For the moment you appear, 
 
 We are spell-bound while you stay ; 
 
 It is so like life, we quite forget 
 We came to see a play. 
 
 i, 2
 
 68 OX CHARLES MATHEWS. 
 
 Oh ! it is nothing artificial, 
 
 No gesture overdone ; 
 You speak your part with such an ease 
 
 That acting there is none. 
 
 Then Mathews, may you flourish long, 
 
 And give unmixed delight, 
 May thousand others feel the joy 
 
 That I have felt to-night. 
 
 For I glory in my countrjTnan, 
 
 And have a pride to see, 
 That, while all foreign things are praised. 
 
 It is British blood in thee. 
 
 Then like a Garrick, thou shalt live, 
 When kings have passed away ; 
 
 Thy name is written on a rock, 
 That never shall decay. 
 
 Yes ! talents great and bright like thine 
 Shall live through ages long ! 
 
 And be a theme in after years 
 For many a future song.
 
 69 
 
 + 
 
 TO MY SISTER. 
 
 Dear Gussy, on that open brow, 
 
 Where purity's enshrined, 
 And innocence, and candour dwell, 
 
 With love and faith combined ; 
 
 Oh say, sometimes why clouds arise 
 
 And darken o'er the view, 
 And pensive sorrow reigns supreme 
 
 Within that eye of blue ! 
 
 Is it a hope, or wish deferred, 
 That pains you know not why, 
 
 And cause thee when it cross thy heart, 
 To heave the unbidden sigh ?
 
 70 TO MT SISTER. 
 
 Sweet Sister, lay thy grief aside, 
 
 Remember God above, 
 And make thy earnest prayer to Him 
 
 Who is the soul of love. 
 
 Yes, He who gave a Saviour's blood, 
 To cleanse thee from thy sin, 
 
 Will surely grant that earnest prayer, 
 Whate'er it may have been. 
 
 Ah then, in God's own righteous time 
 Thy wishes shall be given, 
 
 And may thy blameless life, sweet love, 
 Be registered in heaven.
 
 71 H- 
 
 HYMN FOR NIGHT. 
 
 God of my fathers, hear my prayer, 
 As kneeling at thy throne, 
 
 I pray for that dear Saviour's sake, 
 Who made our wants his own. 
 
 1 pray for health and innocence, 
 A peaceful frame of mind, 
 
 To be contented with my lot, 
 Whatever fate I find. 
 
 For stay, or go, I have no choice, 
 In this dark world of sorrow, 
 
 The eyes I close in sleep to night, 
 May wake in heaven to-morrow.
 
 72 HYMN FOR NIGHT. 
 
 Then grant me grace that I may tread 
 
 The straight and narrow way, 
 
 That leads to those eternal realms 
 Where saints for ever pray. 
 
 Where heavenly Seraphs tune their harps, 
 
 A never dying sound ; 
 In that blest place, for Jesus's sake, 
 
 May I with bliss be crowned.
 
 73 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY WHO 
 HAD SUDDENLY LOST HER SIGHT. 
 
 The sun is warm, the sky is blue, 
 The heavens are spread above me, 
 
 The world around is bright and true, 
 And friends are nigh that love me. 
 
 But I am blind, and cannot see 
 The blessings God doth shower ; 
 
 And sadly through the livelong day 
 Fpass my weary hour. 
 
 And things which formed my happiness 
 Are now a shadowy dream ; 
 
 This world how different it feels 
 To what it used to seem ; —
 
 74 LINES TO A YOUNG XADY. 
 
 When tears would flow, if ought went wrong, 
 
 Or wishes were denied, 
 And hours have passed, in discontent, 
 
 Or murmuring in my pride. 
 
 Now if it pleased the God of Heaven 
 
 To bles3 these sightless eyes, 
 The common share of light and air, 
 
 How dearly would I prize. 
 
 Ah ! prized beyond my very breath ; 
 
 For what is life to me ? 
 Oh, nothing but a living death, 
 
 From which I fain would flee. 
 
 Fain would I flee ; Oh, sinful thought ! 
 
 Oh, vain presumptuous doubt! 
 If written in thy book, Oh Lord, 
 
 May angels blot it out. 
 
 Yes, Lord, I pray by grace divine, 
 
 That strength to me be given, 
 To do my duty here on earth, 
 
 To merit rest in heaven.
 
 15 
 
 WRITTEN ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF A 
 GENTLEMAN WHO WAS SHORTLY TO BE 
 UNITED TO THE OBJECT OF HIS AFFEC- 
 TIONS. 
 
 In the chamber of death is a sorrowful sight, 
 
 Life's taper is burning away ; 
 And the warm heart, that beats with such happy de- 
 light, 
 
 Will soon be inanimate clay. 
 
 The eye, that expressed every thought of the soul, 
 
 Is setting for ever in night, 
 While the dark shades of death o'er that countenance 
 roll, 
 
 That once was illumined with light.
 
 76 ON THE DEATH OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 But believe me, fair girl, when you knelt by his side, 
 While his spirit to Heaven was fleeting ; 
 
 The feeling alone gave him peace as he died, — 
 That in paradise next you would meet him. 
 
 Then grieve not as hopeless, it is not for ever 
 
 You parted from him that you love ; 
 The ties, that on earth death has power to sever, 
 
 Shall again be united above.
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO IRELAND AT THE 
 PRESENT TIME. 
 
 Oh Ireland, a shadow is fallen 
 
 And spread its dark shade o'er the land ; 
 Thy fate is now so appalling 
 
 We cannot your sorrows withstand. 
 
 For pestilence stalketh abroad, 
 And famine is reigning supreme, 
 
 While the blessings, that plenty afford, 
 Have faded away like a dream. 
 
 Oh say, what has caused the dark blight 
 To wither thy beauty and grace ? 
 
 To turn morning, alas ! into night, 
 
 And stamp death on thy ill-fated race ?
 
 78 LINES ADDRESSED TO IRELAND. 
 
 For it was not intended to be 
 
 That your island of glorious light, 
 "Which is set in the midst of the sea, 
 
 Like an emerald glittering bright ; 
 
 Where the air is so pure, and the sky is so blue, 
 
 That no reptile e'er found him a seat ; 
 "Where thy sons and thy daughters are lovely and true 
 
 As the flowers that spring at their feet ; 
 
 Where they feel in the warmth of their hearts not a 
 care 
 That is not forgot on the morrow, 
 Where the bright beams of hope shed their radiance ' 
 fair, 
 Upon beings that laughed away sorrow. 
 
 Its the vengeance of God going forth — 
 
 A voice seemed to say at my side — 
 He is pouring the vials of wrath 
 
 To punish some sin of their pride.
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO IRELAND. 79 
 
 Though that Isle is as sunny and fair 
 
 As the garden of Eden again, 
 The innocent hlood that's shed there, 
 
 Has deluged the land like a rain. 
 
 It is that, which has withered the flower, 
 And blighted the fruits of the earth, 
 
 Caused famine around them to lower, 
 And scared away laughter and mirth. 
 
 Oh, then let our prayers never cease 
 
 To the throne of a merciful God, 
 To grant them the blessings of peace, 
 
 And spare the avenging rod. 
 
 That the Shamrock, the Thistle, and Hose, 
 Be united, that nothing can sever, 
 
 And the blessings from Concord that flows 
 Be their portion for ever and ever.
 
 80 
 
 TO ARTHUR DUKE OF WELLINGTON, ON HIS 
 RISING TO GIVE "TO THE MEMORY OF THOSE 
 THAT FELL AT WATERLOO." 
 
 This Poem is most respectfully dedicated to the most 
 [ Fair, the most Noble, the Marchioness of Douro. 
 
 Drink to the brave 
 
 That fell on the field, 
 To the undying valour 
 
 That never would yield — 
 Drink it in silence 
 
 With sorrowful mien, 
 For their spirits are gazing 
 
 From heaven unseen. 
 
 The wild flowers bloom 
 
 O'er the warrior's grave, 
 Then silently drink 
 
 To the souls of the brave.
 
 DRINK TO THE BRAVE. 81 
 
 Nobly they fought 
 
 And gallantly fell ; 
 Their glories and honours 
 
 Are wreathed like a spell. 
 
 When the Hero of Waterloo 
 
 Rises to pass, 
 Solemn and sadly, 
 
 The funeral glass — 
 At that moment in heaven 
 
 It is echoed again, 
 Long life to the Hero 
 
 Who drinks to the slain.
 
 82 
 
 LINES ON SEEING THE PICTURE OF THE LADY 
 CONSTANCE LEVISON GOWER, YOUNGEST 
 DAUGHTER OF THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF 
 SUTHERLAND, IN THE EXHIBITION OF 1847. 
 
 Surely the painter dipp'd his brush 
 
 In heaven's cerulean dye, 
 From, heaven alone the tints he drew 
 
 To paint that lustrous eye, 
 That haunting eye, that spell-bound brow, 
 
 The hair of radiant gold : 
 Vision of female loveliness, 
 
 Thy charms can ne'er be told. 
 
 Art thou a daughter of the earth, 
 
 Or Seraph from above, 
 Like pitying angel gazing down 
 
 In gentleness and love.
 
 .LADY CONSTANCE LEVISON GOWEH. 83 
 
 More like the poet's dream of old, 
 
 Than ought of mortal birth ; 
 Not Tasso's fair could rival thee, 
 
 Though famed for matchless worth. 
 
 And but thy mother sits beside, 
 
 Reflecting back again, 
 Thy youthful charms with deeper grace, 
 
 We might have guess'd in vain, 
 To trace an earthly parentage 
 
 Within those eyes of blue, 
 Oh may the flowers that strew thy path 
 
 Be never mixed with rue. 
 
 We'll wish thee every joy that earth 
 
 Or heaven can bestow, 
 And pray that not a shade of grief 
 
 Shall cross that breast of snow. 
 But should our prayers be vain, and you 
 
 Be wrecked on sorrow's tide, 
 Our final wish is, that you'll find 
 
 God ever at your side. 
 
 r •_'
 
 84 
 
 LINES INSPIRED BY A VIEW OF THE MONU- 
 MENT TO THE MEMORY OF MAJOR SOMERSET, 
 WHO FELL GALLANTLY FIGHTING IN THE 
 BATTLES OF THE SUTLEJ. 
 
 Hero, to thy honour" d shade 
 How sweet a tribute here is paid, 
 Paid to thy heroic name, 
 To thy brave and spotless fame, 
 Paid by those, who saw thee fall 
 Pierced with wounds at glory's call. 
 
 When thou sank upon the plain, 
 .Never more to rise again, 
 Shouting with thy dying breath, 
 Victory, or a glorious death —
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF MAJOR SOMERSET. 85 
 
 If thoughts of home, crossed o'er thy brain 
 
 In that struggling hour of pain, 
 
 Angels whisper'd o'er and o'er, 
 
 That upon thy native shore, 
 
 A nation's tears should freely flow. 
 
 To assuage the bitter woe, 
 
 That must wring thy parents' heart, 
 
 From their cherished son to part — 
 
 Over which a veil we draw 
 
 Like the sacrifice of yore, 
 
 When the Grecian father's sighs, 
 
 Were shrouded thus from public eyes. 
 
 Tears bedew thy early grave, 
 Banners o'er thy tomb shall wave ; 
 Shades of heroes shall arise, 
 To bless thy youthful obsequies, 
 Whilst honour, of her favourite son, 
 Recounts the deeds that he has done, 
 And Freedom, hallows with her name, 
 The spot, where he has earned his fame.
 
 86 TO THE MEMORY OE MAJOR SOMERSET. 
 
 Then "Warrior, may you peaceful sleep, 
 While o*er thy bier thy comrades weep ; 
 And this tablet of to-day, 
 Shall stand when years have passed away, 
 And each succeeding age shall tell, 
 How brave thou fought, how nobly fell.
 
 87 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF DANIEL O'CONNELL, ESQ. 
 
 Peace to thy ashes, you have faded away, 
 
 Like the last rays of light in the closing of day ; 
 
 Thy visions of freedom are over at last, 
 
 And thy name is no more than a dream of the past. 
 
 Peace to thy ashes, thou friend of the free, 
 Champion of liberty, peace he to thee ; 
 You wept and you fought for your Island of light, 
 May the bliss that you gain be eternal and bright. 
 
 Yes a long life of struggle was Ireland's own, 
 You published her wrongs, from the cot to the throne; 
 You boldly stood forward her rights to regain, 
 And have left to her annals a glorious name.
 
 88. TO THE MEMORY OF D. O'CONNELL, ESQ. 
 
 When thy ashes float back to the Emerald strand. 
 To rest in repose in their dear native land ; 
 The tears of the people shall hallow the ground. 
 And the Shamrock spontaneous encircle thee round. 
 
 Then peace to thy ashes, it's long ere they'll find 
 So stirring a spirit, so noble a mind, 
 So firm to thy faith, to thy country so true, 
 O'Connell, thy loss they for ever shall rue.
 
 89 
 
 LINES ON THE BANQUET AT APSLEY HOUSE, 
 IN COMMEMORATION OF THE BATTLE OF 
 WATERLOO. 
 
 Oh, glorious field of Waterloo, 
 You rise to memory fresh and true, 
 
 While banners o'er thee wave. 
 I'll sing thy bravest deeds in verse, 
 Thy triumphs while I've breath rehearse, 
 
 And crown the warriors' grave. 
 
 When at their gallant chieftain's board, 
 The veteran heroes clasp their sword, 
 
 And mourn the brave one's fled. 
 Raising the sparkling glass on high 
 They waft it with a silent sigh, 
 
 In memory of the dead.
 
 90 IN COMMEMOEATION OF 
 
 And justly is that tribute due, 
 To those who fell at "Waterloo — 
 
 Proud England's gallant sons, 
 Who shouted victory or death, 
 And fought until their failing breath 
 
 Proclaimed their race was run. 
 
 Yes Waterloo's a glorious term, 
 
 It makes our hearts with freedom burn, 
 
 And bless the hallow'd ground, 
 That bought the olive branch of peace, 
 And caused the fatal wars to cease, 
 
 In all the nations round. 
 
 Then may that union last for ever, 
 May no dark cloud have power to sever ; 
 
 Or throw its shade unseen. 
 Britannia may she proudly gaze, 
 And wreath her laurels with her bays, 
 
 To crown our English Queen.
 
 THE BATTLE OF AVATERXOO. 91 
 
 Yes let us crown her Queen of peace, 
 And pray the blessing ne'er may cease, 
 
 But shine a glorious light. 
 We'll kneeling pray to God, on high. 
 To him who ever hears our cry. 
 
 To guide our wishes right.
 
 92 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF MY ONLY BROTHER, WHO 
 TO THE ETERNAL SORROW OF HIS FAMILY 
 WAS UNFORTUNATELY DROWNED, SEPTEM- 
 BER 9th, 1828. 
 
 Oh snatched away, when life was new, 
 And hope was springing bright and true ; 
 Oh snatched away in earliest bloom. 
 My Brother sleeps within the tomb. 
 
 Brief was his span of life below, 
 But free alike from care or woe ; 
 His joyous spirit, form'd for mirth, 
 Soared far above this lower earth 
 
 Yes he was genius' favourite child, 
 She stamp'd him with her siguet mild,
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF MY BROTHER. 
 
 And fearing earth, might slight the prize, 
 Translated him to ethereal skies. 
 
 So when the cold waves wrapt his head, 
 And ocean seemed to be his bed ; 
 While bending o'er in silent grief, 
 His mother's heart found no relief, 
 
 She knew not why her cherish* d son, 
 Was wither' d ere his race was run ; 
 Before his pure and noble soul, 
 Was sullied by the world's controul. 
 
 She knew it not, she felt it not, 
 She only felt her own sad lot ; 
 Till angels whispered peace and love, 
 And told her of his joys above — 
 
 That having left this vale of woe, 
 To dwell where flowers for ever blow ; 
 His kindred spirits came from high 
 To waft him to his native sky ; 
 
 93
 
 94 TO THE MEMORY OF MY BROTHER. 
 
 And there lie reigns an angel bright. 
 Enthroned within those realms of light ; 
 And that blest thought shall dry the tear. 
 That flows through many a lengthen'd year.
 
 95 
 
 THE WISH. 
 
 Oh ! for some quiet dell, 
 
 Some sweet sequestered spot. 
 
 Where lingering violets dwell, 
 And the world is quite forgot. 
 
 Oh ! for a shady seat 
 
 Beneath the forest oak, 
 Where the flowers are mingled sweet, 
 
 And the silence ne'er is broke — 
 
 Save by ripplings of a sunny brook, 
 
 A hum of distant bees, 
 Or the sky-lark, in her airy nook, 
 
 Heard warbling through the trees.
 
 96 THE WISH. 
 
 Where with nature I commune 
 In her sweetest holiest mood, 
 
 Or watch the changeful moon, 
 As she skirts the forest rude ; 
 
 Where I kneel in silent prayer, 
 To him who gave us all, 
 
 And bless the fostering care, 
 That hears the suppliant's call. 
 
 Oh, could I name the path 
 
 Where I might bloom below — 
 
 It's not on fashion's gay parterre 
 That I would wish to blow. 
 
 No, like that fairy flower, 
 
 The lily of the vale, 
 I would choose the sheltering bovver, 
 
 To guard me from the gale. 
 
 The storms of life might rise, 
 And pass unheeded by, 
 
 Till fading like the flower that dies 
 I'd bloom in yonder sky.
 
 97 
 
 NAPOLEON. 
 
 Say shall I dip my pen in fire, 
 
 To paint the hero I admire ; 
 
 To paint the towering strength of soul, 
 
 That bowed the world to its control ; 
 
 Or paint the free unfetter'd mind, 
 
 That e'en a prison could not bind. 
 
 Star of the earth ! from whence you sprung, 
 Whose prowess dwells on every tongue ; 
 Star of the mighty ! in whose grave 
 Lies all that's valiant, great, and brave, 
 
 G
 
 98 XAPOLEON'. 
 
 A thousand years may pass in vain 
 Ere such a star shall shine again. 
 
 "When the lone Isle, that gave thee birth, 
 Saw thee the Conqueror of the earth, 
 And watched her son to conquest ride, 
 Buoyant with hope, elate with pride, 
 From mountain side to forest glen. 
 Thy name resounded back again. 
 
 And shall those glories pass away 
 Like night before the coming day ? 
 Shall name and lineage be forgot, 
 The trophies of thy brilliant lot ; 
 And e'en the coward dare to raise 
 His puny voice to blast thy praise ? 
 
 Xo ! it's a Name, that cannot die, 
 Though time on rapid pinions fly : 
 Fame blew her trumpet far and near, 
 To waft her favourite son's career ;
 
 NAPOLEON. 99 
 
 From northern shore to torrid zone 
 Thy~conquests and thy name are known. 
 
 And though on high, it was ordained 
 
 That thou should lose whate'er thou gained, 
 
 And die a captive, sad and lone, 
 
 Bereft of kingdom and of throne — 
 
 To shew that fame, that rank, and power, 
 
 Cannot avail the parting hour. 
 
 It could not bring thy child to thee, 
 
 To sooth its father's misery ; 
 
 It could not bring thy wife to stand 
 
 Beside thy bed, to clasp thy hand, 
 
 To bathe thy brow with woman's care. 
 
 And catch each sigh, and parting prayer. 
 
 No ! none but strangers watched thy bed, 
 And raised the requiem for the dead, 
 And laid thee in the silent grave, 
 Encircled by the sea girt wave ; 
 As one lone Isle had given thee birth. 
 Another clasped thee in her earth. 
 
 G 2
 
 100 NAPOLEON. 
 
 And there, until the final doom, 
 Thou might have rested in the tomb, 
 Had not thy self-adopted land 
 Sent forth her children in a band, 
 To bring thee back to France again, 
 And raise an altar to thy fame.
 
 101 
 
 RESIGNATION. 
 
 Why should we grieve o'er those that die ? 
 Why drop the tear or heave the sigh ? 
 Why should we wish them back again, 
 To suffer in a world of pain ? 
 
 Why should we weep when hopes have fled 
 And friends are number' d with the dead ? 
 Have they not gained a heavenly shore. 
 Where sin and sorrow are no more ? 
 
 Yes, it's a selfish feeling ours, 
 To draw them from immortal bowers, 
 Where the freed spirit joyful pays 
 Its daily due of love and praise ;
 
 102 RESIGNATION. 
 
 Where every day and all night long 
 They raise the never-dying song 
 To Him who sent redemption here, 
 And bade the spirit cease to fear ; 
 
 Who bore onr sorrows as His own, 
 That we might share His heavenly throne. 
 And brought the wandering sinner back 
 From many a dark and devious track. 
 
 To paths of glory, light, and love, 
 To tread the paradise above. 
 To reign with those who never cease 
 To tell of joy and endless peace. 
 
 Oli no, our tears shall cease to flow 
 When thinking on their bliss below, 
 We'll dry them as we breathe the prayer- 
 Thai we in heaven their joys may share.
 
 103 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF SIR ROBERT SALE AND 
 HIS BRAVE COMPANIONS IN ARMS WHO 
 FELL AT SOBRAON AND ALIWAL. 
 
 Shoots of glory are rending the sky, 
 Which are wafted from Indus to here, 
 
 But echo sends only a sigh 
 To hallow the warrior's bier. 
 
 For on Aliwal's dearly-bought field 
 How many a brave heart has fell 
 
 How many bright prospects are seal'd 
 Or hushed in a funeral knell. 
 
 The veteran, who rode forth at morn 
 
 With hope springing high in his breast, 
 Recked not that at night he'd be borne 
 And laid in his last final rest ;
 
 104 TO THE MEMORY OF SIR ROBERT SA.I/E. 
 
 The young, who rushed forth to the field, 
 
 Impatient to conquer or die, 
 Who eared not their spirit to yield 
 
 So they heard but the enemy fly ; 
 
 Have both found a glorious grave, 
 
 For they fell with their swords in their hand, 
 While the banners of victory wave 
 
 Like the leaves of their own native land. 
 
 And Britannia weeps sad o'er the chaplet she wove 
 
 Of laurels, the freshest and green, 
 Intermix'd with the Shamrock, the Thistle, and Rose. 
 
 The brightest that ever was seen. 
 
 She wove it with care for her favourite son 
 
 But he fell on the field in his glory, 
 And nothing remains for the deeds he has done, 
 
 But to tell of his valour in story — 
 
 Of the undying valour that never would yield 
 
 Of the courage that never grew dim, 
 Of the heart that was true in the camp or the field, 
 
 Of the spirit untainted with sin.
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF SIR ROBERT SALE. 105 
 
 And oh, if that spirit, in regions above, 
 Still yearns for the land of its birth, 
 
 It sees that Britannia forgets not her love, 
 Nor ceases to honour his worth — 
 
 That the laurels she wove, with such pleasure and care, 
 
 His perishing brows to enfold, 
 Now serve as a crown to the monument fair, 
 
 That is raised to the hero so bold.
 
 106 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER. 
 
 I f warm affections, if an honest heart 
 Where truth and honour form'd an equal part — 
 If upright dealings, purity of soul, 
 Untouched, untainted, by the world's control — 
 If these find favour in a Saviour's love, 
 Then is thy spirit blest in realms above. 
 
 If kindest speech, devoid of art or guile, 
 Where none found fraud, beneath thy open smile ; 
 Less willing to accept, than quick to lend, 
 Who ne'er made money on a ruined friend, 
 Nor spoil'd the widow or the orphan's shai*e, 
 But held them sacred as a prophet's prayer.
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER. 10' 
 
 Oh yes, my father, when I strive to see 
 
 And grace my pages with a sketch of thee — 
 
 How all thy simple virtues rise to view, 
 
 And crowd my memory when I think of you ; 
 
 And thinking try to paint them as they stand, 
 
 How sweet the task, how quick my willing hand. 
 
 And though some mortal failings did efface 
 The bright perfections which I love to trace 
 Yet, weighed against the virtues of thy mind, 
 They are like a feather balanced by the wind 
 That sports a moment in the azure air, 
 But leaves no trace to mark its dwelling there. 
 
 No trace remains, thy virtues bear the palm, 
 And hover o'er my path a sacred charm. 
 Proud of the honest name bequeathed by thee, 
 God grant me grace, to keep it pure and free, 
 Cnstain'd, untainted, may I live to rise 
 And meet thee joyful in the ethereal skies.
 
 108 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS' FAREWELL TO 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 Farewell to thee Scotland, my foot's in the boat ; 
 I leave thee unwilling, o'er ocean to float, 
 To seek refuge and help from a kindlier shore, 
 And my heart seems to say, I shall see thee no more. 
 
 From the land of my birth into exile I go, 
 To wear out my days in complaining and woe, 
 Ye have driven me forth, with a merciless hand, 
 And denied me a home where I used to command. 
 
 With the blood of a hundred kings in my veins, 
 I must sue for a rest for my mortal remains ; 
 Though born to inherit a kingdom and throne, 
 I have now not a spot, I can claim as my own.
 
 FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND. 109 
 
 If the shades of my sires could rise from the tomb, 
 And see their descendant go forth in her bloom, 
 In the pride of her beauty, to wither and die 
 In the land of the stranger, unblest by a sigh ; 
 
 The blood of the Bruce's would kindle again, 
 And their swords from the scabbard flash bright 
 
 like a flame, 
 To punish the Chieftains, who, false to their vow, 
 Have wrested the crown from their Sovereign's brow. 
 
 Then farewell to thee, Scotland, in long after years 
 Thy children shall weep o'er my story with tears, 
 When the name of the Stuart is faded and past, 
 And the hand of the Southern reigns o'er thee at last.
 
 110 
 
 LINES ON JENNY LIND'S ARRIVAL IN 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 Welcome to our Seagirt Isle. 
 
 Matchless Queen of song — 
 Welcome to thy sunny smile, 
 
 We have waited for it long. 
 
 Yes, waited for thy presence here, 
 
 Impatient of delay, 
 And watched, with mingled doubt and f( 
 
 Lest thou should stop away. 
 
 Now like a comet you have burst. 
 
 All glorious on our sphere, 
 Thy voice was sure by seraphs nurst, 
 
 To sound so sweet and clear.
 
 JENSTY 1IND. Ill 
 
 Some Angel lingering in the air, 
 
 "Whilst bound from heaven to earth, 
 
 To bless thy mother's earnest prayer, 
 Stood sponsor at thy birth — 
 
 And gave thee that angelic tone, 
 
 That sweet and birdlike note : 
 One might suppose a nightingale 
 
 Was warbling down thy throat. 
 
 Nor is thy voice the only grace 
 
 In which a charm we find — 
 For who could look upon that face 
 
 Xor read thy spotless mind — 
 
 The purity of thought that lays 
 
 Within those eyes of blue, 
 The depth of feeling which betrays 
 
 The heart so kind and true ? 
 
 Yes ! Jenny Lind, I honour thee, 
 
 For thy intrinsic worth, 
 Far more than for thy gift of song, 
 
 Sweet daughter of the earth.
 
 112 JENNY LIND. 
 
 Though that may gain the public ear, 
 
 And raise thee for a day ; 
 It's to thy virtues, bright and clear, 
 
 I dedicate my lay. 
 
 For they shall live, when voice has fled 
 And time has stampt thy brow, 
 
 Ah, e'en when number'd with the dead, 
 They'll shine as bright as now.
 
 113 
 
 LINES ON LANDSEER'S PICTURE OF HER MA- 
 JESTY AND HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE 
 OF WALES. 
 
 Royal Babe, as you gently repose, 
 
 In the arms of affection and love, 
 On the breast that shall soothe all thy woes. 
 
 And make earth like the heaven above. — 
 
 When the charms of that infantile face, 
 On which now with such pleasure we look, 
 
 Shall have passed into manhood and grace, 
 As the rivulet swells to the brook — 
 
 May thy current of life be as calm, 
 
 And as clear as the swift running stream, 
 
 May nought have the power to harm, 
 Nor darken thy life's fairy dream. 
 
 ir
 
 114 THE PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 May you tread the straight path to the end, 
 That leads to the Eden of love, 
 
 And the rock, upon which you depend, 
 Be thy Father in heaven above.
 
 115 
 
 LINES ON FIRST SEEING THE LADY ANTHONY 
 DE ROTHSCHILD AT HER EASEL. 
 
 Sweet Lady, say what is the spell, 
 
 That draws the heart closer to thee, 
 And causes e'en strangers to dwell, 
 
 On the charms and perfections they see ! 
 It is not the wealth of thy glittering halls, 
 
 Nor the taste of thy fairy like bower, 
 That rivets the eye upon entering thy walls, 
 
 And entrances the soul with its power. 
 
 No, the heart must be cold that could gaze upon thee, 
 
 Untouched by thy beauty and grace, 
 
 Untouched by the feelings so pure, and so free. 
 
 That flit o'er thy eloquent face. 
 
 h2
 
 116 LADY ANTHONY DE KOTHSCHILD. 
 
 As you bend o'er the easel, intent to impart, 
 
 To the beings your fancy create, 
 The undying finish of beauty and art, 
 
 That shall live through the changes of fate. — 
 
 You look like a spirit, who lent for a time 
 
 Has nothing of earth but the name, 
 And longs to return to the regions sublime, 
 
 And back to the God whence it came. 
 Yes, back to the rest of its kindred on high, 
 
 To join in the heavenly throng, 
 Who are waiting to welcome it home to the sky, 
 
 And bear it in triumph along.
 
 117 
 
 LINES TO THE MEMORY OF FREDERIC ALBERT 
 LOINSWORTH, LATE INSPECTOR GENERAL OF 
 HER MAJESTY'S MEDICAL STAFF, IN INDIA.* 
 
 Oh sad was thy fate, in a far distant land, 
 
 To die ere the moment of meeting, 
 When all that you loved left their own native strand, 
 
 Impatient to give thee the greeting. 
 
 Yes, far from the land of thy birth, 
 
 From all you held holy and dear, 
 From the scenes that you cherished on earth, 
 
 From the friends that could comfort or cheer. 
 
 * The melancholy circumstance that gave rise to the 
 foregoing lines, originated in my uncle heing separated 
 six years from his wife and family. — They landed in India, 
 four weeks after his death.
 
 118 TO THE MEMORY OF F. A. LOINSWORTII. 
 
 No wife of thy bosom to pray, 
 
 No children to sooth thy last hour — 
 
 Thy sun it went down in the day, 
 Cut off in its glory and power. 
 
 Oh, cruel the cold hand of death, 
 
 Not to grant thee a few weeks delay, 
 
 But to bear off thy trembling breath, 
 ^liile yet they were winging their way. 
 
 Yes winging their flight like a bird, 
 
 They came to find nought but thy grave — 
 
 To feel that their prayers were not heard. 
 For they had not the power to save. 
 
 Nor lengthen"d thy life, till they came, 
 Where it only to bless them and die ; 
 
 Their journey would not have been vain 
 Could they, but have received thy last sigh.
 
 119 
 
 CHATSWORTH. 
 
 Chatsworth ! my pen can faintly tell 
 The thousand charms that round thee dwell- 
 Thy waving wood, thy forests wide, 
 Where murmuring cascades swell the tide, 
 Of many a bright and glittering stream, 
 That shines in heaven's reflected beam. 
 
 And, was it from a woman's hand, 
 Thou rose to grace our English land, 
 With all thy proud and stately towers, 
 Thy princely halls, and lady's bowers, 
 Thy fairy grots, thy gardens wide, 
 Where Flora reigns in matchless pride ?
 
 120 CHATS-WORTH. 
 
 Yes, exiles sweet, from many a land, 
 
 The flowers spring forth a blooming band, 
 
 Transplanted from their native earth, 
 
 They glory in their second birth, 
 
 And shed their fragrance o'er the scene, 
 
 As grateful for their bowers of green. 
 
 And though my pen can fainter still, 
 Trace him, who both has power and will. 
 To spread thy glories, raise thy fame, 
 And teach thee, that thy brightest claim, 
 Lies in the feeling heart and hand, 
 That welcomes all throughout the land. 
 
 Yes, welcomes with a generous heart, 
 The sons of genius and of art, 
 And opens wide his gates to those, 
 Who from their talents, nobly rose, 
 To grace the land, that proudly claims, 
 The birthright of their hallowed names. 
 
 Yes, Chatsworth, thafs the wizard spell, 
 That makes thee more than pen can tell.
 
 CHATSWORTH. 
 
 Though noble are thy stately towers, 
 Though .brilliant are thy matchless flowers, 
 Though art, and nature, mingling sweet, 
 Might make thy halls a magic seat, 
 Without thy master's hand, and heart, 
 Chats worth ! thy fame would soon depart. 
 
 121
 
 HAGAR AND ISHMAEL, 
 
 Si J?acrrtJ ;Poem.
 
 HAGAR AND ISHMAEJ, 
 
 The sun has set on Sharon's plain, 
 O'er waving fields of golden grain, 
 Has set upon that sainted sod, 
 Where angels spoke, and prophets trod : 
 It set at eve, a glorious sight, 
 But ere it rose in morning light. 
 The Patriarch stood before his tent. 
 His stately form by sorrow bent, 
 For he must send his first-born child. 
 To wander in the desert wild ; 
 And Hagar too must leave her home, 
 And both go forth, to scenes unknown.
 
 126 HAGAK AND ISHMAEL. 
 
 It's true — the angel had declared, 
 
 That Ishmael's days they should be spared ; 
 
 That though he went in pain and woe, 
 
 His youthful frame no harm should know ; 
 
 But from his loins a race should spring, 
 
 Whose deeds throughout the world would ring- 
 
 A nation, mighty in their fame, 
 
 To proudly hand down Ishmael's name. 
 
 But now the parting hour was come, 
 
 His heart with pain and grief was wrung ; 
 
 It chilled his soul to part with those, 
 
 Who shared his joys and felt his woes, 
 
 But then the Lord forbade their stay, 
 
 And Abraham dared not disobey ; 
 
 So rousing Hagar from her sleep 
 
 He sent them forth alone to weep. 
 
 " Hagar, come forth, the boy awake, 
 Ere Sarah's hours of rest shall break ; 
 Go forth, thy God will guide thy way, 
 A shield by night, a guard by day ;
 
 HAGAK AND ISHMAEL. 127 
 
 Where'er thy wandering footsteps bend, 
 May angels watch thee and befriend." 
 She took young Ishmael by the hand. 
 And turned to seek another land ; 
 She went, that lonely mother went, 
 The God of Abraham saw her sent, 
 And marked where'er her path might lead, 
 To aid her in the hour of need. 
 
 PAKT THE SECOND. 
 
 Beneath the shade of yon dark wild, 
 Sat Hagar, watching o'er her child. 
 The lifeless form, the closing eye, 
 Told death in all its horrors nigh. 
 Full three long days, they'd wander'd lone, 
 Since driven from the Patriarch's home — 
 Since Sarah's mandate dark and high. 
 Had sent them forth alone to die. 
 
 Bitter the cry, and deep the wail, 
 That rose upon that desert gale ;
 
 128 HAGAK. AND ISHMAEL. 
 
 For Hagar, felt that Ishmael's hours 
 Were fading fast like tender flowers, 
 That he her darling and her pride, 
 For whom she lived, and would have died. 
 To spare his soul one hour of pain, 
 Would never rise from earth again. 
 
 No ! stiffen' d, at her feet he lay — 
 Gone was the smile, so bright and gay, 
 That used to greet her fond embrace, 
 And light with love his youthful face. 
 Sunk in the deep and heavy sand, 
 His tottering limbs refused to stand ; 
 The mother turned her gaze away, 
 And strove to rouse him as he lay. 
 
 " Ishmael ! my child, awake, arise, 
 Oh God ! he'll die before my eyes, 
 Is there no help, no water near ? 
 No hand to succour in my fear ? 
 Oh cruel father, who couldst send, 
 Thy first-born son to such an end.
 
 HAGAR AND ISHMAEL. 129 
 
 Was it for this I bore my child, 
 And watched his infant slumbers mild ? — 
 Gave him to haughty Sarah's care, 
 Content the handmaid's lot to bear, 
 That he the promised flocks might gain, 
 And over Israel's kingdom reign ?" 
 
 Is it the rising of the sand, 
 
 That falls on Hagar's ear ? 
 Or a bird of prey from some distant land, 
 
 That touches her soul with fear ? 
 
 She turns : can her eyes believe their sight ? 
 
 For an angel form is nigh ; 
 He stands like a being of joy and light, 
 
 That has left his native sky — 
 
 To succour that friendless mother, 
 
 And raise her fainting child ; 
 And his voice like music's murmur, 
 
 Fell sweet on the desert wild.
 
 130 HAGAK AND ISHMAEL. 
 
 " Hagar, arise ! thy God is near, 
 Attend ; oh ! wherefore didst thou fear ? 
 Ishmael shall live, shall live to reign, 
 And found a great and mighty name. 
 His race shall spread o'er all the land. 
 Where'er they go — a warlike band, 
 Shall live till time's remotest hour, 
 Unchanged their state, unbent their power."' 
 
 The angel pointed to the rock ; 
 
 Before, it seemed a solid block, 
 
 But now the gushing stream distills, 
 
 And rises in a thousand rills ; 
 
 Her grateful heart, o'ernow'd with praise, 
 
 To God, who thus had spared his days. 
 
 She knelt with Ishmael on the sand, 
 
 And clasped his parched and burning hand. 
 
 And raising high her voice in prayer, 
 
 Addressed the God of light and air.
 
 HAGAR AND ISHMAEL. 131 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 •"Oh God of Abraham ! grant me grace 
 
 To bless thy saving care ; 
 To bless thy name in every place, 
 
 And raise a grateful prayer. 
 
 When Hagar 's mingled with the dust, 
 
 And Ishmael's days are run ; 
 Thy glories Lord, they'll not forget, 
 
 But hand from sire to son. 
 
 When unborn nations shall arise, 
 
 And celebrate thy name ; 
 When all beneath the etherial skies 
 
 Adore their God the same — 
 
 Then Hagar's wrongs and Hagar's tears 
 
 Shall still remember' d be ; 
 And through the ceaseless flow of years, 
 
 Cause all to worship thee. 
 
 i 2
 
 HISTORICAL BALLADS.
 
 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 THE LEOPARD KNIGHT; OR, THE FALSE SIG- 
 NAL. ADAPTED FROM SCOTT'S TALES OF THE 
 CRUSADES. 
 
 It was on Acre's gallant strand, 
 
 At the solemn hour of night, 
 That the English flag waved lightly o'er 
 
 The steps of a red-cross knight. 
 
 His sable mail, in the moonlight pale. 
 
 Set forth his stately form, 
 And the glance so true of his eye of bliu 
 
 Showed he was nobly born.
 
 136 THE LEOPAKD KNIGHT. 
 
 Yes, he was as bold a knight 
 As e'er a sword could wield ; 
 
 He stood renowned in the Christian camp 
 For deeds upon battle field. 
 
 But no one knew from whence he came 
 To join King Richard's band, 
 
 His name and lineage were unknown 
 Throughout the Holy Land. 
 
 And now he paces to and fro 
 
 The little mound of green, 
 And nothing but his faithful dog 
 
 Can at his feet be seen. 
 
 Sudden, a sound comes o'er the air, 
 
 A step is drawing nigh, 
 And a tiny page of tender age 
 
 Has met the knight's stern eye. 
 
 But what does cause that knight to start, 
 
 And turn so deadly pale, 
 And list with such a breathless air 
 
 As the page begins his tale.
 
 THE LEOPARD KNIGHT. 137 
 
 " This ring I bring, from my lady fair, 
 
 She hade me give it thee, 
 And made me swear, by her golden hair, 
 
 That none should be by to see. 
 
 And she waits, Sir Knight, in her bower bright, 
 And lists for thy well known tread ; 
 
 And has taken care, that none are there ; 
 All is silent as the dead." 
 
 The Knight has kissed the ruby ring, 
 
 He knows the faithful token ; 
 " And can it be, my Edith fair 
 
 Those precious words has spoken r" 
 
 His king, his honour, are forgot, 
 
 He thinks on her alone, 
 On her who sent the fatal ring 
 
 To make her wishes known. 
 
 With a lightning step he follows quick, 
 
 And gains the lady's bower, 
 But ah ! no Edith's waiting there 
 
 To keep the trysting hour.
 
 138 THE LEOPARD KNIGHT. 
 
 The Knight is struck with sore amaze, 
 The moon shines bright and clear, 
 
 And he faintly knocks at her virgin bower, 
 But it is in doubt and fear. 
 
 " What brought thee here, Sir Knight, to me, 
 
 At this unseemly hour ?" 
 And he held her up the ruby ring ; 
 
 '* It was this, my peerless flower." 
 
 The colour forsook the lady's cheek, 
 
 A faintness seized her frame ; 
 " That ring, Sir Knight, I never sent, 
 
 But on me must rest the blame. 
 
 My royal Mistress begged the ring — 
 
 She must have sent it thee ; 
 Oh, it's a trick to bring thee here, 
 
 Which they have played on me. 
 
 Hie back, Sir Knight, as quick as light, 
 Before thou art missed or seen, 
 
 And lest thou should be known to leave, 
 I will haste me to the Queen.
 
 THE LE0PAED KSIGHT. 139 
 
 And she shall gain King Richard's ear, 
 
 Ajid her thoughtless plot unveil ; 
 I little thought, when the ring I gave, 
 
 It would such grief entail.'' 
 
 The Knight speeds back with a heavy heart, 
 
 Oh, sight to meet his eyes, 
 The standard's gone and his faithful dog 
 
 Is sunk no more to rise. 
 
 His folly now he sees too late, 
 
 He knows he is betrayed, 
 Ah ! it is not a thoughtless trick, 
 
 But a deeper plot is laid. 
 
 One way remains my faith to save ; 
 
 Before my honour 's lost 
 I'll hasten to the king, and tell 
 
 That I have left my post. 
 
 And if he deems my life should pay 
 
 The forfeit of the same, 
 "Why I lose it for my Edith's sake, 
 
 And she will bless my name
 
 140 THE LEOPARD KNIGHT. 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 King Richard in his tent is lying, 
 
 His battle-axe by his side ; 
 By night or day, he never parts 
 
 With that symbol of his pride. 
 
 For not a soul in the Christian camp 
 
 Can raise that sword on high ; 
 Whoever could wield it o'er his head, 
 
 His knightly spurs might buy. 
 
 The leopard knight admission gains, 
 
 He enters without fear ; 
 King Richard starts from his broken sleep, 
 
 " Sir Knight, what brings thee here ? 
 
 Gave I not thee the post to guard, 
 
 Our standard bold and free ; 
 Has ought befell that banner bright ? 
 
 Speak out, Sir Knight, to me.''
 
 THE LEOPARD KNIGHT. 141 
 
 " The standard's gone, and I am come 
 
 My forfeit life to pay ; 
 Ask me no question, how its lost, 
 
 The cause I may not say." 
 
 " And livest thou to tell the news 
 
 And darest to bring it me ? 
 Traitor, my trusty battle-axe 
 
 Shall make an end of thee." 
 
 He raised the ponderous sword on high. 
 
 The knight stood firm and bold — 
 Sudden, a rushing sound is heard. 
 
 And the king relaxed his hold. 
 
 For a female form has rushed between, 
 
 And sunk upon her knees ; 
 Well might King Richard drop the sword, 
 
 For it is the Queen he sees. 
 
 Her waving locks of sunny gold 
 
 Fell o'er her brow of snow ; 
 And her liquid eyes, s*vam in pearly tears 
 
 As she spoke in accents low.
 
 142 THE LEOPARD KNIGHT. 
 
 " Oh, spare his life, my gracious king," 
 
 In mercy set him free ; 
 It was I who sent the fatal ring, 
 
 But not me he came to see. 
 
 I sent it in the name of one. 
 
 Who is dearer than his life ; 
 I did it for a harmless jest, 
 
 Nor dreamt of mortal strife. 
 
 Then spare his life, my Richard dear. 
 
 Oh spare his life I pray ;" 
 And she clasped her hands, and wrung her hair, 
 
 Like one in deep dismay. 
 
 " Out of my tent, this moment go," 
 
 King Richard, angry cries, 
 " Think I will spare a traitor's life, 
 
 For the sake of streaming eyes?" 
 
 " It's not a traitor's life you'll spare. 
 
 King Richard, if you do, 
 But a noble knight, who has served thee well, 
 
 And fought both bold and true.
 
 THE LEOPARD KNIGHT. 143 
 
 "When the fatal ring was sent to him, 
 
 They sent it in my name ; 
 Hear me hut tell the simple truth, 
 
 And that will clear his fame. 
 
 By all the laws of chivalry, 
 
 He was bound to come to me 
 Whene'er I sent my signet ring, 
 
 To say that I was free. 
 
 So not a stain can rest upon 
 
 His honour as a knight ; 
 I only grieve he should have held 
 
 His Edith's fame so light, 
 
 To think, at this unwonted hour, 
 
 With nought of peril near, 
 He should be summoned to my bower 
 
 A tale of love to hear.'" 
 
 She ceased ; upon her lofty brow 
 
 The colour died away; 
 Calmly she stood before the king, 
 
 And inward seemed to pray.
 
 144 THE XEOPAKD KNIGHT. 
 
 " Thy life is spared," King Richard cries, 
 For a generous heart had he ; 
 
 " I spare it not for woman's sighs, 
 But because thou art bold and free. 
 
 For hadst thou made a backward step, 
 Or quailed beneath mine eye, 
 
 My trusty sword had laid thee low 
 Ere thou had breathed a sigh. 
 
 Then go, Sir Knight, in the tourney fight, 
 
 Go challenge thy secret foe, 
 Throw down thy glove for thy lady love. 
 
 And strike a stalwart blow. 
 
 Redeem thy name ; and thy knightly fame 
 
 Shall be spotless as before ; 
 And the vexatious plight of this fatal night 
 
 Shall never be spoke of more."
 
 145 
 
 THE POISONED ARROW; OR, ELEANOR OF 
 CASTILE. 
 
 The sun has sunk in Palestine, 
 
 The moon is risen high, 
 A knight upon a coal-black steed 
 
 Is riding quickly by. 
 
 He rides to gain yon open plain, 
 
 Where the crusaders keep their post; 
 
 He has fought his way, unscathed to day, 
 Through all the heathen host. 
 
 Ride on, Sir Knight, thy welcome bright, 
 
 You carry in your hand, 
 For thou art come from Joppa's shore 
 
 With news of thy native land.
 
 146 THE POISONED ARROW. 
 
 The rider has cross'd the boundary line, 
 He has reached an open tent, 
 
 And before a knight of stately height 
 His knee he has lowly bent. 
 
 " Rise up, Sir Knight, Sir Walter rise, 
 What news bring ye in hand ? 
 
 Is my father well, do the people dwell, 
 In peace in my native land ?" 
 
 " The land it was in peace, Sir Prince, 
 When I bade its shores adieu ; 
 
 The vassal eats at his master's board, 
 The knights are bold and true. 
 
 This packet I bring from his grace the king, 
 For none but your royal hand ; 
 
 I have fought my way to your tent to day, 
 Past all the heathen band." 
 
 The prince the packet eager took, 
 And cut the silken string,
 
 THE POISONED AEKOW. 147 
 
 When, oh God, an arrow aimed for death, 
 Carne rapid on the wing. 
 
 The arrow has pierced the prince's breast, 
 
 He has sunk upon the plain, 
 The knights gaze round in wild amaze, 
 
 To know from whence it came. 
 
 His princess hears the frantic cries, 
 
 And rushes from within, 
 To see her husband stretched in death, 
 
 And life begin to dim. 
 
 " Draw near, my Eleanor, draw near 
 
 And hear my parting word ; 
 For ne'er again, on battle-field, 
 
 This arm shall draw a sword. 
 
 And ne'er again my native land 
 
 Shall glad these darksome eyes ; 
 
 I little thought the assassin's dart 
 
 Should cause my parting sighs. 
 
 K 2
 
 148 THE POISONED ARROW. 
 
 Then lay my bones in this holy land, 
 My heart carry back with thee ; 
 
 And, for the blessed Virgin's sake, 
 Have masses said for me." 
 
 He, ceased, and fainting sank again. 
 She looked in wild dismay ; 
 
 A monk held up a crucifix, 
 And bent his knee to pray. 
 
 •' Can nothing save his life ?" she cries, 
 
 And gazed on all around ; 
 •' Will no one draw the poison out ? 
 
 Is none so faithful found ?" 
 
 She clasped her hands in firm resolve, 
 And raised her streaming eyes, 
 
 " For the holy Virgin's sake above 
 In mercy hear my cries. 
 
 Grant me the grace his life to save ; 
 And if it cost my own,
 
 THE POISONED ARROW. 149 
 
 I will lay it down without a sigh 
 Or e'en a parting groan." 
 
 Her lips are pressed upon his breast 
 
 The poison slow sucks out ; 
 And the life came back to his fainting heart. 
 
 And he slowly turned about. 
 
 Yes, turn'd to bless his heroic wife, 
 
 For the ease he quickly knew. 
 To bless her, for the holy deed 
 
 God gave her strength to do. 
 
 Yes, Eleanor, thy virtues live, 
 
 Though years have passed away ; 
 
 A theme for many a minstrel's song, 
 From the past to the present day. 
 
 And when children listen to the lays 
 
 Of England's ancient glory ; 
 And tales are told of the crusades bold. 
 
 Comes thy oft repeated story.
 
 150 THE POISONED AEKOW. 
 
 How thou wert blessed and praised through life 
 By thy husband bold and true, 
 
 And after death thy name was paid 
 More honour than woman knew. 
 
 For death o'ertook thee on thy way 
 
 The stranger's home among ; 
 And many a tear bedewed thy corpse, 
 
 And masses were said and sung. 
 
 And where'er thou stayed, a cross was made 
 
 In honour to thy name ; 
 
 And those signs still stand, in our English land, 
 In memory of thy fame.
 
 151 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND ; OR, WOODSTOCK 
 BOWER. 
 
 It was eve upon a summer's day, 
 
 Fair Rosamond in Woodstock lay, 
 
 And watched with deep and calm delight 
 
 The shadows of approaching night. 
 
 For, as the light began to dim, 
 
 Came back the rapturous thought of him, 
 
 The idol of her doating heart, 
 
 So sweet to meet, so hard to part. 
 
 But so it was in stern disguise 
 
 She lived, wrapt from those jealous eyes, 
 
 Which strove to pierce the mystery through 
 
 That shrouded Woodstock's bower so true. 
 
 One infant lay upon her breast ; 
 
 Another, sunk in balmy rest, 
 
 Shed o'er the spot a holy calm, 
 
 That might the sternest heart disarm.
 
 152 FAIR ROSAMOND ; 
 
 For sure to infancy is given 
 A charm, that never can be riven. 
 The cherub form, the seraph eye, 
 So like the angel forms on high 
 That minister to God above, 
 Inheritors of realms of love. 
 Oh, childhood is beyond compare, 
 Emblem of all that 's good and fair. 
 
 n. 
 
 But yet within that bower of green, 
 It was a lonely life I ween, 
 For one who might have been a queen. 
 To while away the weary day, 
 With nought to do, but watch and pray. 
 To watch and bind the silken clue, 
 And pray, her Henry might be true. 
 Or through embroidery rich and rare 
 To guide her slender fingers fair ; 
 Else take her infant son in hand, 
 And bid him by his brother stand 
 And bravely fight with sword in hand.
 
 OK, WOODSTOCK BOWER. 153 
 
 For it might please the God above 
 To take her to himself in love ; 
 And then he would he left at large, 
 And careful guard his youthful charge. 
 While in that strain time passed away, 
 And shortened many a lengthened day. 
 But now the falling of the leaves 
 Her fond and trusting heart deceives ; 
 And now she lifts her eyes of blue 
 To meet her Henry, bold and true. 
 But, ah ! no Henry meets her eye, 
 A female form is standing by ; 
 Who gazed with dark portentous frown, 
 As glaring on the scene around : 
 Her eye, if glance of eye could kill, 
 Fell upon Rosamond, cold and chill, 
 Who clasped her infant closer still ; 
 And gazed upon her stranger guest 
 With fear that could be ill represt. 
 While thus the lady raised her hands, 
 And spoke her dark and dire commands.
 
 154 PAIR ROSAMOND; 
 
 III. 
 
 " Behold, thou minion of a king, 
 His wife, whom thou hast dared to sting, 
 Who while you won his noble heart, 
 Felt slighted love's severest dart ; 
 And pined within her palace drear, 
 While thou by spells enchained him here. 
 See, I have won the fatal clue, 
 And now my vengeance falls on you. 
 Lay down that child of guilty love, 
 And make thy prayer to God above. 
 Then take thy choice, be quick and hear 
 My words, for they are words of fear. 
 The poisoned bowl, or poniard bright, 
 Shall send thy soul to shades of night — 
 A warning dark to such as you 
 Of what Queen Eleanor can do." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Who that hath seen the waters play 
 Unruffled on a summer's day, — 
 So calm and clear the ocean lay. —
 
 OB, WOODSTOCK BOWEE. 155 
 
 Sudden a tempest darkens o"er 
 The waters calm are calm no more. 
 The fairy skiff, that seemed to glide 
 Like life upon a summer-tide, 
 Is tossed upon the stormy wave 
 Without a hope or chance to save ! 
 So Rosamond, in deep dismay, 
 Has sunk upon her knees to pray ; 
 To pray that God may grant her power 
 To save her in that awful hour ; 
 Then humhly to the queen she spoke, 
 And thus her lowly accents broke. — 
 
 " Oh, queen, if ever mercy stole 
 And shed its influence o'er thy soul, 
 If ever peace you hope to win, 
 
 Stain not thy hands with such a sin. 
 
 Remember that whate'er my crime, 
 
 The shame must fall on me and mine. 
 
 Then hear a suppliant mother's prayer, 
 
 And for my infant boys so fair,
 
 .56 FAIE ROSAMOND; 
 
 Take not the life thou canst not give, 
 But grant me grace on earth to live — 
 To rear them up to bravely fight 
 For honour and their country's right. 
 Think on thy own, so nobly bred, 
 Bring not a curse upon their head, 
 By cutting short my youthful prime, 
 And sending me before my time." 
 
 She ceased, and sank before the Queen 
 Who stood erect with darkened mien : 
 So might the fond and faithful dove 
 Implore the kite to save her love, 
 As Rosamond have hopes to melt 
 That heart that never mercy felt. 
 She gazed upon her victim long, 
 To glut her hatred, deep and strong, 
 Then spurned her with unbending look, 
 And bade her listen as she spoke. 
 
 " I came not here thy sins to hide, 
 Nor have my purpose turned aside.
 
 OE, WOODSTOCK BOWER. 157 
 
 No tears, no prayers, avail thee now, 
 I have vowed, and I will keep my vow, 
 That ere to-morrow's sun shall rise 
 The sleep of death shall close thine eyes. 
 One choice alone remains to thee, 
 Nay rise from off thy guilty knee, 
 This instant choose ; the bowl, or knife, 
 Shall end the struggle with your life." 
 
 v. 
 It is a saying often told, 
 Confirmed by many a story old, 
 That when the clouds are black as night 
 And darkness shrouds the heavens bright ; 
 While thunder echoes o'er earth's ball 
 The hand of God is seen through all ; 
 So in the midst of all her fear 
 The powers above sustained her here. 
 She kissed her children o'er and o'er 
 And prayed, when she should be no more 
 That God would guard their youthful d;i 
 And shield them both from evil ways.
 
 158 FAIR ROSAMOND ; OR, WOODSTOCK BOWER. 
 
 Then raised the poisoned bowl on high, 
 And drained it down without a sigh. 
 The heavy pang is o'er at last, 
 The bitterness of death is past. 
 
 And Woodstock bower in ruins fell, 
 And nothing now remains to tell 
 Of her who met that fearful doom, 
 That sent her to an early tomb. 
 Though many a tale and legend old 
 Say still, within a convent cold 
 She lingered out her weary life, 
 A victim to a jealous wife, 
 And Eleanor, whom all must blame, 
 Remains a blot on woman's name. 
 And never mentioned but with shame. 
 She lived unloved, uncarcd for died, 
 A monument of sin and pride 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 J. BILLING, PRINTBR, WOKINOi IKUfT.
 
 
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