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"The dance lead up, the dance lead down, The dance lead round our favourite tree; If now even Oberon wears a frown,

A false and froward churl is he!"

Thus sing the Fays;- Lord Musgrave hears
Their shrill sweet song, and eager eyes

The radiant show, despite the fears
That to his bounding bosom rise.

But soft! the minstrelsy declines;

The morrice ceases, sounds the shaums; And quick, whilst many a taper shines, The heralds rank their airy swarms.

Titania waves her crystal wand,—

And underneath the greenwood bower, Tables, and urns, and goblets stand, Metheglin, nectar, fruit, and flower.

"To banquet, ho!" the seneschals

Bid the brisk tribes, that, thick as bees, At sound of cymbals, to their calls Consort beneath the leafy trees:

Titania by her king, each knight
Beside his ladye love; the page

Behind his scutcheoned lord

a bright

Equipment on a brilliant stage.

The monarch sits; all helms are doffed, Plumes, scarfs, and mantles cast aside, And, to the sound of music soft,

They ply their cups with mickle pride.

Or sparkling mead, or spangling dew,
Or lively hippocras they sip;
And strawberries red, and mulberries blue,
Refresh each elf's luxurious lip.

With "nod and beck, and wreathed smile,'

They heap their jewelled patines high; Nor want their mirthful airs the while To crown the festive revelry.

A minstrel dwarf, in silk arrayed,
Lay on a mossy bank, o'er which
The wild thyme wove its fragrant braid,
The violet spread its perfume rich;

And whilst a page at Oberon's knee
Presented high the wassail-cup,

This lay the little bard with glee
From harp of ivory offered up:

"Health to our Sovereign; fill, brave boy, Yon glorious goblet to the brim !

There's joy

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in every drop there's joy

That laughs within its charmed rim !

"'T was wrought within a wizard's mould, When signs and spells had happiest power;Health to our king by wood and wold!

Health to our queen in hall and bower!"

They rise the myriads rise, and shrill

The wild wood echoes to their brawl"Health to our king by wold and rill! Health to our queen in bower and hall !"

A sudden thought fires Musgrave's brain
So help him all the Powers of Light
He rushes to the festal train,

And snatches up that goblet bright!

With three brave bounds the lawn he crossed, The fourth it seats him on his steed'; "Now, Luath! or thy lord is lost

Stretch to the stream with lightning speed!"

'T is uproar all around, behind

Leaps to his selle each screaming Fay;

"The charmed cup is fairly tined,

Stretch to the strife

away!

away

!"

As in a whirlwind forth they swept,

The green turf trembling as they pass'd; But, forward still good Musgrave kept,

The shallow stream approaching fast.

A thousand quivers round him rained

Their shafts or ere he reached the shore; But when the farther bank was gained,

This song the passing whirlwind bore :

"Joy to thy banner, bold Sir Knight;
But if yon goblet break or fall,
Farewell the vantage in the fight,
Farewell the luck of Eden-hall!"

The forest cleared he winds his horn-
Rock, wood, and wave return the din;
And soon, as though by echo borne
His gallant squires come pricking in.

'T is dusk of day;-in Eden towers
A mother o'er her infant bends,
And lists, amid the whispering bowers,
The sound that from the stream ascends.

It comes in murmurs up the stairs,
A low, a sweet, a mellow voice,
And charms away the lady's cares,
And bids the mother's heart rejoice.

"Sleep sweetly, babe!" 't was heard to say, “But if the goblet break or fall, Farewell thy vantage in the fray,

Farewell the luck of Eden-hall!"

BRING BACK THE CHAIN.

BY THE HONOURABLE MRS. NORTON.

Ir was an aged man, who stood
Beside the blue Atlantic sea;
They cast his fetters by the flood,

And hailed the time-worn Captive free!
From his indignant eye there flashed
A gleam his better nature gave,
And while his tyrants shrunk abashed,
Thus spoke the spirit stricken slave :

"Bring back the chain, whose weight so long These tortured limbs have vainly borne;

The word of Freedom from your tongue,

My weary ear rejects with scorn !

'T is true, there was

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there was a time,

I sighed, I panted to be free ;
And, pining for my sunny clime,

Bowed down my stubborn knee.

"Then I have stretched my yearning arms, And shook in wrath my bitter chain; Then, when the magic word had charms, I groaned for liberty in vain!

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