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Yet still he waves his banner, and cries amid the rout,
fight it out!"
hums a stave, And now he quotes a stage-play, and now he fells a
God aid thee now, Sir Nicholas ! thou hast no thought
of fear; God aid thee now, Sir Nicholas ! for fearful odds are
here! The rebels hem thee in, and at every cut and thrust, “ Down, down,” they cry, “with Belial! down with him
to the dust.” “I would," quoth grim old Oliver, “ that Belial's trusty
sword, This day were doing battle for the Saints and for the
The Lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower,
tle's lost and won; The royal troops are melting, like mists before the
sun! And a wounded man approaches;—I'm blind and cannot
see, Yet sure I am that sturdy step, my master's step must
“I've brought thee back thy banner, wench, from as
rude and red a fray, As e'er was proof of soldier's thew, or theme for min
strel's lay! Here, Hubert, bring the silver bowl, and liquor quantum
suff. I'll make a shift to drain it yet, ere I part with boots
and buff;— Though Guy through many a gaping wound is breathing NESTA forth his life, And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and faithful
WRITTEN UNDER A DRAWING OF KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL,
EXTRACTED FROM AN ALBUM IN DEVONSHIRE.
Most beautiful !—I gaze and gaze
In silence on the glorious pile;
Come thronging back the while.
The perfect grandeur of the shrine;
The ground were still divine.
Some awe the good and wise have felt,
As reverently their feet have trod
To commune with his God;
Beneath the ruined convent's gloom,
Or the false prophet's, tomb.
But when was high devotion graced
With lovelier dwelling, loftier throne, Than thus the limner's art hath traced
From the time-honored stone ? The spirit here of worship seems
To hold the heart in wondrous thrall, And heavenward hopes and holy dreams,
Came at her voiceless call;
At midnight, when the lonely moon
Looks from a vapor’s silvery fold; Or morning, when the sun of June
Crests the high towers with gold; For every change of hour and form
Makes that fair scene more deeply fair ; And dusk and day-break, calm and storm,
Are all religion there.
TWENTY-EIGHT AND TWENTY-NINE.
I HEARD a sick man's dying sigh,
And an infant's idle laughter,
The New came dancing after !
Let Revelry hold her ladle;
Fling roses on the cradle ;
Pages to pour the wine;
And a health to Twenty-Nine !
Alas for human happiness!
Alas for human sorrow! Our yesterday is nothingness,
What else will be our morrow?
And Knavery stealing purses ;
And wits by making verses ;