“We bid those spectre-shapes avaunt,
"Ashtaroth, and Termagaunt!
"With many a demon, pale of hue,
"Doom'd to drink the bitter dew
"That drops from Macon's sooty tree,
"Mid the dread grove of ebony.

"Nor magic charms, nor fiends of hell,
"The Christian's holy courage quell.
"Salem, in antient majesty
"Arise, and lift thee to the sky!
"Soon on thy battlements divine
"Shall wave the badge of Constantine.

"Ye Barons, to the sun unfold

"Our Cross with crimson wove and gold!"

ODE IX.

DUNCAN'S WARNING.

BY

J. AIKIN, M.D.

As o'er the heath, amid his steel-clad Thanes,
The royal DUNCAN rode in martial pride,
Where, full to view, high-topp'd with glittering vanes,
Macbeth's strong towers o'erhung the mountain's
side;

In dusky mantle wrapp'd, a grisly form
Rush'd with a giant's stride across his way;
And thus, while howl'd around the rising storm,
In hollow thundering accents pour'd dismay.

Stop, O King! thy destin'd course,
Furl thy standard, turn thy horse,
Death besets this onward track,
Come no further,-quickly, back.

Hear'st thou not the raven's croak?
See'st thou not the blasted oak?

Feel'st thou not the loaded sky?
Read thy danger, King, and fly.

Lo, yon' castle banners glare
Bloody through the troubled air;
Lo, what spectres on the roofs
Frowning bid thee stand aloof!

Murder, like an eagle waits
Perch'd above the gloomy gates,
Just in act to pounce his prey;
Come not near- -away! away!

Let not plighted faith beguile; Honour's semblance, Beauty's smile : Fierce Ambition's venom'd dart Rankles in the fest'ring heart.

Treason, arm'd against thy life,
Points his dagger, whets his knife,
Drugs his stupifying bowl,

Steels his unrelenting soul,

Now 'tis time, ere guilty night Closes round thee, speed thy flight. If the threshold once be crost, DUNCAN! thou'rt for ever lost.

Hastes to fill his mortal date:

Cease, ye warnings, vain tho' true.

Murder'd King, adieu! adieu!