No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a griesly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, With me in dreadful harmony they join, THE BARD. Revere his consort's faith, his father's + fame, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. Wallows beneath the thorny shade. "Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Is the sable warrior || fled? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, * Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare: Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course, Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom, III. "Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) Half of thy heart we consecrate. ¶ Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height "Girt with many a baron bold Sublime their starry fronts they rear; Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line; What strings symphonious tremble in the air, * Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled hard to save her husband and her Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown. § The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster. The silver-boar was the badge of Richard the Third; whence he was usually known in his own time by the name of The Boar. Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her lord is well known. Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in conquest of Wales. Berkley castle. The mo + Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adul-numents of his regret, and sorrow for the loss of her, are still to be seen at Northampton, Geddingterous queen. ton, Waltham, and other places. # Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress. Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father. Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster. Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. believed to be murdered secretly in the Tower of The oldest part of that structure is vulLondon. garly attributed to Julius Cæsar. It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, that King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-land, and should return again to reign over Britain. ++ Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor. Taliessin, chief of the bards, flourished in the His works are still preserved, and sixth century. his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen. U u 2 THE DESCENT OF ODIN. AN ODE. [From the same. •] IN BARTHOLINUS, DE CAUSIS CONTEMNENDÆ MORTIS; HAFNIE, 1689, QUARTO. Upreis Odinn allda gauir, &c. UPROSE the King of Men with speed, Right against the eastern gate, [sume, Pr. What call unknown, what charms pre- O. A traveller, to thee unknown, Is he that calls, a warrior's son. Tell me what is done below, For whom yon glittering board is spread, Pr. Mantling in the goblet see 0. Once again my call obey, • Niflheimr, the Hell of the Gothic nations, consisted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all such as died of sickness, old age, or by any other means than in battle: over it presided Hela, the goddess of death. What dangers Odin's child await, Pr. In Hoder's hand the hero's doom: 0. Prophetess, my spell obey: By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt? 0. Yet awhile my call obey, Pr. Ha! no traveller art thou, 0. No boding maid of skill divine Art thou, nor prophetess of good; But mother of the giant-brood! Pr. Hie thee hence, and boast at home, Has re-assum'd her ancient right; THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. A FRAGMENT. FROM MR. EVANS'S SPECIMENS OF THE WELSH POETRY; LONDON, 1764, quarto. OWEN's praise demands my song, Gwyneth's § shield, and Britain's gem. Lok is the evil being, who continues in chains till the twilight of the gods approaches, when he shall break his bonds; the human race, the stars, and Sun, shall disappear; the earth sink in the seas, and fire consume the skies: even Odin himself and his kindred deities shall perish. For a further explanation of this mythology, see Mallet's Introduction to the History of Denmark, 1755, quarto. Owen succeeded his father Griffin in the principality of North Wales, A. D. 112. This battle was fought near forty years afterwards. $ North Wales. He nor heaps his brooded stores, Big with hosts of mighty name, Catch the winds, and join the war; Black and huge along they sweep, Burthens of the angry deep. Dauntless on his native sands The dragon-son † of Mona stands; • Denmark. + The red dragon is the device of Cadwallader, which all his descendants bore on their banners. In glittering arms and glory drest, 圈 TOBIAS SMOLLETT. TOBIAS SMOLLETT, well known in his time for the variety and multiplicity of his publications, was born in 1720, at Dalquhurn, in the county of Dumbarton. He was educated under a surgeon in Glasgow, where he also attended the medical lectures of the University; and at this early period he gave some specimens of a talent for writing verses. As it is on this ground that he has obtained a place in the present collection, we shall pass over his various characters of surgeon's mate, physician, historiographer, politician, miscellaneous writer, and especially novellist, and consider his claims as a minor poet of no mean rank. He will be found, in this collection, as the author of "The Tears of Scotland," the "Ode to Leven-Water," and some other short pieces, which are polished, tender, and picturesque; and, especially, of an "Ode to Independence," which aims at a loftier flight, and perhaps has few superiors in the lyric style. Smollett married a lady of Jamaica: he was, unfortunately, of an irritable disposition, which involved him in frequent quarrels, and finally shortened his life. He died in the neighbourhood of Leghorn, in October, 1771, in the fifty-first year of his age. THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn! The wretched owner sees afar What boots it then, in every clime, Through the wide-spreading waste of time, Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, The rural pipe and merry lay O baneful cause, oh, fatal morn, The pious mother doom'd to death, |