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ALWYN AND RENA.
Ask you, why round yon hallow'd grave
The myrtle and the laurel bloom? There sleep the lovely and the brave,
0, drop a tear upon their tomb! • Ah! cease, my love, these fond alarms!'
For war prepared, young Alwyn sạid, · For I must quit my Rena's charms,
My bleeding country asks my aid.' Yes, I will hush this struggling sigh,
Yes, I will check these flowing tears, A smile shall brighten in my eye,
My bosom shall dispel its fears.' * You try indeed to force a smile,
Yet sorrow's drops bedew your cheek; You speak of peace, yet, ah! the while
Your tears will scarcely let you speak'. Go, Alwyn, Rena bids you go,
She bids you go to fields of death; Go, Alwyn, rush amidst the foe,
Go, and return with Victory's wreath.' A thrilling blast the trumpet blew,
The milk white courser paw'd the ground; A mix'd delight young Alwyn knew,
But Rena shudder'd at the sound : Yet strove to hide the rising fears
Which now in quicker throbbings swell, And faintly smiling through her tears
She falter'd out a long farewell!
Three tedious moons with cheerless ray
Had vainly gilt the face of night,
To bless his drooping Rena's sight.
When now the fourth her radiance shed, He came, and Victory's wreath was wove,
But, ah! around a lifeless head. Distracted at the blasting sight,
To yon tall cliff's o'erarching brow With heaving breast she urged her flight,
And would have sought the waves below. But while with frantic gaze she view'd
The foaming billows, void of fear, Faith strung each nerve, by grief subdued,
And whisper'd to her soul-forbear! And now, though Passion's storm was o'er,
Yet Melancholy's weeping eye Distilld the slow and silent shower,
Till all the springs of life were dry. For this, around yon
hallow'd grave The myrtle and the laurel bloom; There sleep the lovely and the brave, 0, drop a tear upon their tomb !
HON, CHARLES F.
THE ELFIN KING.
Than earthly steed can run;
As he glides o'er the moorland dun.'—
Lone was the strath where he cross'd their path,
And wide did the heath extend,
At every seven year's end.
As the leaf before the gale,
Been heard on hill or dale.
Except on his falchion arm
The holy Trefoil's charm;
Delusions false and dim; And each unbless'd shade shall stand portray'd
In ghostly form and limb. 0, swift and swifter far he speeds
Than earthly steed can run" He skims the blue air,' said the brave St. Clair,
• Instead of the heath so dun.
His cheeks like the rose's hue;
Are his pinions of glossy blue.'
On the dark brown moor I see;
And full fair I ween is he.
Nor ringlets sparkling bright;' Sir Geoffry cried, and forward hied
To join the stranger Knight. VOL. III.
He knew not the path of the lonely strath
Where the Elfin King went his round ; Or he never had gone with the Green Knight on,
Nor trod the charmed ground.
How swift they flew! no eye could view
Their track on heath or hill,
St. Clair did follow still.
And soon was seen a circle green,
Where a shadowy wassail crew, Amid the ring did dance and sing,
In weeds of watchet blue,
And the windlestrae *, so limber and gray,
Did shiver beneath the tread
The morrice of the dead.
-Come here, come here, with thy green feere,
Before the bread be stale;
And taste our wassail ale.'
Then up to the Knight came a grizzly wight,
And sounded in his ear: • Sir Knight, eschew this goblin crew,
Nor taste their ghostly cheer.'—
The tabors rung, the lilts were sung,
And the Knight the dance did lead; But the maidens fair seem'd round him to stare With eyes like the glassy bead.
The glance of their eye, so cold and so dry,
Did almost his heart appal;
Like stony statues all.
When the roundel dance was o'er;
Or rue for evermore.'—
To the tables of ezlar red,
To grace the fair board head.
Of emerald smooth and green,
With mountain rubies sheen,
With heath-ale mantling o'er;
But mantled as before.
And cold as the corpse of clay;
And flutter'd o'er their prey.
A strange commotion ran,
Of the steps of an uncharm'd man.
From the midst of the wassail crew ;-