And lawny saints in smouldering flames did burn; Ah, dearest Lord, forefend thilk days should e'er return! In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defac'd, Our sovereign prince and liefest liege is plac'd, And warn'd them not the fretful to deride, Right well she knew each temper to descry; And some entice with pittance small of praise; E'en absent, she the reins of power doth hold, Lo! now with state she utters the command; The work so gay, that on their back is seen, Ah luckless he, and born beneath the beam Oft as he told of deadly, dolorous plight, For, brandishing the rod, she doth begin O ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure, She meditates a prayer to set him free; To her sad grief, which swells in either eye, No longer can she now her shrieks command, And hardly she forbears, through awful fear, And soon a flood of tears begins to flow, And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace? The form uncouth of his disguised face? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain? Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain; Or when from high she levels well her aim, And through the thatch his cries each falling stroke proclaim. Attend, and con their tasks with mickle care; And from their fellow's hateful wounds beware, Till fear has taught them a performance meet, All but the wight of flesh y-gallèd; he Abhorreth bench, and stool, and fourm, and chair; His grievous wrong, his dame's unjust behest; His face besprent with liquid crystal shines, Which low to earth its drooping head declines, All, all but she, the author of his shame, All, all but she, regret this mournful hour; Yet hence the youth, and hence the flower, shall claim, If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame. When morning's twilight-tinctured beam To dip the scythe in fragrant dew; Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear, In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, For them the moon with cloudless ray Their weary spirits to relieve, The meadows incense breathe at eve. No riot mars the simple fare, That o'er a glimmering hearth they share : Duly, the darkening valleys o'er, Has echoed from the distant town, Their little sons, who spread the bloom Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest, Their humble porch with honey'd flowers T. WARTON, 1723-1790. THE NOSEGAY. FROM JOURNAL OF A NATURALIST." With us the nosegay yet retains its station as a decoration to our Sunday beaux; but at our spring clubs and associations it becomes an essential, indispensable appointment, a little of the spirit of rivalry seeming to animate our youths in the choice and magnitude of this adornment. The superb spike of a Brompton, or ten-weeks'-stock long cherished in some sheltered corner for the occasion, surrounded by all the gayety the garden can afford, till it presents a very bush of flowers, forms the appendage of their bosoms, and, with the gay knots in their hats, their best garments, and the sprightly hilarity of their looks, constitutes a pleasing village scene, and gives an hour of unencumbered felicity to common man and rural life, not yet disturbed by refinement and taste. J. L. KNAPP. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE. A well there is in the west country, And a clearer one never was seen; An oak and an elm-tree stand beside, A traveler came to the well of St. Keyne- For from cock-crow he had been traveling, He drank of the water so cool and clear, And he sat down upon the bank, Under the willow-tree. There came a man from the house hard by, At the well to fill his pail; On the well-side he rested it, And he bade the stranger hail. Now art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he! The happiest draught thou hast drank this day "Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast, For an if she have, I'll venture my life, She has drank of the well of St. Keyne." "I have left a good woman who never was here," The stranger he made reply; "But that my draught should be the better for that, I pray you answer me why." "St. Keyne," quoth the Cornishman, "many a time Drank of this crystal well; And before the angel summoned her, She laid on the water a spell. |