A graceful knight who met his view,
  Sat pleading by a lady’s side;
And Alwin’s jealous bosom knew
  Lord Percy, and his fated bride.

Mistaken youth! thy eyes have seen,
  The persons pictur’d in thy mind;
But who is that, with pensive mien,
  And forehead on her hand reclin’d?

O’er whom Lord Ranulph fondly bends,
  With sorrow seated on his brow;
While the regretting tear descends
  O’er his pale cheek, in silent woe.

“Ah! is it thus?” sad Alwin said,
  The fancied bride the accents knew,
Lord Percy rais’d his drooping head,
  And lovely Emma met his view.

Then rapture and surprize prevail’d,
  Each bosom felt confus’d delight;
While his return the mourner hail’d,
  And thus his sorrows did requite.

“O, dearest Alwin, now no more
  My father disapproves our flame;
No longer we thy loss deplore,
  Or tremble to pronounce thy name.

“A noble friend has gain’d our cause,
  And vanquish’d all his former hate;
Who, ere he own’d a lover’s laws,
  With generous tears had wept thy fate.”

“Yes, injur’d youth,” Lord Ranulph cried,
  “Thou art this day my chosen heir;
In Adelaide behold thy bride,
  Thy sister’s future husband, there.

“Lord Percy, to a candid mind,
  Unites a fervour like thy own;
And Emma, not to merit blind,
  Refers his cause to thee alone.

“If thou wilt grant his fond desire,
  ’Twill gain a brave, a noble friend;
And the possessions of thy sire,
  To his posterity descend.”

“And did my Emma stay to hear,
  Her brother sanctify her choice? 
Ah Percy! now you need not fear
  From Alwin, a dissenting voice.

“Blest in my love, in Emma blest,
  My heart each cherish’d wish obtains;
Northumbrians, now no more opprest,
  Shall own a son of Herbert reigns.

“May ye rebuild the peasant’s cot,
  Exalt the woe-depressed head,
And o’er each desolated spot,
  The fostering calm of quiet spread!

“May sterne reserve and caution cease! 
  With lenient hand dispense your sway;
Give them the healing balm of peace,
  Their wounded spirits will obey.

“Ah! cheer their gloom! dispel their care! 
  The smile will soon replace the tear;
And, wedded to a Saxon fair,
  The foreign lord no more appear.”

1794.

* * * * *

[Footnote 10:  “Wreathing his arms in this sad knot.”—­SHAKESPERE’S TEMPEST.]

[Footnote 11:  Lord of Cumberland.]

INVITATION,

To J.B.C.

Now spring appears, with beauty crown’d,
And all is light and life around,
Why comes not Jane?  When friendship calls,
Why leaves she not Augusta’s walls? 
Where cooling zephyrs faintly blow,
Nor spread the cheering, healthful glow. 
That glides through each awaken’d vein,
As skimming o’er the spacious plain,
We look around with joyous eye,
And view no boundaries but the sky.