But redder yet that light shall glow
On Linden's hills of stained snow,
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
Shout in their sulphurous canopy.

The combat deepens. On ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few, shall part where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

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CAMPBELL.

CATHARINA.

ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON.

SHE came-she is gone-we have met--
And meet perhaps never again;

The sun of that moment is set,

And seems to have risen in vain; Catharina has fled like a dream,

(So vanishes pleasure, alas!) But has left a regret and esteem That will not so suddenly pass.

The last evening ramble we made,
Catharina, Maria, and I,

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Though the pleasures of London exceed
In number the days of the year,
Catharina, did nothing impede,

Would feel herself happier here;
For the close-woven arches of limes,
On the banks of our river, I know,
Are sweeter to her many times

Than aught that the city can show.

So it is, when the mind is endued

With a well-judging taste from above,
Then, whether embellish'd or rude,

"T is nature alone that we love.
The achievements of art may amuse,
May even our wonder excite;
But groves, hills, and valleys diffuse

A lasting, a sacred delight.

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With her book, and her voice, and her lyre,
To wing all her moments at home,

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And with scenes that new rapture inspire,
As oft as it suits her to roam.

She will have just the life she prefers,
With little to hope or to fear;

And ours would be pleasant as hers,
Might we view her enjoying it here.

COWPER.

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THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.

FATHER of all! in every age,

In every clime adored,

By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou Great First Cause, least understood, 5

Who all my sense confined

To know but this, that thou art good,

And that myself am blind;

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill;

And binding nature fast in fate,

Let free the human will.

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What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,

This, teach me more than hell to shun,
That, more than heaven pursue.

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What blessings thy free bounty gives,
Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives;
To enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think Thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round:

Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, thy grace impart,

Still in the right to stay;

If I am wrong, O teach my heart
To find that better way!

Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,

At aught thy wisdom has denied,
Or aught thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I see;

That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quicken'd by thy breath;

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O lead me wheresoe'er I go,

Through this day's life or death!

This day, be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun,

Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,
And let thy will be done.

To Thee, whose Temple is all space,
Whose altar, earth, sea, skies;

One chorus let all Being raise!

All nature's incense rise!

THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GREY.

FIRST PUBLISHED BY DR. PERCY.

It was a Friar of Orders Grey

Walk'd forth to tell his beads;

And he met with a lady fair,

Clad in a pilgrim's weeds.

"Now Christ thee save, thou reverend Friar, 5

I pray thee tell to me,

If ever at yon holy shrine

My true-love thou didst see.”

"And how should I know your true-love

From many another one ?"

“O, by his cocklẹ hat, and staff,

And by his sandal shoon :

"But chiefly by his face and mien,

That were so fair to view;

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His flaxen locks that swectly curl'd,

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And eyne of lovely blue.”