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Supreme in grief, her eye confus'd with woe, The song began--" How bright her early morn! Appears the lady of th' aërial train,
What lasting joys her smiling fate portends! Tall as the sylvan goddess of the bow,
To wield the awful British sceptres born! And fair as she who wept Adonis slain.
And Gaul's young heir her bridal-bed ascends. Such was the pomp when Gilead's virgin-band, “ See, round her bed, light floating on the air,
Wand'ring by Judah's flow'ry mountains, wept, The little Loves their purple wings display; And with fair Iphis, by the hallow'd strand When sudden, shrieking at the dismal glare
Of Siloe's brook, a mournful sabbath kept. Of funeral torches, far they speed away. By the resplendent cross with thistles twin'd, “ Far with the Loves each blissful omen speeds, 'Tis Mary's guardian Genius lost in woe:
Her eighteenth April hears her widow'd moan, “ Ah, say, what deepest wrongs have thus com- The bridal bed the sable hearse succeeds, bin'd
And struggling factions shake her native thropr. To heave with restless sighs thy breast of snow?
“ No more a goddess in the swimming dance, " Oh, stay, ye Dryads, nor unfinish'd fly
May'st thou, O queen! thy lovely form display ; Your solemn rites! Here comes no foot profane: No more thy beauty reign the charm of France, The Muse's son, and hallow'd is his eye,
Nor in Parisian bow'rs outshine the day. Implores your stay, implores to join the strain.
“ For the cold north the trembling sails are spread; “ See, from her cheek the glowing life-blush Aies ! Ah, what drear horrours gliding through thy Alas! what falt'ring sounds of woe be these?
breast ! Ye nymphs, who fondly watch her languid eyes, While from thy weeping eyes fair Gallia fled,
Oh, say what music will her soul appease?" Thy future woes in boding sighs confess'd' ! “ Resound the solemn dirge,” the nymphs reply, “ A nation stern, and stubborn to command,
“ And let the turtles moan in Mary's bow'r; And now convuls'd with faction's fiercest rage, Let grief indulge her grand sublimity,
Commits its sceptre to thy gentle hand, And melancholy wake her melting pow'r;
And asks a bridle from thy tender age.”
“ For art has triumph'd-Art, that never stood As weeping thus they sung, the o nens rose,
On honour's side, or gen'rous transport knew, Her native shore receives the mournful queen; Has dy'd its haggard hands in Mary's blood, November wind o'er the bare landscape blows,
And o'er her fame has breath'd its blighting dew. In hazy gloom the sea-wave skirts the scene. “ But come, ye nymphs, ye woodland spirits come, The House of Holy-rood, in sullen state,
And with funereal flow'rs your tresses braid, Bleak in the sbade of rude-pild rocks appears; While in this hallow'd bower we raise the tomb, Cold on the mountain's side, type of her fate, And consecrate the song to Mary's shade.
Its shatter'd walls a Romish chapel rears. " O sing what smiles her youthful morning wore, No nodding grove here waves the shelt'ring bougla
Her 's ev'ry charm, and ev'ry loveliest grace, O'er the dark vale, prophetic of her reign: When nature's happiest touch could add no more, Beneath the curving mountain's craggy bron Heav'n lent an angel's beauty to her face.
The dreary echoes to the gales complain. « Oh! whether by the moss-grown bushy dell, Beneath the gloomy clouds of rolling smoke,
Where from the oak depends the misletoe, The high pil'd city rears her Gothic tow'rs; Where creeping ivy shades the Druids' cell, The stern brow'd castle, from his lofty rock,
Where from the rock the gurgling waters flow: Looks scornful down, and fix'd defiance low'rs 3. “ Or, whether sportive o'er the cowslip beds,
You, through the fairy dales of Teviot glide, 1 The unhappy Mary, in her infancy, was sent Or brush the primrose banks, while Cynthia sheds to France to the care of her mother's family, the Her silv'ry light o'er Esk's translucent tide: house of Guise. The French court was at that
time the gayest and most gallant of Europe. Here “ Hither, ye gentle guardians of the fair,
the princess of Scotland was educated with all the By virtue's tears, by weeping beauty, come, distinction due to her high rank; and as soon as Unbind the festive robes, unbind the hair,
years would allow, she was married to the dauphin, And wave the cypress bough at Mary's tomb. afterwards Francis II. and on the death of this mo
narch, which closed a short reign, the politics of « And come, ye fleet inagicians of the air," the house of Guise required the return of the young The mournful lady of the chorus cry'd;
queen to Scotland. She left France with tears, “ Your airy tints of baleful hue prepare,
and the utmost reluctance; and on her landing in And through this grove bid Mary's fortunes glide: her native kingdom, the different appearance of
the country awakened all her regret, and affected “ And let the songs, with solemn harpings join'd, her with a melancholy which seemed to forebude
And wailing notes, unfold the tale of woe!” her future misfortunes. She spoke, and, waking through the breathing wind, 2 These circumstances, descriptive of the environs
Fion lyres unseen the solemo harpings flow, of Holy-rood House, are local; yet, however dreary
Domestic bliss, that dear, that sov'reign joy, “ And could, oh, Tudor! could thy heart retain
Far from her heart was seen to speed away; No softning thought of what thy woes had been, Straight dark-brow'd factions ent'ring in, destroy When thou, the heir of England's crown, in vain The seeds of peace, and mark her for their Didst sue the mercy of a tyrant queen? prey.
“ And could no pang from tender mem'ry wake, No more by moonshine to the nuptial bow's
And feel those woes that once had been thine own; Her Francis comes, by love's soft fetters led ; No pleading tear to drop for Mary's sake, Far other spouse now wakes her midnight hour), For Mary's sake, the heir of England's throne ? Enrag'd, and reeking from the harlot's bed.
“ Alas! no pleading touch thy mem'ry knew; “ Ah! draw the veil !” shrill trembles through the Dry'd were the tears which for thyself had flow'd; air:
Dark politics alone engag'd thy view; The veil was drawn-but darker scenes arose,
With female jealousy thy bosom glow'd! Another 4 nuptial couch the Fates prepare, The baleful teeming source of deeper woes. “ And say, did wisdom own thy stern command ?
Did honour wave his banner o'er the deed? The bridal torch her evil angel wavid,
Ah!-Mary's fate thy name shall ever brand, Far from the couch offended prudence fled; And ever o'er ber woes shall pity bleed. Of deepest crimes deceitful faction rav'd, And rous'd her trembling from the fatal bed. “ The babe that prattled on his nurse's knee,
When first thy woeful captive hours began, The hinds are seen in arms, and glitt'ring spears, Ere Heav'n, ah, hapless Mary! set thee free,
Instead of crooks, the Grampian shepherds wield; That babe to battle march'd in arms-a man." Fanatic rage the ploughman's visage wears, And red with slaughter lies the harvest field. An awful pause ensues —
-With speaking eyes,
And bands half-rais'd, the guardian wood-nymphs From Borthwick-field, deserted and forlorn,
The beauteous queen, all tears, is seen to fly; While, slow and sad, the airy scenes arise, Now through the streets 5 a weeping captive borne, Stain'd with the last deep woes of Mary's fate. Her woe the triumph of the vulgar eye.
With dreary black hung round the ball appears, Again, the vision shifts the woeful scene;
The sty saw-dust strews the marble floor, Again, forlorn, from rebel arms she fties, Blue gleams the axe, the block its shoulders rears, And, unsuspecting, on a sister queen
And pikes and halberts guard the iron door. The lovely injur'd fugitive relies.
The clouded Moon her dreary glimpses shed, When wisdom, baffled, owns th' attempt in vain, And Mary's maids, a mournful train, pass by ;
Heav'n oft delights to set the virtuous free; Languid they walk, and pensive hang the head, Some friend appears and breaks affliction's chain: And silent tears pace down from ev'ry eye. But, ah, no gen'rous friend appears for thee!
Serene, and nobly mild, appears the queen; A prison's ghastly walls and grated cells
She smiles on Heav'n, and bows the injur'd head: Deform'd the airy scenery as it pass'd;
The axe is lifted from the deathful scene The haunt where listless melancholy dwells,
The guardians turn'd, and all the picture fledWhere ev'ry genial feeling sinks aghast.
It fled: the wood-nympbs o'er the distant lawn, No female eye her sickly bed to tend 6!
As rapt in vision, dart their earnest eyes; “Ah, cease to tell it in the female ear!
So when the huntsman hears the rattling fawn, A woman's stern command! a proffer'd friend ! He stands impatient of the starting prize. Ob, gen'rous passion, peace, forbear, forbear!
The sov'reign dame her awful eye-balls roll'd, .
As Cuma's maid when by the god inspir'd; the unimproved November view may appear, the “ The depth of ages to my sight unfold,” connoisseur in gardening will perceive that planta She cries, “ and Mary's meed my breast has fir’d. tion, and the efforts of art, could easily couvert the prospect into an agreeable and most romantic sum “ On Tudor's throne her sons shall ever reign, mer landscape.
Age after age shall see their flag unfurl'd, 3 Lord Darnley, the handsomest man of his age, With sov'reign pride, wherever roars the main, but a worthless debauchee of no abilities.
Stream to the wind, and awe the trembling world. 4 Her marriage with the earl of Bothwell, an unprincipled politician of great address.
“ Nor Britain's sceptre shall they wield alone, 5 When she was brought prisoner through the Age after age, through length’ning time, shall see streets of Edinburgh, she suffered almost every in- Her branching race on Europe's ev'ry throne, dignity which an outrageous mob could offer. And either India bend to them the knee. Her person was bedaubed with mire, and her ear insulted with every term of vulgar abuse. Even “ But Tudor, as a fruitless gourd, shall die ! Buchanan seems to drop a tear when he relates I see her death scene:-On the lowly floor these circumstances.
Dreary she sits; cold grief has glaz’d her eye, 6 This is according to the truth of history. And anguish gnaws her, till she breathes no more.
“ But, bark! -loud howling through the midnight | The first of times their native joys display;
Beneath his vine the rural patriarch sleeps;
There o'er the landscape dark ambition low'rs;
Points to yon far, but glorious op'ning sky; Their sudden vengeance blasts the traitors tow'rs,
Here shone thy heroes, Greece, thy fathers, Rome,
But shone not all whose deeds your pride would
Here Brutus lower'd in shades ambiguous cast.
A gloomy horrour there invests the skies :
His wife, his altars, babes, and hoary sire,
Rush on his thoughts—the battle fires his breast;
Thus glows, Caractacus, thy noble ire,
With all the goddess in thy mien confess'd.
With holy mitre crown'd, and awful eye,
There Mattathias frowns, and points the place
Where low on earth his country's altars lie,
And bids his sons revenge the foul disgrace.
The barbed spears seem trembling in their hands,
While ardour kindling in their eye-balls glows;
The lambkins bleating pour along the green;. And vict'ry fires his soul, and marks the foes.
From gothic night the Muses guard his toils ;
There juries sit; the laws support his throne,
The nymphs obey the sign, and leave the dells
Where blooms the lilac, where the wild rose blows,
Sublime as Pallas, arm'd with helm and spear,
(The tyrant's dread) the goddess march'd along;
Bare was one knee, one snowy breast was bare,
several The rocky cliffs and winding dales reply,
While to their queen they raise the votive strain;
Extend, O goddess, thy benignant reign. (sky,
“ Though constant summer clothes the Indian soil, Guis cousin was dictated by a policy truly Machia.
Though Java's spicy fields embalm the gale,
All, all these sweets without thee nought avail.
Alas! the fruits his languid hopes resign!
On Tigris' banks still rise the palmy groves, “ Fair to his name your votive altars raise;
And still Euphrates boasts his fertile plains; Your bow'rs he rear'd, to him your strains belong; Ah! vain the boast-t is there the murd'rer roves, Ev'n virtue' joins to gain the Muse's praise, 'T is there wild terrour solitary reigns!
Him loves the Muse whose deeds demand the
ON THE DEATH OF
“ On Tadmore's site the lonely shepherd stands,
And as he views the solemn waste around, With eager watch explores the Turkish bands, And dreads the plund'rer's rage in ev'ry sound.
THE PRINCESS DOWAGER OF WALES. “ Return, O queen, O patroness of joy!
With ancient splendour to thy Greece return: Ignoble slaves thy once lov'd seats destroy,
Aspers'D by malice and uumanly rage, On Pindus, thee, the silent Muses mourn!
Disgraceful stamp on this flagitious age,
In conscious innocence secur'd from blame, “ Nor Po's fair banks, nor Baia's sands invite;
She sigh'd—but only sigh'd o'er Britain's shame: Fall'n Genius there her broken urns deplores;
She saw her children throng their early tomb, Nor Gallia's fairest landscapes please the sight,
Disease slow wasting fade her Glo'ster's bloom ! Thy dictates exil'd from her hostile shores.
She saw-but Death appear'd a friendly guest,
His arrow pointing to the realms of rest! " But o'er the realms, where thy mild influence Calmly she views him, dauntless and resign'd, beams,
Yet drops one tear for those she leaves bebind. O'er Britain's plains, the Muse delighted roves,
Warm from the heart these honest numbers flow, Delighted wanders o'er the banks of Thames,
Which honour, truth, and gratitude bestow. Or rests secure in Clifden's rural groves.
“ There by the dawn, elate with lightsome glee, The joyous shepherd and the hind are seen,
EPITAPH The voice of mirth, when ev'ning shades the lea,
ON GENERAL WOLF. Heard loud and nat'ral o'er the village-green,
Briton, approach with awe this sacred shrine, “ No tyrant there the peasant's field invades,
And if the father's sacred pame be thine, Secure the fold, his labour's all his own; If thou hast mark'd thy stripling's cheeks to glow No ravisher profanes his osier shades,
When war was mention'd, or the Gallic foe, His labours wealth and independence crown.” If shining arms his infant sports einploy,
And warm his rage-here bring the warlike boy, 'T was thus the chorus struck the Muse's ear Here let him stand, whilst thou enrapt shalt tell
As through Elysian shades she sportive rov'da How fought the glorious Wolf, how glorious fell : The British nymphs in mournful pomp appear, Then, when thou mark'st his bursting ardours rise, The British nymphs to freedom best belov'd. And all the warrior flashing in his eyes,
Catch bis young band, and while he lifts it here, Loose to the wind their snow-white vestments flow,
By Wolf's great soul the future Wolf shall swear The cypress binds theirlocks with darksome green; Eternal hate against the faithless Gaul, Yet grateful raptures mid their sorrows flow, (queen. Like Wolf to conquer, or like Wolf to fall. While thus with Fred'ric's praise they hail their What future Hannibal's shall England see
Rais'd and inspir’d, O gallant Wolf, by thee! “ 'T was not in vain thy dictates swellid his breast,
sT was not in vain he vow'd his heart to thee; Fair, midst thy heroes, stands his name confess'd, The friend of men, the patron of the free.
EPITAPH “ Though cypress now his lowly bed adorns,
ON MR. MORTIMER. 'Though long ere eve at life's bright noon he fell, Yet shall the song, oft as this day returns,
O'er Angelo's proud tomb no tear was shed; At freedom's shrine his happy labours tell, Pleas'd was each Muse, for full his honours spread:
To bear his genius to its utmost shore, “ The drooping spirit of a downward age,
The length of human days could give no more. Beneath his smile with ancient splendour rose, Oh, Mortimer! o'er thy untimely urn Corruption blasted, fled his virtuous rage,
The Arts and all the gentle Muses mourn; And Britain triumph'd o'er her bosom foes. And shades of English heroes gliding by,
Heave o'er thy shrine the languid hopeless sigh. “ Oh! whether, sportive o'er the cowslip beds, Thine all the breathing rage of bold design,
You through the haunted dells of Moua glide, And all the poetry of painting thine.
Her silver light on Snowdon's hoary side. And onward hov'ring in its magic rays “ Hither, ye British Muses, grateful come,
And strew your choicest fow'rs on Fred'ric's bier! 1 Guadet enim virtus testes sibi jungere musas; 'Tis Liberty's own nymphs that raise the tomb, Carmen amat quisquis carmine digna geri. While o'er her son the goddess drops a teas.
What visions rose !_Fair England's patriots old, “ Your note relative to the intelligence sent me in Monarchs of proudest fame, and barons bold, 1761, I think is not full enough. The intelliIn the fir'd moments of their bravest strife,
gence was of that consequence, that without it Bursting beneath thy hand again to life!
every Spanish province in the West Indies had So shone thy noon-when one dim void profound been prepared, as I did not receive orders from Rush'd on, and shapeless darkness clos'd around. England till Martinique was taken, and I had Alas ! while ghosts of heroes round thy tomb, sailed to attack St. Domingo; in which time my Robb’d of their hope, bewail the artists' doom, cruizers had taken every Spanish packet that Thy friend, O Mortimer, in grief sincere,
had sailed from Spain with their declaration of Pours o'er the man sad memory's silent tear;
And the very day I received Mr. JohnAnd in the fond remembrance of thy heart,
stone's dispatches, I sent them to Jamaica, de. Forgets the honours of thy wondrous art.
siring the governor to lay an embargo, and the admiral to seize all Spanish ships; which was done accordingly, and the Spanish governors totally ignorant of war, till sir George Pococke and
the British fleet came in sight some months after MEMORY OF COMMODORE JOHNSTONE.
off the Havannah. Mr. Johnstone, therefore, may be properly said to have taken the Ha
“ With infinite pleasure I beg you will put me George Johnstone was one of the younger sons of
down as a subscriber to your works, and beg you sir William Johnstone, bart. Dumfriesshire, and
will do me the honour of calling upon me when early devoted himself to the sea service. After
you come to town. I am, with real truth and passing through the subordinate stations, he was,
sincerity, on the 6th of February, 1760, appointed master and commander; and on the 11th of August,
yours, &c. 1762, was advanced to be a captain in bis ma
RODNEY.” jesty's service. On the peace, which soon after succeeded, he was nominated governor of West Florida, where he resided for some time. Re-Tukough life's tempestuous sea to thee't was giv'n turning to England, he took a very active part Thy course to steer, yet still preserv'd by Hear'n; in the affairs of the East-India Company, parti- As childhood clos'd thy ceaseless toils began, cularly in opposition to lord Clive. in 1766 he and toils and dangers ripen'd thee to man: was supposed to have contributed very materi- Thy country's cause thy ardent youth inspir'd, ally to a pamphlet, entitled, A Letter to the Thy ripen'd years thy country's dangers fir'd; Proprietors of East-India Stock, from John John- | All life to trace the councils of the foe, stone, esq. late one of the Council at Calcutta, All zealous life to ward the lifted blowi. Bengal, 8vo.; and in 1771 he is known to have When dubious peace, in gilded clouds array'd, written Thoughts on our Acquisitions in the Fair o'er Britannia threw her painted shade, East Indies, particularly respecting Bengal, Thy active mind illiberal ease disdain'd; 8vo. In 1773 he was a candidate for the direc- Forth burst the senator unaw'd, unstain'd! torship, in which he did not succeed. He was By private aim unwarp'd as gen'rous youth, chosen into parliament, through the interest of Thy ear still list’ning to the voice of truth, sir James Lowther, for Cockermouth, and in 1774 That sacred pow'r thy bursting warmth controlla, for Appleby. In the course of his parliamentary and bade thee at her side be only bold. duty, he threw out some reflections on lord Nor toils of state alone thy cares employ'd; George Germaine, which occ ned a duel be- The Muses in thy sunshine glow'd and joy'd. tween them on the 17th of December, 1770. He When filial strife unsheath'd the ruthless braud, afterwards was named one of the commissioners And discord rioted on Salem's strand, to treat with America, and went there, but with Thy hands to Salem's strand the olive bore, out success. In 1779 he resumed his naval Alas ! deny'd—and lib'ral peace no more employment, and distinguished himself by his Smild on the crest of hope; thy country's weal
bravery and conduct. He died May 24, 1787. Again to action wak'd thy patriot zeal; When Mr. Mickle had composed the following Old Tagus saw the British red cross stream
poem, he sent a copy of it to lord Rodney, beg- O'er Gallia's lilies and the tawny gleam
I The commodore was remarkably happy in pro
curing intelligence. He sent the first notice of the “My dear sir, Albemarle-street, May 16, 1788. Spanish declaration of war in 1761 - to admiral “ Nothing can give me more real pleasure than the Rodney, then commanding in the West Indies, in
affection and gratitude shown by you to the me consequence of which the Havannah was taken. mory of our worthy friend, George Johnstone. It He sent also the first account of the sailing and desis impossible for me not to approve of the verses tination for the West Indies of the grand Spanish of the translator of The Lusiad, which, without Aeet in 1780 to admiral Rodney, then also comflattery, in my poor opinion, are equal, if not mander on that station. Both messages were carsuperior, to Pope's translation of the Iliad. It ried from Lisbon by the same person, captain is impossible not to be pleased with both. Both M.Laurin. In consequence of this intelligence, instil in our minds the glorious idea of doing our many of the Spanish transports were taken, and duty to our country, and that life without honour the operations of the combined force of France and is but a burden.
Spain in the West Indies retarded for that season.