46 



O'er the field, in every qiiarler, 

 Chaos reigned and bloody slaiigiiler ; 

 Deatii too shook his flesbless bones 

 With joy to Lear the victims' moans! 

 Ail around was tumult dread, 



Cannons firing. 



Crowds expiring, 



Shouts of slaying, 



Groans dismaying 



Piteous cries, 



Harsh replies. 



Noise like thunder, 



Eager plunder. 

 Of the dying and the dead ; 

 With sorrowful bosom humanity paused 

 To weep for the havock ambition had caused ! 



Meanwhile not idly Henry stood, 



Amid destruction's r»pid flood, 



Whose dark and overwhelming wave 



Had hurried thousands to the grave, 



But swiftly rushing with the tide 



In hostile blood his sword he dyed ; 



Where'er the thickest ranks engaged, 



Where'er the fight most fiercely raged. 



Young Henry wreaths of laurel sought, 



And like another Hector fought. 



The evening's grey and dusky light 



Beheld the still unfinished fight, 



Saw Henry still, with conquering hand, 



Contending 'gainst a d.^spcratc band. 



At length his foes, couipclied toy! -id. 



With haste tumultuous left the field ; 



" They fly !" the youtli exclaimed, " they 



fly!" 

 While o'er the plain resounded " victory !" 



And now with ardour Henry led 

 The troop pursuing thosi- lliat fled ; 

 Too fatal zeal ! too noble mind ! 

 To 8 11 but fame and honour blind! 

 E'en now he reached the flying throng 

 And dashed the routed herd among. 

 When Envy aimed the fatal lead — 

 Aud Prudence sighed, and Valour hid her 



head ! 

 The winged metal swiftly flew, 

 Aud pierced the shining corslet through. 

 Fast gushing from his wounded breast, 

 The crimson blood distaiiied his vest. 

 His blooming cheeks grew wan aud pale, 

 His trembling limbs began to fail, 

 The hand could now no longer wield 

 The sword it still, but feebly, held ; 

 He cast a plaintive look around. 

 And staggering sunk upon the blood-stained 

 ground . 



" Ah me I" he cried, and heaved a sigh, 

 *' Too cruel, cruel destiny ! 

 And must I, e're I reach the bourne 

 Of all my hopes, be forced to turn ? 

 My Julia placed before ray eyes. 

 Must I resign so dear a prize ? 

 Can nought, O Death ! thy pity move, 

 Nor prayers of youth, nor sighs of love ? 

 Can nought thy deadly arrow stay. 

 Or purchase one short hour's delay ? 



Could I but once again behold 



My Julia, e're these limbs are cold. 



Original Poetry. 



[Feb. 1, 



'Twould sooth the pang that rends my heart 



To think that we for ever pan. 



But no! it cannot, cannot be, 



Such bliss will ne'er be known to me ! 



E'en now, I feel th' approach of death — 



Still Julia, with my latest breath, 



Upon thy long loved name 1 call. 



For thee alone I've lived— forthee I fall! 



My sight grows dim— ih' abyss of death I 



view- 

 Beloved Julia ! — dearest love ! — adieu. — 

 • • • • • 



O'er the dark locks, wliich late a helmet 



graced, 

 A laurel crown, too dearly won, was placed ; 

 And while aromid the melancholy tomb 

 The muffled drum disturbed the solemn 



gloom. 

 Afflicted veterans tears of sorrow shed. 

 And sighing cried: " brave, faithful Hcur\ '« 



d;-ad!" a! 



October, 18iO. 



THE WEr.CO.MK. 



Oil welcome Winter, welcome still 



To this thy vot'ry's breast, 

 T love thee in the frozen rill, 



I love thy snowy vest. 



1 hear tliy well known voice behind, 



Which tells me tbou art near, 

 1 see the leaves fall fast around 



Which speak the closing year. 



Whaltho' the lovely maiden spring 



Delights the new-born hours. 

 And with soft dew-y fingers bring 



Sweet scented morning flowers. 



Yet thee 1 love with stormy brow. 



With all thy glooms combin'd, 

 I love thee clad with fleecy snow, 



I love thee in the wind. 



Thy whisp 'rings in the holiow trees 



Find sweet delight in me, 

 I love ih' Aeolian mournful breeze 



In listening ecstacy. 

 Come winter then with all thy charnts. 



For charms thou hast for me. 

 Come then with all thy dire alarms, 



Yet no alarms I see. 

 For soothing 'tis to hear the storm 



That rattles round our roof, 

 With books aud friends and fire-side warm 



To smile the storm aloof. 



Then let me see thy furrow'd cheek, 



Thy locks of snowy white, 

 What others fain would never seek, 



1 seek with welcome sight. 



Nov. 1, 1820. J. M. 



« 



" 'TIS LOVELY WOMAN'S SMILE." 

 In the style of Moore — by g. rathbonb.' 

 When trouble doth assail the mind, 



And care doth vex me sore, 

 E'en so, that books, with converse joined, 



Doth charm the soul no more, 

 When blighting grief invades the breast, 



To tarry tiiere awhile, 



