то GEORGE ELLIS, Esq. Edinburgh. WHEN dark December glooms the day, And takes our autumn joys away; When short and scant the sun-beam throws, Upon the weary waste of snows, A cold and profitless regard, Like patron on a needy bard; When sylvan occupation's done, And o'er the chimney rests the gun, And hang, in idle trophy, near, The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear; When wiry terrier, rough and grim, And greyhound, with his length of limb, The needful water from the spring; And darkling politician, cross'd, Inveighs against the lingering post, And answering house-wife sore complains Of carriers' snow-impeded wains : When such the country cheer, I come, Well pleased, to seek our city home; For converse, and for books, to change The Forest's melancholy range, And welcome, with renew'd delight, The busy day, and social night. Not here need my desponding rhyme Lament the ravages of time, As erst by Newark's riven towers, And Ettrick stripp'd of forest bowers.* True,-Caledonia's Queen is changed, Since, on her dusky summit ranged, And flanking towers, and laky flood, Guarded and garrison'd she stood, Save at each tall embattled port; *See Introduction to Canto II. Since, early closed, and opening late, Jealous revolved the studded gate, Whose task, from eve to morning tide, Stern, then, and steel-girt was thy brow, When safe amid thy mountain court And, liberal, unconfined, and free, Not she, the Championess of old, In Spenser's magic tale enroll'd, She for the charmed spear renown'd, Which forced each knight to kiss the ground,— Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, What time she was Malbecco's guest,* Erst hidden by the aventayle; And down her shoulders graceful roll'd Her locks profuse of paly gold. They who whilom, in midnight fight, Had marvell'd at her matchless might, And passion, erst unknown, could gain The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane; *See "The Fairy Queen," Book III. Canto IX. "For every one her liked, and every one her loved." SPENSER, as above. |