Occasional conformists base, I blamed their moderation; When George in pudding-time came o er, The illustrious house of Hanover, I nevermore will falter, And George my lawful king shall be Until the times do alter. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever king shall reign, Cumnor Hall. ANONYMOUS. THE dews of summer night did fall; And many an oak that grew thereby. Now naught was heard beneath the skies, Save an unhappy lady's sighs, That issued from that lonely pile. "Leicester," she cried, "is this thy love "No more thou com'st with lover's speed, Thy once beloved bride to see; But be she alive, or be she dead, I fear, stern Earl, 's the same to thee. "Not so the usage I received When happy in my father's hall; No faithless husband then me grieved, No chilling fears did me appal. "I rose up with the cheerful morn, No lark more blithe, no flower more gay; And like the bird that haunts the thorn, So merrily sung the livelong day. "If that my beauty is but small, Among court ladies all despised, Why didst thou rend it from that hall, Where, scornful Earl, it well was prized? "And when you first to me made suit, "Yes! now neglected and despised, The rose is pale, the lily's dead; But he that once their charms so prized, Is sure the cause those charms are fled. "For know, when sick'ning grief doth prey, And tender love 's repaid with scorn, The sweetest beauty will decay,— แ What floweret can endure the storm? "At court, I'm told, is beauty's throne, Then, Earl, why didst thou leave the beds Where roses and where lilies vie, To seek a primrose, whose pale shades Must sicken when those gauds are by? "Mong rural beauties I was one, Among the fields wild flowers are fair; Some country swain might me have won, And thought my beauty passing rare. "But, Leicester, (or I much am wrong,) Or 't is not beauty lures thy vows; Rather ambition's gilded crown Makes thee forget thy humble spouse. "Then, Leicester, why, again I plead, (The injured surely may repine,)— Why didst thou wed a country maid, When some fair princess might be thine? "Why didst thou praise my humble charms, And, oh! then leave them to decay? Why didst thou win me to thy arms, Then leave to mourn the livelong day? "The village maidens of the plain Salute me lowly as they go; Envious they mark my silken train, "The simple nymphs! they little know How far more happy 's their estate; To smile for joy than sigh for woeTo be content-than to be great. "How far less blest am I than them? "Nor, cruel Earl! can I enjoy The humble charms of solitude; Your minions proud my peace destroy, By sullen frowns or pratings rude. "Last night, as sad I chanced to stray, The village death-bell smote my ear; They winked aside, and seemed to say, 'Countess, prepare, thy end is near.' "And now, while happy peasants sleep, Save Philomel on yonder thorn. "My spirits flag—my hopes decay— Still that dread death-bell smites my ear, And many a boding seems to say, Thus sore and sad that lady grieved, And ere the dawn of day appeared, The death-bell thrice was heard to ring, The mastiff howled at village door, The oaks were shattered on the green; And in that manor now no more Have spirits haunted Cumnor Hall. The village maids, with fearful glance, Among the groves of Cumnor Hall. Full many a traveler oft hath sighed, WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE. The Sailor's Wife. AND are ye sure the news is true? Ye jades, lay by your wheel. |