"Hunter! leave the mountain-chase,
Take the falchion from its place;
Let the wolf go free to-day,
Leave him for a nobler prey;
Let the deer ungalled sweep by-
Arm thee! Britain's foes are nigh."
And the hunter armed ere the chase was done;
And the bended bow and the voice passed on.
"Chieftain! quit the joyous feast-
Stay not till the song hath ceased:
Though the mead be foaming bright,
Though the fires give ruddy light,
Leave the hearth and leave the hall-
Arm thee! Britain's foes must fall."
And the chieftain armed, and the horn was blown ;
And the bended bow and the voice passed on.
"Prince! thy father's deeds are told
In the bower and the hold,
Where the goatherd's lay is sung,
Where the minstrel's harp is strung:
Foes are on thy native sea—
Give our bards a tale of thee!"
And the prince came armed, like a leader's son ;
And the bended bow and the voice passed on.
"Mother! stay thou not thy boy,
He must learn the battle's joy:
Sister! bring the sword and spear,
Give thy brother words of cheer:
Maiden bid thy lover part:
Britain calls the strong in heart!
And the bended bow and the voice passed on;
And the bards made song for a battle won.
THE waters are flashing,
The white hail is dashing,
The lightnings are glancing,
The hoar-spray is dancing:-
Away!
The whirlwind is rolling,
The thunder is tolling,
The forest is swinging,
The minster bells ringing :-
Come away!
The earth is like ocean,
Wreck-strewn and in motion;
Bird, beast, man, and worm,
Have crept out of the storm :-
Come away!
"Our boat has one sail,
And the helmsman is pale.
A bold pilot, I trow,
Who should follow us now!"
Shouted he.
And she cried: "Ply the oar;
Put off gaily from shore!"
As she spoke, bolts of death,
Mixed with hail, specked their path
O'er the sea:
And from isle, tower, and rock,
The blue beacon-cloud broke:
And, though dumb in the blast,
The red cannon flashed fast
From the lee.
And "Fear'st thou?" and "Fear'st thou ?"
And Seest thou?" and "Hear'st thou?"
And "Drive we not free
ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE.
YE distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the wat'ry glade,
Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade;
And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along
His silver-winding way:
Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
Ah, fields belov'd in vain !
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow,
As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weary soul they seem to soothe,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring.
Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race
Disporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace;
Who foremost now delight to cleave,
With pliant arm, thy glassy wave?
The captive linnet which enthrall?
What idle progeny succeed
To chase the rolling circle's speed,
Or urge the flying ball?
While some on earnest business bent
Their murm'ring labours ply
'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty:
Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign,
And unknown regions dare descry:
Still as they run they look behind,
They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.
Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possest;
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast:
Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue,
Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively cheer, of vigour born;
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly th' approach of morn.
Alas! regardless of their doom
The little victims play;
No sense have they of ills to come,
No care beyond to-day:
Yet see, how all around 'em wait
The ministers of human fate,
And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah, show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murth'rous band! Ah, tell them, they are men!
These shall the fury Passions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
And Shame that sculks behind;
Or pining Love shall waste their youth,
Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,
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