Charge, Chester, charge !-On, Stanley, on !' Were the last words of Marmion. Sir Walter Scott. ELEGIAC STANZAS. Soon shall I lay my head, From hearts with anguish torn, When slumbering in the tomb In dreamless sweet repose, The wild flowers o'er my grave that bloom The sun's first morning beam And ere he set, his latest gleam Perchance at close of eve, Some friend may linger here, My soul shall soon be free, And, loosed from mortal chains, Shall launch on that unbounded sea There is a glorious rest,' For weeping mortals given; And when they sink on earth's cold breast, Anon. THRENODY On the Death of John Earl of Hopetoun, &c. &c. at Paris, 27th August 1823. From Jonah's grief, and anger for his gourd, From David's Perezuzza, save us Lord! For thou dost try us, but we humbled bow Are all thy ways, though darkly understood; On which we hope.-How dark was that decree, That hope had cherished die! How many streams Of bliss are dried! How many tears and sighs Reveal of many hearts the agonies! The highest ranks, the Chiefest of the chief, Share largely in our sympathy and grief. Regard Him in his cordial adieu *, Regard Him in his retrospective view, When of the Scottish shores, on Hopetoun's strand, Referring to his Majesty's leaving Scotland. Dear to his prince, by all around him blessed, Hopetoun's high claims to honour all confessed. Among his peers unrivalled, yet beloved, With mingled grace and dignity he moved. His fall they mourn.-But whither can we go, But to perceive the solemn march of woe; To see the streaming eyes of grief, and hear Her mournful tones repeated far and near? Britannia's deathless annals shall proclaim, To distant times, the Chief's illustrious name; While in Corunna's memorating line At once the orator and hero shine. Nor do her armies only mourn his zeal ; There gratitude her benefactor lauds, There generous deeds philanthropy applauds, There friendship's lips with glowing rapture dwell On scenes of bliss; though the recitals swell The breast with pleasing pain ineffable. * Lord Hopetoun's native parish. But lo! to the mind's eye a form appears, pure delights !' Thus speaks Religion :—even she must mourn So fair a pillar from her temple torn; Even she that softens grief, and lulls to rest The warring passions in the troubled breast. O! to that home, which late his presence blessed, To bind each bursting heart, and chase despair! Till, where dark sorrow reigned, shall peace be found, And faith and hope bid heavenly joy abound! Rev. Dr Martin. |