- WHEN MOONLIKE ORE THE HAZURE SEAS. 581

black

Our arms are red, and our foes are dead,

And we leave a ship in flames!

DEAR Jack, this white mug that with

And drink to the health of sweet Nan WHEN moonlike ore the hazure seas

Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jo- When silver jews and balmy breaze

When calm and deap, the rosy sleap
Has lapt your soal in dreems,
R Hangeline! R lady mine!

Dost thou remember Jeames ?

I mark thee in the Marble All,
Where England's loveliest shine-
I say the fairest of them hall

Is Lady Hangeline.
My soul, in desolate eclipse,
With recollection teems-

And then I hask, with weeping lips,
Dost thou remember Jeames?

Away! I may not tell thee hall
This soughring heart endures.
There is a lonely sperrit-call

That Sorrow never cures ;
There is a little, little Star,

That still above me beams;
It is the Star of Hope-but ar!
Dost thou remember Jeames?

THE LEGEND OF ST. SOPHIA OF KIOFF.

The Poet describes the city and spelling of Kiow, Kioff, or Kiova.

AN EPIC POEM, IN TWENTY BOOKS.

I.

A THOUSAND years ago, or more,
A city filled with burghers stout,
And girt with ramparts round about,
Stood on the rocky Dnieper shore.
In armor bright, by day and night,

The sentries they paced to and fro.

Well guarded and walled was this town, and called
By different names, I'd have you to know;
For if you looks in the g'ography books,

In those dictionaries the name it varies,

And they write it off Kieff or Kioff,

Kiova or Kiow.

II.

Its buildings, public works, and ordinances, religious and civil.

Thus guarded without by wall and redoubt,
Kiova within was a place of renown,

With more advantages than in those dark ages

Were commonly known to belong to a town.

There were places and squares, and each year four fairs,
And regular aldermen and regular lord mayors ;
And streets, and alleys, and a bishop's palace;
And a church with clocks for the orthodox -
With clocks and with spires, as religion desires;
And beadles to whip the bad little boys
Over their poor little corduroys,

In service-time, when they didn't make a noise;
And a chapter and dean, and a cathedral-green
With ancient trees, underneath whose shades
Wandered nice young nursery-maids.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-a-ring-ding,
The bells they made a merry merry ring,
From the tall tall steeple; and all the people

Sainted Sophia (so the legend vows)
With special favor did regard this house;

And to uphold her converts' new devotion
Her statue (needing but her legs for her ship)
Walks of itself across the German Ocean;

And of a sudden perches

In this the best of churches,

Whither all Kiovites come and pay it grateful worship.

VII.

Thus with her patron-saints and pious preachers
Recorded here in catalogue precise,

A goodly city, worthy magistrates,

You would have thought in all the Russian states
The citizens the happiest of all creatures, -
The town itself a perfect Paradise.

VIII.

No, alas! this well-built city
Was in a perpetual fidget;
For the Tartars, without pity,
Did remorselessly besiege it.

The poet shows how a certain priest dwelt at Kioff, a godly clergyman, and one that preached rare good sermons.

How this priest was short and fat of body;

And like unto the author of "Plymley's Letters."

Of what convent he was prior, and when the convent was built.

Of Saint Sophia of Kioff; and how her statue miraculously travelled thither.

And how Kloff should have been a happy city; but that

Certain wicked Cossacks did besiege it,

Murdering the citizens,

Until they agreed to pay a tribute yearly.

How they paid the tribute, and then suddenly refused it,

To the wonder of

the Cossack envoy.

Or a mighty gallant speech

That the lordmayor made,

Exhorting the burghers to pay no longer.

Of their thanks

and heroic resolves.

They dismiss the

envoy, and set about drilling.

Tartars fierce, with sword and sabres,
Huns and Turks, and such as these,
Envied much their peaceful neighbors
By the blue Borysthenes.

Down they came, these ruthless Russians,
From their steppes, and woods, and fens,
For to levy contributions

On the peaceful citizens.

Winter, Summer, Spring, and Autumn,
Down they came to peaceful Kioff,
Killed the burghers when they caught 'em,
If their lives they would not buy off.

Till the city, quite confounded
By the ravages they made,
Humbly with their chief compounded,
And a yearly tribute paid.

Which (because their courage lax was)
They discharged while they were able:
Tolerated thus the tax was,

Till it grew intolerable.

And the Calmuc envoy sent,
As before to take their dues all,
Got, to his astonishment,

A unanimous refusal!

"Men of Kioff!" thus courageous

Did the stout lord-mayor harangue them,
"Wherefore pay these sneaking wages
To the hectoring Russians? hang them!

"Hark! I hear the awful cry of
Our forefathers in their graves;
Fight, ye citizens of Kioff!
Kioff was not made for slaves.'

"All too long have ye betrayed her;
Rouse, ye men and aldermen,

Send the insolent invader

Send him starving back again."

IX.

He spoke and he sat down; the people of the town,
Who were fired with a brave emulation,

Now rose with one accord, and voted thanks unto the lord-
Mayor for his oration:

The envoy they dismissed, never placing in his fist

So much as a single shilling;

And all with courage fired, as his lordship he desired,
At once set about their drilling.

Then every city ward established a guard,
Diurnal and nocturnal :

Militia volunteers, light-dragoons, and bombardiers,
With an alderman for colonel.

There was muster and roll-calls, and repairing city walls,
And filling up of fosses :

Of the City guard: viz. militia, dragoons, and bombardiers, and their commanders.

Of the majors

And the captains and the majors, so gallant and courageous, and captains, A-riding about on their hosses.

To be guarded at all hours they built themselves watch

towers,

With every tower a man on ;

And surely and secure, each from out his embrasure,

Looked down the iron cannon!

A battle-song was writ for the theatre, where it
Was sung with vast enérgy

And rapturous applause; and besides the public cause

Was supported by the clergy.

The pretty ladies'-maids were pinning of cockades,

And tying on of sashes;

And dropping gentle tears, while their lovers bluster'd fierce,
About gunshot and gashes;

The ladies took the hint, and all day were scraping lint,
As became their softer genders;

And got bandages and beds for the limbs and for the heads
Of the city's brave defenders.

The men, both young and old, felt resolute and bold,

And panted hot for glory;

The fortifications and artillery.

Of the conduct of the actors and the clergy.

Of the ladies;

Even the tailors 'gan to brag, and embroidered on their flag And, finally, or "AUT WINCERE AUT MORI."

the taylors.

X.

Seeing the city's resolute condition,

The Cossack chief, too cunning to despise it,
Said to himself, "Not having ammunition
Wherewith to batter the place in proper form,
Some of these nights I'll carry it by storm,

And sudden escalade it or surprise it.

"Let's see, however, if the cits stand firmish."
He rode up to the city gates; for answers,
Out rushed an eager troop of the town elite,
And straightway did begin a gallant skirmish:
The Cossack hereupon did sound retreat,
Leaving the victory with the city lancers.

Of the Cossack chief, his

stratagem ;

And the bur ghers' sillie victorie.