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Where musing solitude might love to lift
IX. THE MOON.-CHARLOTTE SMITH.1
QUEEN of the silver bow! by thy pale beam,
And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,
Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way:
Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast;
That in thy orb the wretched may have rest ;
Released by death, to thy benignant sphere,
Forget, in thee, their cup of sorrow here.
X. THE STARS.-DARWIN.
ROLL on, ye stars; exult in youthful prime;
'Mrs. Charlotte Smith (Miss Turner) was born in King Street, St. James Square, London, May 4th, 1749. Her first collection of sonnets and other poems was very popular, passing through no less than eleven editions. Her first novel, "Emmeline," which was exceedingly popular, appeared in 1788. Her novels and other prose works, in all about forty volumes, were much admired by Sir Walter Scott and other contemporaries; but she is now most known and most valued
for her poetry, which abounds with touches of tenderness, grace, and beauty. She died on the 28th of October, 1806.
2 Erasmus Darwin, an English physician, poet, and botanist, was born at Elton, in 1731, and after taking his degree at Edinburgh, pursued his professional career at Litchfield, from which place he removed to Derby, where he died in 1802. Dr. Darwin was an original thinker, a great adept in analogies, and an able versifier.
Star after star from heaven's high arch shall rush,
153. LOCHINVAR'S RIDE.
OH, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,—
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best! And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
2. He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late;
3. So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,
'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), "O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?" 4. "I long wooed your daughter,-my suit you denied ;— Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; And now am I come with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."
5. The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup,
Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.
6. So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, ""Twere better, by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." 7. One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croup the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scar; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. 8. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran : There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?
154. THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE.
ORD was brought to the Danish king
That the love of his heart lay suffering,
And pined for the comfort his voice would bring ;
Better he loves each golden curl
On the brow of that Scandinavian girl
Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl ;
And his Rose of the Isles is dying!
2. Thirty nobles saddled with speed;
Each one mounting a gallant steed
3. His nobles are beaten, one by one;
They have fainted, and faltered, and homeward gone; His little fair page now follows ǎlone,
For strength and for courage trying
The king looked back at that faithful child;
4. The king blew a blast on his bugle horn; (Silence!)
No answer came; but faint and forlorn
An echo returned on the cold gray morn,
Lil the breath of a spirit sighing.
The castle portal stood grimly wide;
Who had yearned for his voice while dying!
5. The panting steed, with a drooping crest,
The king returned from her chamber of rest,
And, that dumb companion eyeing,
The tears gushed forth which he strove to check;
To the halls where my love lay dying!"
P from the South at break of day,
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
3. But there is a road from Winchester town,
And there, through the flush of the morning light,
He stretched away with the utmost speed,
4. Still sprung from these swift hoofs, thundering South,
5. Under his spurning feet, the road