And alas! he did not wake before The cruel knight with skill and might, Twelve hours by the chime he lay in his slime, Than a Polypheme in the olden time, Or a politician now. He sped, as soon as he could see, Much the feathers that danced on his crest, But most the baldrick that shone on his breast. She thought the dragon's pilfered scale Was fairer far than the warrior's mail, And she lifted it up with her weak white arm, And round her throbbing bosom tied, In mimicry of warlike pride. Gone is the spell that bound her! The talisman hath touched her heart, And she leaps with a fearful and fawn-like start As the shades of glamory depart Strange thoughts are glimmering round her; Quicker and quicker her breath is flowing, And her eye gleams out from its long dark lashes, Fast and full, unnatural flashes; For hurriedly and wild Doth Reason pour her hidden treasures, And "oh!" she saith, "my spirit doth seem You that are young may picture the rest, You that are young and fair. Never before, on this warm land, Came Love and Reason hand in hand. When you are blest, in childhood's years Where a greener glow was on the ground, And a purer life in the gay sunbeam, And have you not lingered, lingered still, All unfettered in thought and will, A fair and cherished boy; Until you felt it pain to part From the wild creations of your art, And seen your mother leaning o'er you, And looking her eloquent tenderness? Was it not heaven to fly from the scene And drink, in one o'erflowing kiss, Your deep reality of bliss? Such was LILLIAN's passionate madness, Such was the calm of her waking gladness. Enough my tale is all too long: Fair children, if the trifling song, Hath stolen from you one gay laugh, Or given your quiet hearts to quaff One cup of young delight, Pay ye the rhymer for his toils In the coinage of your golden smiles, And treasure up his idle verse, With the stories ye loved from the lips of your nurse. THE BRIDAL OF BELMONT. A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. WHERE foams and flows the glorious Rhine, Majestic in its dark decay. Among their dim clouds, long ago, They mocked the battles that raged below, Where foams and flows the glorious Rhine, Did carve the meat, and pour the wine, Little they loved but a Frau or a feast, More trusty of heart, or more stout of hand, 6 Are you rich, single, and your Grace'? Before you leave your travelling carriage, Is found to have the sweetest canter; And Jane's so bold when you are driving! Some recollect your father's habits, And know the warren, and the rabbits! The place is really princely-only They 're sure you 'll find it vastly lonely. You go to Cheltenham, for the waters, Lo! Lady Anne and Lady Eva. In horror of another session, And live to curse the frauds of mothers, |