No!-but it tells me of a heart Allied by friendship's living tie; A prize beyond the herald's art— Our soul-sprung consanguinity! KATHRINE! to many an hour of mine Light wings and sunshine you have lent; And so adieu, and still be thine The all-in-all of life-Content! 1817. GILDEROY. THE last, the fatal hour is come, The bell has toll'd; it shakes my heart; And must my Gilderoy depart No bosom trembles for thy doom; The sledge is all thy bier. Oh, Gilderoy! bethought we then When first in Roslin's lovely glen Your locks they glitter'd to the sheen, Ah! little thought I to deplore Ye cruel, cruel, that combined A long adieu! but where shall fly When every mean and cruel eye Yes! they will mock thy widow's tears, Then will I seek the dreary mound STANZAS ON THE THREATENED INVASION. 1803. OUR bosoms we 'll bare for the glorious strife, To prevail in the cause that is dearer than life, Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand, And swear to prevail in your dear native land! 'Tis the home we hold sacred is laid to our trustGod bless the green Isle of the brave! Should a conqueror tread on our forefathers' dust, It would rouse the old dead from their grave! Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand, And swear to prevail in your dear native land! In a Briton's sweet home shall a spoiler abide, Shall a Frenchman insult the loved fair at our side? To arms! oh, my Country, to arms! Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand, And swear to prevail in your dear native land! Shall a tyrant enslave us, my countrymen !—No! And swear to prevail in your dear native land! THE RITTER BANN. THE Ritter Bann from Hungary While other knights held revels, he Slow paced his lonely room. There enter'd one whose face he knew, Whose voice, he was aware, He oft at mass had listen'd to In the holy house of prayer. 'Twas the Abbot of St. James's monks, A fresh and fair old man: His reverend air arrested even The gloomy Ritter Bann. But seeing with him an ancient dame Come clad in Scotch attire, The Ritter's colour went and came, And loud he spoke in ire: |