T.B.
* * * * *
FROM CATULLUS.
(_For the Mirror._)
My Lydia says, "believe me I speak true,
I ne'er will marry any one but you;
If Jove himself should mention love to me,
Not even Jove would be preferred to thee."
She says--but all that women tell
Their doting lovers--I, alas! too well
Know, should be written on the waves or wind,
So little do their words express their mind.
T.C.
* * * * *
THE NOVELIST
* * * * *
GERMAN TRADITIONS.
I have a song of war for knight,
Lay of love for lady bright,
Faery tale to lull the heir,
Goblin grim the maids to scare!
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
Germany! land of mystery and of mind! birth-place of Schiller and
Goethe, with what emotions does not every lover of romance sit down to
peruse thy own peculiar, dreamy traditions! Thy very name conjures up
visions of demons, and imps, and elfs, and all the creations of faery
land, with their varied legends of _diablerie_, almost incredible in
number and singular in detail--and romance, in his gloomy mood, seems
here to have reared his strong hold.
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