456 
No busy marts appear, no erbivded porte, 
No rural dances, and no splendid courts ; 
In halls, so late with feasts and music 
crown’d, 
No revels sport, nor mirthfal symbols sound. 
Fastidious pomp, how are thy pageants fled! 
How sleep the haughty in their lowly bed t 
Where the fair garden bloom’d, the thorn 
succeeds, 
*Mid noxious brambles, and envenom’d weeds, 
O’er fallow plains no vagrant flocks are seen 
To print with tracks, or crop the dewy 
green; 
The Plague, where thousands felt his mortal 
stings, 
In vacant air his shafts promiscuous flings 5 
There walks in darkness, thirsting still for 
gore, 
And raves unsated round the desert shore. 
‘The sandy waste, th’ immeasurable heath, 
Alone are prowl’d by animals of death. 
Here tawny lions guard their gory den, 
There birds of prey usurp the haunts of men 5 
Thro” dreary wilds a mournful echocalls 
From mouldering towers and desolated walls; 
Where the wan light through broken win- 
dows gleams, 
The fox looks out, the boding raven screams 5, 
While trembling travellers, in wild amaze, 
Ga wrecks of state, and piles of ruin gaze. 
—ae—— 
LINES, 
WRITTEN AT KENILWORTH CASTLE) 
WARWICKSHIRE, 
FAERE whilst I linger, midst the mouldering 
ile, 
The fallen archways, and the fretted aisle, 
And pensive view, with miod intent to scan 
The short-lived glories of unthinking man, 
Thy crumbling walls, where many a ruin’d 
tower 
Gives kindly shelter to the straggling flower, 
And many a child, escaped from school to 
play, 
Pursues its gambols in the sunny ray, 
Sad sinks my heart, to think how chang’d 
the scene, 
Since courtly Leicester led the virgin Queen 
Witb all her train, to grace his festive halls, 
And loud rejoicings shook the massy walls: 
Then spoke the clarion loud, the trumpet 
bray'd, 
Sweet sang the choir, and soft the minstrels 
play’d; 
Now sadly trembling, sighs the whispering 
breeze, 
And sinks in gentle murmurs o’er the trees. 
There where the Gothic windows’ long array, 
Enwreathed with ivy, scarce admits the day, 
The banquet stood: and many a stripling 
Pages 
And many a trusty squire of riper age, 
Submissive gave, to crown their rising glee, » 
The sparkling goblet on his bended knec. 
Original Poel) y. 
| ek Ad ~ a 
or 
[Dec. 1, 
Great was the feast, with kingly pride re 
play’s, 
The gorgeous ‘pageant and the high parade; 
Bright beamed the lamps, enchanting strains 
resound, 
Knights’ tales of love, and jesters’ jokes 
went round, 
Now hush'd their mirth! the moping owl 
alone 
Pours to the moon her solitary moan; 
The winv’ry blast its driving torrents pours, 
And groans and thunders thro’ the trembling 
towers, 
vet great Eliza’s gracious smile beheld 
‘yg 
swell’d, 
And little deemed he, man so soon should 
see 
Laid low in dust the mighty pageantry. 
But turn, my Muse, a sadder theme pursue : 
The royal Edward’s gloomy dungeon view : 
Here, ere to Berkeley’s lofty walls he went, 
Full many a sigh his tortur’d bosom rent, 
He steeps his chains in unavailing tears, 
And wrapt in frantic woe, the howling blast 
he hears : 
And now autumnal breezes seem to bring — 
The groans and anguish of the captive king. 
But hark! the trumpet’s clang, the thun- 
dering drums, 
And shouts proclaim > §* Victorious Cromwell 
comes: 
Then the Joud cannon, with rebellowing 
sound, 
Shakes the huge pile, and epren destruction 
round: 
Vain is the ponderous ates 's guardian 
power, 
And vain the bulk of Czsar’s mighty tower < 
Long lasts the siege, and rock the crumbling 
walls, 
Till, quite o’erwhelm’d, the ie fabric 
falls, A 
Should man with power, with pomp of wealth 
elate, ; “ed 
Exult and glory in his high estate, Pe Se 
Here let the proud one turn apa start to 
see 
The sad remains of fallen majesty, 
And stamp those truths upon his conscious 
heart, 
Thy faded glories, Kenilworth, impart. 
Sept. 1808. a Eke 
EE 
AN ODE, UPON INDOLENCE, 
BY THE REY. JOHN PROCTOR, Late 
OF TRINITY HALL, COLLEGE, CAMs 
BRIDGE. 
I DO not woo thy presence, Indolence! 
Goddess, I would not rank 
A vot’ry in thy train; 
iy 
T do not ask to wear thy fett'ring flowers, 
Thy languid cheek displays — 
No sunny hues of health 5 wif 
“ : re 
aspiring favourite, high his bosom - 
‘ 
