« PredošláPokračovať »
“Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won,
And our good Prince Eugene." “Why 'twas a very wicked thing!”
Said little Wilhelmine. “Nay,—nay,—my little girl," quoth he, “ It was a famous victory!”
“And everybody praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win.” “But what good came of it at last ?”
Quoth little Peterkin. “Why, that I cannot tell,” said he, “But 'twas a famous victory."
THE HOLLY TREE.
O READER! Ihastutbily free stood to see
Its glossy leaves
Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen
Wrinkled and keen;
Can reach to wound;
I love to view these things with curious eyes,
And moralize :
Can emblems see
Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear
Harsh and austere,
Reserved and rude,
And should my youth, as youth is apt I know,
Some harshness show,
Would wear away,
And as when all the summer trees are seen
So bright and green, The Holly leaves a sober hue display
Less bright than they, But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the Holly Tree ?
So serious should my youth appear among
The thoughtless throng,
More grave than they,
O eye beheld when William plunged
Young Edmund in the stream, No human ear but William's heard
Young Edmund's drowning scream. Submissive, all the vassals own'd
The murderer for their lord,
The house of Erlingford.
Stood in a fair domain,
Rollid through the fertile plain;
Would love to linger there,
To gaze on scenes so fair.
To gaze on Severn's stream;
He heard young Edmund's scream.
Sleep closed the murderer's eyes, In every dream the murderer saw
Young Edmund's form arise.
In vain by restless conscience driven
Lord William left his home, Far from the scenes that saw his guilt,
In pilgrimage to roam.
To other climes the pilgrim fled,
But could not fly despair;
Was still a stranger there.
Slow were the passing hours, yet swift
The months appear'd to roll;
With terror William's soul ;
A day that William never felt
Return without dismay,
Young Edmund's dying day.
Fell fast with tempest roar,
Far on the level shore.
In vain Lord William sought the feast,
In vain he quaffd the bowl,
The anguish of his soul ;-
In gusty howlings came,
To thrill his shuddering frame. Reluctant now, as night came on,
His lonely couch he prest;
And, wearied out, he sunk to sleep,
To sleep-but not to rest.
Beside that couch his brother's form,
Lord Edmund, seem'd to stand, Such, and so pale, as when in death
He grasp'd his brother's hand;
Such, and so pale his face, as when
With faint and faltering tongue, To William's care, a dying charge,
He left his orphan son.
"I bade thee with a father's love
My orphan Edmund guard ;-
Now take thy due reward.”
He started up, each limb convulsed
With agonizing fear;
'Twas music to his ear!
When, lo! the voice of loud alarm
His inmost soul appals;
The water saps thy walls !
He saw the flood appear;
No human aid was near.
A boat approach'd the wall,