Like reared stones around a grave
They stand around the King;
Then suddenly each seized his spear,
And clashing steel does ring.

The husbandman does leave his plough
To wade thro' fields of gore ;
The merchant binds his brows in steel,
And leaves the trading shore;

The shepherd leaves his mellow pipe,
And sounds the trumpet shrill,

The workman throws his hammer down
To heave the bloody bill.

Like the tall ghost of Barraton

Who sports in stormy sky,

Gwin leads his host as black as night When pestilence does fly,

With horses and with chariots-
And all his spearmen bold

March to the sound of mournful song,
Like clouds around him roll'd.

Gwin lifts his hand—the nations halt; "Prepare for war," he criesGordred appears !-his frowning brow Troubles our northern skies.

The armies stand, like balances

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Held in the Almighty's hand ;— Gwin, thou hast fill'd thy measure up, “Thou'rt swept from out the land.”

And now the raging armies rush'd

Like warring mighty seas;

The heavens are shook with roaring war,

The dust ascends the skies!

Earth smokes with blood, and groans and shakes,

To drink her children's gore,

A sea of blood; nor can the eye
See to the trembling shore!

And on the verge of this wild sea
Famine and death doth cry;

The cries of women and of babes
Over the field doth fly.

The king is seen raging afar,
With all his men of might;

Like blazing comets scattering death
Thro' the red feverous night.

Beneath his arm like sheep they die,
And groan upon the plain;
The battle faints, and bloody men
Fight upon hills of slain.

Now death is sick, and riven men
Labour and toil for life;

Steed rolls on steed, and shield on shield,
Sunk in this sea of strife!

The god of war is drunk with blood,
The earth doth faint and fail;

The stench of blood makes sick the heavens,
Ghosts glut the throat of hell!

O what have kings to answer for

Before that awful throne !

When thousand deaths for vengeance cry,
And ghosts accusing groan!

Like blazing comets in the sky
That shake the stars of light,
Which drop like fruit unto the earth
Thro' the fierce burning night;

Like these did Gwin and Gordred meet,
And the first blow decides;

Down from the brow unto the breast

Gordred his head divides!

Gwin fell the Sons of Norway fled,

All that remain'd alive;

The rest did fill the vale of death,

For them the eagles strive.

The river Dorman roll'd their blood

Into the northern sea;

Who mourn'd his sons, and overwhelm'd
The pleasant south country.

G

AN IMITATION OF SPENSER.

OLDEN Apollo, that thro' heaven wide Scatter'st the rays of light, and truth his beams,

In lucent words my darkling verses dight

And wash my earthy mind in thy clear streams, That wisdom may descend in fairy dreams : All while the jocund hours in thy train

Scatter their fancies at thy poet's feet;

And when thou yield'st to night thy wide domain,

Let rays of truth enlight his sleeping brain.

For brutish Pan in vain might thee assay

With tinkling sounds to dash thy nervous

verse,

Sound without sense; yet in his rude affray, (For Ignorance is Folly's leasing nurse,

And love of Folly needs none other's curse ;)

Midas the praise hath gain'd of lengthen'd ears, For which himself might deem him ne'er the worse To sit in council with his modern peers

And judge of tinkling rhymes and elegances terse.

And thou, Mercurius, that with winged bow
Dost mount aloft into the yielding sky,

And thro' Heaven's halls thy airy flight dost throw,
Entering with holy feet to where on high
Jove weighs the counsel of futurity;
Then, laden with eternal fate, dost go

Down, like a falling star, from autumn sky,
And o'er the surface of the silent deep dost fly.

If thou arrivest at the sandy shore

Where nought but envious hissing adders dwell, Thy golden rod, thrown on the dusty floor, Can charm to harmony with potent spell ; Such is sweet Eloquence, that does dispel Envy and Hate, that thirst for human gore; And cause in sweet society to dwell Vile savage minds that lurk in lonely cell.

O Mercury, assist my labouring sense

That round the circle of the world would fly,
As the wing'd eagle scorns the towery fence
Of Alpine hills round his high aëry,

And searches through the corners of the sky,