Driginal Poetry.

Supplement.

VOL. II.

THE CRUSADES.

BY MR. JOHN MITFORD,

OF ORIEL COLLEGE, OXFORD.

SPIRIT, who sitt'st in solitude, unseen,
Watching the change of nations, as they roll
Their fated round, beneath the wing of Time,
That ever with it's swift and ceaseless strokes
Brings manifest alteration; now a gleam
Of joyous sun-shine pouring, and e'en now
Plunging in total darkness man and all
His vaunted powers: Spirit, who hast seen
This awful change, as down oblivion's gulf
With swelling sail, full tide, and surges high
We fated speed, give ear unto my song!
Meanwhile, if strength possessing, from the grasp
Of dire Oppression it essays to sing

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Man's proud deliverance, when the' assembled chiefs Woke Europe into arms, and pour'd their might Upon the Asian Continent, as thick

As are the locust-armies in the breeze;

What time Christ's Sepulchre from Paynim hands
They strove to liberate, and their toilsome way
Unto the Holy Land fervid they bent.

Time was, o'er Europe's desolated plain

Her ebon wand and cowl of sable hue

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Grim Superstition spread. Oppression then
Frown'd from his feudal castle, and with heel
Contemptuous spurn'd the vassal croud below.
Oh, 'twas a time of darkness! for the spirit
Of man was humbled, and he plenteous drank
The bitter draught of slavery: he had not
A pleasant home of quietude and rest,
A peaceful dwelling in the tufted woods.
And vocal waters bosom'd; but he heard
Instead of the soft music of the vale,
Soft music from oat-pipe, or pastoral reed,
Far other notes, and sounds of sadder tone.
Unceasing gall'd the fetter, and the scourge
Tore every throbbing vein: then, quite subdue'd
And plung'd in such calamitous constraint,
Himself of heaven descended, and of earth
A freeman, he forgot;-till his mind sunk,
And with the body's bondage felt it's own.

-So was it darkness in the land, and all
Lay wrapt in lethargy: blind Ignorance wav'd
His leaden sceptre, and with cold, dull touch
Spread wide his clustering mildew. Spring arose
And op'd her flowers in vain; in vain around
Her roses Summer strew'd ;-for none were there
To taste their breathing sweet: the purple brow
Of Autumn glow'd; and not a cheerful sound,
And not a merry carol hail'd him in.
Seasons return'd; but not to man return'd
Hope or deliverance; with the herds he held
Sad, painful sojourn, and his lapsed powers
Almost forgot:-so farewell hope! farewell
All noble enterprize! on every gale

The shrieks of anguish came; unceasing howl'd
The fiends of famine, and the dogs of death.

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But who is he?-yon Eremite ?—that cries To all the sons of Europe," Rouse to war?" Bare is his head, and with unshrinking foot He mocks the pointed flint; while on his cheek Glows love of enterprize, and his quick eye Darts forth unusual fervour. Bolder now Blows he the blast of terror: at the sound The Soldan sinks recoiling, and in vain To Alla weeps. Obedient Europe hears The call; the fetters from her armed hands Drop; and in adamant and complete steel She waves the crimson banner. Thither flock Myriads of gathering people; for, all lov'd The pleasing sorcery, and could not choose But join the throng. Forth from his midnight cave, Where late the secret work of death he ply'd, The daring robber creeps; the peasant wields The scythe, now raging in the ranks of war. Here croud the knights, their rich retinue led, Their grooms and coursers; here the baron waves His gorgeous Oriflamme; kings, prelates, here Pour to the holy standard: thick they seem'd As those embodied forces which at Thebes Or Ilium conquer'd, or those numerous bands Headed by Charlemagne. Ambition's sons Came flocking here, and here the scoundrel train Of Avarice, all their bestial views conceal'd Under Religion's garb : for, Fancy play'd In thousand orient hues, and lov❜d to build Her gorgeous imagery, their fond hopes belying With sweet delusion. Thus, not few entic'd The mines of gold and jasper, the sweet groves Of balm and myrrh and nard, where every gale Drops perfume from it's wings; and not a few

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