Д THE GRENDEL. Grim was his smile to see the banquet spread; Fortune that night so many victims sent To please his gory tooth. In purpose firm Higlac's brave kinsman watched; and much he mused The hated foe. Nor sluggish was the Grendel : In former visits little had it cost To seize his sleeping victims, and their bones Near he drew, And with his hands the waking chieftain seized, To seek the shelter of his demon home. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. On Sunday haven's gate stamās ope; Move pancia than hope She is my mother, for she gave me birth; She wants my treasure from a foreign shore Strenger by weakness, wiser men become, Twaris heaven, as if from heaven her notes she fetched Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep While the heaven-born Child Hath laid her Babe to rest Through Eden took their solitary way True poets are a saint-like race. The country churls, according to their kind, Yet of his little he had some to spare, Softens the high, and rears the abject mind. The grounds which on the right aspire, That's naething like leavin' my love on the shore. I gae then, my lass, to win honour and fame The docile tribe Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean He drank long health and virtue to his friend Now the bright-haired sun Sits in yon western tent Then let me rove some wild aud heathy scene.. There dwells in lowly shed and mean attire.. That roofless tower The stars shine out; the forest bends Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit and think We frolic while 'tis May Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream! From the gay world we'll oft retire Of rest was Noah's dove bereft While they our wisest hours engage, They'll joy our youth, support our age Like a kind angel, whisper peace, And smooth the bed of death Each takes the phrase in his own private view With Prudence it is ten, with Florio two The sheltered cot And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground The village preacher's modest mansion rose At church with meek and unaffected grace, On what foundation stands the warrior's pride? Our moments pass sae smooth away, Like a lion turns the warrior What though on hamely fare we dine, Ae fond kiss, and then we sever...... But who the melodies of morn can tell?. A vale appeared below, a deep, retired abode Page E. M. WIMPERIS, 152 WILLIAM HARVEY 153 WILLIAM HARVEY 155 G. DODGSON 158 SIR JOHN GILBERT, A.R.A. 160 |