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Then hail thy Catharine wise and great,
And spread the trump's parade of sound,
But see her day of glory flown-
Yet Fame shall her Elysium raise,
And seated in unfading bowers,
And circle high the mount sublime,
“ Blest, Alfred, be thy honoured name :
“ And sweet the songs, his ears that greet, “ The Prince, whose bosom glows with Freedom's flame,
“ Still blossom, 'mid the lapse of years,
" See Britain rising from her seat,
“ Ardent in Freedom's sacred cause “ Proclaims thee, Alfred, wise and good and great.
“ 'Twas thine each citizen to fire,
They pant the thirsty lance to wield,
They rush impetuous to the field, “ And Freedom sees her foes expire.
They ceas'd—and cease the lyric strain-
Though still, its day of splendor o'er,
Thus Alfred shines, a glorious name,
The TRAVELLER'S RETURN.
Sweet to the morning traveller
The sky-lark's earliest song, Whose twinkling wings are seen at fits
The dewy light among.
And cheering to the traveller
The gales that round him play, When faint and heavily he drags
Along his noon-tide way.
And when beneath the unclouded sun
Full wearily toils he,
Most pleasant melody.
And when the evening light decay's
And all is calm around, There is sweet music to his ear
In the distant sheep-bells sound.
And sweet the neighbouring church's bell
That marks his journey's bourne ; But sweetest is the voice of Love
That welcomes his return.
To a SPIDER.
Spider ! thou need'st not run in fear about
Lest thou should'st eat the flies,
One day roast me.
Thou art welcome to a Rhymer sore-perplext,
The subject of his verse :
Perhaps might comment worse.
As I will mine.