.04 IIENllY KTRKE WIIITe's POEMS, 



Arrange thy mystic trains that shine 

 In Night's high philosophic mine ; 

 And to thy name shall e'er b.long 

 The honours of undying song. 



ODE TO THE GENIUS OF ROAIxiNCE. 



Oh thou, who in my early youth, 



V\'hen fancy wore the garb of truth, 



"Wert wont to win my infant feet, 



To some retired deep fabled seat, 



Where by the brooklet's secret tide, 



The midnight ghost was known to glide ; 



Or lay me in some lonely glade, 



In native Sherwood's forest shade. 



Where Robin Hood, the outlaw bold. 



Was wont his sylvan courts to bold ; 



And there as musing deep I lay. 



Would steal my little soul away, 



And all thy pictures represent, 



Of siege and solemn tournament ; 



Or bear me to the magic scene, 



Where clad in greaves and gabardine, 



The warrior knight of chivalry, 



Made many a fierce enchanter flee ; 



And bore the high-born dame away, 



Long held the fell magician's prey. 



Or oft would tell the shuddering tale 



Of murders, and of goblins pale, 



Haunting the guilty baron's side, 



(Whose floors with secret blood were dyed), 



Which o'er the vaulted corridor, 



On stormy nights was heard to roar, 



By old domestic, wakened wide 



By the angry winds that chide. 



Or else the mystic tale would tell. 



Of Greensleeve, or of Blue-Beard fell. 



