concert, ball, or other assemblage of articulately-speaking beings, during their residence in this country,—

"That Lady Amelia Sorrel shall never venture to read in a wicked, improper, and never-to-be-sufficiently-condemned book, which is in most libraries, neatly bound and lettered, and called Hume's History of England,'

"That Miss Laura Fitz Eustace shall never again open the gilt-edged leaves of the Lalla Rookh' which we ourselves presented to her in pure love and red morocco, until she shall have given up dancing, and entered upon a certain age,'—

"That all reviewers and revilers whose names are not here specified, shall remember constantly that Knight's Quarterly Magazine' is under the protection and patronage of Lady Mary Vernon; that it is dangerous to trifle with reputations or play with edged tools ;—that Marmaduke Villars can split a bullet upon a penknife's blade at twelve paces;—and that Vyvyan Joyeuse can indite a lampoon upon any distributor of defamation at a minute's warning.

"Given at this our Castle of Vernon,

66

Sept. 1st, 1823.

(Signed)

"PEREGRINE COURTENAY, "Secretary."

ON QUADRILLES.

I HAVE resolved never again to dance;-and yet this is a cruel resolution at two-and, thirty.

For ten years I have been a happy member of our social assemblies in the pleasant town of M- My subscription will be saved; but how shall I fill up the tedious winter months without the recollections of the past, and the anticipations of the coming ball? Delightful companions of the full moon— blooming evenings of defiance to hail and frost-ye are gone, and my solitary hearth must be my solace.

I shall never forget the night when the seeds of your destruction were first sown. Louisa W. had to call, and I was her delighted partner. The eager hands were clapped, the dis

The Troubadour;

A POEM.

CANTO I.

Le Troubadour

Brulant d'amour.-French Ballad.

In sooth it was a glorious day
For vassal and for lord,
When Cœur de Lion had the sway
In battle and at board.

He was, indeed, a royal one,
A Prince of Paladins ;
Hero of triumph and of tun,

Of noisy fray and noisy fun,

Broad shoulders, and broad grins.

You might have looked from east to west,
And then from north to south,
And never found an ampler breast,

Never an ampler mouth,

A softer tone for lady's ear,

A daintier lip for syrup,

Or a ruder grasp for axe and

spear,

Or a firmer foot in stirrup.

A ponderous thing was Richard's can,

And so was Richard's boot,

And Saracens and liquor ran,
Where'er he set his foot.

So fiddling here, and fighting there,
And murdering time and tune,
With sturdy limb, and listless air,
And gauntletted hand, and jewelled hair,
Half monarch, half buffoon,

He turned away from feast to fray,

From quarrelling to quaffing, So great in prowess and in pranks, So fierce and funny in the ranks, That Saladin the Soldan said, Whene'er that mad-cap Richard led, Alla! he held his breath for dread, And burst his sides for laughing!

At court the humour of a king
Is always voted "quite the thing;"
Morals and cloaks are loose or laced
According to the Sovereign's taste,
And belles and banquets both are drest
Just as his majesty thinks best.
Of course in that delightful age,

When Richard ruled the roast,
Cracking of craniums was the rage,

And beauty was the toast.
Ay! all was laugh, and life, and love;
And lips and shrines were kist;
And vows were ventured in the grove,
And lances in the list;

And boys roamed out in sunny weather
To weave a wreath and rhyme together;
While dames, in silence, and in satin,
Lay listening to the soft French-Latin,
And flung their sashes and their sighs
From odour-breathing balconies.

From those bright days of love and glory,
I take the hero of my story.
A wandering Troubadour was he;
He bore a name of high degree,
And learned betimes to slay and sue,
As knights of high degree should do.
While vigour nerved his buoyant arm,
And youth was his to cheat and charm,

The Troubadour;

A POEM.

CANTO I.

Le Troubadour

Brulant d'amour.-French Ballad.

In sooth it was a glorious day
For vassal and for lord,
When Cœur de Lion had the sway
In battle and at board.
He was, indeed, a royal one,
A Prince of Paladins;

Hero of triumph and of tun,

Of noisy fray and noisy fun,

Broad shoulders, and broad grins.

You might have looked from east to west,
And then from north to south,
And never found an ampler breast,

Never an ampler mouth,

A softer tone for lady's ear,

A daintier lip for syrup,

Or a ruder grasp for axe and spear,
Or a firmer foot in stirrup.

A ponderous thing was Richard's can,
And so was Richard's boot,

And Saracens and liquor ran,

Where'er he set his foot.

So fiddling here, and fighting there,
And murdering time and tune,
With sturdy limb, and listless air,
And gauntletted hand, and jewelled hair,
Half monarch, half buffoon,

He turned away from feast to fray,

From quarrelling to quaffing, So great in prowess and in pranks, So fierce and funny in the rauks, That Saladin the Soldan said, Whene'er that mad-cap Richard led, Alla! he held his breath for dread, And burst his sides for laughing!

At court the humour of a king
Is always voted "quite the thing;"
Morals and cloaks are loose or laced
According to the Sovereign's taste,
And belles and banquets both are drest
Just as his majesty thinks best.
Of course in that delightful age,

When Richard ruled the roast,
Cracking of craniums was the rage,

And beauty was the toast.
Ay! all was laugh, and life, and love;

And lips and shrines were kist;
And vows were ventured in the grove,
And lances in the list;

And boys roamed out in sunny weather To weave a wreath and rhyme together; While dames, in silence, and in satin, Lay listening to the soft French-Latin, And flung their sashes and their sighs From odour-breathing balconies.

From those bright days of love and glory,
I take the hero of my story.
A wandering Troubadour was he;
He bore a name of high degree,
And learned betimes to slay and sue,
As knights of high degree should do.
While vigour nerved his buoyant arm,
And youth was his to cheat and charm,