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A TALE OF ROMANCE.
This, from a youthful pilgrim's fire,
Oft, oft did she pause for the toll of the bell, Is what your pretty saints require :
And she heard but the breathings of night in the To pass, por tell a single bead, With them would be profane indeed!
Long, long did she gaze on the watery swell, But, irust me, all this young devotion,
And she saw but the foam of the white billow there. Was but to keep my zeal in motion ; And, every humbler altar past,
And often as midnight its veil would undraw, I now have reach'd THE SHRINE at last !
As she look'd at the light of the moon in the stream, She thought 't was his helmet of silver she saw,
As the curl of the surge glitter'd high in the beam. REUBEN AND ROSE.
And now the third night was begemming the sky,
Poor Rose on the cold dewy margent reclined, The darkness which hung upon Willumberg's walls There wept till the tear almost froze in her eye, Has long been remember'd with awe and dismay!
When -hark !—'t was the bell that came deep in For years not a sunbeam had play'd in its halls,
the wind ! And it seem'd as shut out from the regions of day : She startled, and saw, through the glimmering shade, Though the valleys were brighten'd by many a beam, A form o'er the waters in majesty glide;
Yet none could the woods of the castle illume; She knew 't was her love, though his cheek was And the lightning which flash'd on the neighbouring decay'd,
And his helmet of silver was wash'd by the tide. Flew back, as if fearing to enter the gloom!
Was this what the seer of the cave had foretold ?“ Oh! when shall this horrible darkness disperse ?"
Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a Said Willumberg's lord to the seer of the cave;
gleam; "It can never dispel,” said the wizard of verse, 'T was Reuben, but ah! he was deathly and cold, “Till the bright star of chivalry's sunk in the wave!"
And flitted away like the spell of a dream! And who was the bright star of chivalry then?
Twice, thrice did he rise, and as often she thought Who could be but Reuben, the flower of the age ?
From the bank to embrace him, but never, ah! For Reuben was first in the combat of men,
never ! Though Youth had scarce written his name on her Then springing beneath, at a billow she caught, page.
And sunk to repose on its bosom for ever! For Willumberg's daughter his bosom had beat,
For Rose, who was bright as the spirit of dawn, When with wand dropping diamonds, and silvery feet, It walks o'er the flowers of the mountain and lawn!
THE RING.' Must Rose, then, from Reuben so fatally sever ?
Sad, sad were the words of the man in the caye, That darkness should cover the castle for ever,
Annulus ille, viti.- Ovid. Amor. lib. ii. eleg. 15. Or Reuben be sunk in the merciless wave! She flew to the wizard—“ And tell me, oh tell! THE happy day at length arrived Shall my Reuben no more be restored to my When Rupert was to wed
The fairest maid in Saxony, " Yes, yes—when a spirit shall toll the great bell
And take her to his bed. Of the mouldering abbey, your Reuben shall rise !"
As soon as morn was in the sky,
The feast and sports began;
In many a sweet device of mirth
The day was pass'd along; When he felt that he died for the sire of his Rose !
And some the featly dance amused, To the Oder he flew, and there plunging beneath, And some the dulcet song.
In the lapse of the billows soon found his repose.How strangely the order of destiny falls !
1 I should be sorry to think that my friend had any seriNot long in the waters the warrior lay,
ous intentions of frightening the nursery by this story: 1 When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls, rather hope—though the manner of it leads me to doubt
that his design was to ridicule that distempered tasto which And the castle of Willumberg bask'd in the ray!
prefers those monsters of the fancy to the speciosa mira
cula" of true poetic imagination. All, all but the soul of the maid was in light, I find, by a note in the manuscript, that he met with this
There sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank: story in a German author, FROMMAN upon Fascination, Two days did she wander, and all the long night,
book iii. part. vi. chap. 18. On consulting the work, I per.
ceive that Fromman quotes it from Beluacensis, among In quest of her love on the wide river's bank many other stories equally diabolical and interesting.-E.
The younger maids with Isabel
Disported through the bowers, And deck'd her robe, and crown'd her head
With motley bridal flowers.
Within the castle walls,
That echo'd through the halls.
Unto a spacious court,
In feat and manly sport.
The wedding-ring so bright,
Of Isabel that night.
And fearing he might break the gem,
Or lose it in the play,
Where he the ring might lay.
Now in the court a statue stood,
Which there full long had been ; It was a heathen goddess, or
Perhaps a heathen queen. Upon its marble finger then
He tried the ring to fit; And, thinking it was safest there,
Thereon he fasten'd it.
He search'd the base, and all the court,
And nothing could he find,
With sore bewilder'd mind.
The night in dancing flew;
And none the adventure knew.
The hours of love advance!
Upon the morn's mischance.
In blushing sweetness lay,
And waiting for the day.
In youthful beauty glows,
His beams upon a rose !
Nor let the rest be told,
It yet has to unfold !
A death-cold carcase found;
Its arms embrace him round.
But found the phantom still ;
With damp and deadly chill!
A kiss of horror gave ;
Or from the mouldering grave! Il-fated Rupert! wild and loud
Thou criedst to thy wife,
My Isabel! my life !"
She look'd around in vain;
That rack'd her Rupert's brain.
These words to Rupert came; (Oh God! while he did hear the words,
What terrors shook his frame !) “Husband! husband! I've the ring
Thou gavest to-day to me; And thou 'rt to me for ever wed,
As I am wed to thee!"
And now the tennis sports went on,
Till they were wearied all,
Their dinner in the hall.
Unto the statue went;
The marble finger bent !
With firm and mighty clasp ;
He could not loose the grasp !
As well his mind might be; " I'll come,” quoth he, " at night again,
When none are here to see." He went unto the feast, and much
He thought upon his ring;
So very strange a thing!
He went without delay,
And force the ring away!
The ring was there no more ;
And open as before !
And all the night the demon lay
Cold-chilling by his side, And strain'd him with such deadly grasp,
He thought he should have died'
But when the dawn of day was near,
The horrid phantom fled,
By Isabel in bed.
Was seen on Rupert's brows ;
But strove to cheer her spouse.
Of coming night with fear:
The bed that should be dear!
At length the second night arrived,
Again their couch they press'd; Poor Rupert hoped that all was o'er,
And look'd for love and rest.
The fiend was at his side,
With howl exulting cried, " Husband ! husband! I've the ring,
The ring thou gavest to me; And thou 'rt to me for ever wed,
As I am wed to thee !" In agony of wild despair,
He started from the bed; And thus to his bewilder'd wife
The trembling Rupert said :
A shape of horrors here,
And keeps me from my dear ?" " No, no, my love! my Rupert, I
No shape of horror see;
That keeps my dear from me!" This night, just like the night before,
In terrors pass'd away,
Before the dawn of day.
Dear partner of my woe,
This instant will I go."
Who acted wondrous maint,
ountry round believed A devil 0 saint!
" There is a place where four roads meet,
Which I will tell to thee;
And list what thou shalt see.
In strange disorder'd crowd,
With noises strange and loud.
Terrific towering o'er,
So I need say no more.
They 'll soon be understood ;
I've scrawl'd them with my blood !"
In pale amazement went
Was by the father sent.
In strange disorder'd crowd,
With noises strange and loud.
Rupert bebeld from far
Seated upon a car.
The loosely-vested dame,
For hers was just the same.
With eye-balls flashing death ; Whene'er he breath'd, a sulphur'd smoke
Came burning in his breath!
He seem'd the first of all the crowd
Terrific towering o'er; “Yes, yes," said Rupert, “ this is he,
And I need ask no more.
Then slow he went, and to this fiend
The tablets trembling gave,
That would disturb the grave.
His eyes with fury shine; " I thought," cries he, “his time was out,
But he must soon be mine!"
To Father Austin's holy cave
Then Rupert went full straight, And told him all, and ask'd him how
To remedy his fate. The father heard the youth, and then
Retired awhile to pray; And, having pray'd for half an hour,
Return'd, and thus did say:
Then darting at the youth a look,
Which rent his soul with fear, He went unto the female fiend,
And whisper'd in her ear. The female fiend no sooner heard,
Than, with reluctant look, The very ring that Rupert lost
She from her finger took;
And, giving it unto the youth,
With eyes that breath'd of hell, She said in that tremendous voice
Which he remember'd well :
“In Austin's name take back the ring,
The ring thou gavest to me; And thou 'rt to me no longer wed,
Nor longer I to thee.”
Whether I waste my life in tears,
Or live, as now, for mirth and loving ! This day shall come with aspect kind,
Wherever Fate may cast your rover; He 'll think of those he left behind,
And drink a health to bliss that's over! Then, oh! my friends, this hour improve,
Let's feel as if we ne'er could sever; And may the birth of her we love
Be thus with joy remember'd ever!
He took the ring, the rabble pass'd,
He home return'd again ; His wife was then the happiest fair,
The happiest he of men.
ON THE BIRTH-DAY OF MRS.
WRITTEN IN IRELAND. Of all my happiest hours of joy,
And even I have had my measure, When hearts were full and every eye
Has kindled with the beams of pleasure ! Such hours as this I ne'er was given,
So dear to friendship, so dear to blisses; Young Love himself looks down from heaven,
To smile on such a day as this is !
TO A BOY, WITH A WATCH.
WRITTEN FOR A FRIEND. Is it not sweet, beloved youth,
To rove through erudition's bowers, And cull the golden fruits of truth,
And gather fancy's brilliant flowers ? And is it not more sweet than this
To feel thy parents' hearts approving, And pay them back in sums of bliss
The dear, the endless debt of loving?
With this idea toil is lighter;
And makes the flowers of fancy brighter! The little gift we send thee, boy,
May sometimes teach thy soul to ponder If indolence or syren joy
Should ever tempt that soul to wander. 'T will tell thee that the winged day
Can ne'er be chain'd by man's endeavour; That life and time shall fade away,
While heaven and virtue bloom for ever!
Then, oh! my friends, this hour improve,
Let's feel as if we ne'er could sever! And may the birth of her we love
Be thus with joy remember'd ever! Oh! banish every thought to-night,
Which could disturb our souls' communion' Abandon'd thus to dear delight,
We'll e'en for once forget the Union ! On that let statesmen try their powers,
And tremble o'er the rights they'd die for; The union of the soul be ours,
And every union else we sigh for! Then, oh! my friends, this hour improve,
Let's feel as if we ne'er could sever; And may the birth of her we love
Be thus with joy remember'd ever ! In every eye around I mark
The feelings of the heart o'erflowing, From every soul I catch the spark
Of sympathy in friendship glowing ! Oh! could such moments ever fly :
Oh! that we ne'er were doom'd to lose 'em; And all as bright as Charlotte's eye,
And all as pure as Charlotte's bosom. But oh! my friends, this hour improve,
Let's feel as if we ne'er could sever ; And may the birth of her we love
Be thus with joy remember'd ever ! For me, whate'er my span of years,
Whatever sun may light my roving ;
MARK those proud boasters of a splendid line,
How heavy sits that weight of alien show,
Ask the proud train who glory's shade pursue,
Justum bellum quibus necessarium, et pia arma quibus
MORALITY. nulla nisi in armis relinquitur spes.
A FAMILIAR EPISTLE.
ADDRESSED TO J. AT-NS-N, ESQ. M. R. I. A.' Is tuere no call, no consecrating cause,
Though long at school and college, dozing Approved by Heaven, ordain'd by Nature's laws, On books of rhyme and books of prosing, Where justice flies the herald of our way,
And copying from their moral pages
Though long with those divines at school,
Who think to make us good by rule ;
Who, in methodic forms advancing,
Teaching morality like dancing,
Tell us, for Heaven or money's sake, Oh! 't is our country's voice, whose claims should
What steps we are through life to take : meet
Though thus, my friend, so long employ'd, An echo in the soul's most deep retreat ;
And so much midnight oil destroy'd,
I only learn'd to doubt at last.
Have differ'd in all climes and ages,
And two in fifty scarce agree
On what is pure morality!
'T is like the rainbow's shifting zone, But now I mourn that e'er I knew
And every vision makes its own.
The doctors of the Porch advise,
As modes of being great and wise,
That we should cease to own or know
The luxuries that from feeling flow.
“Reason alone must claim direction,
And Apathy's the soul's perfection.
Like a dull lake the heart must lie;
Nor passion's gale nor pleasure's sigh,
Though heaven the breeze, the breath supplied, Fare thee well ! I'll think of thee,
Must curl the wave or swell the tide !"
Such was the rigid Zeno's plan
To form his philosophic man ;
Such were the modes he taught mankind
But all the flowers were ravish'd too!
Now listen to the wily strains,
Which, on Cyrené's sandy plains, Why is red the rose's dye?
When Pleasure, nymph with loosen'd zone, Because it is thy blush's hue.
Usurp'd the philosophic throne; All that's fair, by Love's decree,
Hear what the courtly sage's tongue Has been made resembling thee!
To his surrounding pupils sung : Why is falling snow so white,
“ Pleasure's the only noble end But to be like thy bosom fair ?
To which all human powers should tend,
And Virtue gives her heavenly lore,
But to make Pleasure please us more !
Wisdom and she were both design'd
To make the senses more refined,
That man might revel, free from cloying,
Then most a sage, when most enjoying !"
1 The gentleman to whom this poem is addressed, is the All that 's sweet, by Love's decree,
author of some esteemed works, and was Mr. Little's most Has been made resembling thee!
particular friend. I have heard Mr. Little very frequently speak of him as one in whom “the elements were so mix
ed,” that neither in his head nor heart bad nature left any 1 I believe these words were adapted by Mr. Little to the deficiency.-E. pathetic Scotch air " Galla Water."--E.