And so no doubt he perished. When the Youth The Priest here ended. The Stranger would have thanked him, but he felt A gushing from his heart, that took away The power of speech. Both left the spot in silence; And Leonard, when they reached the churchyard gate, As the Priest lifted up the latch, turned round, It was not long ere Leonard reached a grove That overhung the road: he there stopped short, And, sitting down beneath the trees, reviewed All that the Priest had said: his early years Were with him: his long absence, cherished hopes, And thoughts which had been his an hour before, All pressed on him with such a weight, that now This vale, where he had been so happy, seemed A place in which he could not bear to live: So he relinquished all his purposes. He travelled back to Egremont: and thence, 1800. II. ARTEGAL AND ELIDURE. (SEE THE CHRONICLE OF GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH AND MILTON'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.) WHERE be the temples which, in Britain's isle, To fatal dissolution; and, I ween, No vestige then was left that such had ever been. Nathless, a British record (long concealed The marvellous current of forgotten things; A brood whom no civility could melt, "Who never tasted grace, and goodness ne'er had felt." By brave Corineus aided, he subdued, ; And this too-long-polluted land imbued Whence all the fixed delights of house and home, cannot roam. O happy Britain! region all too fair Thus fares it still with all that takes its birth earth. Hence, and how soon! that war of vengeance waged By Guendolen against her faithless lord; Till she, in jealous fury unassuaged, Had slain his paramour with ruthless sword: She flung her blameless child, That name through every age, her hatred to de clare. So speaks the Chronicle, and tells of Lear Ye lightnings, hear his voice! — they cannot hear, And he, recovering sense, upon her breast There too we read of Spenser's fairy themes, With that terrific sword Which yet he brandishes for future war, What wonder, then, if, in such ample field While I this flower transplant Into a garden stored with Poesy; Where flowers and herbs unite, and haply some weeds be, That, wanting not wild grace, are from all mischief free! A KING more worthy of respect and love sway; He poured rewards and honors on the good; The oppressor he withstood; And while he served the Gods with reverence due, Fields smiled, and temples rose, and towns and cities grew. He died, whom Artegal succeeds, his son; But how unworthy of that sire was he! A hopeful reign, auspiciously begun, Was darkened soon by foul iniquity. From crime to crime he mounted, till at length The nobles leagued their strength With a vexed people, and the tyrant chased; And on the vacant throne his worthier Brother. placed. From realm to realm the humbled Exile went, Suppliant for aid his kingdom to regain ; |