THE HAMLET.-AN ODE.

The hinds how blest, who ne'er beguiled To quit their hamlet's hawthorn wild, Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main, For splendid care, and guilty gain!

When morning's twilight-tinctured beam Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam, They rove abroad in ether blue, To dip the scythe in fragrant dew; The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell, That nodding shades a craggy dell.

Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear, Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear: On green untrodden banks they view The hyacinth's neglected hue: In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, They spy the squirrel's airy bounds; And startle from her ashen spray, Across the glen, the screaming jay: Each native charm their steps explore Of Solitude's sequester'd store.

For them the moon with cloudless ray
Mounts, to illume their homeward way:
Their weary spirits to relieve,
The meadow's incense breathe at eve.
No riot mars the simple fare,
That o'er a glimmering hearth they share:
But when the curfew's measured roar
Duly, the darkening valleys o'er,
Has echoed from the distant town,
They wish no beds of cygnet-down,
No trophied canopies, to close
Their drooping eyes in quick repose.

Their little sons, who spread the bloom
Of health around the clay-built room,
Or through the primrosed coppice stray,
Or gambol in the new-mown hay;
Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine,
Or drive afield the tardy kine;
Or hasten from the sultry hill,
To loiter at the shady rill;
Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest,
To rob the raven's ancient nest.

Their humble porch with honey'd flowers The curling woodbine's shade embowers: From the small garden's thymy mound Their bees in busy swarms resound: Nor fell Disease, before his time, Hastes to consume life's golden prime;

But when their temples long have wore
The silver crown of tresses hoar,
As studious still calm peace to keep,
Beneath a flowery turf they sleep.

THE CRUSADE.-AN ODE.

Bound for holy Palestine,
Nimbly we brush'd the level brine,
All in azure steel array'd:
O'er the wave our weapons play'd,
And made the dancing billows glow;
High upon the trophied prow,
Many a warrior-minstrel swung
His sounding harp, and boldly sung:

“Syrian virgins, wail and weep,
English Richard 1 ploughs the deep !
Tremble, watchmen, as ye spy
From distant towers, with anxious eye,
The radiant range of shield and lance
Down Damascus' hills advance:
From Sion's turrets, as afar
Ye ken the march of Europe's war!
Saladin,2 thou paynim 3 king,
From Albion's isle revenge we bring !
On Acon's 4 spiry citadel,
Though to the gale thy banners swell,
Pictured with the silver moon,
England shall end thy glory soon!
In vain to break our firm array,
Thy brazen drums hoarse discord bray:
Those sounds our rising fury fan:
English Richard in the van,
On to victory we go,
A vaunting infidel the foe!”

Blondel 5 led the tuneful band,
And swept the lyre with glowing hand.
Cypress, from her rocky mound,
And Crete, with piny verdure crown'd,
Far along the smiling main
Echoed the prophetic strain.

Soon we kiss'd the sacred earth
That gave a murder'd Saviour birth!
Then with ardor fresh endued,
Thus the solemn song renew'd :

“Lo, the toilsome voyage past,
Heaven's favor'd hills appear at last !
Object of our holy vow,
We tread the Tyrian valleys now.

From Carmel's almond-shaded steep
We feel the cheering fragrance creep:
O'er Engaddi's' shrubs of balm
Waves the date-empurpled palm;
See Lebanon's aspiring head
Wide his immortal umbrage spread !
Hail Calvary, thou mountain hoar,
Wet with our Redeemer's gore!
Ye trampled tombs, ye fanes forlorn,
Ye stones, by tears of pilgrims worn;
Your ravish'd honors to restore
Fearless we climb this hostile shore !
And, thou, the sepulchre of God,
By mocking pagans rudely trod,
Bereft of every awful rite,
And quench'd thy lamps that beam'd so bright
For thee, from Britain's distant coast,
Lo, Richard leads his faithful host!
Aloft in his heroic hand,
Blazing like the beacon's brand,
O’er the far-affrighted fields,
Resistless Kaliburn2 he wields.
Proud Saracen, pollute no more
The shrines by martyrs built of yore!
From each wild mountain's trackless crown
In vain thy gloomy castles frown:
Thy battering-engines, huge and high,
In vain our steel-clad steeds defy;
And, rolling in terrific state,
On giant-wheels harsh thunders grate.
When eve has hush'd the buzzing camp,
Amid the moonlight vapors damp,
Thy necromantic forms, in vain,
Haunt us on the tented plain:
We bid those spectre-shapes avaunt,
Ashtaroth 3 and Termagaunt!4
With many a demon, pale of hue,
Doom'd to drink the bitter dew
That drops from Macon's5 sooty tree,
'Mid the dread grove of ebony.
Nor magic charms, nor fiends of hell,
The Christian's holy courage quell.

“Salem, in ancient majesty
Arise, and lift thee to the sky!
Soon on the battlements divine
Shall wave the badge of Constantine.
Ye barons, to the sun unfold
Our cross, with crimson wove and gold !"

WILLIAM ROBERTSON. 1721-1793.

William ROBERTSON, the celebrated historian, was born at Bosthwick, in the county of Mid-Lothian, Scotland, on the 8th of September, 1721. At the early age of twelve he obtained admission into the university, where his subsequent progress in learning was rapid, in proportion to the astonishing acquirements of his childhood. On entering the ministry of the established church of Scotland, he performed the duties of his station with exemplary diligence; and in 1759, by the publication of the “ History of Scotland,” he commenced that series of admirable histories, which have justly placed him among the very first historical writers of his country. In 1769 he published his “ History of Charles V.," which raised his then increasing reputation still higher, and which, from the general interest belonging to the subject, was very popular. The introductory part consists of an able sketch of the political and social state of Europe at the time of the accession of Charles V.,' a most important period, which forms the connection between the middle ages and the history of modern European society and politics. In 1777 he published his “ History of America,” and in 1791, “ An Historical Disquisition concerning the Knowledge which the Ancients had of India.” After spending a life of equal piety, usefulness, and honor, he died on the 11th of June, 1793.

Most of the works of Dr. Robertson relate to that important period, when the countries of Europe were beginning to form constitutions, and act upon the political systems which were for centuries preserved. His style is easy and flowing, his language correct, his opinions enlightened, his investigation diligent, and his expressions temperate. Hume, notwithstanding the difference of their religious opinions, greatly extolled his History of Scotland; and Gibbon has borne ample testimony both to his accuracy and his style.

RESIGNATION OF CHARLES V.

Charles resolved to resign his kingdoms to his son, with a solemnity suitable to the importance of the transaction; and to perform this last act of sovereignty with such formal pomp, as might leave an indelible impression on the minds, not only of his subjects, but of his successor. With this view, he called Philip out of England, where the peevish temper of his queen, which increased with her despair of having issue, rendered him extremely unhappy; and the jealousy of the English left him no hopes of obtaining the direction of their affairs. Having assembled the states of the Low Countries, at Brussels, on the 25th of October, 1555, Charles seated himself, for the last time, in the chair of state ; on one side of which was placed his son, and on the other his sister, the Queen of Hungary, Regent of the Netherlands ; with a splendid retinue of the grandees of Spain, and princes of the empire, standing behind him. The president of the council of Flanders, by his command, explained, in a few words, his intention in calling this extraordinary meeting of the states. He then read the instrument of resignation, by which Charles surrendered to his son Philip all his territories, jurisdiction, and authority in the Low Countries ; absolving his subjects there from their oath of allegiance to him, which he required them to transfer to Philip, his lawful heir, and to serve him with the same loyalty and zeal which they had manifested, during so long a course of years, in support of his government.

Charles then rose from his seat, and, leaning on the shoulder of the Prince of Orange, because he was unable to stand without support, he addressed himself to the audience, and, from a paper which he held in hand, in order to assist his memory, he recounted with dignity, but without ostentation, all the great things which he had undertaken and performed since the commencement of his administration. He observed, that, from the seventeenth year

of his

age, he had dedicated all his thoughts and attention to public objects; reserving no portion of his time for the indulgence of his ease, and very little for the enjoyment of private pleasure: that, either in a pacific or hostile manner, he had visited Germany nine times, Spain six times, France four times, Italy seven times, the Low Countries ten times, England twice, Africa as often, and had made eleven voyages by sea: that while his health permitted him to discharge his duty, and the vigor of his constitution was equal, in any degree, to the arduous office of governing such extensive dominions, he had never shunned labor, nor repined under fatigue:

when his health was broken, and his vigor exhausted by the rage of an incurable distemper, his growing infirmities admonished him to retire ; nor was he so fond of reigning as to retain the sceptre in an impotent hand, which was no longer able to protect his subjects, or to render them happy : that, instead of a sovereign worn out with diseases, and scarcely half alive, he gave them one in the prime of life, accustomed already to govern, and who added to the vigor of youth all the attention and sagacity of maturer years : that if, during the course of a long administration, he had committed any material error in government; or if, under the

pressure so many and great affairs, and amidst the attention which he had been obliged to give to them, he had either neglected or injured any of his subjects; he now implored their forgiveness: that for his part, he should ever retain a grateful sense of their fidelity and attachment, and would carry the remembrance of it along with him to the place of his retreat, as his

that now,

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