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He thinks how settling to its ocean grave
The Paynim Dromond: sunk beneath the wave.
He seems to wave in fight his magic' brand,
And chase the crescent from God's chosen land.
Fond fancy paints the fight already done,
The cross triumphant-Calvary-Salem won;
While o'er her rescued towers in thought he sees
Redemption's banner float upon the breeze.
Each hope of earth, each baser wish subdued,
High thoughts and holy tamed his fiercer mood.
And, tho’ he dreamt of battle, o'er his soul
Like evening's breath a dewy softness stole;
While heavenly ardour lit his kindling eye,
In prayer bent upward on the glowing sky,
In prayer that God would consecrate his arm
To quell heaven's foes—to shield heaven's saints from harm.
And what, if in his bosom's core enshrined,
Thy form, fair queen, still hover'd o'er his mind:
And some fond thoughts e'en in that solemn hour,
Still clung, Navarre, around thy sweetest flower ?
If, tho' he pray'd to heav'n, his trust the while
Was placed too much in thine approving smile;
If, tho' he dreamt on Sion's foes o'erthrown,
Thy beck’ning hand to victory waved him on;
If, tho' he struck for heav'n, he deem'd it sweet
To lay his trophies at his lady's feet,-
Oh! surely chivalry, thy mystic shrine
Glow'd with a ray “less earthly than divine."
And, while it taught the stubborn breast to feel,
Shedding soft influence o'er each heart of steel,
It well might boast, that kindled from above,
Some holier lustre played around the torch of love.
Sound the glad note of triumph-loud and high
Fling to the breeze the shout of Victory.
Richard has won-o'er Acre's vanquish'd holds
The Red-cross banner spreads its rustling folds.
In vain pale sicknesse dimm'd his quick blue eye:
It could not quell his spirit's energy.
In vain with foes each neighbouring height was crown'd;
In vain Saphaeddin's? warriors hover'd round-
The fiery Bedouin's spear is knapt in twain;
And Egypt's scourges strew the cumber'd plain.
Why sleeps the minstrel's spirit-stirring voice,
Nor bids, as erst, the conquering host rejoice?
: On the voyage Richard's fleet fell in with a large Turkish Dromond, which at last he sank, by ordering his galleys to charge it with their beaks. She was filled with provisions, military stores, and supplies of Greek-fire and venomous serpents, which she was carrying to the beseiged.-See Lingard, Hist. Eng., vol. ii. p. 261.
* See Warton's Hist. of English Poetry, vol. i. p. 125.
5 Richard married Berengaria, Princess of Navarre, at Lymesol in Cyprus, just before he left that place for Palestine, whither he took his newly married queen with him.
• During the Siege of Acre, Richard, in consquence of a fever was brought on the field in a pallet, from which he continued to direct the operations of his troops.
? But the besiegers were themselves besieged; and from the neighbouring mountains Saladin, with an immense army, watched all their motions. Saphaeddin was Saladin's brother. During this crusade he requested the honour of knighthood for his son from Richard. Lingard's Hist. of Engl. vol. ii. p. 457.
What mean the whisper'd murmurs of the crowd ?
Why lowers on Richard's brow care's gathering cloud ?
And wilt thou, perjured Philip, hasten home
Heedless of Sion, and thy Saviour's tomb ?
And onward speeds the Christian host. Their way
No power may check, their soul no risk dismay.
Mark where half-veiled by morning's leaden haze,
Jaffa's time-honoured watch-towers meet their gaze.
But see those sand-clouds borne along the sky;
The countless host of Saladin is nigh.
From many a clime his gathering squadrons flow
To crush the Christians in one whelming blow.
Hark! the deep music of the Eastern drum-
On, like the Thunder's rolling voice they come.
They close-they mingle--but what boots to tell,
How the cross triumph'd, and the crescent fell.
And many a day speeds on ; while on their way
Fainting they toil beneath the sun's fierce ray:
Till seen at length against the evening sky,
Thy beauty, Salem, meets their longing eye.
How passing sweet the countless thoughts that roll,
Fast-eddying o'er each warrior's musing soul,
As, Olivet, upon thy breezy brow
He turns to gaze toward the plain below;
Or kneels, perchance, where Jesus knelt-_around
All has strange interest—all is hallowed ground-
The city's airy spires the thymy sod
Mid list’ning crowds a present Saviour trod-
Or Bethany, where thy white roofs are seen
Deep-nestling 'mid yon olive's leafy screen ;
Where in wild dalliance the glad zephyr weaves
Its billowy laughter o'er the whitening leaves.
Fast fades the present from the heated brain,
And all the past is acted o'er again-
Her busy household cares forsaken now,
Light-hearted joy hath fled pale Martha's brow:
And meeker Mary's eye of softest blue,
Scarce dares to meet her pitying Saviour's view.
Frail mourner, doubt not-he too loved; and lo!
He weeps with thee, o'ercome by human woe.
And must they, baffled, turn them back again,
Each toil endured, each danger past in vain ?
Must the loved summons,“ Save the sepulchre,”
At starlit eve ring idly on their ear?
Still must they see the tall mosque tower on high,
And point in mockery to the clear blue sky;
While the Muezzin's evening call to prayer
Swells wildly by on Sion's sainted air ?
Alas ! 'tis so ! slowly with starting tear
They leave those scenes to Christian memory dear.
Yet stays the lion-hearted king to cast
One lingering look, the longest and the last : * The roll of the kettle-drum, the one generally used in the East, has a peculiariy wild effect when heard at a distance.
oglavkás maldorópou pullov člaias, SOPHOCLES, (Ed. Col. The common willow frequently presents the same appearance from the grayish underside of the eaves being turned up by the wind.
Then veils' his face, unworthy all to see
That hallowed spot he vainly sighed to free.
Bright land, farewell! war’s maddening din is o'er ;
No longer armed myriads throng thy shore.
And Albion's king, last of that Red-cross band,
His work unfinish'd, sorrowing quits thy strand.
E'en now their white sails shaken to the wind,
His bounding galleys leave the shore behind ;
And glancing gaily in the morning ray
Skim lightly, Acre, o'er thy smiling bay.
But see! he turns to take one last look more-
A moment lingers on thy craggy shore ;
Thy rocks, woods, waters, wildly blending, sees,
And feels the cool gush of thy balmy breeze.
Hark! while he gazes on the scene so fair,
Bursts from his swelling breast the struggling prayer".
Most holy land, may Israel's God incline
“His pitying ear, and raise his trampled vine;
“ And oh! in mercy may he grant to me
· Life to return again, and set thee free.”
Harp of the ages, it is sweet to hear
Thy mystic strains thrill on the raptured ear,
And oh! what wilder, deeper notes are thine,
Than those which tell of widow'd Palestine !
Oh! how I loved ’neath boyhood's cloudless sky
To tread the flowery glades of poesy,
And drink those trancing sounds, and fondly dwell
On knightly days, that pleased me all too well.
E'en then my thoughts would often turn to thee,
Richard, bright star of England's chivalry;
With thee to mourn the captive's galling chain,
Or joy at Blondel's 12 old familiar strain.
And oft to Fancy's eye I pictured then
The joyous scene which hail'd thee home again,
The shout of triumph and the happy smile,
Which bade thee welcome to thine own fair isle.
What tho’ base traitors sighed to know thee free?
They could not quench the love that burned for thee!
For thou hadst won full many a Saxon 13 heart,
Which long had felt oppression's rankling smart;
Hadst bid 'neath many a rugged bosom glow
That loyal flame, which none but Britons know;
And taught Britannia's sons afar to rear
The laurell’d trophies of her bow and spear.
And years have o'er those old crusaders cast
The dim mysterious mantle of the past.
10. And veiling his face exclaimed with an indignant voice, "Those who are unwilling to rescue, are unworthy to view the sepulchre of Christ.' Gibbon, vol, xi.
11 The next morning he turned to take a last view of the shore, and with outstretched arms, exclaimed, “Most holy land, I commend thee to the care of the Almighty; may he grant me life to return and rescue thee from the yoke of the infidels.” Vinesauf. 428.
12. Alluding to the old story of his favourite minstrel discovering the castle in which Richard was confined.
! Richard I. was the first of our Norman kings who became at all popular with the Saxon portion of his subjects.
And hurried down time's dark untiring stream,
Monarch and minstrel, priest and hero seem
The shadowy phantoms of a fever'd dream.
No more the Arab 14 warrior chides his steed,
“ Is Richard there, why start from yonder reed ?":
Nor Eastern mothers to their infants sing
Of Richard, England's lion-hearted king.
Yet deem not buried in oblivion's gloom,
Idly he sleeps forgotten in the tomb.
Idly he sleeps not. Hark! his guardian voice
Still loudly bids his conquering isle rejoice;
Still bids her children guard with jealous care
The myrtle wreath that binds her golden hair ;
And echoed, gallant Sidney, in each tone
That cheer'd 'neath Acre's walls thy followers on;
And, as in ancient game, from hand to hand,
Still speeding onward past the gleaming brand,
So still hath shone his valour's early flame,
Still brightly shines, and aye shall shine the same,
Undying still shall light with sleepless ray
Where glory leads, the brightest, noblest way.
By Henry Mildred Birch, of King's College.
"Αμμι δ' έoικε κελαδήσαι το Δαματρος κλυτον
άλσος Ελευσίνα.-PIND. Isth. Ι. 80.
*Αρα παρβέβακας έρασμία χθών και
παρβέβακας ωγυγίων "Έλευσι
αστέων άωτος, εραμία τε
αμφίς έχει σε
στυγν’ ορεύσα, δουλοσύνα τ' ; άνολβον
α δακρύω πλουτοδότειραν αίαν
εισιδών οίω χρόνος ημάθυν' άν-
χ’ δς τα πάντα πλην ιερώ δέδωκεν
λαμπρόν αλίου φάος" αλλά μάνα μου
άλλεται κήρ στάθεσιν, ευτ’ εγείρω
δαιμόνων έδoς, σε γάρ ου πιάζει
κωμα λάθας νάγρετον, άν φιλίσταν
είχε Δαμάτηρ, δρεπέμεν τ' έδωκεν
άφθονον όλβω 14 So great was the terror which Richard inspired, that for many years it was customary among the Arabs to reprove their horses thus; and their women used to frighten their children with his name. In the time of the Bruce, the name of Douglas was put to a similar use. The following song is still preserved.
“Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye,
do not fret ye,
The black Douglas shall not get ye.” 1 “But all, except their sun, is set."-BYRON.
δώρον, ανίχ' αρπαγίμαν 2 ποθεύσα
πλάζετ' οίκτρως παρθένον, αν δ' έκηλα
αλσέων σων οξυγόου τα πρώτ’ άμ-
χαίρε μοι Δαοί, σέθεν άμπί βουλαίς
πάντ' εμείδασεν γλυκύ, πάντ’ οπώρας,
πλουσίου πάντ' ωσδε θέρευς, έραννου τ'
ουδ' άρ' άγρων, ουδ' αμέλησας έργων,
μυρίοις δ' αν καρποφόρους αρούρας
αστάχυς βλαστάμασι βρίθον εξάν-
ποικίλω γαίας ανάμιγδα καρπ ω,
αμπί δ' ήν πάν καλόν αταρ τις όψεις και
τίς που άδ' ομάγυρις ; ουχ οράς, ως
πάντοθ' ες άστυ
έθνέων άπειρεσίων άγυρμοι
ταν θεόν κατέδραμον αινέοντες,
ταν θεόν λιτήσι και όρθίαις μίγ-
νυντες 3 όμοκλαίς !
τίς δέ τις τάχ' ήλθε βοα δι' ώτων;
ή κλύω λαλεϋντος, “έκας βέβαλοι,
αγνον ούδας, αγνά τέλη, θεώ χα
αύθι δ' εξαίφνης τρομερόν μ' υπήλθεν
ου βρότειός τις ψόφος, έμπρέπει δε
μαινάδων αγαλλομένων θεόρτων
αίψα δε χθων συντετάρακτο, δεινόν τ'
ερράγη Ζανός βέλος, αστραπή τε
πύρπνοος, δέδορκε δ' αωρώνυκτος
και βαρυβρόμων ολόλυγμος ύμνων-
πάς τις ερρίγησεν ιδών φλέγει δε
τυμπάνων σάλπιγξι και οργίοις όμ-
ηνίδ' ίπποι τον κάλαθον φέρουσιν,
αμπί δ' έλαι κιστοφόρων μεγίσταν
εύγμασιν καλεύσι θεον, τρέπονται δ'
έμμανείς δρομήμασιν' ωρανον μεν
δεινός αμπέχει σκότος, όρνυται δε
λαμπάδων φλόξ αιθομένων ! όρημα
2 αρπαγίμας μετέστιχεν ίχνια κώρας.-CALLIM. Hymn. ad Cerer. 3 μίγνυντες, ita apud Pind. usurpatum.