"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."

0

II.

THE HOLLY TREE.

1798.

READER! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly Tree?

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.

N°

III.

LORD WILLIAM.

1798.

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
Roll'd 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;

ป

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.