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• Mark the native glories spread

"Around my bleeding brow! • The crown of Albion wreath'd my head,

And Gallia's lilies twin'd below " When my father shook his spear,

6.When his banner sought the skies, Her baffled host recoil'd with fear,

• Nor turn'd their shrinking eyesi• Soon as the daring eagle springs

• To bask in heav'ns empyreal light, • The vultures ply their baleful wings, • A cloud of deep’ning colour marks their flight,

• Staining the golden day:-
< But see! amid the rav’nous brood
• A bird of fiercer aspect soar-

• The spirits of a rival race,
• Hang on the noxious blast, and trace,

! With gloomy joy, his destin'd prey; Inflame th'ambitious wish that thirsts for blood, And plunge his talents deep in kindred gore.



• View the stern form that hovers nigh, • Fierce rolls his dauntless eye

In scorn of hideous death; • Till starting at a brother's name, • Horror shrinks his glowing frame, • Locks the half-utter'd groan,

• And chills the parting breath:Astonish'd nature heav'd a moan!

• When her affrighted eye beheld the hands
• She form’d to cherish rend her holy bands.

• Look where a royal infant kneels,

• Shrieking, and agoniz'd with fear,
• He sees the dagger pointed near

"A much lov'd brother's breast;
. And tells an absent mother all he feels :-

• His eager eye he casts around;
• Where shall her guardian form be found,

« On which his eager eye would rest!
On her he calls in accents wild,

• And wonders why her step is slow To save her suff'ring child !* Rob'd in the regal garb, his brother stands

• In more majestic woe• And meets the impious stroke with bosom bare, • Then fearless grasps the murd'rer's hands,

• And asks the minister of hell to spare • The child whose feeble arms sustain

• His bleeding form from cruel Death. • In vain fraternal fondness pleads,

« For cold is now his livid cheek

• And cold his last aspiring breath: • And now with aspect meek,

« The infant lifts his mournful eye,

• And asks, with trembling voice, to die, • If death will cure his heaving heart of pain

• His heaving heart now bleeds

• Foul tyrantl o'er the gilded hour
« That beams with all the blaze of power,
Remorse shall spread her thickest shroud;

• The furies in thy tortur'd ear
Shall howl, with curses deep, and loud,

And wake distracting fear!
• I see the ghastly spectre rise,
• Whose blood is cold, whose hollow eyes

Seem from his head to start

• With upright hair, and shiv'ring heart, • Dark o'er thy midnight couch he bends, • And clasps thy shrinking frame, thy impious spirit

Now his thrilling accents die-
His shape eludes my searching eye-
But who is he, convuls'd with pain,
That writhes in every swelling vein?

Yet in so deep so wild a groan,
A sharper anguish seems to live
Than life's expiring pang can give :-

He dies deserted and alone
If pity can allay thy woes
Sad spirit they shall find reposem
Thy friend, thy long-lov'd friend is near!
He comes to pour the parting tear,

He comes to catch the parting breath-
Ah heaven! no melting look he wears,
His alter'd eye with vengeance glares;
Each frantic passion at his soul,

'Tis he has dash'd that venom'd bowl

With agony, and death.

But whence arose that solemn call?

Yon bloody phantom waves his hand,
And beckons me to deeper gloom
Rest, troubled form ! I come
Some unknown power my step impels
To horror's secret cells
• For thee I raise this sable pall,

• It shrouds a ghastly band : • Stretch'd beneath, thy eye shall trace • A mangled regal race: • A thousand suns have rolld, since light • Rush'd on their solid night See, o’er that tender frame grim famine hangs,

• And mocks a mother's pangs! • The last, last drop which warm'd her veins

. That meagre infant drains• Then gnaws her fond sustaining breast

• Stretch'd on her feeble knees, behold • Another victim sinks to lasting rest

• Another, yet her matron arms would fold • Who strives to reach her matron arms in vain

« Too weak her wasted form to raise, • On him she bends her eager gaze;

• She sees the soft imploring eye • That asks her dear embrace, the cure of pain

She sees her child at distance die


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< But now her stedfast heart can bear

• Unmov'd, the pressure of despair6 When first the winds of winter urge their course • O'er the pure stream, whose current smoothly

« The heaving river swells its troubled tides;
& But when the bitter blast with keener force,

• O'er the high wave an icy fetter throws,
« The harden'd wave is fix'd in dead repose.'-

Say who that hoary form? alone he stands, • And meekly lifts his wither'd hands-

6 His white beard streams with blood-
"I see him with a smile, deride
• The wounds that pierce his shrivell’d side,

"Whence flows a purple flood-
• But sudden pangs his bosom tear-

« On one big drop of deeper dye,

• I see him fix his haggard eye "In dark and wild despair ! • That sanguine drop which wakes his woe

Say, spirit! whence its source.'-
6 Ask no more its source to know-

• Ne'er shall mortal eye explore
"Whence Aow'd that drop of human gore,
• Till the starting dead shall rise,
• Unchain'd from earth, and mount the skies,
And time shall end his fated course.'
• Now th' unfathom'd depth behold

• Look but once! a second glance


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