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But still, whoever wooed her or embraced,
On every mind some mighty spell she cast.
Some she would teach (for she was wondrous wise,
And made her dupes see all things with her eyes)
That forms material, whatsoe'er we dream,
Are not at all, or are not what they seem;
That substances and modes of every kind
Are mere impressions on the passive mind;
And he that splits his cranium, breaks at most
A fancied head against a fancied post.
Others, that earth, ere sin had drowned it all,
Was smooth and even as an ivory ball;
That all the various beauties we survey,
Hills, valleys, rivers, and the boundless sea,
Are but departures from the first design,
Effects of punishment and wrath divine.
She tutored some in Dædalus's art,

And promised they should act his wildgoose part,
On waxen pinions soar without a fall,
Swift as the proudest gander of them all.

But fate reserved Sir Airy to maintain
The wildest project of her teeming brain;
That wedlock is not rigorous, as supposed,
But man, within a wider pale enclosed,
May rove at will, where appetite shall lead,
Free as the lordly bull that ranges o'er the mead ;
That forms and rites are tricks of human law,
As idle as the chattering of a daw;

That lewd incontinence and lawless rape

Are marriage in its true and proper shape;

That man by faith and truth is made a slave,
The ring a bauble, and the priest a knave.

"Fair fall the deed!" the knight exulting cried, "Now is the time to make the maid a bride!" 'Twas on the noon of an autumnal day, October hight, but mild and fair as May; When scarlet fruits the russet hedge adorn, And floating films envelop every thorn; When gently as in June the rivers glide,

And only miss the flowers that graced their side;
The linnet twittered out his parting song,

With many a chorister the woods among;

On southern banks the ruminating sheep

Lay snug and warm ;-'twas Summer's farewell peep.
Propitious to his fond intent there grew

An arbour near at hand of thickest yew,
With many a boxen bush close clipt between,

And phillyrea of a gilded green.

But what old Chaucer's merry page befits
The chaster muse of modern days omits.
Suffice it then in decent terms to say,
She saw, and turned her rosy cheek away.
Small need of prayer-book or of priest, I ween,
Where parties are agreed, retired the scene,
Occasion prompt, and appetite so keen.
Hypothesis (for with such magic power
Fancy endued her in her natal hour)

From many a steaming lake and reeking bog
Bade rise in haste a dank and drizzling fog,
That curtained round the scene where they reposed,
And wood and lawn in dusky folds enclosed.
Fear seized the trembling sex; in every grove
They wept the wrongs of honourable love:
"In vain," they cried, "are hymeneal rites,
"Vain our delusive hope of constant knights;
"The marriage bond has lost its power to bind,
"And flutters loose, the sport of every wind.
"The bride, while yet her bride's attire is on,
"Shall mourn her absent lord, for he is gone,
"Satiate of her and weary of the same,
"To distant wilds in quest of other game.
"Ye fair Circassians! all your lutes employ,
"Seraglios sing, and harems dance for joy!
"For British nymphs whose lords were lately true,
"Nymphs quite as fair, and happier once than you,
"Honour, esteem, and confidence forgot,
"Feel all the meanness of your slavish lot.

"O curst Hypothesis! your hellish arts

"Seduce our husbands, and estrange their hearts.
"Will none arise? no knight who still retains
"The blood of ancient worthies in his veins,

"To assert the charter of the chaste and fair,

"Find out her treacherous heart, and plant a dagger there? "A knight (can he that serves the fair do less?) "Starts at the call of beauty in distress; "And he that does not, whatsoe'er occurs, "Is recreant, and unworthy of his spurs.'

Full many a champion, bent on hardy deed,
Called for his arms and for his princely steed.

So swarmed the Sabine youth, and grasped the shield,
When Roman rapine, by no laws withheld,

Lest Rome should end with her first founders' lives,
Made half their maids, sans ceremony, wives.

* When a knight was degraded, his spurs were chopped off.

But not the mitred few; the soul their charge,
They left these bodily concerns at large;
Forms or no forms, pluralities or pairs,

Right reverend sirs! was no concern of theirs.
The rest, alert and active as became

A courteous knighthood, caught the generous flame;
One was accoutred when the cry began,
Knight of the Silver Moon, Sir Marmadan.*

Oft as his patroness, who rules the night,
Hangs out her lamp in yon cærulean height,
His vow was (and he well performed his vow),
Armed at all points, with terror on his brow,
To judge the land, to purge atrocious crimes,
And quell the shapeless monsters of the times.
For cedars famed, fair Lebanon supplied
The well-poised lance that quivered at his side;
Truth armed it with a point so keen, so just,
No spell or charm was proof against the thrust.
He couched it firm upon his puissant thigh,
And darting through his helm an eagle's eye,
On all the wings of chivalry advanced
To where the fond Sir Airy lay entranced.
He dreamt not of a foe, or if his fear
Foretold one, dreamt not of a foe so near.
Far other dreams his feverish mind employed,
Of rights restored, variety enjoyed;

Of virtue too well fenced to fear a flaw;
Vice passing current by the stamp of law;
Large population on a liberal plan,

And woman trembling at the foot of man;
How simple wedlock fornication works,
And Christians marrying may convert the Turks.
The trumpet now spoke Marmadan at hand,
A trumpet that was heard through all the land.
His high-bred steed expands his nostrils wide,
And snorts aloud to cast the mist aside;
But he, the virtues of his lance to show,
Struck thrice the point upon his saddle-bow;
Three sparks ensued that chased it all away,
And set the unseemly pair in open day.

"To horse!" he cried, " or, by this good right hand
"And better spear, I smite you where you stand.”
Sir Airy, not a whit dismayed or scared,
Buckled his helm, and to his steed repaired,
Whose bridle, while he cropped the grass
Hung not far off upon a myrtle bough.

"Monthly Review" for October.


He mounts at once,-such confidence infused
The insidious witch that had his wits abused;
And she, regardless of her softer kind,

Seized fast the saddle and sprang up behind.
"Oh, shame to knighthood!" his assailant cried ;
"Oh, shame!" ten thousand echoing nymphs replied.
Placed with advantage at his listening ear,
She whispered still that he had nought to fear,
That he was cased in such enchanted steel,
So polished and compact from head to heel,
"Come ten, come twenty, should an army call
Thee to the field, thou shouldst withstand them all."
"By Dian's beams!" Sir Marmadan exclaimed,
"The guiltiest still are ever least ashamed!
"But guard thee well, expect no feigned attack;
"And guard beside the sorceress at thy back!"
He spoke indignant, and his spurs applied,
Though little need, to his good palfrey's side:
The barb sprang forward, and his lord, whose force
Was equal to the swiftness of his horse,
Rushed with a whirlwind's fury on the foe,
And, Phineas like, transfixed them at a blow.
Then sang the married and the maiden throng,
Love graced the theme, and harmony the song:
The Fauns and Satyrs, a lascivious race,

Shrieked at the sight, and, conscious, fled the place:
And Hymen, trimming his dim torch anew,
His snowy mantle o'er his shoulders threw;
He turned, and viewed it oft on every side,
And, reddening with a just and generous pride,
Blessed the glad beams of that propitious day,
The spot he loathed so much for ever cleansed away.


If John marries Mary, and Mary alone,

'Tis a very good match between Mary and John. Should John wed a score, oh, the claws and the scratches! It can't be a match-'tis a bundle of matches.


I HAVE read the Review; it is learned and wise,
Clear, candid, and witty-Thelyphthora dies.


M. quarrels with N., because M. wrote a book,
And N. did not like it, which M. could not brook;
So he called him a bigot, a wrangler, a monk,
With as many hard names as would line a good trunk,
And set up his back, and clawed like a cat;
But N. liked it never the better for that.

Now N. had a wife, and he wanted but one,
Which stuck in M.'s stomach as cross as a bone:
It has always been reckoned a just cause of strife
For a man to make free with another man's wife;
But the strife is the strangest that ever was known,
If a man must be scolded for loving his own.



WHAT is there in the vale of life
Half so delightful as a Wife,

When friendship, love, and peace combine
To stamp the marriage bond divine ?
The stream of pure and genuine love
Derives its current from above;
And earth a second Eden shows,
Where'er the healing water flows:
But ah! if, from the dykes and drains
Of sensual nature's feverish veins,
Lust, like a lawless headstrong flood,
Impregnated with ooze and mud,
Descending fast on every side,
Once mingles with the sacred tide,
Farewell the soul-enlivening scene!
The banks that wore a smiling green,
With rank defilement overspread,
Bewail their flowery beauties dead.
The stream polluted, dark and dull,
Diffused into a Stygian pool,
Through life's last melancholy years
Is fed with everflowing tears:
Complaints supply the zephyr's part,
And sighs that heave a breaking heart.

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