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But, ere they breathed the fresher air,
They heard the shriekings of despair,
And many a stifled groan:

With speed their upward way they take,
Such speed as age and fear can make,
And crossed themselves for terror's sake,
As hurrying, tottering on:

Even in the vesper's heavenly tone,
They seemed to hear a dying groan,
And bade the passing knell to toll
For welfare of a parting soul.
Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung,
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung:
To Warkworth cell the echoes rolled,
His beads the wakeful hermit told;
The Bamborough peasant raised his head,
But slept ere half a prayer he said;
So far was heard the mighty knell,
The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell,
Spread his broad nostril to the wind,
Listed before, aside, behind,

Then couched him down beside the hind,
And quaked among the mountain fern,
To hear that sound so dull and stern.

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SONG. THE CAVALIER

While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray,
My true love has mounted his steed and away,
Over hill, over valley, o'er dale, and o'er down;
Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown!
He has doffed the silk doublet the breast-plate to bear,
He has placed the steel-cap o'er his long flowing hair,
From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down,—
Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown!
For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws,
Her king is his leader, her church is his cause;
His watch-word is honour, his pay is renown,-
God strike with the gallant that strikes for the crown!
They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all
The roundheaded rebels of Westminster-hall;
But tell these bold traitors of London's proud town,
That the spears of the north have encircled the crown.
There's Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes;
There's Erin's high Ormond, and Scotland's Montrose!
Would you match the base Skippon, and Massy, and
Brown,

With the barons of England who fight for the crown?

Now joy to the crest of the brave cavalier?
Be his banner unconquered, resistless his spear,
Till in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown,
In a pledge to fair England, her church, and her crown!

MONTGOMERY.

THE DEATH OF ADAM.

THE sun went down amidst an angry glare Of flushing clouds, that crimsoned all the air; The winds brake loose; the forest boughs were torn, And dark aloof the eddying foliage borne ; Cattle to shelter scudded in affright; The florid evening vanished into night; Then burst the hurricane upon the vale, In peals of thunder, and thick vollied hail;

Prone rushing rains with torrents whelmed the land, Our cot amidst a river seemed to stand;

Around its base, the foamy-crested streams

Flashed through the darkness to the lightning's gleams
With monstrous throes an earthquake heaved the ground,
The rocks were rent, the mountains trembled round!
Never since Nature into being came,

Had such mysterious motion shook her frame;
We thought, ingulpht in floods, or wrapt in fire,
The world itself would perish with our Sire.

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