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Daughters of Albion! weep;

On this triumphant plain,
Your fathers, husbands, brethren sleep,
For you and freedom slain.

O! gently close the eye

That loved to look on you;

O seal the lip whose earliest sigh,
Whose latest breath was true:

With knots of sweetest flowers.

Their winding-sheet perfume; And wash their wounds with true-love showers, And dress them for the tomb.

For beautiful in death

The Warrior's corse appears, Embalm'd by fond Affection's breath,

And bathed in Woman's tears.

-Give me the death of those Who for their country die; And O be mine like their repose, When cold and low they lie!

Their loveliest mother Earth

Enshrines the fallen brave,

In her sweet lap who gave them birth,
They find their tranquil grave.

THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK.

RETURNING from their evening walk,

On yonder ancient stile,
In sweet, romantick, tender talk,
Two lovers paused awhile :

EDMUND, the monarch of the dale,
All conscious of his powers;

ELLA, the lilly of the vale,

The rose of Auburn's bowers!

In airy Love's delightful bands
He held her heart in vain;
The nymph denied her willing hands
To Hymen's awful chain.

"Ah! why," said he, "our bliss delay!

"Mine ELLA; why so cold? "Those who but love from day to day, "From day to day grow old.

"The bounding arrow cleaves the sky, "Nor leaves a trace behind;

"And single lives like arrows fly,
"They vanish through the wind.

"In wedlock's sweet endearing lot "Let us improve the scene,

"That some may be when we are not, "To tell-that we have been."

"Tis now," replied the village Belle,
"Saint Mark's mysterious eve;
"And all that old traditions tell
"I tremblingly believe :-

"How, when the midnight signal tolls,
Along the church-yard green,
"A mournful train of sentenced souls
"In winding sheets are seen!

"The ghosts of all whom Death shall doem "Within the coming year,

"In pale procession walk the gloom, "Amid the silence drear!

"If EDMUND, bold in conscious might,

"By love severely tried,

"Can brave the terrors of to-night, "ELLA will be his bride."

She spake, and like the nimble fawn,
From EDMUND's presence fled :

He sought, across the rural lawn,
The dwelling of the dead!

That silent, solemn, simple spot,
The mouldering realm of peace,
Where human passions are forgot!
Where human follies cease!

The gliding moon through heaven serene Pursued her tranquil way,

And shed o'er all the sleeping scene

A soft nocturnal day.

With swelling heart and eager feet

Young EDMUND gain'd the church,

And chose his solitary seat

Within the dreadful porch.

Thick, threatening clouds assembled soon, Their dragon wings display'd;

Eclipsed the slow retiring moon,

And quench'd the stars in shade.

Amid the deep abyss of gloom
No ray of beauty smiled,

Save, glistening o'er some haunted tomb,
The glow-worm's lustre mild.

The village watch-dogs bay'd around,
The long grass whistled drear,
The steeple trembled to the ground,
Ev'n EDMUND quaked with fear.

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All on a sudden died the blast,

Dumb horrour chill'd the air,
While Nature seem'd to pause aghast,
In uttermost despair.

-Twelve times the midnight herald toll'd,

As oft did EDMUND start;

For every stroke fell dead and cold
Upon his fainting heart.

Then glaring through the ghastly gloom,
Along the church-yard green,

The destined victims of the tomb
In winding sheets were seen.

In that strange moment EDMUND stood,
Sick with severe surprise;

While creeping horrour drank his blood,
And fix'd his flinty eyes.

He saw the secrets of the grave!
He saw the face of DEATH!
No pitying power appear'd to save-
He gasp'd away his breath!

Yet still the scene his soul beguiled,

And every spectre cast

A look unutterably wild,

On EDMUND as they pass'd.

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