THE NAIADS. FROM AKENSIDE'S HYMN TO THE NAIADS. You Nymphs, the winged offspring, which of old Owns ; and your aid beseecheth. When the night To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied The Muses, sacred by the gifts divine, In early days did on my wondering senses Their secrets oft reveal: oft my raised ear In field or shady grove, they taught me words Of power from death and envy to preserve The good man's name. Whence yet with grateful mind And offerings unprofaned by ruder eye, My vows I send, my homage to the seats Of rocky Cirrha, where with you they dwell: With you, O Naiads! far from the unhallowed rout Must dwell the man who e'er to praised themes To your calm habitations, to the Cave Corycian or the Delphic Mount, will guide His footsteps; and with your unsullied streams His parched lips will bathe. Hail! honoured Nymphs, Thrice hail! For you the Cyrenaic shell Be present ye with favourable feet, And all profaner audience far remove. THE SLEEPER'S SHRIFT. BY H. F. CHORLEY. Ir was one of the darkest afternoons of winter, immediately after New Year's day, that the young heiress of Wanderstein caused an unusually good fire to be kindled in her dressing-room, and summoned her old attendant, half nurse, half confidante, to assist her at her toilet; giving herself up to its cares with that comfortable deliberation, which is at once a token of abundant leisure, and the exquisite effects intended to be produced therein. "Nay, Richilda," said the fair Lady Jane, looking in the glass," undo this stiff structure of curls; thou hast made my head look like field-marshal's peruke. I will have it, let me see,-no, not braided, how was it on my birth-day?" "The day on which Count Seltzermann was here last?" "Have done, Richilda; or rather do not begin." "Well, then," returned the confidante, peevishly, "I do not remember; how should I, if I am not allowed to talk about it?" |