Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

At distance of the eager crowd.-
Oh it is Life to see a proud
And dauntless man step, full of hopes,
Up to the P C. stakes and ropes,-
Throw in his hat, and with a spring
Get gallantly within the ring;
Eye the wide crowd, and walk awhile,
Taking all cheerings with a smile;
To see him strip,-his well train'd form,
White, glowing, muscular, and warm,
All beautiful in conscious power,
Relax'd and quiet, till the hour;
His glossy and transparent frame.
In radiant plight to strive for fame!
To look upon the clean shap'd limb
In silk and flannel clothed trim;-
While round the waist the kerchief tied,
Makes the flesh glow in richer pride.
'Tis more than life,-to watch him hold
His hand forth, tremulous, yet bold,
Over his second's, and to clasp
His rival's in a quiet grasp;

To watch the noble attitude

He takes, the crowd in breathless mood:--
And then to see, with adamant start,
The muscles set,-and the great heart
Hurl a courageous splendid light
Into the eye, and then,--the FIGHT!!

Scraps.

WOULD NOT YOU HAVE DONE THE SAME?

A BAGATELLE.

GROTIUS and Metasio were tradesmen, living in the same street, and between whom an intimacy had for many years subsisted. Grotius died much about the same time that Metasio became a widower. The former left a daughter; who, with her mother, still continued the business: the latter had an only son. The frequent intercourse of these families gave rise to a report among the neighbours, that a match was on the tapis between Metasio and the widow of Grotius; and that the young people were to be united at the same time. It was true, that a union of the parties was intended; but, it seems, the neighbours had made a small mistake in arranging the couples: the fair Lucetta having attracted the eye of the venerable Metasio, and the young Leander that of the buxom widow. The young people were very averse to the proposition of their parents, and vigorously opposed the concerted plan. Metasio, however, would be obeyed; and the toothless Ursula was equally peremptory. At length, the fatal day arrived, that was to complete these unequal matches. Licences had been procured, and a church in the vicinity of London appointed for the union of these couples.

Every precaution was taken by the designing Metasio, and the wary Ursula, to keep from the neighbours the knowledge of these

ridiculous marriages: but, from some una countable cause, it got wind; every family in the street had become acquainted with it; so that, before ten o'clock, the windows of the surrounding houses were all crowded with spectators to behold the brides and their grooms. Expectation was on tiptoe, and sickened at the delay. Some suspected that it was a false report; and others cherished hopes which they cared not at present to disclose. The widow was seen in the drawing-room, walking to and fro in a manner that bespoke inquietude; and Metasio's countenance ap peared somewhat disturbed. In these moments of suspense and wonder, a glass-coach drove up to the widow's door. The coachman had a white favour in his hat; and Metasio's ser. vant, who rode behind, had the same bridal ornament. In an instant, Leander stepped from the vehicle; and, taking the hand of the lovely Lucetta, conducted her to the presence of the disappointed dotards. Mortified at the trick which had been played them, they threat ened revenge: but, fearful of a farther exposure, suppressed their indignation; and, ra ther than become open objects of ridicule, by a fruitless opposition, assented to the match.

Transitions.

By Mr. Holloway.

"BE gone, insolent wretch it is a shame our fleets and armies should want men, while such sturdy vagrants infest our streets, and prove a constant nuisance to society."

These were the words, uttered with an im perious air, by a thoughtless young fellow, to a poor man, who had taken his stand at a corner to solicit charity. The cruel retort seemed to touch his heart. He turned his eyes on his two little innocents, who stood shivering by his side, and a tear wandered down the careworn furrows of his cheek: the sensations of his soul needed not the mask of hypocrisy. I could not but observe in his person and deportment, a certain something that said, or seemed to say, that he was a novice in his unpropitious occupation, and had seen far better days. My bosom heaved a sigh, as I pasted him-it was all, alas! I had to give-and my eyes followed him who had dropped the uncharitable refle tion; when, in a few minutes, I saw him accosted by a gay spark in scarlet, with his hat cocked in a fierce military style, whose voln bility of speech, and freedom of address, to a cursory observer, seemed to denote him a long and particular acquaintance. The countenance of the former brightened up in a mo ment, and the austerity that had just before marked his features, vanished; while he re turned the salutations of his friend, with the utmost cordiality and attention; and, at parting, accepted his invitation to dine with him the next day at an adjacent tavern.

Song.

THE FORESTER'S SONG.

LET lordlings in camps and in courts take delight,
The range of the wood is the forester's right;
He winds his blythe bugle, his weapon he bends,
And the deer are his food, and the freemen tis
friends.

In their palaces gay let the belted ones stand, And bow as they will when their king waves his hand;

The knee of the forester bendeth alone

In the chace of the stag, which he marks as his

own.

Let the Norman exult in the strength of his steed, The yeoman's fleet foot will out distance his speed;

Tho' bright be his spear, and unerring his blade, For the vulture our bows as rich banquet have made.

Their minstrels, at yule time, the harp may attune, la chambers whose floors with soft rushes are strewn ;

In the green wood our bard strings his harp, and the strain,

Like the steel at his side, is ne'er handled in vain.

We roam where we list, and we rest when we need,

Unshackled we live, and undaunted we bleed; The earth is our realm, and the bound'ry we own, Is mark'd by the flight of our arrows alone.

The forest our haunt, and the mountain our hold, When the wolves of the tyrant come down on our fold,

The bow and the quiver we take from their tree, And on to the combat all fearless and free.

Tales.

THE RING.*

BY THOMAS MOORE.

THE happy day at length arriv'd
When Rupert was to wed
The fairest maid in Saxony,
And take her to his bed.

As soon as morn was in the sky, The feast and sports began ; The men admir'd the happy maid, The maids the happy man.

This story is from a German Author, FROMMAN, upon Fascination. FROMMAN quotes it from BELUACENSIS, among many other stories equally diabolical and interesting.

Mr. MOORE's object was evidently to ridicule that distempered taste, which prefers those mousters of the fancy to the offspring of trus poetic imagination,

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

The Father heard the youth, and then

Retir'd a while to pray; And, having pray'd for half an hour, Return'd, and thus did say:

"There is a place where four roads meet, "Which I will tell to thee;

"Be there this eve, at fall of night, 66 And list what thou shalt see.

"Thou 'It see a group of figures pass "In strange disorder'd crowd, Trav'ling by torch-light thro' the roads, "With noises strange and loud.

"And one that's high above the rest, Terrific towering o'er,

"Will make thee know him at a glance, "So I need say no more.

"To him, from me these tablets give, "They'll soon be understood; "Thou need'st not fear, but give them straight, "I've scrawl'd them with my blood!"

The night-fall came, and Rupert all In pale amazement went

To where the cross-roads met, as he Was by the Father sent.

And lo! a group of figures came
In strange disorder'd crowd,
Trav'ling by torch-light thro' the roads,
With noises strange and loud.

And, as the gloomy train advanc'd,
Rupert beheld from far

A female form of wanton mien
Seated upon a car.

And Rupert, as he gaz'd upon
The loosely-vested dame,
Thought of the marble statue's look,
For her's was just the same.

Behind her walk'd a hideous form,
With eyeballs flashing death;
Whene'er he breath'd, a sulphur'd smoke
Came burning in his breath!

He seem'd the first of all the crowd Terrific towering o'er ; "Yes, yes," said Rupert, "this is he, "And I need ask no more."

Then slow he went, and to this fiend
The tablets trembling gave,
Who look'd and read them with a yell
That would disturb the grave.

And when he saw the blood-scrawl'd name, His eyes with fury shine;

"I thought," cries he, "his time was out, "But he must soon be mine!"

Then darting at the youth a look, Which rent his soul with fear, He went unto the female fiend, And whisper'd in her ear.

The female fiend no sooner heard,

Than, with reluctant look, The very ring that Rupert lost, She from her finger took.

And, giving it unto the youth,
With eyes that breath'd of hell,
She said, in that tremendous voice,
Which he remember'd well:

"In Austin's name take back the ring,
"The ring thou gav'st to me;
"And thou 'rt to me no longer wed,
"Nor longer I to thee."

He took the ring, the rabble pass'd,
He home return'd again;
His wife was then the happiest fair;
The happiest he of men!

DUDLEY CASTLE, An old English Story,

BY MR. W. HOLLOWAY.

"Virtue alone is happiness below."-POPE. AMONG the sons of power, and favourites of Fortune, in those times when the feudal system disgraced this kingdom, none enjoyed greater wealth, or more ample territory, than Baron Dudley. At an early period of life, he wooed and won the affections of the incomparable Matilda, the only daughter of a neighbouring chieftain; but he possessed a heart incapable of retaining the impressions of the tender passion. A few months only elapsed, when coolness degenerated into disgust; and, in a fit of unwarranted jealousy, he framed the cruel resolution of banishing her from his presence for ever. Without resentment or reproach she heard the irrevocable sentence, and retired to mourn in solitude her remediless and unmerited misfortune; nor could the injuries she had sustained erase from her mind the indelible traces of conjugal affection.

In the earliest and happiest period of their union, the Baron had presented her with a ring of inestimable value, which she preserved with a religious care; and, as Penelope mourned over the bow of Ulysses, so would she frequently bedew with tears this momento of former felicity.

To add to her affliction, in a few months after her banishment, she became a mother. To shield her reputation from the attacks of ignorance and calumny, with all the reluctance of maternal affection, she resigned her little son to the care of a poor but honest pair, in the solitary neighbourhood where she resided; and to them only she entrusted the secret of her misfortune. Time rolled imperceptibly away; and virtue and resignation had gradually meliorated the distress of Matilda into a not unpleasing melancholy. Familiar with solitude, and pleased with retirement, she neither received nor paid any visits, save to. the reputed parents of the young Theodore. To him she was known only in the character

of a distant relation: nor even, when arrived to years of maturity, would the tenderness of her feeling for the most unnatural of fathers, permit her to divulge a truth that might en danger her son, or rouse a resentment in his bosom against such unparalleled unkindness as that which she had experienced.

The person of Theodore was graceful and majestic; and his natural virtues and disposition were such as endeared him to all who knew him.

Weary of the unvarying charms of retirement, and eager to see the world, he had long sighed to launch into the more active scenes of life. Persuasion was of no avail, and remonstrances only served to whet his resolution. The stroke fell heavy on the unfortunate Matilda; and this cruel separation probed afresh the closing wounds of her lacerated bosom.

With an affection truly parental, she drew the ring from her finger, and presented it to her son" Take this," said she, "the witness of my prosperous days; and, whatever be your lot in life, wear it in remembrance of an unfortunate woman-but one whose heart shall ever beat, and warmest prayers ascend, for your happiness and welfare." The youth with gratitude received the present; took an affectionate leave of his friends and dearest connections; aud, bidding adieu to the tranquil scenes of his native home, wandered forth, unknowing whither—

"The world was all before him, where to choose His place of rest, and Providence his guide."

his

In the mean while, Baron Dudley had become the prey of all the conflicting passions that rive the guilty breast. His avarice and power made him a formidable enemy and a dangerous neighbour. He reigned a solitary despot among his numerous vassals, over whom he ruled with a rod of iron. Company and exercise alike became irksome to him; discontent and remorse sat heavy on his brow. In the gloomiest wintry hour he would walk around the ramparts; or, repairing to the northern tower of his castle, while the storm beat wild, and the winds whistled dreari ly over the mouldering battlements, contemplate the extent of his territories, and project schemes to encroach on the possessions of his less opulent neighbours. Unhappy were those who fell under his displeasure; the smallest act of disobedience in his subjects, was sure to render them obnoxious to an ignominious death. His poor dependants, wrung by the griping hand of their avaricious lord, lingered out a miserable existence, denied even the wretched privileges of supplication and complaint.

In one of the gloomiest evenings of winter, when the pillared clouds, surcharged with their enormous load of hail and snow, black ened the northern skies, and shed a double gloom on the wild and barren landscape; Though unused to quit the walls of his castle,

the Baron extended Iris walk to the lonely confines of the adjacent forest, where ran a deep and silent stream, overhung by the naked arms of broad spreading oaks, and foul with the drainage of the surrounding hills; when his attention was suddenly caught by a voice, which formed the accents of extreme despair. He saw not the object; but distinctly heard the conclusion of his soliloquy in terms like these-" Cruel Fortune! For me, well could I have borne thy severest stroke; but, while I behold my hapless wife, and my little innoents, looking up to me for the support which f am unable to bestow; while they, too, cringe be neath the oppressive rod of power, and drink deeply of the bitter cup of my misfortunes-it is too much! When these eyes shall be closed in death, perhaps the gentle hand of pity will commisserate their woes, and administer to them the needful relief. I now only live to enhance and participate their calamities. Come, then, Death! thou friend of the unhappy, with whom the weary traveller can alone find rest. Welcome! thrice welcome to my heart! Here, unobserved by mortal eye, will I plunge in this Lethean flood, and drink oblivion to the cares of life!"

At the same moment, the unfortunate speaker, in all the phrenzy of despair, rushed forth to the river's brink; and had actually. put in execution his fatal resolution, had not the astonished Baron, stepping forward, seized him by the arm, and thus prevented him Both of them stood fixed for a moment, in silent surprise and suspence: when the ring that glittered on the finger of the youth caught the Baron's eye. He started back with horror, while his own heart seemed to reproach him: bitter reflections thronged into his mind and rash suspicion presented to him the murderer of his injured Matilda. The flame of affection, which had long been suc thered in his breast, instantaneously rekin dled, and revenge flashed forth in his disordered countenance. "Monster!" cried he,. laying his hand on his sabre," the vengeance of Heaven justly awaits thee! The guilt which hangs heavy on thy conscience, has urged thee to thy fate: but I will save thee from adding to the rest of thy crimes that of sui cide; and thanks be to the unerring Power that gives me this opportunity of a sweet re venge! I yield thee but a moment's respite; this thirsty steel is impatient for thy blood! Where is the murdered body of the unfortu nate woman who once owned that ring?— How?-Where?-Speak! or eternal silence seals thy tongue!"

Half petrified with astonishment, the trem bling youth, in stammering accents, confessed all that he knew of the person who, in the character of a relation, had presented him with the ring; and concluded, by begging the Baron's permission to bring her forward, that she might witness the veracity of his

« AnteriorContinuar »