Dr. Nimrod, whose orthodox toes

Are seldom withdrawn from the stirrup;
Dr. Humdrum, whose eloquence flows,
Like droppings of sweet poppy syrup;
Dr. Rosygill puffing and fanning,
And wiping away perspiration;
Dr. Humbug, who proved Mr. Canning
The beast in St. John's Revelation.

A layman can scarce form a notion

Of our wonderful talk on the road; Of the learning, the wit, and devotion, Which almost each syllable showed: Why divided allegiance agrees

So ill with our free constitution; How Catholics swear as they please, In hope of the priest's absolution;

How the Bishop of Norwich had bartered
His faith for a legate's commission;
How Lyndhurst, afraid to be martyr'd,
Had stooped to a base coalition;
How Papists are cased from compassion
By bigotry, stronger than steel;
How burning would soon come in fashion,
And how very bad it must feel.

We were all so much touched and excited
By a subject so direly sublime,
That the rules of politeness were slighted,
And we all of us talked at a time;

And in tones, which each moment grew louder,
Told how we should dress for the show,
And where we should fasten the powder,
And if we should bellow or no.

Thus from subject to subject we ran,
And the journey passed pleasantly o'er,

Till at last Dr. Humdrum began;

From that time I remember no more.
At Ware he commenced his prelection,
In the dullest of
And whe next I

SONG. (1827.)

O STAY, Madonna! stay;

"Tis not the dawn of day

That marks the skies with yonder opal streak:
The stars in silence shine;

Then press thy lips to mine,
And rest upon my neck thy fervid cheek.

O sleep, Madonna! sleep;
Leave me to watch and weep
O'er the sad memory of departed joys,
O'er hope's extinguished beam,

O'er fancy's vanished dream,
O'er all that nature gives and man destroys.

O wake, Madonna! wake;

Even now the purple lake

Is dappled o'er with amber flakes of light;
A glow is on the hill;

And every trickling rill

In golden threads leaps down from yonder height.

O fly, Madonna! fly,

Lest day and envy spy

What only love and night may safely know:

Fly, and tread softly, dear!

Lest those who hate us hear

The sounds of thy light footsteps as they go.

THE DELIVERANCE OF VIENNA.

TRANSLATED FROM VINCENZIO DA FILICAIA.

(Published in the "Winter's Wreath," Liverpool, 1828.)

"Le corde d'oro elette," &c.

THE chords, the sacred chords of gold,
Strike, oh Muse, in measure bold;

And frame a sparkling wreath of joyous songs
For that great God to whom revenge belongs.
Who shall resist his might,

Who marshals for the fight

Earthquake and thunder, hurricane and flame?

He smote the haughty race

Of unbelieving Thrace,

And turned their rage to fear, their pride to shame.
He looked in wrath from high,

Upon their vast array;
And, in the twinkling of an eye,
Tambour, and trump, and battle-cry,
And steeds, and turbaned infantry,

Passed like a dream away.

Such power defends the mansions of the just:
But, like a city without walls,

The grandeur of the mortal falls

Who glories in his strength, and makes not God his trust.

The proud blasphemers thought all earth their own;
They deemed that soon the whirlwind of their ire

Would sweep down

The Christian altars a

And soon, they cr

To the dust her lo

The princedoms of Almayne

Shall wear the Phrygian chain;

In humbler waves shall vassal Tiber roll;
And Rome, a slave forlorn,

Her laurelled tresses shorn,

Shall feel our iron in her inmost soul.
Who shall bid the torrent stay?
Who shall bar the lightning's way?
Who arrest the advancing van
Of the fiery Ottoman ?

As the curling smoke wreaths fly
When fresh breezes clear the sky,
Passed away each swelling boast
Of the misbelieving host.
From the Hebrus rolling far
Came the murky cloud of war,
And in shower and tempest dread
Burst on Austria's fenceless head.
But not for vaunt or threat
Didst Thou, oh Lord, forget

The flock so dearly bought, and loved so well.
Even in the very hour

Of guilty pride and power

Full on the circumcised Thy vengeance fell.
Then the fields were heaped with dead,
Then the streams with gore were red,

And every bird of prey, and every beast,
From wood and cavern thronged to Thy great feast.

What terror seized the fiends obscene of Nile!
How wildly, in his place of doom beneath,
Arabia's lying prophet gnashed his teeth,
And cursed his blighted hopes and wasted guile !
When, at the bidding of Thy sovereign might,
Flew on their destined path
Thy messengers of wrath,

Riding on storms and wrapped in deepest night.
The Phthian mountains saw,

And quaked with mystic awe :

The proud Sultana of the Straights bowed down Her jewelled neck and her embattled crown. miscreants, as they raised their eyes

g defiance on Thy skies,

Saw adverse winds and clouds display
The terrors of their black array ;—
Saw each portentous star

Whose fiery aspect turned of yore to flight
The iron chariots of the Canaanite

Gird its bright harness for a deadlier war.

Beneath Thy withering look
Their limbs with palsy shook;

Scattered on earth the crescent banners lay;
Trembled with panic fear

Sabre and targe and spear,

Through the proud armies of the rising day.
Faint was each heart, unnerved each hand;
And, if they strove to charge or stand,
Their efforts were as vain

As his who, scared in feverish sleep
By evil dreams, essays to leap,

Then backward falls again.
With a crash of wild dismay,

Their ten thousand ranks gave way;
Fast they broke, and fast they fled;
Trampled, mangled, dying, dead,
Horse and horseman mingled lay;
Till the mountains of the slain
Raised the valleys to the plain.

Be all the glory to Thy name divine!

The swords were ours; the arm, O Lord, was Thine.

Therefore to Thee, beneath whose footstool wait
The powers which erring man calls Chance and Fate,
To Thee who hast laid low

The pride of Europe's foe,

And taught Byzantium's sullen lords to fear,
I pour my spirit out

In a triumphant shout,

And call all ages and all lands to hear.
Thou who evermore endurest,
Loftiest, mightiest, wisest, purest,
Thou whose will destroys or saves,
Dread of tyrants, hope of slaves,
The wreath of glory is from Thee,
And the red sword of victory.