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Winter - Fragment,
Sweet is the Winter with its hoary head,
mound; When streamlets ripple in their pebbly bed,
That six short months ago were chinky ground ; When Autumn flowers have been long since dead,
And not a trace of sprout or bud is found. Now are our cities for awhile to be
The scene of pleasure's rout and revelry.
What, though we have the sun but few short hours,
And Summer birds have from our regions flown, What, though the hedges show no gaudy flowers,
And the fresh breezes have so chilly grown? What though the heavens are plenteous with their
Now is the time to take the dog and gun,
The shot-pouch shoulder-hung-the pocket lined With biscuit and cold ham, (or having none,
Cold beef,)—and leaving house aud fire behind, Seek on the mountain-side the sportsman's fun
Partridge and grouse, et cetera; while the hind Stretches its slender limbs along the vale, Horses, and hounds, and huntsmen at his tail.
How sweet to sit around a red turf fire,
A pretty book, and sense to know its meaning; And last, not least, the fondest best desire,
One that we love upon our bosom leaning, Our head upon her shoulder calm reclining, The secret whisper, and the arm entwining.
How sweet it is at such a time as this
Upon some flooded river's bank to stand, And watch each ripple's vain attempt to kiss
Its foster-brother; or with rod in hand, And fly-wrapped hook, the half-caught trout to
miss, Which you had vainly hoped to bring to land ; Or see him, as he takes th'alluring bite, Dart through the waters like a thing of light.
The Fair Rowena.
In the reign of Vortigern,' the Saxons were invited over to assist that prince to keep off the invasions of the Picts and Scots. The leaders of the auxiliaries were Hengist and Horsa, who immediately formed the design of appropriating a portion to themselves. With this intent they joined the Britons, beat off the Picts, and introduced to the notice of the voluptuous monarch the beautiful Rowena -daughter of Horsa. The king was captivated, married her, and ceded to Hengist's followers the whole county of Sussex. Previous to this, Rowena had been betrothed to one of her own nation. Meanwhile Vortigern's incensed subjects surrounded him in his castle in Wales, wliere he had fled from their fury, and under command of Ambrosius (the son of a former king whom the present monarch had slain) they burnt the castle and its inmates, English History.
The feast was spread for mighty chiefs,
Proud Vortigern was there;
No British maid so fair.
But just to visit here,
To gild some other sphere,