THE BRIDAL OF BELMONT.

A LEGEND OF THE RHINE.

WHERE foams and flows the glorious Rhine,
Many a ruin wan and gray

O'erlooks the corn-field and the vine,

Majestic in its dark decay.

Among their dim clouds, long ago,

They mocked the battles that raged below,
And greeted the guests in arms that came,
With hissing arrow, and scalding flame:
But there is not one, of the homes of pride
That frown on the breast of the peaceful tide,
Whose leafy walls more proudly tower

Than these, the walls of Belmont Tower.

Where foams and flows the glorious Rhine,
Many a fierce and fiery lord

Did carve the meat, and pour the wine,

For all that revelled at his board.

Father and son, they were all alike,

Firm to endure, and fast to strike;

Little they loved but a Frau or a feast,

Nothing they feared but a prayer or a priest;
But there was not one in all the land

More trusty of heart, or more stout of hand,
More valiant in field, or more courteous in bower,
Than Otto, the Lord of Belmont Tower.

Are you rich, single, and your Grace'?
I pity your unhappy case;

Before you leave your travelling carriage,
The women have arranged your marriage;
Where'er your weary wit may lead you,

They pet you, praise you, fret you, feed you;
Consult your taste in wreaths and laces,

And make you make their books at Races.

Your little pony, Tam O'Shanter,

Is found to have the sweetest canter;

Your curricle is quite reviving,

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,

And meet the Countess and her daughters;

You take a cottage at Geneva

Lo! Lady Anne and Lady Eva.

In horror of another session,
You just surrender at discretion,

And live to curse the frauds of mothers,
And envy all your younger brothers.

Count Otto bowed, Count Otto smiled,
When My Lady praised her darling child;
Count Otto smiled, Count Otto bowed,
When the child those praises disavowed;
As a knight should gaze Count Otto gazed,
Where Bertha in all her beauty blazed;

As a knight should hear Count Otto heard,
When Liba sang like a forest bird—
But he thought, I trow, about as long

Of Bertha's beauty and Liba's song,
As the sun may think of the clouds that play
O'er his radiant path on a summer day.

Many a maid had dreams of state,

As the Count rode up to her father's gate;

Many a maid shed tears of pain,

As the Count rode back to his Tower again;
But little he cared, as it should seem,

For the sad, sad tear, or the fond, fond dream-
Alone he lived-alone, and free

As the owl that dwells in the hollow tree :

And the Baroness said, and the Baron swore, There never was knight so shy before!

It was almost the first of May:
The sun all smiles had passed away;'
The moon was beautifully bright;
Earth, heaven, as usual in such cases,
Looked up and down with happy faces;
In short, it was a charming night.
And all alone, at twelve o'clock,

The young Count clambered down the rock,
Unfurled the sail, unchained the oar,

And pushed the shallop from the shore.
The holiness that sweet time flings
Upon all human thoughts and things,
When Sorrow checks her idle sighs,
And care shuts fast her wearied eyes;