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Listen, gentle Madeline!
Listen, listen, unto me;
And thy happy home shall be
Throng'd with many a vassal bold,
Sir Hubert and Sir Leoline,
And beauteous page in vest of gold,
To watch thy sweet eyes, Madeline!
And we will pitch our pleasant tent
Beneath an over-hanging tree,
Where hunter's bow was never bent,
In haunted glades of Faëry;
And I will sit by thee, and twine
Odorous garlands for the shrine
Of thy white hand, Madeline!
Or if thou lovest to recline
In darken'd chamber, faint with flowers—
What care I for sunny hours,
Or Summer light, when thou art mine,
Glowing, blushing, Madeline!
And if thou wilt, young Madeline,
For woodland chaplet thou shalt wear
A glittering crown upon thy hair,
And pearls about thy brow divine!
Sweetest, dearest, Madeline!
Sij'étais la feuille que roule
L'aile tournoyante du vent,
Qui flotte sur l'eau qui s'écoule,
Et qu'on suit de l'oeil en rêvant:
Jirais chez la fille du prétre,
Chez la blanche fille a l'oeil noir,
Qui le jour chante à sa fenêtre,
Et joue a sa porte le soir.
I wish I were the balmy breeze
That playeth with yon Summer rose,
And whispers love to all the trees,
And kisses every flower that blows.
Oh, could I borrow those light feet,
Farewell to bower and myrtle tree;
I know a garden far more sweet,
A red rose dearer far to me.
A NEW FACT IN NATURAL MAGIC, WRITT EN AFTER A.
BALL AT HUNTINGIDO.N.
A witch! the fancy turns me pale
As that white rose on Lady Bagot;
I thought that good Sir Matthew Hale
Had sent the last witch to the fagot.
And yet they flourish still it seems!
(Oh, pray Lord Brougham prove the error!)
And vision shining through my dreams
Foretell another reign of terror;
Black tresses, like the dark locks flowing
O'er poor Sir Walter's handsome Jewess*;
And lips, like those that look so glowing,
In that sad book—The Monk of Lewis!
And eyes so full, and blue, and sunny,
Are gazing kindly into mine;
Bright as those of Mrs. Honey—
(A simile, mind, Madeline.)
And whispers in my ears are creeping,
Coral lips I’m sure between;
Not Spenser in his garden sleeping,
Heard sweeter from the Fairy Queen.
And footsteps drop upon the ground,
Like pleasant noise of Summer rain;
Or from a twilight bower the sound—
“Good night! but come again!”
They walk for ever by my side,
Fair witches! with their merry glances;
And just the cheeks to bloom in rhyme,
Or meet by moonlight in Romances.
They walk with me where'er I go,
On Summer mornings, Summer eves;
I open Chitty's page, and—lo!
A spirit in the leaves!
Oh, wondrous change! oh, magic power! What glory on the earth hath broke?
The King's-Bench blooms into a bower, And Beauty rises out of Coke.
In vain I turn each learned page;
And ponder Sugden o'er and o'er;
Or muse upon this wicked age,
Or sport my double oaken door”.
In vain I flee from them, and shut
Myself up in some bowery vale;
You might as well attempt to cut
O'Connell from his Tail!
Oh, lay them with some magic line!
Some spell by Bishop or Clementi.
Alas! a witch at seventy-nine,
Is nothing to a witch at twenty!
A WORD WITH PROFESSOR SEDGWICK
STUDIES OF THE UNIVERSITY.
“Why, sir, a gentleman from the University stays below to speak with you.”—Yorkshire Tragedy, 1619.
ALL who are acquainted with Professor Sedgwick Were prepared to expect from his pen an eloquent account of the studies of this University, and of the spirit in which they ought to be pursued: and all who have read his Discourse, know how fully these anticipations have been realized. It is hoped that the following remarks, suggested by its perusal, will be received in a spirit similar to that which has dictated them. The writer has no private interest to promote; he would gain nothing from any change, except, indeed, a sensation of pleasure at beholding the removal of what appear to him imperfections and impediments. In the Discourse, the studies of the University are divided into three branches. 1st. The study of the laws of nature, comprehending all parts of inductive philosophy. 2ndly. The study of ancient literature.