And long pursues with fruitless yell Right against the eastern gate, Slowly breathed a sullen sound. Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile Now my weary lips I close; Odin. Yet a while my call obey: Proph. Ha! no traveller art thou; King of men, I know thee now; Mightiest of a mighty line Odin. No boding maid of skill divine Proph. What call unknown, what charms pre-Art thou, no prophetess of good, sume To break the quiet of the tomb? Odin. A traveller, to thee unknown, Is he that calls, a warrior's son. Proph. Mantling in the goblet see Odin. Once again my call obey: Proph. In Hoder's hand the hero's doom; His brother sends him to the tomb Now my weary lips I close; Leave me, leave me to repose. Odin. Prophetess! my spell obey; By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt? Proph. In the caverns of the west, By Odin's fierce embrace comprest, A wondrous boy shall Kinda bear, Who ne'er shall comb his raven hair, Nor wash his visage in the stream, Nor see the sun's departing beam, But mother of the giant-brood! Proph. Hie thee hence, and boast at home, That never shall inquirer come To break my iron-sleep again Till Lok has burst his tenfold chain; Has re-assumed her ancient right, Till wrapped in flames, in ruin hurled, ODE IX. THE TRIUMPH OF OWEN: A Fragment. From Mr. Evan's specimen of the Welsh poetry. London, 1764, Quarto. ADVERTISEMENT. OWEN succeeded his father Griffin in the principality of North Wales, A. D. 1120: this battle was near forty years afterwards. OWEN's praise demands my song, *Lok is the evil being, who continues in chains till the fr02light of the gods approaches, when he shall break his bonds; the human race, the stars, the sun, shall disappear, the earth sink in the seas, and fire consume the skies; even Odin him. self, and his kindred deities, shall perish. For a farther explanation of this mythology, see Introduction a l'Histoire de Danemare, par Mons. Mallat. 1755, 4to; or rather a translation of it published in 1770, and entitled Northern An tiquities, in which some mistakes in the original are judi ciously corrected. ↑ North Walen P Big with hosts of mighty name, Squadrons three against him came; This the force of Eirin hiding; Side by side as proudly riding; On her shadow long and gay Lochlin ploughs the watery way; There the Norman sails afar, 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 sont of Mona stands; In glitterring arms and glory drest, High he rears his ruby crest: There the thundering strokes begin, There the press and there the din, Talymalfra's rocky shore Echoing in the battle's roar. Checked by the torrent-tide of blood, Backward Meinai rolls his flood, While, heaped his master's feet around, Prostrate warriors gnaw the ground. Where his glowing eyeballs turn, Thousand banners round him burn; Where he points his purple spear. Hasty, hasty rout is there; Marking, with indignant eye, Fear to stop and shame to fly: There confusion, terror's child, Conflict fierce and ruin wild, Agony, that pants for breath, Despair and honourable death. ODE X. THE DEATH OF HOEL. From the Welsh of Aneurim, styled The Monarch of the Bards. He flourished about the time of Taliessin, A. D.570. This Ode is extracted from the Gododin. [See Mr. Evan's specimens, pp. 71, 73.] HAD I but the torrent's might, 'T'o rush and sweep them from the world! To Cattraeth's vale, in glittering row, Every warrior's manly neck ODE XI. [FOR MUSIC.] Performed in the Senate-house, Cambridge, July 1, 1769, the installation of his Grace Augustus-Henry-Fitzroy, Duke of Grafton, Chancellor of the University. I. "HENCE, avaunt! ('tis holy ground,) Nor in these consecrated bowers, Let painted flattery hide her serpent-train in flowers, Nor envy base, nor creeping gain, Dare the muse's walk to stain, While bright-eyed science watches round: II. From yonder realms of empyrean day To bless the place where on their opening soul "Twas Milton struck the deep-toned shell III. "Ye brown o'er-arching groves! That contemplation loves, Where widowy Camus lingers with delight, Oft at the blush of dawn I trod your level lawn, Oft wooed the gleam of Cynthia silver-bright In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of folly, With freedom by my side and soft-eyed melancholy." IV. But hark! the portals sound, in pacing forth, High potentates, and dames of royal birth, And mitred fathers, in long order go: And sad Chatillon,† on her bridal morn, The murdered saint, and the majestic lord, V. "What is grandeur, what is power? Heavier toil, superior pain, Elward III. who added the Fleur de lys of France to the arms of England. He founded Trinity College. ↑ Mary de Valentia, Countess of Pembroke, daughter of Guy de Chatillon, Comte de St. Paul in France, of whom tradition says that her husband, Audemarde de Valentia, earl of Pem. broke, was slain at a tournament on the day of his nuptials. She was the foundress of Pembroke College, or Hall, under the name of Aula Mariæ de Valentia "Through the wild waves, as they roar, With watchful eye, and dauntless mien, Elizabeth de Burg, countess of Clare, was wife of Jolin de Thy steady course of honour keep, Burg, son and heir of the earl of Ulster, and daughter of Gil-Nor fear the rock nor seek the shore: bert de Clare, earl of Gloucester, by Joan of Acres, daughter The star of Brunswick smiles serene, of Edward I. hence the poet gives her the epithet of princely. And gilds the horrors of the deep." She founded Clare-hill. $ Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry VI. foundress of Queen's College. The poet has celebrated her conjugal fidelity in a former ode. | Elizabeth Widville, wife of Edward IV. (hence called the paler Rose, as being of the house of York.) She added to the foundation of Margaret of Anjou. Henry VI. and VIII. the former the founder of King's, the atter the greatest banefactor to Trinity-College. • Countess of Richmond and Derby, the mother of Henry VII. foundress of St. John's and Christ's Colleges. The Countess was a Beaufort, and married to a Tudor, hence the application of this line to the duke of Grafton wha claims descent from both these families. Lord treasurer Burleigh was chancellor of the Univers in the reign of queen Elizabeth. A LONG STORY. ADVERTISEMENT. Miscellanies. Mr. Gray's Elegy, previous to its publication, was handed about in MS. and had, amongst other admirers, the lady Cobham, who resided in the mansion-house at Stoke-Pogeis. The performance inducing her to wish for the author's acquaint. ance, lady Schaub and Miss Speed, then at her house, undertook to introduce her to it. These two ladies waited upon the author at his aunt's solitary habitation, where he at that time resided, and not finding him at home, they left a card behind them. Mr. Gray, surprised at such a compliment, returned the visit; and as the beginning of this intercourse bore some appearance of romance, he gave the humorous and lively account of it which the Long Story contains. IN Britain's isle, no matter where, An ancient pile of building stands;* The Huntingdons and Hattons there Employed the power of fairy hands. To raise the ceilings fretted height, Each pannel in achievements clothing, Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing. Full oft within the spacious walls, When he had fifty winters o'er him, My grave lord-keepert led the brawls: The seal and maces danced before him. His bushy beard and shoe-strings green, His high-crowned hat and satin doublet, Moved the stout heart of England's queen, Though pope and Spaniard could not trouble it. What, in the very first beginning, Shame of the versifying tribe! A house there is (and that's enough) A brace of warriors, not in buff, But rustling in their silks and tissues. • The mansion-house at Stoke-Pogels, then in possession of Viscountess Cobham. The style of building which we now call queen Elizabeth's, is here admirably described, both with regard to its beauties and defects; and the third and fourth stanzas delineate the fantastic manners of her time with equal truth and humour. The house formerly belonged to the earls of Huntingdon and the family of Hatton. ↑ Sir Christopher Hatton, promoted by Queen Elizabeth for Sis graceful person and fine dancing. Brawls were a sort of ■figure-dance then in vogue, and probably deemed as elegant our modern cotillions, or still more modern quadrilles. The reader is already apprised who these ladies were; the The first came cap-â-pèe from France, The other Amazon kind Heaven To celebrate her eyes, her air Coarse panegyrics would but tease her; Melissa is her nom de guerre; Alas! who would not wish to please her! With bonnet blue and capuchine, And aprons long, they hid their armour, And veiled their weapons bright and keen In pity to the country farmer. Fame in the shape of Mr. P―t,* (By this time all the parish know it) Had told that thereabouts there lurked A wicked imp they called a poet. Who prowled the country far and near, Bewitched the children of the peasants, Dried up the cows and lamed the deer, And sucked the eggs and killed the pheasants. My lady heard their joint petition, Swore by her coronet and ermine, She'd issue out her high commission To rid the manor of such vermin. The heroines undertook the task; Through lanes unknown, o'er stiles they ventured, Rapped at the door, nor stayed to ask, But bounce into the parlour entered. The trembling family they daunt, They flirt, they sing, they laugh, they tattle. Rummage his mother, pinch his aunt, And up stairs in a whirlwind rattle. Each hole and cupboard they explore, two descriptions are prettily contrasted; and nothing can be more happily turned than the compliment to lady Cobham in the eighth stanza. I have been told that this gentleman, a neighbour and ac qaintance of Mr. Gray's in the country, was much displeased at the liberty here taken with his name, yet surely withou any great reason. Run hurry scurry round the floor, And o'er the bed and tester clamber; Into the drawers and china pry, Papers and books, a huge imbroglio! Under a tea-cup he might lie, Or creased like dog's ears in a folio. On the first marching of the troops, The muses, hopeless of his pardon, Conveyed him underneath their hoops To a small closet in the garden. So rumour says, (who will believe?) But that they left the door a-jar, Where safe, and laughing in his sleeve He heard the distant din of war. Short was his joy; he little knew The words too eager to unriddle, The poet felt a strange disorder; Transparent birdline formed the middle, And chains invisible the border. So cunning was the apparatus, The powerful pothooks did so move him, That will he nill to the great house He went as if the devil drove him. Yet on his way (no sign of grace, To Phœbus he preferred his case, The godhead would have backed his quarrel: Owned that his quiver and his laurel 'Gainst four such eyes were no protection. The court was sat, the culprit there: Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping, The lady Janes and Jones repair, And from the gallery stand peeping; Such as in silence of the night Come (sweep) along some winding entry, (Styack* has often seen the sight) Or at the chapel-door stand sentry; In peaked hoods and mantle tarnished, The peeress comes: the audience stare, The house-keeper. The bard with many an artful fib He stood as mute as poor Macleane ‡ He once or twice had penned a sonnet, The ghostly prudes, with haggeds face, She smiled, and bid him come to dinner.li "Jesu-Maria! Madam Bridget, Why, what can the viscountess mean!" Her air and all her manners show it: And so God save our noble king, And guard us from long-winded lubbers, That to eternity would sing, And keep my lady from her rubbers. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD, THE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. • The steward. t Groom of the chamber. A famous highwayman, hanged the week before. Hagged, i. e. the face of a witch or hag. The epithet hag. gard has been someti.nes mistaken as conveying the same idea, but it means a very different thing, viz. wild and farouche, and is taken from an unreclaimed hawk called a haggard. Here the story finishes; the exclamation of the ghosts, which follows, is characteristic of the Spanish manners of the age when they are supposed to have lived, and the 500 stanzas said to be lost, may be imagined to contain the remainder of their long-winded expostulation. |