"The dance lead up, the dance lead down, The dance lead round our favourite tree; If now even Oberon wears a frown, A false and froward churl is he!" Thus sing the Fays;- Lord Musgrave hears The radiant show, despite the fears But soft! the minstrelsy declines; The morrice ceases, sounds the shaums; And quick, whilst many a taper shines, The heralds rank their airy swarms. Titania waves her crystal wand,— And underneath the greenwood bower, Tables, and urns, and goblets stand, Metheglin, nectar, fruit, and flower. "To banquet, ho!" the seneschals Bid the brisk tribes, that, thick as bees, At sound of cymbals, to their calls Consort beneath the leafy trees: Titania by her king, each knight Behind his scutcheoned lord a bright Equipment on a brilliant stage. The monarch sits; all helms are doffed, Plumes, scarfs, and mantles cast aside, And, to the sound of music soft, They ply their cups with mickle pride. Or sparkling mead, or spangling dew, With "nod and beck, and wreathed smile,' They heap their jewelled patines high; Nor want their mirthful airs the while To crown the festive revelry. A minstrel dwarf, in silk arrayed, And whilst a page at Oberon's knee This lay the little bard with glee "Health to our Sovereign; fill, brave boy, Yon glorious goblet to the brim ! There's joy in every drop there's joy That laughs within its charmed rim ! "'T was wrought within a wizard's mould, When signs and spells had happiest power;Health to our king by wood and wold! Health to our queen in hall and bower!" They rise the myriads rise, and shrill The wild wood echoes to their brawl"Health to our king by wold and rill! Health to our queen in bower and hall !" A sudden thought fires Musgrave's brain And snatches up that goblet bright! With three brave bounds the lawn he crossed, The fourth it seats him on his steed'; "Now, Luath! or thy lord is lost Stretch to the stream with lightning speed!" 'T is uproar all around, behind Leaps to his selle each screaming Fay; "The charmed cup is fairly tined, Stretch to the strife away! away !" As in a whirlwind forth they swept, The green turf trembling as they pass'd; But, forward still good Musgrave kept, The shallow stream approaching fast. A thousand quivers round him rained Their shafts or ere he reached the shore; But when the farther bank was gained, This song the passing whirlwind bore : "Joy to thy banner, bold Sir Knight; The forest cleared he winds his horn- 'T is dusk of day;-in Eden towers It comes in murmurs up the stairs, "Sleep sweetly, babe!" 't was heard to say, “But if the goblet break or fall, Farewell thy vantage in the fray, Farewell the luck of Eden-hall!" BRING BACK THE CHAIN. BY THE HONOURABLE MRS. NORTON. Ir was an aged man, who stood And hailed the time-worn Captive free! "Bring back the chain, whose weight so long These tortured limbs have vainly borne; The word of Freedom from your tongue, My weary ear rejects with scorn ! 'T is true, there was there was a time, I sighed, I panted to be free ; Bowed down my stubborn knee. "Then I have stretched my yearning arms, And shook in wrath my bitter chain; Then, when the magic word had charms, I groaned for liberty in vain! |