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Then mirth triumphant through Britannia rung,
And laurell’d wreaths on every portal hung ;
Through all her coasts, with prayer and solemn lay,
She hail'd the tidings of that glorious day ;
Proud o'er the wreck of Empires to proclaim,
A nation's glory, and her Hero's fame.

Nor only thus, on Memory's silent shore c,
The tide of Hist'ry strews her treasur'd lore;
Not only thus, to greet thy high estate,
Each bosom burns, with martial fire elate;
The storied name, thy peaceful reign confest,
Shall lead in bloodless pomp each captive breast,
Shall bid Ambition dread to lust for pow'r,
Bid scowling Faction thirst for blood no more,
Bid cruel Discord's madd’ning tumults cease,
And yield the sceptre to the seraph Peace.
WILLIAM HERBERT WOODHOUSE,

Ch. Ch.

c And when the stream
Which overflowed the soul was passed away,
A consciousness remained that it had left
Deposited upon the silent shore
Of Memory, images, and precious thoughts,
Which shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.

Wordsworth, Excursion, book VII. ησύχα Φρενών βάσει. . Æschyl. Choeph. 445.

Vos Cæsarem altum, militia simul
Fessas cohortes abdidit oppidis,

Finire quærentem labores

Pierio recreatis antro. Hor.

BELLO solutum Patria Cæsarem,
Stratis per orbem gentibus otio, ,
Vittata lætanti recepit

In requiem titulosque pompa :
En ille Patrum concilio gravi,
Bellator olim fulmineus, sedet
Augustus, attritamque lauri

Paciferæ tegit umbra frontem.
Sic, dum triumphans, auspice te, bona
Terras coercet pace Britannia
Late quiescentes, et altum,

Sceptra gerens, equitat per æquor;
Te nunc salutis præsidium suæ
Testata, plenis cingit honoribus,
Bellique connectit perenni

Exuvias Rhedycina lauro. Diæ Sacerdos hæc Sapientiæ,

Ceu pura Vestæ serva, resuscitat
Ignes inextinctos, et almam

Usque fovet Pietatis aram.
Intaminatis militiæ simul
Fastis repostos fronde sacra duces
Accingit, et fessos quieta

Pieridum recreat sub umbra.
His arma figens tu penetralibus
Non indecoris functa periculis,
Tutela præclarumque nostræ,

Ipse decus, celebrande, famæ Gaudes vocari. Te precibus tui Oramus, æquis, relliquias sacras Delubra, doctrinæque puros

Auspiciis tueare fontes Quid Marte possis, liber ab hostibus Testatur orbis : nec minus in toga Persæpe firmasti labantes

Consilio meliore Patres. Te sensit, arcem prospiciens tuis Flammis ruentem barbarus Indiæ Tyrannus, excussaque crines

Pulverei jacuere mitra. Tu, cum procellæ turbine Gallica Gentes Erynnis sterneret, impium

Bello retorsisti furorem,

Terribili domitum triumpho.
Immotus idem, justitia duce,
Et temperanti consilio regens,
Vanos refrenasti tumultus,

Et populum scelus infrementem.
Hac arte, fractis victor ab hostibus,
Interque Patres propositi tenax,
Enixus, æterna vigebis

Post cineres tumulumque, fama.

GEORGE TICKELL,

BALLIOL.

Marshal, demand of yonder Champion
The cause of his arrival here in arms.

Shakespear.

DEAR to the warrior is the proud array
Of banner'd hosts--impatient for the fray.
Deep rapture dwelleth in the battle strife
To him—to all, that reck not of their life;
As on with reeking flank, and nostril wide,
Wildly the war-steed dashes in his pride ;
Sharp rings the steel on many a mailed breast,
Yet proudly still the warrior's streaming crest,
White as the foam wind-sever'd from the wave,
Floats o'er the surge-like conflux of the brave.
Yes, it is sweet—though Freedom's blood may flow,
Fame follows still to sanctify the blow;
And Glory's star, more bright amid the gloom,
Hallows alike the trophy and the tomb.

But holier, sweeter far, the tranquil bliss Breath'd o'er his spirit in an hour like this ;

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