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Oh evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit,
And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod; For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong,
Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God.
It was about the noon of a glorious day of June,
That we saw their banners dance, and their cuirasses
And the Man of Blood was there, with his long essenced
And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of the
Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his sword, The General rode along us to form us to the fight, When a murmuring sound broke out, and swell'd into a shout
Among the godless horsemen upon the tyrant's right.
And hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore,
The cry of battle rises along their charging line! For God for the Cause! for the Church, for the Laws ! For Charles King of England, and Rupert of the
The furious German comes, with his clarions and his
His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of Whitehall; They are bursting on our flanks.
Grasp your pikes, close
conquer or to fall.
They are here! They rush on! We are broken! We are gone!
Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast. O Lord, put forth thy might! O Lord, defend the right! Stand back to back, in God's name, and fight it to the last.
Stout Skippon hath a wound; the centre hath given ground:
Hark! hark!--What means the trampling of horsemen on our rear?
Whose banner do I see, boys? 'Tis he, thank God, 'tis
Bear up another minute: brave Oliver is here.
Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row, Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the dykes,
Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the Accurst, And at a shock have scattered the forest of his pikes. Fast, fast, the gallants ride, in some safe nook to hide Their coward heads, predestined to rot on Temple Bar: And he he turns, he flies :-shame on those cruel eyes That bore to look on torture, and dare not look on war.
Ho! comrades, scour the plain; and, ere ye strip the slain,
First give another stab to make your search secure, Then shake from sleeves and pockets their broad-pieces and lockets,
The tokens of the wanton, the plunder of the poor.
Fools! your doublets shone with gold, and your hearts were gay and bold,
When you kissed your lily hands to your lemans to
And to-morrow shall the fox, from her chambers in the
Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the prey.
Where be your tongues that late mocked at heaven and hell and fate,
And the fingers that once were so busy with your
Your perfum'd satin clothes, your catches and your oaths, Your stage-plays and your sonnets, your diamonds
and your spades?
Down, down, for ever down with the mitre and the crown, With the Belial of the Court, and the Mammon of the
There is woe in Oxford Halls; there is wail in Durham's
The Jesuit smites his bosom: the Bishop rends his
And She of the seven hills shall mourn her children's ills, And tremble when she thinks on the edge of England's
And the Kings of earth in fear shall shudder when they hear
What the hand of God hath wrought for the Houses
and the Word.
O LISTEN, listen, ladies gay!
'Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew!
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
'The blackening wave is edged with white;
'Last night the gifted Seer did view
A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay;
"Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
"Tis not because the ring they ride,
1 Inch, isle.
O'er Roslin all that dreary night,
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ;
And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail.
There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
And each St. Clair was buried there,
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild wings sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle !
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
IN SEVEN PARTS
IT is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
'The Bridegroom's doors are open'd wide, And I am next of kin ;
The guests are met, the feast is set :
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon !' Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye-
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner :
'The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the light-house top.
'The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
'Higher and higher every day
Till over the mast at noon-'
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The Bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;