LINES ON THE CAMP HILL NEAR HASTINGS. In the deep blue of eve, Ere the twinkling of stars had begun, Of the skies and the sweet setting sun, I climb'd to yon heights, Where the Norman encamp'd him of old,* And his banner all burnished with gold. At the Conqueror's side There his minstrelsy sat harp in hand, In pavilion wide; And they chanted the deeds of Roland. * What is called the East Hill, at Hastings, is crowned with the works of an ancient camp; and it is more than probable it was the spot which William I. occupied between his landing and the battle which gave him England's crown. It is a strong position; the works are easily traced. Still the ramparted ground On each turf of that mead Stood the captors of England's domains, And high-mettled the blood of her veins. Over hauberk and helm As the sun's setting splendour was thrown, LINES WRITTEN IN A BLANK LEAF OF LA PEROUSE'S VOYAGES. LOVED Voyager! his pages had a zest I track'd his wanderings o'er the watery way, And sweeping deer-herds dread no hunter's snare. He plough'd the deep to bind no captive's chain- An age elapsed-no wreck told where or when Fame traced on Mannicōlo's shore at last, Sad bourne of all his toils-with all his band- Of death ?—the hope to live in hearts unborn: |