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tion of the part of the Moorish woman is full of poetic imagination; and the opening scenes in particular are sublime and interesting. The moral is perfect, and strict poetical justice is done on the guilty. The style is, throughout, poetical and classical, and far above the common level. It abounds with fine touches of nature, and the tender feelings are almost incessantly appealed to. Many of the passages were received with loud, general, and prolonged applause. The tragedy was, indeed, heard from beginning to end with the most marked distinction, and announced for repetition amid shouts from every corner of the theatre.

Its principal faults were too great length; and an exuberance of passages merely descriptive.

DANCE OF DEATHS.

THE French historians relate, that in the year 1424, the English Regent gave at Paris a show, or spectacle, after the manner of his country. The scene of this entertainment was the churchyard of the Innocents. Persons of both sexes, splendidly dressed, and representing the different conditions of human life, began to execute various dances. A number of figures personating Death, whose limbs were concealed in tight dark clothes, upon which were sowed the resemblance of dry bones, so that they seemed to be walking skeletons, came and mingled in the dance, and led away now one and now another into the chambers and cellars about, where refreshments were provided. This odd allegory was called La Danse Macabrée.

SNAIL-EATING.

THEY are eaten in Germany, boiled, fried in butter, and sometimes stuffed with forced meat. The sliminess is considered as the greatest delicacy, and therefore remains after dressing. Snails close the list of maigre dishes, but they are not eaten from economy, seven of them being charged at the Traiteur's, the same as a plate of veal, or beef.

SCOTCH SALUTATION.

THE North Briton at Auld Reeky, frequently greets his friend with "Weel, Donald, is na this a fine cauld rainy morning?" Indeed it is, Sandy, a fine cauld rainy morning.

POETRY.

[We have just received a poem entitled "THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN, OR THE VALE OF ST. JOHN," a lover's tale. It is written in the romantic, or minstrel style, such as Walter Scott has revived. The author is said, we know not with what truth, to be William Erskine, Esq. to whom an introduction of one of the Cantos in Marmion is addressed. The story is more appertaining to chivalry than those of Walter Scott; it is spirited and fanciful, and will, we think, prove very popular among the admirers of this species of poetry. The following is an extract.]

KING ARTHUR'S ADVENTURE.

BENEATH the castle's gloomy pride,
In ample round did Arthur ride
Three times; nor living thing he spied,
Nor heard a living sound,

Save that, awakening from her dream,
The owlet now began to scream,
In concert with the rushing stream,

That washed the battled mound.

He lighted from his goodly steed,

And he left him to graze on bank and mead;
And slowly he climbed the narrow way,
That reached the entrance grim and gray,
And he stood the outward arch below,
And his bugle-horn prepar❜d to blow,
In summons blithe and bold,
Deeming to rouse from iron sleep
The guardian of this dismal keep,

Which well he guess'd the hold
Of wizard stern, or goblin grim,
Or pagan of gigantic limb,

The tyrant of the wold.

XV.

The ivory bugle's golden tip

Twice touched the monarch's manly lip,
And twice his hand withdrew.

Think not but Arthur's heart was good!

His shield was cross'd by the blessed rood,

Had a pagan host before him stood,

He had charged them through and through ;

Yet the silence of that ancient place

Sunk on his heart, and he paused a space
Ere yet his horn he blew.

But, instant as its larum rung,
The castle-gate was open flung,
Portcullis rose with crashing groan
Full harshly up its groove of stone,

The balance beams obeyed the blast,
And down the trembling drawbridge cast.
The vaulted arch before him lay,
With nought to bar the gloomy way,
And onward Arthur paced, with hand.
On Caliburn's resistless brand.

XVI.

An hundred torches, flashing bright,
Dispelled at once the gloomy night
That loured along the walls,
And showed the king's astonished sight
The inmates of the halls.

Nor wizard stern, nor goblin grim,
Nor giant huge of form and limb,

Nor heathen knight, was there;

But the cressets, which odours flung aloft,
Showed, by their yellow light and soft,
A band of damsels fair!
Onward they came, like summer wave
That dances to the shore;
An hundred voices welcome gave,
And welcome o'er and o'er!

An hundred lovely hands assail

The bucklers of the monarch's mail,
And busy laboured to unhasp

Rivet of steel and iron clasp;

One wrapp'd him in a mantle fair,

And one flung odours on his hair;

His short curled ringlets one smooth'd down, One wreathed them with a myrtle crown.

A bride upon her wedding day

Was tended ne'er by troop so gay.

XVII.

Loud laughed they all-the king, in vain,
With questions tasked the giddy train;
Let him entreat, or crave, or call,
'Twas one reply-loud laughed they all.
Then o'er him mimic chains they fling,
Framed of the fairest flowers of spring.
While some their gentle force unite,
Onward to drag the wondering knight,
Some, bolder, urge his pace with blows,
Dealt with the lily or the rose.
Behind him were in triumph borne
The warlike arms he late had worn,
Four of the train combined to rear
The terrors of Tintadgel's spear;
Two, laughing at their lack of strength,
Dragg'd Caliburn in cumbrous length;

King Arthur's sword.

One, while she aped a martial stride,
Placed on her brows the helmet's pride,
Then scream'd, 'twixt laughter and surprise,
To feel its depth o'erwhelm her eyes.
With revel-shout, and triumph-song,
Thus gayly marched the giddy throng.

XVIII.

Through many a gallery and a hall
They led, I ween, their royal thrall.
At length, beneath a fair arcade,
Their march and song at once they staid.
The eldest maiden of the band,

(The lovely maid was scarce eighteen,)
Raised, with imposing air, her hand,
And reverend silence did command,
On entrance of their Queen,
And they were mate.-But as a glance
They steal on Arthur's countenance
Bewildered with surprise,

Their smothered mirth again 'gan speak,
In archly dimpled chin and cheek,
And laughter-lighted eyes.

XIX..

The attributes of these high days
Now only live in minstrel lays;
For Nature, now exhausted, still
Was then profuse of good and ill.
Strength was gigantic, valour high,
And wisdom soar'd beyond the sky
And beauty had such matchless beam,
As lights not now a lover's dream.

Yet e'en in that romantic age,

Ne'er were such charms by mortals seen,

As Arthur's dazzled eyes engage,

When forth on that enchanted stage

With glittering train of maid and page,
Advanced the castle's Queen.
While up the hall she slowly passed,
Her dark eye on the king she cast,
That flash'd expression strong;

The longer dwelt that lingering look,

Her cheek the livelier colour took,

And scarce the shame-faced king could brook
The gaze that lasted long.

A sage, who had that look espied,

Where kindling passion strove with pride,
Had whispered "Prince, beware!

From the chafed tiger rend the prey,

Rush on the lion when at bay,

Bar the fell dragon's blighted way,
But shun that lovely snare."
3 Y

VOL. I. New Series.

XX.

At once, that inward strife suppress'd,
The dame approached her warlike guest,
With greeting in that fair degree,
Where female pride and courtesy
Are blended with such passing art
As awes at once and charms the heart.
A courtly welcome first she gave,
Then of his goodness 'gan to crave
Construction fair and true

Of her light maidens' idle mirth,
Who drew from lonely glens their birth,
Nor knew to pay to stranger worth

And dignity their due;

And then she pray'd that he would rest
That night her castle's honoured guest.
The monarch meetly thanks express'd,
The banquet rose at her behest,

With lay and tale, and laugh and jest,
Apace the evening flew.

XXI.

The lady sate the monarch by,
Now in her turn abashed and shy,
And with indifference seemed to hear
The toys he whispered in her ear.
Her bearing modest was and fair,
Yet shadows of constraint were there,
That show'd an over-cautious care

Some inward thought to hide ;
Oft did she pause in full reply,
And oft cast down her large dark eye,
Oft check'd the soft voluptuous sigh,

That heaved her bosom's pride.
Slight symptoms these, but shepherds know
How hot the mid-day sun shall glow
From the mist of morning sky;
And so the wily monarch guess'd,
That this assumed restraint express'd
More ardent passions in the breast,
Than ventured to the eye.

Closer he press'd, while beakers rang,
While maidens laughed and minstrels sang,
Still closer to her ear-

But why pursue the common tale ?
Or wherefore show how knights prevail,
When ladies dare to hear?

Or wherefore trace, from what slight cause
Its source one tyrant passion draws,

Till mastering all within?

Where lives the man that has not tried,

How mirth can into folly glide,

And folly into sin!

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