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“ The hand that mingled in the meal
Meed for his hospitality!
Their red and fearful blazonry.
“ There woman's shriek was heard in vain,
Respite from ruthless butchery!
Far more than Southron clemency.
“ Long have my harp's best notes been gone, Few are its strings, and faint their tone, They can but sound in desert lone
Their gray-hair'd master's misery. Were each gray hair a minstrel string, Each chord should imprecations fling, Till startled Scotland loud should ring, Revenge for blood and treachery!
THE QUARREL OF FRIENDS.
Alas! they had been friends in youth;
And life is thorny, and youth is vain ;
Doth work like madness in the brain.
And thus it chanc'd, as I divine,
And insult to his heart's best brother:
But never either found another
A dreary sea now flows between,
Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The adventurous boy, that asks his little share,
So, when the mild TUPIA dar'd explore
· The Otaheitan who accompanied Captain Cook in his first voyage, and died at Batavia. - See Cook's First Voyage, book i, c. xvi.
So, when he breath'd his firm yet fond adieu,
So Scotia's Queen, as slowly dawn'd the day,
height, That faintly tipt the feathery surge with light; But now the morn with orient hues portray'd Each castled cliff, and brown monastic shade : All touched the talisman's resistless spring, And lo, what busy tribes were instant on the wing!
Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire. And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth, Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth. Hence home-felt pleasure prompts the Patriot's sigh ; This makes him wish to live, and dare to die. For this young FOSCARI', whose hapless fate Venice should blush to hear the Muse relate, When exile wore his blooming years away, To sorrow's long soliloquies a prey,
| He was suspected of murder. Neither the interest of the Doge, his father, nor the intrepidity of conscious innocence, which he exhibited in the dungeon and on the rack, could procure his acquittal. He was banished to the island of Candia for life. But here his resolution failed him. At such a distance from home he could not live; and, as it was a criminal offence to solicit the intercession of any foreign prince, in a fit of despair, he addressed a letter to the duke of Milan, and intrusted it to a wretch whose perfidy, he knew, would occasion his being remanded a prisoner to Venice.
When reason, justice, vainly urg'd his cause,
Thou hast thy beauties: sterner ones, I own,
Than those of thy precursors; yet to thee
Belongs the charms of solemn majesty And naked grandeur. Awful is the tone Of thy tempestuous nights, when clouds are blown
By hurrying winds across the troubled sky;
Pensive, when softer breezes faintly sigh Through leafless boughs, with ivy overgrown. Thou hast thy decorations too; although
Thou art austere: thy studded mantle, gay With icy brilliants, which as proudly glow
As erst Golconda's : and thy pure array
Envelopes nature; till her features seem
How much of memory dwells amidst thy bloom,
Rose! ever wearing beauty for thy dower! The Bridal day
the Festival the Tomb Thou hast thy part in each, — thou stateliest Therefore with thy soft breath come floating by
A thousand images of love and grief, Dreams, fill’d with
tokens of mortality, Deep thoughts of all things beautiful and brief. Not such thy spells o'er those that hail'd thee first
In the clear light of Eden's golden day; There thy rich leaves to crimson glory burst, Link'd with no dim remembrance of decay.
Rose! for the banquet gather'd, and the bier ;
Rose! colour'd now by human hope or pain ; Surely where death is not — nor change nor fear, Yet may we meet thee, joy's own flower again!
THE LADY OF THE LAKE.
But scarce again his horn he wound,