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Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen
No grazing cattle through their prickly round
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 in this wisdom of the Holly Tree
Can emblems see
Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme, One which may profit in the after time.
Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear Harsh and austere,
To those who on my leisure would intrude
Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be
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
And as when all the summer trees are seen
The Holly leaves a sober hue display
Less bright than they,
But when the bare and wintry woods we see,
So serious should my youth appear among
So would I seem amid the young and gay
That in my age as cheerful I might be
THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.
It was a summer evening,
And by him sported on the green
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
In playing there had found;
Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh,
"Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he,
'I find them in the garden,
For there's many here about;
The ploughshare turns them out!
'Now tell us what 't was all about,'
With wonder-waiting eyes;
And what they fought each other for,'
'It was the English,' Kaspar cried,
'My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by ;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
'With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then,
And new-born baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory.
'They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory.
'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, And our good Prince Eugene.' 'Why 't was a very wicked thing!'
Said little Wilhelmine.
‘Nay. . nay . . my little girl,' quoth he. 'It was a famous victory.
'And everybody praised the Duke
'Why that I cannot tell,' said he, 'But 't was a famous victory.'
STANZAS WRITTEN IN HIS LIBRARY.
My days among the Dead are past;
Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
With them I take delight in weal,
My thoughts are with the Dead, with them
Their virtues love, their faults condemn,
And from their lessons seek and find
My hopes are with the Dead, anon
Through all Futurity;
Yet leaving here a name, I trust,