9.

"O'er hill and field the war-drum peal'd,
High flamed the beacon-flame,
And each noble peer, from far and near,
To Haquin's standard came.
I saw ten thousand lances gleam
Beneath the winter's swart sun-beam!
They hide old Gormul's snow-capt height,
They hide the craggy dell;
And I hastened thro' the waves of night,
The tidings of war to tell."




THE EXILE:

A POEM.

--Superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est.


'Twas night: the stars denied one cheering ray,
And wrapp'd in clouds the lunar splendours lay.
No lightest zephyr brush'd the silent floods,
Or swept the bosom of the lofty woods:
Each human heart the general calm confess'd;