SIR ELDRED OF THE BOWER, By HANNAH MORE. PART I. O noftra Vita, ch'e fi bella in vista! Quel, ch'en molt' anni a grand pena s' acquista ! PETRARCA HERE was a young, and valiant Knight, T And never did a worthier wight The rank of knighthood elaim. Where gliding Tay, her stream fends forth, SIR ELDRED's caftle flood. The youth was rich as youth might be And many a noble feat had he Atchieved, in hall, and bower. He did not think, as some have thought, The fame a father dearly bought, Cou'd make the fon renown'd. He better thouht, a noble fire, Who gallant deeds had done, The fairest ancestry on earth SIR ELDRED's heart was good and kind, A crowd of virtues grac'd his mind, When merit raised the sufferer's name, But facred truth the Muse compels Tho' kind and gentle as the dove, Yet Yet if the passions ftorm'd his foul, The whirlwind rage disdain'd controul, Not Thule's waves so wildly break As when in summer's sweetesl day, Sudden the lightning's blast defcends, At once the various ruin blends, But when, to clear his stormy breaft, O then what anguish he betray'd! His shame how deep, how true! He view'd the waste his rage had made And shudder'd at the view. The meek-ey'd dawn, in saffron robe, Up rose the fun to gild the globe, The birds their vernal notes repeat, When pious ELDRED walk'd abroad Who gave the goodly day. That done he left his woodland glade, Within the bofom of a wood, While many a prouder castle fell, Of Of Of eglantine an humble fence Around the manfion flood, The wood receiv'd an added grace, And view'd its ever verdant face The smallness of the stream did well But little streams may serve to tell This manfion own'd an aged Knight, As heaven just shews to human fight His youth in many a well-fought field The vigour of a green old age His reverend form did bear; : And |