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Unmoved by fearful accidents,
All hardships stoutly spurning, I laughed to scorn the elements —
And chiefly those of Learning.
Such things have vanished like a dream;
The mongrel mob grows prouder; And every thing is done by steam,
And men are killed by powder : I feel, alas! my fame decay ;
I give unheeded orders, And rot in paltry state away,
With Sheriffs and Recorders.
On the casement frame the wind beat high,
1 sat and sang beside his bed; Never a single word I said,
Yet did I scare his slumber;
And telling out their number.
Sir Everard did not fear iny First;
In many a field and flood;
Yet, in the darkness of that dread,
Come, dabbled o'er with blood.
Si. Everard kneel’d, and strove to pray,
Till terror check’d his prayer;
Sir Everard fainted there.
And oft, from that remembered night,
The wrinkled beldames told,
In the Tower of Kenneth Hold ! (1822.)
As rose the swelling sail ;
Before the cheering gale;
As the far shore faded now,
With a pale and pensive brow : “ When I shall bear thy silken glove
Where the proudest Moslem fee, My lady love, my lady love,
Oh, waste one thought on me!"
Sir Florice lay in a dungeon cell,
With none to soothe or save; And high above his chamber fell
The echo of the wave; But still he struck my Second there,
And bade its tones renew Those hours when every hue was fair,
And every hope was true :