Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;

Cynthia's shining orb was made

Heav'n to clear, when day did close:
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart

And thy crystal shining quiver;

Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever :
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.

B. JONSON

COUNTY GUY

АH! County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,

The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.

The lark, his lay who trill'd all day,

Sits hush'd his partner nigh;

Breeze, bird, and flower, confess the hour

But where is County Guy?

The village maid steals through the shade,

Her shepherd's suit to hear;

To beauty shy, by lattice high,
Sings high-born Cavalier.
The star of Love, all stars above,

Now reigns o'er earth and sky;

And high and low the influence know—

But where is County Guy?

SIR W. SCOTT

Ꮐ

THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

LORD BYRON.

THE CAVALIER

WHILE the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray,
My true love has mounted his steed, and away

Over hill, over valley, o'er dale, and o'er down,—

Heaven shield the brave Gallant that fights for the Crown!

He has doff'd the silk doublet the breastplate to bear,
He has placed the steel cap o'er his long-flowing hair,
From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down,—
Heaven shield the brave Gallant that fights for the Crown!

For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws; Her King is his leader, her Church is his cause;

His watchword is honour, his pay is renown,—

God strike with the Gallant that strikes for the Crown!

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