CARADOC AND SENENA. From Southey's Madoc. It was the evening gale, Which passing o'er the harp of Caradoc, The solitary bard, beside his harp Leant underneath a tree, whose spreading boughs, A blind man would have loved the lovely spot, Trembling, yet not reluctant. They drew nigh, Ran o'er the harp-strings. At the sudden sound Thine harper?-come! one strain for Britain's sake; But if the strain offend, oh lady fair, Blame thou the theme, not me !—then to the harp And woman's plighted faith. I have beheld Secure the sunshine will not end in showers; "False bard!" thereat With smile of playful anger she exclaim'd, False bard! and slanderous song! were such thy thoughts Of woman, when thy youthful lays were heard Had pledged her troth; not rashly nor begu ̈ed,- "Oh fate unjust Of womankind!" she cried; "our virtues bloom, Like violets, in shade and solitude, While evil eyes hunt all our failings out, For evil tongues to bruit abroad in jest, The loathing maid. The wedding day arrived, Wait for the bride. But she the while did doff Knows not the trembling one, who even now He turn'd, he knew The blue-eyed maid, who fell upon his breast. ARTHUR AND PENDRAGON. By John Grubb, M. A. THE following lines from two stanzas of a burlesque poem, Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, entitled, "St. Geor for England;" in which every hero that could be thought of, introduced and travestied, so as to become a foil to the fabulo champion of England. It is a very diverting ballad poem, writt for an anniversary feast held on St. George's day, by a club of Oxfor gentlemen, all of whom were of the name of George. Out of t whole, the following lines are the only ones that could bear relative connexion with this work. EDITOR. The story of King Arthur old Is very memorable, The number of his valiant knights, And roundness of his table: A circle state, d'ye see, And altogether made up one He had a sword both broad and sharp, Would cut a flint more easily But George he did the dragon fell, And gave him a plaguy squelsh. - George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France, Sing Honi soit qui mal y pense. Pendragon like his father Jove, Did wear a crest of leeks, And onions' heads whose dreadful nod Itch and Welsh blood did make him hot, And very prone to ire; H' was tinged with brimstone like a match And never turn'd his back to aught, But George he made the dragon an St.George he was for England, St. Dennis was for France THE WAKENING OF CAMBRIA. By Mrs. Hemans. Inscribed to the Cymmrodorion Society, on her admission as an honorary member of the Institution. Ir is a glorious hour to him Who stands on Snowdon's monarch brow, And, rolling swift before the breeze, Girt with green isles, and sparkling seas, *This facetious author, in the boundlessness of his courtesy toward Wales and Welshmen, seems to have given us here, somewhat beyon our claim, or the sanction of history: the Harp and the Crwth wer the boasts of our ancestors, but Mr. Grubb, (Phoebus, what name !) kind, generous man! to favour our predilection for triads, suppose, has assigned to us a third-the Scotch Fiddle. EDITOR. |