The milky fplendors of the dawning ray

Now thro' the grove a trembling radiance fhed, With fprightly note the wood-lark hail'd the day, And with the moonshine all the vifion fled 8.

cence.

The author of this little Poem to the memory of an unhappy Princess is unwilling to enter into the controversy respecting her guilt or her innoSuffice it only to obferve, that the following facts may be proved to demonstration: The Letters, which have always been efteemed as the principal proof of Queen Mary's guilt, are forged. Buchanan, on whose authority Thuanus and other hiftorians have condemned her, has falfified feveral circumftances of her history, and has cited against her public records which never existed, as has been lately proved to demonftration. And, to add no more, the treatment fhe received from her illuftrious Coufin was dictated by a policy truly Machiavelian, a policy which trampled on the obligations of Honour, of Humanity, and Morality. From whence it may be inferred, that to express the indignation at the cruel treatment of Mary which history muft ever inspire, and to drop a tear over her fufferings, is not unworthy of a Writer who would appear in the cause of Virtue.

1

HENGIST

In vain they lov'd, in vain they vow'd,
Her heart they could not move:
Yet at the evening hour of prayer
Her mind was loft in love.

The Abbefs faw, the Abbefs knew,
And urg'd her to explain;
"O name the gentle youth to me,

"And his confent I'll gain."

Long

Long urg'd, long tir'd, fair Mey reply'd, "His name how can I fay? "An angel from the fields above "Has rapt my heart away.

"But when he heard my brother's horn "Faft to his fhips he fled: "Yet while I fleep his graceful form "Still hovers round my bed.

"Sometimes all clad in armour bright,

"He fhakes a warlike lance; "And now in courtly garments dight, "He leads the sprightly dance.

"His hair is black as raven's wing,

"His fkin as Christmas fnow,

"His cheeks outvie the blush of morn,

"His lips like rofe-buds glow.

"His limbs, his arms, his ftature, fhap'd

Fair blush'd the morn when Mey look'd o'er

The caftle-wall fo fheen;

And, lo, the warlike Saxon youth
Were fporting on the green.

There Hengift, Offa's eldest son,
Lean'd on his burnifh'd lance,
And all the armed youth around
Obey'd his manly glance.

His locks as black as raven's wing

Adown his fhoulders flow'd,

His cheeks outvied the blufh of morn,

His lips like rofe buds glow'd.

And

And foon the lovely form of Mey
Has caught his piercing eyes:
He gives the fign, the bands retire,
While big with love he fighs,

"Oh thou, for whom I dar'd the feas,
"And come with peace or war;
"Oh, by that cross that veils thy breast,
"Relieve thy Lover's care!

"For thee I'll quit my

father's throne,

"With thee the wilds explore;

"Or with thee fhare the British crown, "With thee the Crofs adore."

Beneath the timorous virgin blush,
With love's foft warmth fhe glows:
So blufhing thro' the dews of morn
Appears the opening rofe.

"Twas now the hour of morning prayer,
When men their fins bewail,

And Elmer heard king Arthur's horn
Shrill founding thro' the dale.

The pearly, tears from Mey's bright eyes.

Like April dew-drops fell,

When with a parting dear embrace

Her brother bade farewell.

The