WHY DOES AZURE DECK THE SKY?

WHY does azure deck the sky?

'Tis to be like thy looks of blue;
Why is red the rose's dye?

Because it is thy blushes' hue.
All that's fair, by Love's decree,
Has been made resembling thee!
Why is falling snow so white,

But to be like thy bosom fair?
Why are solar beams so bright ?

That they may seem thy golden hair!
All that's bright, by Love's decree,
Has been made resembling thee!

Why are nature's beauties felt ?
Oh! 'tis thine in her we see !
Why has music power to melt?
Oh! because it speaks like thee.
All that's sweet, by Love's decree,
Has been made resembling thee.

THE RING.*

A TALE.

Annulus ille viri.- OVID. Amor. lib. ii. eleg. 15.

THE happy day at length arriv'd
When Rupert was to wed
The fairest maid in Saxony,

And take her to his bed.

I should be sorry to think that my friend had any serious intentions of frightening the nursery by this story: I rather

As soon as morn was in the sky,
The feast and sports began;
The men admir'd the happy maid,
The maids the happy man.

In many a sweet device of mirth
The day was pass'd along;
And some the featly dance amus'd,
And some the dulcet song.

The younger maids with Isabel
Disported through the bowers,

And deck'd her robe, and crown'd her head
With motley bridal flowers.

The matrons all in rich attire,
Within the castle walls,

Sat listening to the choral strains
That echo'd through the halls.

Young Rupert and his friends repair'd
Unto a spacious court,

To strike the bounding tennis-ball
In feat and manly sport.

The bridegroom on his finger wore
The wedding-ring so bright,
Which was to grace the lily hand
Of Isabel that night.

hope though the manner of it leads me to doubt that his design was to ridicule that distempered taste which prefers those monsters of the fancy to the "speciosa miracula" of true poetic imagination.

I find, by a note in the manuscript, that he met with this story in a German author, Fromman upon Fascination, book iii. part vi. ch. 18. On consulting the work, I perceive that Fromman quotes it from Beluacensis, among many other stories equally diabolical and interesting.-E.

And fearing he might break the gem,
Or lose it in the play,

He look'd around the court, to see
Where he the ring might lay.

Now, in the court a statue stood,
Which there full long had been;
It might a heathen goddess be,
Or else, a heathen queen.

Upon its marble finger then
He tried the ring to fit;
And, thinking it was safest there,
Thereon he fasten'd it.

And now the tennis sports went on,
Till they were wearied all,

And messengers announc'd to them
Their dinner in the hall.

Young Rupert for his wedding-ring
Unto the statue went;

But, oh, how shock'd was he to find
The marble finger bent.

The hand was clos'd upon the ring
With firm and mighty clasp;
In vain he tried, and tried, and tried,
He could not loose the grasp!

Then sore surpris'd was Rupert's mind-
As well his mind might be ;

"I'll come," quoth he, "at night again, "When none are here to see."

He went unto the feast, and much
He thought upon his ring;

And marvell'd sorely what could mean
So very strange a thing!

The feast was o'er, and to the court
He hied without delay,

Resolv'd to break the marble hand
And force the ring away.

But, mark a stranger wonder still-
The ring was there no more,
And yet the marble hand ungrasp'd,
And open as before!

He search'd the base, and all the court,
But nothing could he find;
Then to the castle hied he back
With sore bewilder'd mind.

Within he found them all in mirth,
The night in dancing flew ;
The youth another ring procur'd,
And none the adventure knew.

And now the priest has join'd their hands,
The hours of love advance:
Rupert almost forgets to think

Upon the morn's mischance.

Within the bed fair Isabel

In blushing sweetness lay,

Like flowers, half-open'd by the dawn,

And waiting for the day.

And Rupert, by her lovely side,

In youthful beauty glows,

Like Phoebus, when he bends to cast

His beams upon a rose.

And here my song would leave them both,

Nor let the rest be told,

If 't were not for the horrid tale,

It yet has to unfold.

Soon Rupert, 'twixt his bride and him,

A death cold carcass found;

He saw it not, but thought he felt
Its arms embrace him round.

He started up, and then return'd,
But found the phantom still;

In vain he shrunk, it clipp'd him round,
With damp and deadly chill!

And when he bent, the earthly lips
A kiss of horror gave;

"T was like the smell from charnel vaults, Or from the mould'ring grave.

Ill-fated Rupert!-wild and loud

Then cried he to his wife,

"Oh! save me from this horrid fiend, "My Isabel! my life!"

But Isabel had nothing seen,

She look'd around in vain;

And much she mourn'd the mad conceit That rack'd her Rupert's brain.

At length from this invisible

These words to Rupert came :
(O God! while he did hear the words
What terrors shook his frame!)

"Husband, husband, I've the ring,
"Thou gav'st to-day to me;
"And thou 'rt to me for ever wed,
"As I am wed to thee!"

And all the night the demon lay
Cold-chilling by his side,

And strain'd him with such deadly grasp,
He thought he should have died.