72. Ambition nerved young Allan's hand, 73. Swift is the shaft from Allan's bow: Whose streaming life-blood stains his side? Dark Oscar's sable crest is low, The dart has drunk his vital tide. 74. And Mora's eye could Allan move, She bade his wounded pride rebel : Alas! that eyes, which beam'd with love, Should urge the soul to deeds of Hell. 75. Lo! see'st thou not a lonely tomb, Which rises o'er a warrior dead! It glimmers through the twilight gloom; 76. Far, distant far, the noble grave, Which held his clan's great ashes, stood; And o'er his corse no banners wave, For they were stain'd with kindred blood. 77. What minstrel gray, what hoary bard, But who can strike a murderer's praise? 78. Unstrung, untouch'd, the harp must stand, His harp in shuddering chords would break. 79. No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verse, A dying father's bitter curse, A brother's death-groan echoes there. TO THE DUKE OF D. In looking over my papers, to select a few additional Poems for this second edition, I found the following lines, which I had totally forgotten, composed in the Summer of 1805, a short time previous to my departure from H--. They were addressed to a young school-fellow of high rank, who had been my frequent companion in some rambles through the neighbouring country; however he never saw the lines, and most probably never will. As, on a reperusal, I found them not worse than some other pieces in the collection, I have now published them, for the first time, after a slight revision. D-R-T! whose early steps with mine have stray'd, Whom, still, affection taught me to defend, At every public school, the junior boys are completely subservient to the upper forms, till they attain a seat in the higher classes. From this state of probation, very properly, no rank is exempt; but after a certain period, they command, in turn, those who succeed. Thee, on whose head a few short years will shower Even now a name illustrious is thine own, When youthful parasites, who bend the knee To wealth, their golden idol,—not to thee! And, even in simple boyhood's opening dawn, Some slaves are found to flatter and to fawn: When these declare, " that pomp alone should wait "On one by birth predestined to be great ; "That books were only meant for drudging fools, "That gallant spirits scorn the common rules ;" Believe them not, they point the path to shame, And seek to blast the honours of thy name: * Allow me to disclaim any personal allusions, even the most distant; I merely mention, generally, what is too often the weakness of Preceptors. Turn to the few, in Ida's early throng, Whose souls disdain not to condemn the wrong; None dare to raise the sterner voice of truth, Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day, 'Tis not enough, with other Sons of power, |