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CARADOC AND SENENA.
From Southey's Madoc.
It was the evening gale, Which passing o'er the harp of Caradoc, Swept all its chords at once, and blended .'' Their music into one continuous flow. The solitary hard, beside biz harp Leant underneath a tree, whose spreading boughs, With broken shade that shifted to the breeze, Played on the waving waters. Overhead There was a leafy murmur, at his foot The lake's perpetual ripple, and from far, Borne on the modulating gale, was heard The roaring of the mountain cataractA blind man would have loved the lovely spot, Here was Senena by her lady led, Trembling, yet not reluctant. They drew nigh, Their steps unheard upon the elastic moss Till playfully Goervyl, with quick touch, Ran o’er the barp-strings. At the sudden sound He rose-Hath then thy hand, quoth she, Oh bard, Forgot its cunning, that the wind should be Thine harper ?-come! one strain for Britain's sake; And let the theme be woman !- he replied, But if the strain offend, oh lady fair, Blame thou the theme, not me!-then to the harp He sung,~" Three things a wise man will not trust, The wind, the sunshine of an April day, And woman's plighted faith. I have beheld The weathercock upon the steeple point Steady from morn till eve, and I have seen The bees go forth upon an April morn,
Secure the sunshine will not end in showers;
« False bard!” thereat
- Oh fate unjust
Wait for the bride. But she the while did do ff
He turn'd, he knew
ARTHUR AND PENDRAGON.
By John Grubb, M. A.
The following lines from two stanzas of a burlesque poem, in Percy's Reliques of Ancienst English Poetry, entitled,
“St. George for England ;' in which every hero that could be thought of, is introduced and travestied, so as to become a foil to the fabulous champion of England. It is a very diverting ballad poem, written for an anniversary feast held on St. George's day, by a club of Oxford gentlemen, all of whom were of the name of George. Out of the whole, the following lines are the only ones that could bear a relative connexion with this work.
The story of King Arthur old
Is very memorable,
And roundness of his table :
A circle state, d’ye see,
Large hoop of chivalry.
He had a sword both broad and sharp,
Than penknife cuts a corn ;
So would it carve a rock,
From noddle down to nock.
Dissected Tarquin's riddle,
And whetstone through the middle.
And flower of all the Welsh ;
And gave him a plaguy squelsh. :, George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France,
Sing Honi soit qui mal y pense.
Was fed with milk of goat;
Of she-goat's shaggy coat:
Did wear a crest of leeks,
Drew tears from hostile cheeks.
And very prone to ire;
And would as soon take fire.
The Briton never tergiversed,
But was for adverse drubbing,
* News for the Breconians!
And never turn’d his back to aught,
Except a post for scrubbing.*
For dinner if you please ;
'Twould toast a Cheshire cheese.
Did anabaptize Pagans :
Example to all dragons.
Sing Honi soit qui mal y pense.
THE WAKENING OF CAMBRIA,
By Mrs. Hemans.
Inscribed to the Cymmrodorion Society, on her admission
as an honorary member of the Institution.
It is a glorious hour to him
Who stands on Snowdon's monarch brow,
And mists with morn's resplendence glow;
Unveil to his enraptured eye,
All Cambria's mountain majesty!
* 'This facetious author, in the boundlessness of his courtesy towards Wales and Welshmen, seems to have given us here, somewhat beyond our claim, or the sanction of history: the Harp and the Crwth were the boasts of our ancestors, but Mr. Grubb, (Phæbus, what name !) kind, generous man! to favour our predilection for triads, suppose, has assigned to us a third-the Scotch Fiddle.