POETRY.
EDGEHILL.
OCTOBER 23, 1642.
" Queen Mary in the field," I hear
That clarion ringing still, The Palgrave's war-cry keen and cleat At dusk below Edgehill.
The mists of Autumn rising blue Hide the long wooded ledge, I hear the horse-hoofs crashing through The cat's-ice in the sedge.
0 deathless day of high romance When king and people met To put the issue to the chance, With faces fiercely set.
What wonder if on such a night The lonely peasant hears The far-off echoes of the fight, The clash of swords and spears.
What wonder from their hasty graves If restless spirits rise, Where lost Sir Edmund Verney waves His standard to the skies; If in the moonlight shifting through The shadowy beechen groves, They fight their tournament anew,
If here his spirit moves—
Brave Rupert, wizard, lord of song, The light of ladies' eyes, Who saw the right and did the wrong In kindly human wise ; Here in this. place, as on this day, Soft heart, and courage steeled, He leads his troopers to the fray,
"Queen Mary in the field." A health to courage now, or then,
Good rest to those that fall, Good luck to those that live again, To bear the trumpets call.
A health to all stout company, That knows not how to yield ; A tertiavit three times three, " Queen Mary in the field."
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