LORD WILLIAM AND EDMUND. No eye beheld when William plunged Submissive all the vassals owned But never could Lord William dare In vain at midnight's silent hour, Each hour was tedious-long, yet swift A fearful day was that! the rains Reluctant, now as night came on, When lo! the voice of loud alarm His inmost soul appals "What ho! Lord William rise in haste! The water saps the walls!" He rose in haste, beneath the walls He saw the flood appear: It hemmed him round-'twas midnight now, No human aid was near. He heard a shout of joy! for now The boatman plied the oar, the boat "I heard a child's distressful scream" The boatman cried again; "Nay, hasten on-the night is dark, And we should search in vain." "Oh, God! Lord William, dost thou know "How horrible it is to sink To stretch the powerless arms in vain! The shriek again was heard, it came And near them they beheld a child; A little crag, and all around Was spread the rising flood. "Now reach thy hand," the boatman cried, The child stretched forth his little hands Then William shrieked ;-the hand he touched Was cold, and damp, and dead! He felt young Edmund in his arms, A heavier weight than lead! "For mercy help," the murderer cried, SOUTHEY.-Adap. THE INCHCAPE ROCK. The good old abbot of Aberbrothock Had fixed a large bell on the Inchcape Rock; When the rock was hid by the surge's swell, The sun in heaven was shining gay, The float of the Inchcape bell was seen, As soon as he knew 'twas the bell and float, This ill-deed done, he sailed away, So thick a haze o'erspread the sky, On deck the rover takes his stand: O, I should like to hear the Inchcape Bell! They hear no sound, the swell is strong, Sir Ralph then wildly tore his hair, But the waves rush'd in on every side, And the vessel sank beneath the tide.-SOUTHEY.-Adap. THE BELLS. Hear the sledges with the bells Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinabulation that so musically swells From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Hear the loud alarum bells- What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells. How they scream out their affright! They can only shriek and shriek, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavour By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells, How they clang, and clash, and roar! On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear too fully knows, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Still the ear distinctly tells In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the be Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, In the clamour and the clangour of the bells!-EDG BETH-GELERT. The spearmen heard the bugle sound, And many a brach, and many a hound, "Where does my faithful Gelert roam? Only at the Welsh prince's board He watched, he served, he cheered his lord, In sooth he was a peerless hound, But now no Gelert could be found, That day Llewellyn little loved Displeased, Llewellyn homeward hied: But when he gained his castle door, The hound was smeared with drops of gore, Onward in haste Llewellyn past, O'erturned his infant's bed he found, He called his child, no voice replied- |