WRITTEN AT ROUEN.

The city of Rouen, (formerly the capital of Normandy, the land of chivalry,) is one of the most extraordinary-looking old towns, in Europe. The extreme narrowness of its streets, and great elevation of its houses, with their overhanging upper-stories, give an appearance of heaviness and gloom to the town, that contrasts finely with the beauty of its situation. It is surrounded, on all sides, by heights, laid out in Boulevards; receiving first, and retaining last, the rays of the rising and setting sun; and affording magnificent panoramic views of the windings of the Seine. Its squares and streets are ornamented with fountains.

THE Seine is like a belt of gold,—

Beneath an autumn sky,

That floats, in many a crimson fold,

Like a banner hung on high!

The town sleeps, darkly, on the stream,

Where lights and shadows play,

While wave on wave-like dream on dream

Smile, as they glide away!

And here I stand-as here I stood,

How many years ago!

When life danced onward, like the flood,
With music in its flow!

But now, my breast, like yonder dome,
Where sleeps the Lion-heart,*

Is half a temple-half a tomb,
But has no earthly part!

My spirit keeps the trace-like thee,

Of many a lost parade,—

Dreams of the soul's young chivalry,
Of many a wild crusade!

-Like thee, dark town!—like thee, in all
But thy many gushing fountains,

Yet, brightened, still, by lights that fall

From heaven,-like thy blue mountains!

* The heart of Richard, of England, is deposited in the Cathedral, at Rouen.