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Sir Nicholas at Marston Moor.

Oh, many were the tears that those radiant eyes had shed, As she worked the bright word 'Glory' in the gay and glancing thread;

And mournful was the smile that o'er those beauteous

features ran,

As she said, 'It is your lady's gift, unfurl it in the van.'

'It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best and boldest

ride,

Through the steel-clad files of Skippon and the black dragoons of Pride;

The recreant soul of Fairfax will feel a sicklier qualm, And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm, When they see my lady's gew-gaw flaunt bravely on their

wing,

And hear her loyal soldiers shout, for God and for the King!'

'Tis noon; the ranks are broken along the royal line; They fly, the braggarts of the Court, the bullies of the

Rhine:

Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's helm is down,

And Rupert sheathes his rapier with a curse and with a frown;

And cold Newcastle mutters as he follows in the flight,
'The German boar had better far have supped in York
to-night.'

The Knight is all alone, his steel cap cleft in twain,
His good buff jerkin crimsoned o'er with many a gory

stain;

But still he waves the standard, and cries amid the rout 'For Church and King, fair gentlemen, spur on and fight it out!'

And now he wards a Roundhead's pike, and now he hums a stave,

And here he quotes a stage-play, and there he fells a knave.

Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas ! thou hast no thought

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of fear;

Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! but fearful odds are

here.

The traitors ring thee round, and with every blow and thrust,

Down, down,' they cry, 'with Belial, down with him to

the dust!'

'I would' quoth grim old Oliver, 'that Belial's trusty sword

This day were doing battle for the Saints and for the Lord!'

The Lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower; The gray-haired warden watches on the castle's highest tower.

'What news, what news, old Anthony?' 'The field is lost and won;

The ranks of war are melting as the mists beneath the

sun;

And a wounded man speeds hither,—I am old and cannot

see

Or sure I am that sturdy step my master's step should be.'

'I bring thee back the standard from as rude and rough

a fray,

As e'er was proof of soldier's thews, or theme for min

strel's lay.

Bid Hubert fetch the silver bowl, and liquor quantum

suff.;

I'll make a shift to drain it, ere I part with boot and

buff;

Though Guy through many a gaping wound is breathing out his life,

And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and faithful wife!

'Sweet, we will fill our money-bags, and freight a ship for France,

And mourn in merry Paris for this poor realm's mischance;

Or, if the worst betide me, why, better axe or rope,

Than life with Lenthal for a king, and Peters for a

pope!

Alas, alas, my gallant Guy!-out on the crop-eared

boor,

That sent me with my standard on foot from Marston Moor!'

LXXIV.

W. M. Praed.

SONNET.

T is a beauteous evening, calm and free.
The holy time is quiet as a Nun

Breathless with adoration; the broad sun

Is sinking down in its tranquillity;

The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea :
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,

Aud doth with his eternal motion make

A sound like thunder-everlastingly.

Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,

Thy nature is not therefore less divine :
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;
And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.

W. Wordsworth.

LXXV.

KING RICHARD II.

ACT III. SCENE III.-Wales, before Flint Castle.

KING RICHARD. DUKE OF AUMERLE. EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND.

North.

HY thrice noble cousin

Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand;

And by the honourable tomb he swears,

That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones,
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring from one most gracious head,
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt,
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be sworn or said,
His coming hither hath no further scope
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees:
Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
His barbéd steeds to stables, and his heart
To faithful service of your majesty.
This swears he, as he is a prince, is just;
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.

K. Rich. Northumberland, say thus the king returns : His noble cousin is right welcome hither;

And all the number of his fair demands
Shall be accomplished without contradiction:
With all the gracious utterance thou hast,

Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.

We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not. [To Aumerle. To look so poorly and to speak so fair?

Shall we call back Northumberland, and send

Defiance to the traitor, and so die?

Aum. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words
Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords.
K. Rich. O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine,
That laid the sentence of dread banishment

On yon proud man, should take it off again
With words of sooth*! O that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name !
Or that I could forget what I have been,

Or not remember what I must be now!

Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.

Aum.

Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. K. Rich. What must the king do now? must he submit? The king shall do it must he be deposed?

The king shall be contented: must he lose
The name of king? o' God's name, let it go :
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,
My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,
My gay apparel for an almsman's gown,
My figured goblets for a dish of wood,
My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff,
My subjects for a pair of carved saints
And my large kingdom for a little grave,
A little little grave, an obscure grave;
Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,

Some way of common trade†, where subjects' feet -
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head;
For on my heart they tread now whilst I live;
And buried once, why not upon my head?
Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin!
We'll make foul weather with despised tears;
Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting land.

Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,

* Words of sooth. Assuaging, soothing words.

+ Common trade. A beaten path. The original meaning of trade is a path or course that is traded or trodden.

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