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Stout Glo'ster * ftood aghaft in fpeechless
trance ; To arms ! cried Mortimer t, and couch'd
his quiv’ring lance,
to the troubled
* Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and Hertford, son-in-law to King Edward.
ť Edmund de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore.
They both were Lords-Marchers, whose lands lay on the borders of Wales, and probably accompanied the King in this Expedition.
# The image was taken from a well-known picture of Raphael, representing the supreme Be. ing in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two of these paintings (both believed original) one at Florence, the other at Paris. | Shone, like a meteor, streaming to the
wind, Milton's Paradise Loft.
And with a master's hand and prophet's fire, Struck the deep forrows of his lyre.
Hark, how each giant oak, and desart cave, • Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! • O’er thee, O King! their hundred arms
they wave, Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs
breathe; « Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, • To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewel
1. 3. Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, · That hụsh'd the stormy main : • Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed; • Mountains, ye mourn in vain
Modred, whose magic song ''Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud
top'd head. On dreary Arvon's shore they ly*,
* The spores of Caernarvonshire, opposite to the isle of Anglesey,
Smear’d with gore, and ghastly pale : • Far, far aloof th'affrighted ravens sail ;
The familh'd eagle screams * and passes by. Dear loft companions of
tuneful art, * Dear, as the light that visits those fad
[heartt, • Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my • Ye died amidst your dying country's cries-
No more I weep. They do not sleep,
On yonder cliffs, a grisly band.. · I see them fit, they linger yet,
* Cambden and others observe, that eagles used annnally to build their aerie among the rocks of Snowden, which from thence ( as some think) were named by the Welch, Craigian
ryri, or the craigs of the eagles. At this day (I am told) the highest point of Snowdon is called The Eagles Neft. That bird is certainly no stranger
to this island, as the Scots and people of Cumberland, Westmoreland, &c. can testify; it even has built its nest in the Peak of Derbyshire. (See Willoughby's Ornithol. published by Ray.)
+ As dear to me as are the ruddy drops, That visit
Shakespeare's Julius Cæfar.
Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join*, * And weave with bloody hands the tissue
of thy line *
II. “ Weave the warp, and weave the woof, “ The winding-sheet of Edward's race ; “ Give ample room, and verge enough « The characters of hell to trace. “ Mark the year, and mark the night, “ When Severn shall re-eccho with affrighet, “ The shrieks of death, through Berkeley's
roofs that ring; “ Shrieks of an agonizing king! [fangs “ She wolf of France I, with unrelenting “ That tear'lt the bowels of thy mangled
* See the Norwegian Ode that follows.
+ Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkely castle.
#Ifabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous Queen.
“ From thee be born|l, who o'er thy coun
try hangs “ The scourge of Heav'n. What terror
round him wait! “ Amazement in his van, with Flight com
bin'd; “ And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude
“ Mighty victor, mighty Lord, “ Low on his funeral couch he lies * ! “ No pitying heart, no eye afford “ A tear to grace his, obsequies. “ Is the fable warriour fled + ? [dead.
• Thy fon is gone. He rests among the “ The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam
were born, “ Gone to falute the rising Morn. Il Triumphs of Edward the Third in France.
Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed, in his last moments, by his courtiers and his mistress,
+ Edward the Black Prince, dead fome time before his father,