“ Where, crown’d with wreaths of misletoe, “ Slaughter'd kings in glory go: “ But when he fell, with winged speed, “ His champions, on a milk-white steed, “ From the battle's hurricane, “ Bore him to Joseph's towered fane, “ In the fair vale of Avalon : “ There, with chanted orison, “ And the long blaze of tapers clear, “ The stoled fathers met the bier ; “ Through the dim iles, in order dread “ Of martial woe, the chief they led, “ And deep intomb'd in holy ground, “ Before the altar's solemn bound. “ Around no dusky banners wave, “ No mouldering trophies mark the grave : “ Away the Ruthless Dane has torn “ Each trace that Time's slow touch had worn; “ And long, o'er the neglected stone, « Oblivion's veil its shade has thrown: “ The faded tomb, with honour due, 6. 'Tis thine, O Henry, to renew! “ Thither, when Conquest has restor’d “ Yon recreant isle, and sheath'd the sword, “ When peace with palm has crown'd thy brows, “ Haste thee, to pay thy pilgrim vows. " There, observant of my lore, “ The pavement's hallow'd depth explore ; " And thrice a fathom underneath “ Dive into the vaults of death,

6. There shall thine eye, with wild amaze, “ On his gigantic stature gaze ; “ There shalt thou find the monarch laid, " All in warrior-weeds array'd ; “ Wearing in death his helmet-crown, “ And weapons huge of old renown. “ Martial prince, 'tis thine to save " From dark oblivion Arthur's grave! “ So may thy ships securely stem “ The western frith: thy diadem “ Shine victorious in the van, “ Nor heed the slings of Ulster's clan : “ Thy Norman pike-men win their way

Up the dun rocks of Harold's bay : “ And from the steeps of rough Kildare “ Thy prancing hoofs the falcon scare : “ So may thy brow's unerring yew “ Its shafts in Roderick's heart imbrew."

Amid the peeling symphony The spiced goblets mantled high; With passions new the song impress’d The listening king's impatient breast : Flash the keen lightnings from his eyes; He scorns awhile his bold emprise ; Ev'n now he seems, with eager pace, The consecrated floor to trace ; And ope,

from its tremendous gloom, The treasure of the wondrous tomb : Ev'n now, he burns in thought to rear, From its dark bed, the ponderous spear,

Rough with the gore of Pictish kings:
Ev'n now fond hope his fancy wings,
To poise the monarch's massy blade,
Of magic-temper'd metal made ;
And drag to day the dinted shield
That felt the storm of Camlan's field..
O'er the sepulchre profound
Ev'n now, with arching sculpture crown'd,
He plans the chantry's choral shrine,
The daily dirge, and rites divine.

ODE VIII.

THE

CRUSADE.

By the Same.

Bound for holy Palestine,
Nimbly we brush'd the level brine,
All in azure steel array’d;
O’er the wave our weapons play'd,
And made the dancing billows glow;
High upon the trophied prow,
Many a warrior-minstrel swung
His sounding harp, and boldly sung:

“ Syrian virgins, wail and weep, “ English Richard ploughs the deep! “ Tremble, watchmen, as ye spy, “ From distant towers, with anxious eye, “ The radiant range of shield and lance “ Down Damascus' hills advance : “ From Sion's turrets as afar “ Ye ken the march of Europe's war! “ Saladin, thou paynim king “ From Albion's isle revenge we bring!

« On Acon's spiry citadel,
“ Though to the gale thy banners swell,
« Pictur'd with the silver moon;
“ England shall end thy glory soon!
“ In vain, to break our firm array,
“ Thy brazen drums hoarse discord bray :
“ Those sounds our rising fury fan :
“ English Richard in the van.
“ On to victory we go,
“ A vaunting infidel the foe.”

Blondel led the tuneful band,
And swept the wire with glowing hand,
Cyprus, from her rocky mound,
And Crete, with piny verdure crown'd,
Far along the smiling main
Echoed the prophetic strain.

Soon we kiss'd the sacred earth
That gave a murther'd Saviour birth :
Then with ardour fresh endu'd,
Thus the solemn

renew'd: “ Lo, the toilsome voyage past, “ Heaven's favour'd hills appear at last! « Object of our holy vow, “ We tread the Tyrian vallies now. “ From Carmel's almond-shaded steep “ We feel the cheering fragrance creep: “ O'er Engaddi's shrubs of balm “ Waves the date-empurpled palm ; “ See, Lebanon's aspiring head “ Wide his immortal umbrage spread!