LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP.

A ROMANCE OF THE AGE.

A poet writes to his friend. PLACE-A room in Wycombe Hall. TIMELate in the evening.

DEAR my friend and fellow-student, I would lean my spirit o'er

you;

Down the purple of this chamber, tears should scarcely run at will. I am humbled who was humble! Friend,-I bow my head before you!

You should lead me to my peasants :-but their faces are too still.

There's a lady-an earl's daughter; she is proud and she is noble, And she treads the crimson carpet, and she breathes the perfumed

air;

And a kingly blood sends glances up her princely eye to trouble, And the shadow of a monarch's crown is softened in her hair.

She has halls and she has castles, and the resonant steam-eagles
Follow far on the direction of her little dove-like hand—
Trailing on a thundrous vapour underneath the starry vigils,
So to mark upon the blasted heaven the measure of her land.

There are none of England's daughters who can show a prouder presence;

Upon princely suitors suing, she has looked in her disdain :

She was sprung of English nobles, I was born of English peasants; What was I that I should love her-save for feeling of the pain?

I was only a poor poet, made for singing at her casement,
As the finches or the thrushes, while she thought of other things.
Oh, she walked so high above me, she appeared to my abasement,
In her lovely silken murmur, like an angel clad in wings!

Many vassals bow before her, as her chariot sweeps their doorways;

She hath blest their little children,—as a priest or queen were she !
Far too tender, or too cruel far, her smile upon the poor was,
For I thought it was the same smile, which she used, to smile

on me.