Then too, as now, ladies, when least attired,
For what they did not wear, were most admired.

"Yet ev❜n these charms from insult to protect, "Some club-arm'd Warrior stood, terrific, nigh, "With uncouth forms, and shapeless monsters deck'd,

"Who thus implored his mistress, with a sigh :*

(Observe, that, when these rough-hewn rhymes they sung,

The ancient Britons were but very young.)

* Vide Gray's Elegy in a Country Church Yard.

CEDWALLA to EDDA.

An Ancient British Love-Song.

I.

By those raven-dyed ringlets that float round thy form,

And circle that heaven thy beauties display ; By that face, like the sun-beam that peeps thro' the storm,

Our hopes to encourage, our fears to allay; By that dove, dearest Edda, pourtrayed on thy

breast;

With one smile of assent let Cadwalla be blest! Druid Chiefs my suit befriend,

While the misletoe I twine,

Let the sacred flame ascend,

Say, shall Edda's charms be mine?

II.

By the speed of my coursers in hunting and war, Whose trembling impatience for action I prize; By the scythes on my chariot, less dangerous far, Than the shafts dearest Edda can dart from her

eyes,

By

By the groans of the wounded, the shades of the

slain,

I beseech thee, dear Edda, to shorten my pain!

Holy Druid Chiefs, befriend,

While the misletoe I twine,
See the sacred flame ascend,
Edda must, and shall, be mine.

EDDA to CDWALLA.

Being the Answer of an Ancient British Damsel in her Teens.

I.

Chief of thy daring tribe, with pride I see
Those looks, of late so dreadful to the foe,
Soften to kindness, when they bend on me,

As melts, in cheering Spring, the mountain's

snow.

II.

Yes, seek the altars of our warlike sires,

With rev'rence bend before each hallowed shrine, Pure be thy passion, as their sacred fires,

And, Heaven approving, Edda shall be thine.

These were their sentiments, or may have been,
'Ere Britons found the way to Gretna Green;
But these, however homely, were the strains
Of lovers of haut ton, and form'd with pains.
When meaner folks by Cupid were perplexed,
Haply a ditty, simple as the next,

Might have been carol'd to a lady's maid,
By some bold serjeant, corporal, or the like,
Should it want force your faculties to strike,
Remember WAR, not WRITING, was his trade.

COURTSHIP of the CANAILLE.

I.

My love's so like a fine field day,

No colour does she lack <;

But varied, as the rainbow gay,

She's straiter in the back.

II.

Her nose is red, her lips are blue,

Her chin as green as grass; And what of saffron colour'd hue,

Can Ila's neck surpass?

My

III.

My heart how soft it's grown to prove,

Next prisoner I take,

I'll shut him in an image, love,

And burn him for thy sake.

IV.

Or shou'd we e'er be put to flight,
And savage foes give chace,
I'll pierce thy bosom with delight,
To save thee from disgrace.

The MAIDEN's REPLY.

I.

My love, of pilfering Danes the dread,

What warrior may abide?

A lion's painted on his head,

A dragon decks his side.

II.

A wolf grins lovely on his chest,

A serpent twines his arms,

And captives' hides which form his vest

Add softness to his charms.

When