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" Sweet is the breath of vernal show'r,
VI. Foremost and leaning from her golden cloud, The venerable Marg'ret* see! « Welcome, my noble son!" she cries aloud, « To this thy kindred train and me: « Pleas'd in thy lineaments we trace « A l'udor's fire, a Beaufort's grace. “ Thy lib'ral heart, thy judging eye, “ The flow'r unheeded shall descry, "And bid it round heaven's altars shed " The fragrance of its blushing head; “ Shall raise from earth the latent gem “ To glitter on the diadem.
VII. « Lo! Granta waits to lead her blooming band; " Nor obvious, nor obtrusive, she "No vulgar praise, no venal incense flings, “ Nor dares with courtly tongue refin'd " Profane thy inborn royalty of mind: · She reveres herself and thee, “ With modest pride to grace thy youthful brow " The laureate wreath that Cecilt wore she brings, “ And to thy just thy gentle hand “ Submits the fasces of her sway; " While spirits blest above and men below, “ Join with glad voice the loud symphonious lay.
• Countess of Richmond and Derby, the mother of Henry VII. foundress of St. John's and Christ's colleges.
The Countess was a Beaufort, and married to a Tudor i hence the application of this line to the Duke of Grafton, who claims descent from both these families.
+ Lord Treasurer Burleigh was Chancellor of the Universay
VIII. " Thro the wild waves, as they roar, “ With watchful eye, and dauntless mien, " Thy steady course of honour keep, “ Nor fear the rocks nor seek the shore : “ The star of Brunswick smiles serene, “ And gilds the horrors of the deep."
A LONG STORY.
MR. GRAY's Elegy, previous to its publication, was handed about
in MS, and had, amongst other admirers, the Lady Cobham, who resided in the mansion-house at Stoke Pogis. The pere formance inducing her to wish for the Author's acquaintance, Lady Schaub and Miss Speed, then at her house, undertook to iniroduce her to it. These two ladies waited upon the Author at his aunt's solitary habitation, rohere he at that time resided, And not finding him at home, they left a card behind them. Mr. Gray, surprised at su h a compliment, returned the visit ; and as the beginning of this intercours: bore some appearance of romance, he gave the humourous and lively account of it which the Long Story contains,
TN Britain's isle, no matter where,
* The mansion-house at Stoke-Pogis, then in the posses. sion of Viscountess Cobham. The style of building whicis we now call Queen Elizabeth's, is here adınirably described, both with regard to its beauties and defects; and the third and fourth stanzas delineate the fantastic manners of her time with equal truth and humour. The house formery belonged to the Earls of Huntingdon and the raw Hatton,
To raise the cieling's fretted height, Each pannel in atchievements clothing, Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing.
Full oft within the spacious walls,
His bushy-beard and shoe-strings green, His high-crown'd hat and satin doublet, Mov'd the stout heart of England's queen, Tho' Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it.
What, in the very first beginning,
A house there is (and that's enough)
The first came cap-a-pee from France,
* Sir Christopher Hatton, promoted by Queen or his graceful person and fine dancing..... Brawis sort of a figure-dance then in vogue, and probably de as elegant as our modern cotillons, or still more quadrilles. + The reader is already apprized who
ler is already apprized who these ladies were ; the two descriptions are prettily contrasted ; and can be more happily turned than the compliment ! Cobham in the eighth stanza,
ons, or still more modern
an the compliment to Lady
The other amazon kind heav'n
To celebrate her eyes, her air....
With bonnet blue and capuchin,
Fame, in the shape of Mr. P....t*,
Who prowl'd the country far and near,
My Lady heard their joint petition,
The heroines undertook the task;
The trembling family they daunt,
* I have been told that this gentleman, a neighbour and acquaintance of Mr. Gray's in the country, was much displeased at the liberty here taken with his name, yet surely
Each hole and cupboard they explore,
Into the drawers and china pry,
On the first inarching of the troops,
To a small closet in the garden.
Short was his joy: he little knew
The words too eager to unriddle
So cunning was the apparatus,
Yet on his way (no sign of grace,
The godhead would have back'd his quarrel;