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Now Gorcum glows beneath the summer sky,
And calls on us to pace her peaceful streets;
But we have sights to see of rarer dye,

And lesser must give place to greater treats;
Thou swear'st the torture from those scorching heats

Is tenfold worse than was the pinching cold;

But we must take the bitters with the sweets,

He only frets himself, who fumes and scolds

At cureless ills- -how oft must this be told?


Nay, there are those, and certes oft have been,
Who could from real ills, draw real weal;

"Tis said that Socrates's scolding quean,

Who gave him many a broken head to heal,

First taught him patience, which he straight would deal,

And preach to others-eke Demosthenes1,

A very stammerer by Nature's seal,

1 It is known to every one, that Demosthenes was born with great natu

In time by management of tongue and face,
Could speak with greatest fluency and grace.


What! rain again! 'tis fanciful, 'tis strange;
But I like fancy, when it comes well mix'd
With other things-it is a pleasant change

From the plain prose of life, so tame, so fix'd.
But what is fanciful?-The twenty-sixth

Of June brought woe to every British heart;

So does it seem to 've sadden'd and perplex'd The very heavens themselves, which do impart A flood of piteous tears, incessant, smart:



Sure ne'er since the days of the Deluge of old,
Were such torrents pour'd forth on the earth;
And but that 'twill not come again, we are told,
We might swear that a second had birth :

ral defects; but which, with care, he completely overcame, so that he could
utter the most harmonious and agreeable sounds.

George IV.

Would'st thou know why this gloom so long darkens the sky?

Whence those waters which fall have their spring? 'Tis the firmament weeps that a Monarch must die,

That Monarch our Father, our King!


The Star which rose o'er Britain's Isle,
'Midst horror and amaze,

Whilst Gallic wrath and tyrant wile,

Shook empires to their base.

The Star, which, with its brilliant light,
Was hail'd from many a strand,

By myriads who, in pale affright,
Sought safety from the brand-

The Star, beneath whose kindling ray

The Despot was enchain'd,

And peace on earth, through England's sway,

Restor'd and still maintain'd.

That Star, alas! has just gone down,

And darkness fills the realm:

Our King has, for a worldly crown,

Found one of heavenly calm!!


But let us leave those sorrows, for behold,

Just peeping through yon cloud, thy brightening spire, Old Nimeguen-'twould shame us to be told,

That we should lack or feeling, force or fire,

With thee in sight-Oh! No! thou could'st inspire

The veriest clod-within thy sacred walls,

Proud Charlemagne, Ay! Cæsar too still higher,

Wont wield the rod of state-But in thy halls,

Was sign'd that shameful peace which still recalls


A sneer of pity for the witless few,

Who were the dupes of Gallic sophistry:

1 It was altogether in opposition to the wishes of their Stadtholder, William III. that the Treaty of Nimeguen was concluded by the United Provinces; but Louis XIV. had contrived, with his usual address, to divide the allies; pleasing the Dutch by restoring to them Maestricht, but at the same time, dictating most disadvantageous terms to their Allies; then it was that Spain gave up to France, not only Franche Comte, but several cities in Flanders, such as Valenciennes, Bouchain, Condé, Cambray, &c. &c.


Hoorn and

Lo! here too lies the dastard's glave which slew,

Thy twain 1 brave honour'd sons, but so to die,
Is but to live in immortality!—

Soaring aloft, and mingling with those souls,

Who, from this nether world would sometimes hie,
Abhorrent of all base and harsh controls;

'Tis somewhat strange, but martyrdom consoles !



And well it may, console us of that land,
Where it has prov'd the very source and spring
Of lawful heritage; yes! thank the band,

The noble band, who gain'd us that great thing,
Yclep'd the Charta, from a stubborn King;

And hence far abler heads, and wiser reigns,

In yielding more, have strengthen'd more the string,
Which binds, in self-imposed silken chains,

A British Monarch, and his loyal swains!

1 The sword with which Counts Hoorn and Egmont were beheaded, is still preserved at Nimeguen,-those two high-minded lords who spurned the control of the Spanish general, the Duke of Alva, and ultimately fell beneath his cruel axe in 1568.

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