Where be your tongues that late mocked at heaven and hell and fate,
And the fingers that once were so busy with your blades,
Your perfum'd satin clothes, your catches and your oaths,

Your stage-plays and your sonnets, your diamonds and your spades?

Down, down, for ever down with the mitre and the crown,

With the Belial of the Court, and the Mammon of the Pope; There is woe in Oxford Halls; there is wail in Durham's Stalls: The Jesuit smites his bosom: the Bishop rends his cope.

And She of the seven hills shall mourn her children's ills,
And tremble when she thinks on the edge of England's sword;
And the Kings of earth in fear shall shudder when they hear
What the hand of God hath wrought for the Houses and the Word.
MACAULAY.

ROSABELLE

O LISTEN, listen, ladies gay!
No haughty feat of arms I tell;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay,
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.

'Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew!
And, gentle ladye, deign to stay!
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.

'The blackening wave is edged with white;
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly;
The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.

'Last night the gifted Seer did view

A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay;
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch;
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day ? '—

1 Inch, isle.

''Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
To-night at Roslin leads the ball,
But that my ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.

''Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide,
If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.'—

O'er Roslin all that dreary night,

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; 'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, And redder than the bright moonbeam.

It glared on Roslin's castled rock,

It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.

Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud,
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie,
Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.

Seem'd all on fire within, around,
Deep sacristy and altar's pale;

Shone every pillar foliage-bound,

And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail.

Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair--
So still they blaze, when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high St. Clair.

There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle ;
Each one the holy vault doth hold—
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle !

And each St. Clair was buried there,

With candle, with book, and with knell ;

But the sea-caves rung, and the wild wings sung,
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle !

SCOTT.

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER

IN SEVEN PARTS

PART I

IT is an ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three.

'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me ?

The Bridegroom's doors are open'd wide,

And I am next of kin ;

The guests are met, the feast is set:

May'st hear the merry din.'

He holds him with his skinny hand,

There was a ship,' quoth he.

'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'

Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye

The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:

The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:

He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner:

'The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd,

Merrily did we drop

Below the kirk, below the hill,

Below the light-house top.

'The Sun came up upon the left,

Out of the sea came he!

And he shone bright, and on the right

Went down into the sea.

6

Higher and higher every day

Till over the mast at noon--'

The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast

For he heard the loud bassoon.

The Bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;

Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner :

And now the storm-blast came, and he

Was tyrannous and strong:

He struck with his o'ertaking wings,

And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe,

And forward bends his head,

The ship drove fast, loud roar'd the blast,

And southward aye we fled.

'And now there came both mist and snow,

And it grew wondrous cold:

And ice, mast high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

'And through the drifts the snowy clifts

Did send a dismal sheen:

Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken

The ice was all between.

'The ice was here, the ice was there,

The ice was all around:

It crack'd and growl'd, and roar'd and howl'd, Like noises in a swound!

'At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;

As if it had been a Christian soul
We hail'd it in God's name.

'It ate the food it ne'er had eat, And round and round it flew.

The ice did split with a thunder-fit ;

The helmsman steer'd us through.

'And a good south wind sprung up behind; The Albatross did follow,

And every day, for food or play,

Came to the mariners' hollo!

'In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,

It perch'd for vespers nine;

Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,

Glimmer'd the white moon-shine.'

'God save thee, ancient Mariner!

From the fiends, that plague thee thus !—

Why look'st thou so ? '-' With my cross-bow I shot the Albatross !'

PART II

The Sun now rose upon the right:

Out of the sea came he,

Still hid in mist, and on the left

Went down into the sea.