Nor dream they sit upon the grave,
That holds the bones of Marmion brave.
When thou shalt find the little hill,'
With thy heart commune, and be still.
If ever, in temptation strong.

Thou left'st the right path for the wrong;
If every devious step, thus trod,

Still led thee farther from the road;
Dread thou to speak presumptuous dooin
On noble Marmion's lowly tomb;
But say, "He died a gallant knight,
With sword in hand, for England's right."

XXXVIII.

I do not rhyme to that dull elf,
Who cannot image to himself,

That all through Flodden's dismal night,
Wilton was foremost in the fight;

That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain,
'Twas Wilton mounted him again;
'Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hew'd,"
Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood:
Unnamed by Hollinshed or Hall,
He was the living soul of all;

That, after fight, his faith made plain,
He won his rank and lands again;
And charged his old paternal shield
With bearings won on Flodden Field
Nor sing I to that simple maid,
To whom it must in terms be said,

[MS.

-"If thou should'st find this little tomb,
Beware to speak a hasty doom."]

[MS." He hardest press'd the Scottish ring;

"Twas thought that be struck down the King."

That King and kinsmen did agree,
To bless fair Clara's constancy;
Who cannot, unless I relate,

Paint to her mind the bridal's state;
That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke,
More, Sands, and Denny, pass'd the joke;
That bluff King Hal the curtain drew,
And Catherine's hand the stocking threw ;
And afterwards, for many a day,
That it was held enough to say,
In blessing to a wedded pair,

"Love they like Wilton and like Clare !"

L'Envoy.

TO THE READER.

WHY then a final note prolong,
Or lengthen out a closing song,
Unless to bid the gentles speed,
Who long have listed to my rede ?1
To Statesmen grave, if such may deign
To read the Minstrel's idle strain,
Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit
And patriotic heart as PITT !

A garland for the hero's crest,
And twined by her he loves the best;

To every lovely lady bright,

What can I wish but faithful knight?
To every faithful lover too,
What can I wish but lady true?

Used generally tor tale, or discourse

And knowledge to the studious sage;
And pillow to the head of age.

To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay
Has cheated of thy hour of play,
Light task, and merry holiday!
To all, to each, a fair good-night,

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light!

APPENDIX.

NOTE A.

As when the Champion of the Lake
Enters Morgana's fated house,
Or in the Chapel Perilous,

Despising spells and demons' force,

Holds converse with the unburied corse.-P. 25.

THE Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of abridge ment of the most celebrated adventures of the Round Table; and, being written in comparatively modern language, gives the general reader an excellent idea of what romances of chivalry actually were. It has also the merit of being written in pure old English; and many of the wild adventures which it contains are told with simplicity bordering upon the sublime. Several of these are referred to in the text; and I would have illustrated them by more full extracts, but as this curious work is about to be republished, I confine myself to the tale of the Chapel Perilous, and of the quest of Sir Launcelot after the Sangreal.

"Right so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came to the Chapell Perilous, he alighted downe, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as soon as he was within the churchyard, he saw, on the front of the chapell, many faire rich shields turned upside downe; and many of the shields Sir Launcelot had seene knights have before; with that he saw stand by him thirtie great knights. more, by a yard, than any man that ever he had seene, and all

R