DON CARLOS.

"Vulnus alit venis, et cæco carpitur igni."

O, why has he harness'd his warrior-steed

Is his spirit still sateless of fame?

Expell'd is the Moor, and his countrymen freed,
And emblazon'd with heroes his name.

Has his castle no charms?'tis the noblest in Spain, Of Grenada the bulwark and pride!

Have youth, health, and beauty, been lavish'd in vain ? Of renown and of riches-a tide?

But she that could hear them, and share them, is gone, Those eyes are extinguish'd in night,

That sadden'd or brighten'd for Carlos alone,

Or melted in streams of delight;

Like the eagle he flew,-but he pined like the dove,~Where the Cross with the Crescent had strife!

He liv'd but to love! he died but to prove

How sweeter his love, than his life!

THE HORSE AND THE RIDER,

A FRAGMENT.

And some there were, who shudd'ring, said
He held communion with the dead,

Deep in the midnight glen ;

What time, his fix'd and trembling steed,
Of old Godolphin's gen'rous breed,
Ne'er felt a fear,—till then!

THE

Conflagration of Moscow:

A POEM.

PREFACE.

THIS Poem, in its first edition, was not unfavourably received, but it was considered too short. It is now three times as long. Perhaps I have added many faults, to remove one. Be that as it may, the Poem is now long enough—if good for -if good for any thing,

too long--if good for nothing. It was written at such intervals as could be spared from the prosecution of a larger work; but although this may be some excuse for writing bad lines, I admit it is none for printing them.---If fine themes always made fine