To natures deepliest stained with sin : For aye entempesting anew Th' unfathomable hell within, The horror of their deeds to view, And whom I love, I love indeed. THE WARRIOR'S DIRGE. Coleridge. Last of a high and noble name, We may not shed a tear for thee, Thy fall was in the noon of fame, As warrior's fall should be. O'er thy fair morn, like cloud of night, But touched like that by heaven's own light, Thy steps are missed by wood and wave, Lost to the scenes thy youth loved best, The torrents weep, the tempests rave Above thy bed of rest. The hounds howl sadly at thy gate, The echoes of the chase are o'er, In vain the long-long night they wait, No voice is heard amid thy halls, eye. All lonely bloom the summer flowers, Cold is the heart that lovest thee now, 'Twas broken ere it ceased to breathe; Alas! what bids the hero's grow, Must blight the bridal wreath. From blood the warrior's laurel sprung, Midst blood and tears can only bloom; 'Tis but a funeral garland hung Above his mouldering tomb. Thou wert not made thro' wintry years To feel the blood run cold. Who would not wish like thee to die, To live like thee while life was joy, And fall when death was fame ? John Malcolm, Esq. THE LAMENTATION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. I sigh, and lament me in vain, These walls can but echo my moan; Alas! it increases my pain, To think of the days that are gone. Through the grates of my prison I see My looks they are wild with despair. Ye roofs, where cold damps and dismay How sad tolls the evening bell! The owls from the battlements cry, Hollow winds seem to murmur around, 'O Mary prepare thee to die!' My blood it runs cold at the sound. Unchanged by the rigours of fate, I burn with contempt for my foes; Though fortune has clouded my state, This hope shall enlighten its close. False woman! in ages to come Mrs Hunter. EXTRACT FROM THE BEDOUINS. The firefly's lamp is on the air, The wild gazelle is in his lair, And through the bush with stealthy foot Comes through the hushed air wailingly, While round and round the vampire bat The Hindoo mother's lamp is fed, |