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“ Pictur'd with the silver moon; “ England shall end thy glory soon! “ In vain, to break our firm array, “ Thy brazen drums hoarse discord bray: “ Those sounds our rising fury fan: “ English Richard in the van, “ On to victory we go, 6 A vaunting infidel the foe.”

Blondel led the tuneful band,
And swept the wire with glowing hand.
Cyprus, from her rocky mound,
And Crete, with piny verdure crown'd,
Far along the smiling main
Echoed the prophetic strain.

Soon we kiss'd the sacred earth
That gave a murder'd Saviour birth;
Then, with ardour fresh endu’d,
Thus the solemn song renew'd.

“ Lo, the toilsome voyage past, “ Heaven's favour'd hills appear at last! “ Object of our holy vow, “ We tread the Tyrian valleys now. “ From Carmel's almond-shaded steep “ We feel the cheering fragrance creep: “ O’er Engaddi's shrubs of balm “ Waves the date-empurpled palm. “ See Lebanon's aspiring head Wide his immortal umbrage spread! “ Hail, Calvary, thou mountain hoar, « Wet with our Redeemer's gore !

« Ye trampled tombs, ye fanes forlorn, Ye stones, by tears of pilgrims worn; “ Your ravish'd honours to restore, « Fearless we climb this hostile shore ! " And thou, the sepulchre of God! “ By mocking pagans rudely trod, “ Bereft of every awful rite, “ And quench'd thy lamps that beam'd so bright; For thee, from Britain's distant coast, “ Lo, Richard leads his faithful host! “ Aloft in his heroic hand, “ Blazing, like the beacon's brand, “ O'er the far-affrighted fields, “ Resistless Kaliburn he wields.. « Proud Saracen, pollute no more 66 The shrines by martyrs built of yore! “ From each wild mountain's trackless crown “ In vain thy gloomy castles frown: “ Thy battering engines, huge and high, “ In vain our steel-clad steeds defy; “ And, rolling in terrific state, “ On giant-wheels harsh thunders grate. “ When eve has hush'd the buzzing camp, “ Amid the moonlight vapours damp, 66 Thy necromantic forms, in vain, “ Haunt us on the tented plain : 66 We bid those spectre-shapes avaunt, “ Ashtaroth, and Termagaunt! “ With many a demon, pale of hue, “ Doom'd to drink the bitter dew

“ That drops from Macon's sooty tree,
“ Mid the dread grove of ebony. .
“ Nor magic charms, nor fiends of hell,
“ The christian's holy courage quell.

“ Salem, in ancient majesty “ Arise, and lift thee to the sky! . “ Soon on thy battlements divine “ Shall wave the badge of Constantine. “ Ye Barons, to the sun unfold “ Our Cross with crimson wove and gold !"



STATELY the feast, and high the cheer:
Girt with many an armed peer,
And canopied with golden pall,
Amid Cilgarran's castle hall,
Sublime in formidable state,
And warlike splendour, Henry sate;
Prepard to stain the briny flood
Of Shannon's lakes with rebel blood.

Illumining the vaulted roof,
A thousand torches flam'd aloof:
From massy cups, with golden gleam
Sparkled the red metheglin's stream :
To grace the gorgeous festival,
Along the lofty-window'd hall,

The storied tapestry was hung:
With minstrelsy the rafters rung
Of harps, that with reflected light
From the proud gallery glitter'd bright:
While gifted bards, a rival throng,
(From distant Mona, nurse of song,
From Teivi, fring'd with umbrage brown,
From Elvy's vale, and Cader's crown,
From many a shaggy precipice,
That shades Ierne's hoarse abyss,
And many a sunless solitude
Of Radnor's inmost mountains rude,)
To crown the banquet's solemn close,
Themes of British glory chose;
And to the strings of various chime
Attemper'd thus the fabling rhyme.

“ O'er Cornwall's cliffs the tempest roar'd, “ High the screaming sea-mew soar'd; On Tintaggel's topmost tower “ Darksome fell the sleety shower; “ Round the rough castle shrilly sung “ The whirling blast, and wildly flung « On each tall rampart's thundering side “ The surges of the tumbling tide : “ When Arthur rang'd his red-cross ranks “ On conscious Camlan's crimson'd banks : “ By Mordred's faithless guile decreed “ Beneath a Saxon spear to bleed! “ Yet in vain a paynim foe “ Arm'd with fate the mighty blow;

“ For when he fell, an elfin queen, “ All in secret, and unseen, “ O'er the fainting hero threw “ Her mantle of ambrosial blue; “ And bade her spirits bear him far, “ In Merlin's agate-axled car, “ To her green isle’s enamell’d steep, “ Far in the navel of the deep. “ O'er his wounds she sprinkled dew “ From flowers that in Arabia grew : « On a rich inchanted bed “ She pillow'd his majestic head; “ O'er his brow, with whispers bland, “ Thrice she wav'd an opiate wand; “ And to soft music's airy sound, Her magic curtains clos'd around. “ There, renew'd the vital spring, “ Again he reigns a mighty king; “ And many a fair and fragrant clime, “ Blooming in immortal prime, “ By gales of Eden ever fann'd, “ Owns the monarch's high command: “ Thence to Britain shall return, “ (If right prophetic rolls I learn) “ Borne on victory’s spreading plume, “ His ancient sceptre to resume ; “ Once more, in old heroie pride, “ His barbed courser to bestride ;. “ His knightly table to restore, “ And brave the tournaments of yore."

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