ARTHUR and ALBINA.


Ah me! the yellow western sky turns pale,
And leaves the cheerless sons of earth to mourn;
And yet I hear net in the silent vale,
A sound to tell me Arthur does return.

Ah, haste ye hours! quick plume the loit'ring wing!
Bring back my hero, crown'd with glorious spoils!
Let bards on lofty harps his triumphs sing,
And loud applause repay successful toils!

Reward the flame, ye great celestial pow'rs,
The noble flame that in his bosom glows!
Inspire him, Druids, from your holy bow'rs,
With strength to conquer iron-breasted foes![1]

With heighten'd vigour brace his nervous arm,
And let his lance with ten-fold fury fly,
Make him terrific by some potent charm,
And add new lightening to his piercing eye!

Then may my lover gain unrivall'd fame,
The Roman banners may less proudly flow,
Then he may humble their detested name,