O fools! to think that ever foe

Should triumph o'er that sea-girt land! O fools! to think that ever Britain's sons Should wear the stranger's yoke!

For not in vain hath Nature rear'd
Around her coast those silvery cliffs;
For not in vain old Ocean spreads his waves
To guard his favourite isle !

On come her gallant mariners!

What now avail Rome's boasted charms?

Where are the Spaniard's vaunts of eager wrath ? His hopes of conquest now?

And hark! the angry Winds arise,

Old Ocean heaves his angry Waves;

The Winds and Waves, against the invaders fight To guard the sea-girt land.

Howling around his palace-towers

The Spanish despot hears the storm; He thinks upon his navies far away, And boding doubts arise.

Long, over Biscay's boisterous surge The watchman's aching eye shall strain ! Long shall he gaze, but never wing'd bark Shall bear good tidings home.

Westbury, 1798.

ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY.

THE night is come, no fears disturb
The dreams of innocence;

They trust in kingly faith and kingly oaths,
They sleep,.. alas ! they sleep!

Go to the palace, would'st thou know
How hideous night can be;

Eye is not closed in those accursed walls,
Nor heart at quiet there.

The Monarch from the window leans,
He listens to the night,

And with a horrible and eager hope
Awaits the midnight bell.

Oh he has Hell within him now!
God, always art thou just!

For innocence can never know such pangs
As pierce successful guilt.

He looks abroad, and all is still.
Hark!.. now the midnight bell

Sounds through the silence of the night alone,..
And now the signal gun!

Thy hand is on him, righteous God!
He hears the frantic shrieks,

He hears the glorying yells of massacre,
And he repents, . . too late.

He hears the murderer's savage shout, He hears the groan of death; In vain they fly,.. soldiers defenceless now, Women, old men, and babes.

Righteous and just art thou, O God!
For at his dying hour

Those shrieks and groans re-echoed in his ear,
He heard that murderous yell !

They throng'd around his midnight couch, The phantoms of the slain; .

It prey'd like poison on his powers of life; Righteous art thou, O God!

Spirits who suffer'd at that hour
For freedom and for faith,

Ye saw your country bent beneath the yoke,
Her faith and freedom crush'd.

And like a giant from his sleep
Ye saw when France awoke ;

Ye saw the people burst their double chain,
And ye had joy in Heaven!

Westbury, 1798.

THE HOLLY TREE.

1.

O READER! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly Tree?

The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves

Order'd by an intelligence so wise,

As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.

2.

Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen
Wrinkled and keen;

No grazing cattle through their prickly round
Can reach to wound;

But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.

3.

I love to view these things with curious eyes,
And moralize:

And in this wisdom of the Holly Tree
Can emblems see

Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme,
One which may profit in the after time.

4.

Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear
Harsh and austere,

To those who on my leisure would intrude
Reserved and rude,

Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be
Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.

5.

And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, Some harshness show,

All vain asperities I day by day

Would wear away,

Till the smooth temper of my age should be
Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.

6.

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?

7.

So serious should my youth appear among
The thoughtless throng,

So would I seem amid the young and

More grave than they,

That in my age as cheerful I might be
As the green winter of the Holly Tree.

Westbury, 1798.

gay