With more than mortal powers endowed, How high they soared above the crowd! Theirs was no common party race, Jostling by dark intrigue for place; Like fabled Gods, their mighty war Shook realms and nations in its jar; Beneath each banner proud to stand, Looked up the noblest of the land, Till through the British world were known The names of PITT and Fox alone. Spells of such force no wizard grave E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave, Though his could drain the ocean dry, And force the planets from the sky. These spells are spent, and, spent with these The wine of life is on the lees. Genius, and taste, and talent gone, For ever tombed beneath the stone, LIV LOCHINVAR O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 'I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; The bride kissed the goblet: the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, 'Now tread we a measure!' said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "'Twere better by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.' One touch to her hand and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 'She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? LV FLODDEN THE MARCH NEXT morn the Baron climbed the tower, Long Marmion looked: at length his eye Amid the shifting lines: The Scottish host drawn out appears, The eastern sunbeam shines. Their front now deepening, now extending; Even so it was. From Flodden ridge And heedful watched them as they crossed The Till by Twisel bridge. High sight it is and haughty, while And sweeping o'er the Gothic arch, That morn to many a trumpet clang, And why stands Scotland idly now, |