A LEGENDARY TALE OF CHIVALRY:

FORGET ME NOT.

TOGETHER they sate by a river's side,
A knight and a lady gay;

And they watch'd the deep and eddying tide,
Round a flowery islet stray.

And, oh! for that flow'r of brilliant hue,

Said then the lady fair;

"To hang my neck with the blossoms blue, And braid my nut-brown hair."

The knight has plunged in the whirling wave, All for the lady's smile:

And he swims the stream with courage brave,
And he gains yon flow'ry isle.

And his fingers have cropt the blossoms blue,
And the prize they backward bear;
To deck his love with the brilliant hue,
And braid her nut-brown hair.

But the

way is long, and the current strong, And, alas-for that gallant knight!

For the waves prevail, and his stout arms fail, Though cheer'd by his lady's sight.

Then the blossoms blue to the bank he threw, Ere he sank in the eddying tide;

And "Lady, I'm gone, thine own knight true, Forget me not," he cried.

The farewell pledge the lady caught,

And hence, as legends say,

The flow'r is a sign to awaken thought,

Of friends who are far away.

For the lady fair of her knight so true,
Still remember'd the hapless lot;

And she cherish'd the flow'r of brilliant hue,
And she braided her hair with the blossoms blue,
And she called it "Forget me not !"

BISHOP MANT.

ON THE ANTIPATHIES OF PLANTS.

THE prudent will observe what passions reign
In various plants, for not to man alone,
But all the wide creation nature gave
Love and aversion. Everlasting hate
The vine to ivy bears, which yet abhors

The colewort's rankness, but with amorous twine
Clasps the tall elm. The Pæstan rose unfolds
Her bud more lovely near the fetid leek,
Crest of proud Britons, and enhances thence
The price of her celestial seent. The gourd
And thirsty cucumber, when they perceive
The approaching olive, with resentment fly
Her fatty fibres, and with tendril creep
Diverse, detesting contact; whilst the fig
Contemns not rue nor sage's humble leaf
Close neighbouring. The Herefordian plant
Caresses freely the contiguous peach,

Hazel, and weight-resisting palm, and likes
To approach the quince and the elder's pithy stem
Uneasy seated by funereal yew,

Or walnut, whose malignant touch impairs
All generous fruits, or near the bitter dews
Of cherries: therefore weigh the habits well
Of plants, how they associate best, nor let
Ill neighbourhood corrupt thy hopeful plants.

PHILLIPS.

A BARKING Sound the shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;

He halts, and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:

And now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green.

The dog is not of mountain breed ;
Its motions too are wild and shy;
With something, as the shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry.

Nor is there any one in sight

All round, in hollow, or on height;

Nor shout, nor whistle, strikes the ear;
What is the creature doing here?

It was a cove, a huge recess,

That keeps till June December's snow; A lofty precipice in front,

A silent tarn below!

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land,

From trace of human foot or hand.

There, sometimes doth the leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crag repeats the raven's croak,
In symphony austere ;

Thither the rainbow comes,-the cloud,-
And mists that spread the flying shroud;
And sunbeams, and the sounding blast
That, if it could, would hurry past;
But that enormous barrier binds it fast.
Not free from boding thoughts awhile

The shepherd stood: then makes his way
Towards the dog, o'er rocks and stones,
As quickly as he may ;

Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appall'd discoverer, with a sigh
Looks round to learn the history.
From those abrupt and perilous rocks

The man had fall'n, that place of fear!
At length upon the shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear:
He instantly recall'd the name,
And who he was, and whence he came ;
Remember'd too the very day,

On which the traveller pass'd this way.

But hear a wonder, for whose sake
This lamentable tale I tell!
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.

The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry,

This Dog had been, through three months' space,
A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain, that since that day,

When this ill-fated traveller died,
The Dog had watch'd about the spot,

Or by his master's side:

How nourish'd here through such long time,
He knows, who gave that love sublime;
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate.

WORDSWORTH.

Mr. Charles Gough, the unfortunate subject of this poem, was a resident of Manchester, who made frequent visits to the Lakes. Confiding in his knowledge of the country, he ventured to cross one of the passes of Helvellyn, late in a summer afternoon, attended only by his faithful dog. Darkness, it is supposed, came on before his expectation-he wandered from the track, and fell into one of those deep recesses where human foot rarely treads The dog was found by the side of his master after a search of many weeks. This fatal accident happened in 1811. The great northern Bard has likewise paid a pleasing tribute to the memory of this pilgrim of Nature, in the following pathetic stanzas.

ON THE DEATH OF MR. CHARLES GOUGH.

I CLIMBED the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn,
Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide,
All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling,
And starting around me, the echoes replied.

On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was bending,
And Catchedecam its left verge was defending,
One huge nameless rock in the front was impending,
When I marked the sad spot where the wanderer died.