The great reward, by following those that creep Along shore, when thy country's hopes are tost On the wide main-by warring tempests crost, And well nigh founder'd in the yawning deep? *******, awake! It is thy country's voice

That bids thee rouse-that calls thee to her side. Thy name, so oft in glorious conflict tried, When victory hath bid her sons rejoice,

We now invoke, to stem destruction's tide. Awake! arise! the patriot hath no choice.

66

SONNET IV.

Upon the king!"-SHAKSP. HENRY V.

*******, awake !-The warning voice again— Again, again it sounds-awake! arise!

Purge off the noxious film that clouds thine eyes, Engender'd erst in faction's secret den.

There is NO PARTY now for honest men

None but their country's. Here the good and wise Have fix'd the sacred standard, that defies Mere human force, and will be shaken then Only, when God ordains. Upon a rock

It stands secure. An oak's wide branches fling Their shadows round its base. About it flock

The nations, and there rest the wearied wing, Unscathed by scorching hate, or envy's shockThat rock our country, and that oak our king.

A CHRONICLE OF THE KINGS

OF ENGLAND,

FROM THE INVASION OF JULIUS CESAR TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1688.

PROLOGUE.

My worthy little Joe, come listen to my song !
I hope you will not think it dull, albeit something

long.

I began it for your brothers, some twenty years ago, And now I'll finish it for you, my worthy little Joe. This famous land of Britain, 'tis since two thou

sand years,

Was parcell'd out to various tribes, as plainly it appears

By Cæsar's martial pen; though, how it so befell, Whatever we may guess, is more than you or I can

tell.

For, since the use of letters was to those tribes unknown,

And men ne'er chronicled their acts on parchment or on stone,

So all we've since been told of Brute, that Trojan bold, Of Gorboduc, or Albanact, or Lud or Bladud old, Of good King Coil, or Lear, with his royal daughters three,

Are tales invented but to please a nation's vanity.

Yet of their ancient Druids from Rome we something know,

Of rites perform'd in oaken groves, and the sacred misletoe ;

And wonderful Stonehenge, on Sarum's lonely

height,

Yet stands, to show how well they built, although they could not write.

INVASION OF JULIUS CESAR. BEF. CHR. 55.

Ere man's redemption dawn'd, some fifty years or

more,

His conquering legions Julius led from Gaul's opposing shore;

Twice visited our isle; the Thames at Coway cross'd, Encamp'd in London, and advanced to Verulam his

host.

Cassibelan was chief among the Britons then, Whose son was Cymbeline, renown'd by Shakspere's

famous pen;

Him follow'd Caradoc, a name to freedom dear, Who with the Roman eagle strove through many a tedious year,

But, led at length in chains, to swell the victor's

state,

Display'd the unconquerable will, triumphant over fate.

Nor till a century pass'd since Cæsar had survey'd

Our sea-girt coast, and Rome had yet no lasting

conquest made,

Agricola first traversed the land from side to side, Beat Galgacus, and built a chain of forts 'twixt Forth and Clyde.

Another

SECOND CENTURY.

age glides o'er, unmark'd in history's line, Save by the walls which Hadrian raised, and peaceful Antonine,

To curb the lawless Scots in their ungenial home, And guard from painted Highlanders the provinces of Rome.

To humbled Britain then it little difference made If rightful loins the purple wore, or usurpation sway'd;

And profitless the tale how bold Albinus held Cæsarean power, to be at length by stern Severus quell'd.

THIRD CENTURY.

Four years in Britain's isle the conqueror remain'd, Completed Hadrian's bulwark mound, and many victories gain'd;

Made famous York his seat; then closed his aged

eyes:

Whose monster son with brother's blood achieved

the imperial prize.

Nigh fourscore winters more, with slow and silent

расе,

Crept on, and of their peaceful lapse scarce left a dubious trace;

king of ships," unfurl'd his "wings

Then Caros,
of pride,"

And dared with Rome's acknowledged lords the

sceptre to divide.

Seven years the shores of Britain confess'd his sove

reign sway;

Then, beat at Boulogne, he at York by traitors

murder'd lay.

Constantius well avenged his fate, and soon was made Joint emperor, and Italy with Gaul and Britain

sway'd

A true and valiant prince, who, summon'd to resign By death, his peaceful sceptre left to chosen Constantine.

FOURTH CENTURY.

When Constantine was dead, and Rome had ceased

to be

Sole mistress of the subject world, and seat of em

pery,

}

The lawless Scots and Picts, who long had kept,

controll❜d,

Within their Caledonian woods,

their hold,

now, rushing from

Burst thro' the Roman mounds, and, fiercely rolling

down,

Laid waste fair Britain's peopled fields, and hum

bled tower and town.