There once the steel-clad knight reclin'd,

His sable plumage tempest-toss'd;

And as the death-bell smote the wind,

From towers long fled by human kind, Himself the hero cross'd!

Father of many a forest deep!

Whence many a navy thunder-fraught;

Erst in their acorn-cells asleep,

Soon destin'd o'er the world to sweep,

Opening new spheres of thought.

Wont in the night of woods to dwell,

The holy druid saw thee rise;

And, planting there the guardian-spell,

Sung forth, the dreadful pomp to swell

Of human sacrifice?

Thy singed top and branches bare

Now straggle in the evening sky;

And the wan moon wheels round to glare

On the long corse that quivers there

Of him who came to die!

WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT,

1786.

WHILE thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs,

And my step falters on the faithless floor,

Shades of departed joys around me rise,

With many a face that smiles on me no more; With many a voice that thrills of transport gave, Now silent as the grass that tufts their grave!

ΤΟ

TWO SISTERS.*

WELL may you sit within, and, fond of grief,

Look in each other's face, and melt in tears.

Well may you shun all counsel, all relief.

O she was great in mind, tho' young in years!

Chang'd is that lovely countenance, which shed Light when she spoke; and kindled sweet surprise, As o'er her frame each warm emotion spread, Play'd round her lips, and sparkled in her eyes.

Those lips so pure, that mov'd but to persuade,

Still to the last enliven'd and endear'd.

On the death of a younger sister.