Imatges de pàgina
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Clap your hands for the Prior! the roses that blow

Where the spring ever smileth shall bloom on his brow!

But list to that hazel-eyed beauty, nor miss

Those lover-like sounds sweet as maiden's first kiss.

Third Damsel's Song.
(Rosalie.)

Rosalie, Rosalie,

Quit thy dreams and come with me!

Lo! beneath the twilight star

Fairies dance beside the sea!

Sure thy foot is lighter far,
Come, then come with me.
Rosalie, fair are they,

Graceful all their moonlight play,

But thine eyes are far more bright-
To the heart they win their way:
And that beam of love's own light
Melteth it away.

Rosalie, love is there,

Floating through the mazes fair;

He hath caught them with a chain,

Such as even thou might'st wear,
Silken fetters to retain

Footsteps light as air.

Rosalie, can it be,

Doth he lie in wait for thee?

No, ah! no, I see it all:

He is bound and may not flee;

Thou the captor, he the thrall—

Thine henceforth is he!

Rosalie, love is thine!

Bound by those bright locks that twine

O'er that brow of ivory.

Woe is me, in vain I pine,

He nor I can e'er be free

Maiden fair from thee!

There's a change in the strain, and the music once more Yields a gush, would have roused up the TEIAN of yore; Fill the goblet again with the nectar divine,

While ye list to the praises of beauty and wine.

Sub-Prior's Song.

Lucy's eyes are clear and bright,
Dark and glossy Helen's tresses,
Sweet the rosy smile of light
That the lip of Clara dresses.
Can they never, never be
Soft, and clear, and bright to me?

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Glory hath a flashing glance;
Music's band the heart enchaineth
Love can all the soul entrance,
Chasing every thought that paineth.
Why, oh! why then bringeth he
Only care and grief to me?

Rank and Pride are gods divine,
Mark the world before them bending.
Science like a star doth shine,
Far and wide her rays extending.
These are but for high degree,
Can they, can they stoop to me?

Power and Gold are mightier still;
Virtue! who with these compares her?
Wealth the head and heart can fill;
Great and wise is each who shares her.
Ah! but can they ever be
In the place of all to me?

Wine, aha! I see its beams
Gaily from the goblet glancing!
Wheresoe'er its splendour streams
Hearts that wept before are dancing.
Wine can set the captive free,

Wine, ha, ha! bright wine for me!

Once more turn the tide, let the voice of the lay
Bear from Bacchus to Eros the laurel away.
Thus the Abbot decrees-and the fairest of all
Their blue-eyed companions responds to the call.

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When within our hearts
Love, the wizard, worketh,
At his voice departs
Every care that lurketh.
Where he treadeth, blow
Flowers that wither never;
These doth he bestow,
Therefore, love we ever.

Now rose the gay novice, triumphant and keen,
And he glanced at the Primate, with joy in his mien,
And seizing his harp, cast his hand o'er the chords,
And entranced all the monks by his magical words.

But where is the mortal that dares to recite
The song of an angel-an angel of night:

For the strings that he struck seemed to mingle and swell
The music of heaven with the howlings of hell!

His form grew dilated-fire flashed from his eyes!
Like a giant increasing in stature to rise :
From his mantle of darkness fierce accents there broke,
And the bell of the Abbey toll'd ONE as he spoke ! :

"The vows, ye have made-ye have failed to obey !—
And I have been with you a year and a day,
And my coursers and chariot are now at your gate,
And brethren-for you-'tis for you that they wait."

But the Primate turned coolly on Satan his back

And said "Well then-I'll just take a look at your hack." And a chariot of sable he saw by the wall

Of the abbey-sufficient for Abbot and all!

Said the Saint, "My dear brother, you're vastly mistakenIf you think that we thus by our friends are forsaken ! Besides-all your doings are based on deceit―

They're not real-and therefore I've winked on the cheat.

"Did you think, when you came in such daring disguise,, That your horns, hoofs, and tail, were concealed from my eyes? Did you think I'd allow to be drawn into sin

The monks of a convent that I was lodged in ?

"No! you've smoothed all their penance a year and a day, Nor shall they at last have the Devil to pay!

And to-morrow again, with their souls all unhurt,

To their water and herbs with delight they revert."

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Nay," said Satan, "I'll have them-I've noted, you see,
All their soft hours of passion, their bright hours of glee-
Have recorded their loves, and remembered their wine,
And the chains are unrent round their souls that I twine!"

As he spake, his dark fingers the sin-list unwound,
And the parchment grew black as all grimly he frowned;
"And away!" he exclaimed, "let us haste to the dead,
Where the flames are all lightless, and hopes are all fled."

Said the Saint, "I'm astonished that one of your sense
Should argue so badly on any pretence-

I tell you their sins, and your changes were all
Mere juggling, and therefore your title must fall."

Now the damsels so lovely that Satan had given,
To make this abode like a Mussulman's heaven,
Come and whispered His Grace, " that he'd much better go
And pay his old friend a short visit below."

One look from the Saint, and their beauty is gone,
And they stand in their niches grave statues of stones;
And the wines, choice and rich, that had made the roof ring,
Became water! cold, clear, and fresh drawn from the spring!
"Now you see," said His Grace, most politely, "my friend
In what sad disappointment your plotting must end;
And indeed, to my thinking, 'tis strange you don't know,
That you're vastly more quiet without us below."

While he spake, the cock crew-ere the morning was bright,
The fiend spread his wings, and prepared to take flight;
But, though baffled, he vowed he would try them again,
Nor desist till he had them within his domain.

And here 'twill be proper to note by the way
That Saint Dunstan, like many great men in our day,
Was free of the City-the Goldsmiths lay claim,
With a well founded pride, to so glorious a name.

And our companies still to each envious railer,
Show the Duke as a Grocer, Prince Albert a Tailor,
And Brougham as a Fishmonger, versed in the history
(Law except)-of each possible trade, art, and mystery!
While the Saint with the Demon his contest prolongs,
The tongs had grown hot in the fire-his own tongs!
Though how they came there, amid wassail and revel,
Is perhaps only known to himself—and the Devil.
When the quarrel was over, the air became dark,

With the fiends thronging round their great chieftain-and hark!
How their howlings and yellings resound through the night,

As they came to escort home the arch-foe of light!

"This is too bad," said Dunstan, "proud flesh such as yours
There is nothing but actual cautery cures !"
And, seizing his forceps, with dignified grace,
He caught the fiend's nose in their burning embrace

Ye Saints! what a roaring-what vows did he make—
'Twas enough even the heart of a mountain to shake;
And he swore by his darkness, so grisly and grim,
Neither monk, nun, nor friar, should be troubled by him.
The firm-minded Primate, though moved by the prayer
Which he uttered for mercy, in shrieking despair,
Held him fast to his compact, and then let him go,
All noseless and burnt, to his kingdom of woe!
And now to conclude-give the Devil his due—
For once to his treaty even he has been true;
No order of monks nor of friars he wrongs-
Nor of nuns-for His Darkness remembers the tongs!

Nov.-VOL. LXXXIV. NO. CCCXxxv.

X

LIFE AND REMINISCENCES OF THOMAS CAMPBELL.

BY CYRUS REDDING.

CHAPTER XXI.

Contributions of the Poet, 1829-Catholic Emancipation-Deaths of Contributors-Barry St. Leger-Remarks on Flaxman's Lectures-Dulwich project and disappointment-Mackintosh and Lawrence-appearance of Moore's ByronLetter to Moore regarding Byron-Defence of Lord Byron-Remarks on the Defence-Removal to Scotland Yard-Rooted dislike of the Poet to Honorary Titles-Madame Roland's Philosophy commended.

THE contributions of the poet to the New Monthly this year, were in poetry the songs beginning, "When Love came first to Earth," ""Tis now the Hour," the "Lines to Julia M," the accomplished daughter of the present adjutant-general, and the "Verses on the departure of the Emigrants," to be found in Moxon's edition of his works in octavo, 1839. He also published papers on Flaxman and on Shakspeare's

sonnets, in prose.

Catholic emancipation still engrossed much of the public attention. The Duke of Wellington, evidently unable to bring about what he thought so desirable, owing to the inveterate bigotry of many of his Tory friends, had thought it best to temporise for a season. The jealousy of the high church party was uncontrollable. The welfare of the whole community appeared to that party a thing of no moment, nor comparatively that of the crown itself. In fact it was "bishop and king," in every sense of the word, not "king and bishop." The duke accordingly wrote a letter to Dr. Curtis in Ireland, which, sound in policy, bore a remarkable contrast to the correctness of language and argument in that of the Marquis of Anglesey on the same subject, respecting which Peel had made the blunder before stated (p. 41, May No.), attributing the recall of Lord Anglesey to a letter that had no existence until afterwards. This showed a sad want of stepping out together" at head-quarters. The duke's letter contained a bull. His grace recommended burying the question in oblivion for a time and discussing its difficulty. This caused a remark from the poet, and no little merriment at one of his parties, when some insisted that the sense was perfectly clear. The poet said, that "oblivion" with the word "buried" attached, seemed to imply irrecoverable forgetfulness, but this was hypercritical, especially towards the great soldier, who did not think much of language. Besides, it was a colloquial phrase in common society. As to the bull, it belonged to the duke's own side of the channel, and the meaning was clear.

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"But it is a bull, notwithstanding."

"I do not deny it," said the poet, "but the intention is clear, there could be little doubt about the meaning."

"Nor is there," remarked some one present, "about the answer of the Irishman who, when asked whether his sister-in-law had been brought to bed of a boy or a girl, replied, "By my sowl I do not know whether I am an uncle or an aunt.'

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