Yet often, by thy sudden light, The little god of love and learning.) He revolved in his bed what Merlin had said, Though Merlin had labored to scatter a veil on't; And found out the sense of the tail and the head Though none of his neighbors could make head of tail on't. Sir Eglamour was one o' the best Of Arthur's table round; He never set his spear in rest, But a dozen went to the ground. Clear and warm as the lightning flame, His valor from his father came, His cheek was like his mother's; And his hazel eye more clearly shone I ever have looked upon, Than any Save Fanny's and two others! With his spur so bright, and his rein so light, And his skilful sword, to wound or ward, And his spear so sure and steady; He bore him like a British knight Avenged all weeping women's. slight, And he had travelled far from home, He clasped to his side his sword of pride, Keen and bright as a meteor-light; As Moultrie's* jesting vein. And his shield he bound his arm around, His shield, whose dark and dingy round, Heavy and thick as a wall of brick, *Rev. John Moultrie, who, in 1823, (when many manuscript copies of "Lillian" were in circulation,) wrote some beautiful and pathetic lyrics, some of which appeared in Knight's Quarterly Magazine. "My Grandmother's Review-the British."-Don Juan. Roberts was the editor.Vide Byron's celebrated Letter to him. With a smile and a jest he set out on the quest, Clad in his stoutest mail, With his helm of the best, and his spear in the rest, To flay the dragon's tail. The warrior travelled wearily, Many a league and many a mile; And the dragon sailed in the clear blue sky; And the song of the lady was sweet the while: "My steed and I, my steed and I, On in the path of the winds we fly, And I chase the planets that wander at even, Floating for aye on your liquid sea; And I'll feast with you on the purest rain, To cool my weak and wildered brain, 'And I'll give you the loveliest lock of my hair For a little spot in your realm of air!" The dragon came down when the morn shone bright, And slept in the beam of the sun; Fatigued, no doubt, with his airy flight, As I with my jingling one. With such a monstrous adversary To think of bandying knocks; Walking on tiptoe, and holding his breath, And instead of drawing his sword from his sheath, He drew a pepper-box! The pepper was as hot as flame, The box of a wondrous size; Have you not seen a little kite To mix with the wild wind's quarrelling? Till, weak and unsteady, Torn by the eddy, It dashes to earth from its hideous height? 66 Long he lay in a trance that day, 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, 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, Gone is the spell that bound her! The talisman hath touched her heart, And she leaps with a fearful and fawn-like start |