As famish'd wolves survey a guarded fold-
But in the middle path a Lion lay!

At length they move-but not to battle-fray,
Nor blaze yon fires where meets the manly fight;
Beacons of infamy, they light the way

Where cowardice and cruelty unite

To damn with double shame their ignominious flight!

VI.

O triumph for the Fiends of Lust and Wrath!
Ne'er to be told, yet ne'er to be forgot,
What wanton horrors mark'd their wreckful path!
The peasant butcher'd in his ruin'd cot,

The hoary priest even at the altar shot,

Childhood and age given o'er to sword and flame, Woman to infamy;-no crime forgot,

By which inventive demons might proclaim

Immortal hate to man, and scorn of God's great name!

VII.

The rudest sentinel, in Britain born,

With horror paused to view the havoc done,
Gave his poor crust to feed some wretch forlorn,
Wiped his stern eye, then fiercer grasp'd his gun,
Nor with less zeal shall Britain's peaceful son
Exult the debt of sympathy to pay;

Riches nor poverty the tax shall shun,

Nor prince nor peer, the wealthy nor the gay,

Nor the poor peasant's mite, nor bard's more worthless lay.

From thy dishonour'd name and arms to clear-Fallen Child of Fortune, turn, redeem her favour here!

IX.

Yet, ere thou turn'st, collect each distant aid ;
Those chief that never heard the lion roar !
Within whose souls lives not a trace portray'd,

Of Talavera, or Mondego's shore!

Marshal each band thou hast, and summon more;
Of war's fell stratagems exhaust the whole;
Rank upon rank, squadron on squadron pour,
Legion on legion on thy foeman roll,

And weary out his arm-thou canst not quell his soul.

* The literal translation of Fuentes d'Hororo.

X.

O vainly gleams with steel Agueda's shore,
Vainly thy squadrons hide Assuava's plain,
And front the flying thunders as they roar,

With frantic charge and tenfold odds, in vain!
And what avails thee that, for CAMERON slain,

Wild from his plaided ranks the yell was givenVengeance and grief gave mountain-rage the rein,

And, at the bloody spear-point headlong driven, Thy Despot's giant guards fled like the rack of heaven.

XI.

Go, baffled boaster! teach thy haughty mood
To plead at thine imperious master's throne,
Say, thou hast left his legions in their blood,
Deceived his hopes, and frustrated thine own;
Say, that thine utmost skill and valour shown,
By British skill and valour were outvied;
Last say, thy conqueror was WELLINGTON !

And if he chafe, be his own fortune tried-
God and our cause to friend, the venture we'll abide.

XII.

But you, ye heroes of that well-fought day,
How shall a bard, unknowing and unknown,
His meed to each victorious leader pay,

Or bind on every brow the laurels won?
Yet fain my harp would wake its boldest tone,
O'er the wide sea to hail CADOGAN brave;
And he, perchance, the minstrel-note might own,
Mindful of meeting brief that Fortune gave
Mid far western isles that hear the Atlantic rave.
yon

XIII.

Yes! hard the task, when Britons wield the sword,
To give each Chief and every field its fame :

Hark! Albuera thunders Beresford,

And Red Barosa shouts for dauntless GRÆME!

O for a verse of tumult and of flame,

Bold as the bursting of their cannon sound,

To bid the world re-echo to their fame!

For never, upon gory battle-ground,

With conquest's well-bought wreath were braver victors crown'd!

XIV.

O who shail grudge him Albuera's bays,

Who brought a race regenerate to the field,

Roused them to emulate their fathers' praise,

Temper'd their headlong rage, their courage steel'd,

And raised fair Lusitania's fallen shield,

And gave new edge to Lusitania's sword,

And taught her sons forgotten arms to wield-
Shiver'd my harp, and burst its every chord,

If it forget thy worth, victorious BERESFORD!

XV.

Not on that bloody field of battle won,

Though Gaul's proud legions roll'd like mist away, Was half his self-devoted valour shown,

He gaged but life on that illustrious day; But when he toil'd those squadrons to array, Who fought like Britons in the bloody game, Sharper than Polish pike or assagay,

He braved the shafts of censure and of shame, And, dearer far than life, he pledged a soldier's fame.

XVI.

Nor be his praise o'erpast who strove to hide
Beneath the warrior's vest affection's wound,
Whose wish Heaven for his country's weal denied ;
Danger and fate he sought, but glory found.
From clime to clime, where'er war's trumpets sound,
The wanderer went; yet, Caledonia! still
Thine was his thought in march and tented ground;
He dream'd 'mid Alpine cliffs of Athole's hill,
And heard in Ebro's roar his Lyndoch's lovely rill.

XVII.

O hero of a race renown'd of old,

Whose war-cry oft has waked the battle-swell, Since first distinguish'd in the onset bold,

Wild sounding when the Roman rampart fell! By Wallace' side it rung the Southron's knell, Alderne, Kilsythe, and Tibber, own'd its fame, Tummell's rude pass can of its terrors tell,

But ne'er from prouder field arose the name,

Than when wild Ronda learn'd the conquering shout of GR.EME!

XVIII.

But all too long, through seas unknown and dark,
(With Spenser's parable I close my tale,)
By shoal and rock hath steer'd my venturous bark,
And landward now I drive before the gale.
And now the blue and distant shore I hail,
And nearer now I see the port expand,
And now I gladly furl my weary sail,

And, as the prow light touches on the strand,
I strike my red-cross flag and bind my skiff to land.

ROKE BY:

A POEM.

IN SIX CANTOS.

ΤΟ

JOHN B. S. MORRITT, ESQ.

THIS POEM,

The Scene of which is laid in his beautiful demesne of Rokeby,

IS INSCRIBED,

IN TOKEN OF SINCERe friendsHIP, BY

WALTER SCOTT.

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION.

The Scene of this Poem is laid at Rokeby, near Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire, and shifts to the adjacent Fortress of Barnard Castle, and to other places in that Vicinity. The Time occupied by the Action is a space of Five Days, Three of which are supposed to elapse between the end of the Fifth and the beginning of the Sixth Canto. The Date of the supposed events is immediately subsequent to the great Battle of Marston Moor, 3d July, 1644. This period of public confusion has been chosen, without any purpose of combining the Fable with the Military or Political Events of the Civil War, but only as affording a degree of probability to the Fictitious narrative now presented to the Public.