Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room and verge enough, The Characters of hell to trace.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight, Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!

Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy banners wait, Though fanned by Conquest's crimson wing They mock the air with idle state.

O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.

Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today.

Love, then unstinted, Love did sip, And cherries plucked fresh from the lip; On cheeks and roses free he fed; Lasses like autumn plums did drop, And lads indif…