ELEGY FOR THE KING OF THE GIPSIES, CHARLES LEE,

_Who died in a tent near Lewes, August 16, 1832, aged 74. He was
buried in St. Ann's Churchyard, in presence of a thousand spectators._


Hurrah!--hurrah!--pile up the mould:
The Sun will gild its sod:--
The Sun,--for threescore years and ten
The Gipsy's idol God!--
O'er field and fen,--by waste and wild,
He watch'd its glories rise,
To worship at that gorgeous shrine
The spirit of the skies.

No brick-built dwelling caged him in;
No lordly roof of stone;--
High o'er his couch the vault of Heaven
In star-bright splendour shone!
The rustling leaves still murmur'd there;
The rambling woodbine flower
Its twilight breath, exhal'd to cheer
The outcast's desert bower!

To him the forest's pathless depths
Their mossiest caves reveal'd;
To him, fair Nature's hand bequeath'd
Her fruits of flood and field;--