He lost in errors his vain heart prefers, Cowper. ON THE DEATH OF KING GEORGE III. Bells toll for peasants, and we heed them not : We cannot grieve alike for youth and age. We wept in anguish; time could scarce assuage. But thee, the age-worn monarch of these realms, We mourn not with the sorrow that o'erwhelms, Thy sun was not eclipsed in sudden night, Το O! what a rapturous change, from dark to light, For thee whose days were quenched in deepest night! Those darkened eyes no more obstruct the day, As death drew near, O! did not angels stand, Come where, beyond the portals of the grave, Dunette. THE MINSTREL. Silent and sad-the Minstrel sat, The winds of heaven died away, And the moon in the valley slept; The Minstrel leaned on his olden harp, In youth he had stood by the Wallace side, When Edward vowed, with his English host, But the Wallace wight was dead and gone, And Robert was on his deathbed; And dark was the hall where the Minstrel sung Of chiefs that for Scotia bled! But oft as the twilight stole o'er the steep, And sigh to the mountain gale! ΜΟΝΙΜΙΑ. R. Allan. The bell had tolled the midnight hour, The cheerless yew-tree marked the spot Where Leontine was laid. With soft and trembling steps the maid A tear-drop glistened on her cheek, And dewed her lover's sod! Cold blew the blast, the yew-tree shook, And sighed with hollow moan; The wandering moon had sunk to rest, Monimia's cheek grew deadly pale, While oft she pressed her lover's grave, R. Allan THE DYING SOLDIER. Day faded from the hill and wood, It closed above a scene of blood, The dying and the dead. And silence brooded o'er the field, Where echoed late the trump and drum ; And where a thousand thunders pealed Their death-knell, all was dumb. Here, 'midst his brave, but perished band, |