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“Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won,

And our good Prince Eugene." “Why 'twas a very wicked thing!”

Said little Wilhelmine. “Nay,—nay,—my little girl," quoth he, It was a famous victory!”

“And everybody praised the Duke

Who this great fight did win.” “But what good came of it at last ?”

Quoth little Peterkin. “Why, that I cannot tell,” said he, “But 'twas a famous victory."




O READER! Ihastutbily free stood to see

The Holly
The eye that contemplates it well perceives

Its glossy leaves
Order'd by an intelligence so wise,
As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.

Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen

Wrinkled and keen;
No grazing cattle through their prickly round

Can reach to wound;
But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.

I love to view these things with curious eyes,

And moralize :
And in this wisdom of the Holly Tree

Can emblems see
Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme,
One which may profit in the aftertime.

Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear

Harsh and austere,
To those who on my leisure would intrude

Reserved and rude,
Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be
Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.

And should my youth, as youth is apt I know,

Some harshness show,
All vain asperities I day by day

Would wear away,
Till the smooth temper of my age should be
Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.

And as when all the summer trees are seen

So bright and green,
The Holly leaves a sober hue display

Less bright than they,
But when the bare and wintry woods we see,
What then so cheerful as the Holly Tree ?

So serious should my youth appear among

The thoughtless throng,
So would I seem among the young and gay

More grave than they,
That in my age as cheerful I might be
As the green winter of the Holly Tree,




O eye beheld when William plunged

Young Edmund in the stream, No human ear but William's heard

Young Edmund's drowning scream. Submissive, all the vassals own'd

The murderer for their lord,
And he, as rightful heir, possess'd

The house of Erlingford.
The ancient house of Erlingford

Stood in a fair domain,
And Severn's ample waters near

Rollid through the fertile plain;
And often the way-faring man

Would love to linger there,
Forgetful of his onward road,

To gaze on scenes so fair.
But never could Lord William dare

To gaze on Severn's stream;
In every wind that swept its waves

He heard young Edmund's scream.
In vain, at midnight's silent hour

Sleep closed the murderer's eyes, In every dream the murderer saw

Young Edmund's form arise.

In vain by restless conscience driven

Lord William left his home, Far from the scenes that saw his guilt,

In pilgrimage to roam.

To other climes the pilgrim fled,

But could not fly despair;
He sought his home again, but peace

Was still a stranger there.

Slow were the passing hours, yet swift

The months appear'd to roll ;
And now the day return'd that shook

With terror William's soul ;

A day that William never felt

Return without dismay,
For well had conscience calendar'd

Young Edmund's dying day.
A fearful day was that! the rains

Fell fast with tempest roar,
And the swoln tide of Severn spread

Far on the level shore,
In vain Lord William sought the feast,

In vain he quaff'd the bowl,
And strove with noisy mirth to drown

The anguish of his soul ;-
The tempest, as its sudden swell

In gusty howlings came,
With cold and death-like feeling seem'd

To thrill his shuddering frame. Reluctant now, as night came on,

His lonely couch he prest;

And, wearied out, he sunk to sleep,

To sleep--but not to rest.

Beside that couch his brother's form,

Lord Edmund, seem'd to stand, Such, and so pale, as when in death

He grasp'd his brother's hand;

Such, and so pale his face, as when

With faint and faltering tongue, To William's care, a dying charge,

He left his orphan son.

“I bade thee with a father's love

My orphan Edmund guard ;Well, William, hast thou kept thy charge !

Now take thy due reward.”.

He started up, each limb convulsed

With agonizing fear;
He only heard the storm of night,-

'Twas music to his ear!

When, lo! the voice of loud alarm

His inmost soul appals;
“What ho! Lord William, rise in haste !

The water saps thy walls !”
He rose in haste,-beneath the walls

He saw the flood appear;
It hemm'd him round,—'twas midnight now,

No human aid was near .
He heard a shout of joy, for now

A boat approach'd the wall,
And eager to the welcome aid

They crowd for safety ail.

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