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She screams aloud is this a man beside her?
A Husband ?-Gracious! is her Father mad ? She is resolv’d, whatever may betide her,
To fly—and yet the face is not so bad.
In fact the fellow is a pretty lad;
Cloudlike hung o'er the starbeams of her eyes ;
Fell in a gleam of tenderest ecstasies
His cheek still glowing from his late surprise ;
Over the sleeping Milton, as at noon
His thoughts to some unutterable tune
Into his deep-flush'd countenance, and soon
And scarce declar'd her passion e'en on paper :
To let so delicate a Youth escape her;
To gaze so long upon a sleeping spouse,
Of conversation, and exchanging vows
And so she strove the sleeper to arouse,
At last the sweet allurement of her tongue; “ Sweet Prince !-Dear Husband !-am I not thy Bride?
Am I not chaste, and beautiful, and young ? Have I not air, and shape, and grace beside ?
Is not my voice the sweetest that e'er sung?
To sleep so sound at such an hour as this;
Sacred to love, and harmony, and bliss ? I've a great mind to quarrel with you quite,
Discourteous Sir-now by this rapturous kiss, (Which I must steal, since you will not bestow,) I never could have borne to slight you so..!
Sir, you've carous'd too freely at the wine-
'Tis all a trick, my kind Papa, of thine. I wonder at my Nurse's base connivance ;
But oh! he looks so radiantly divine,
LVIII... “ Still sleep’st thou dearest ? some malignant Demon
Hath o'er thy spirit cast this baneful spell; Else never couldst thou in this fashion dream on,
Nor against Love and Hymen so rebel, As not to let those eyes of beauty beam on
The gentle Lady who loves thee so well : , By Heav'n thou smil'st I know it's all a sham; Heav'n grant me patience !—what a wretch I am!
LIX. “ Thou lov'st me not; dost thou suspect my fame?
My parents, Sir, are noble as thine own;
As chaste, and coy, as ever wore a gown:
My Father shall defend his Child's renown.
"By the hot tears which I am shedding o'er thee;
By my poor heart which doth so fondly ache; By these most chaste embraces ; I implore thee,
My Husband, if thou sleepest, to awake.. Oh!-didst thou know how madly I adore thee,
Thou wouldst not thus persist my heart to break. Oh! hear the plaint my wounded Spirit pours, And heal my sorrow !Lord, how loud he snores!"
LXI. She spoke; the tears fell fast, as she was speaking,
Yet did they yield her anguish small relief; And (what was shocking), in her flight from Pekin,
She'd dropp'd her muslin pocket-handkerchief, So that she could'nt stop her eyes from leaking,
Maimoune felt much pity for her grief,
While Cupid still more undecided grew;
Till, while he posed and doubted, the cock crew, And at the sound, before the breath of Morning,
Back to their haunts, the three mad Spirits flew,
These two fond lovers from their dreams awoke, And met each other's eyes —'twas long ere either
(Lost as they were in love and wonder) spoke. I don't know (and it matters not a feather),
Which of the two the blissful silence broke
The Kings were much astonish'd at the way
Though how it happen'd not a soul could say. Maimoune and her Lover both attended,
In high good humour, on the wedding day, And brought fine gifts from Fairy-land, and shed All sorts of blessings on the Nuptial Bed.
For I have come unto my story's end,
To make it aptly to my purpose bend,
But hope the Reader 'll kindly condescend
MY DEAR PUBLIC, "id. 1.f.' "How rejoiced I feel in being able to rid myself of all weighty affairs, for a few minutes, and sit down to a little Private conversation with you. I am going, as usual, to be very silly, and very talkative, and I have so much to say that I hardly know where to begin. no vocations in 1
Allow me to congratulate you upon the flourishing state of your affairs. There has been a Coronation, and you have had lighting of lamps, and drinking of ale, and breaking of heads, to your hearts' content; and there are two new Novels coming from Sir Walter; and the King is going to Ireland ; and Mr. Kean is come from America'; and here is No. X. of " The Etonian!” How happy you must be! .
But you will have to pay an extra shilling for it. I hope you will not be angry. The fact is, that the approaching conclusion of our Work has put into our Contributors such a spirit of goodwill and exertion, that we found it quite impossible to comprise
their benefactions within our usual limits, although I myself gave · up to them many of my own pages, and burned several First
rate Articles, especially one “ On the Digamma,” which would have had a surprising effect. For, to parody the Poet,
“ Those write now, who never wrote before,
And those who always wrote, now write the mare." And you will be satisfied, I think, with the augmentation of bulk, and of price, when you consider what you would have lost
if such a step had not been adopted. Perhaps you might not have had “ the Bride of the Cave ;” perhaps you might not have. had “ the Hall of my Fathers ; perhaps you might not have had O h, yes!. you certainly should have had 's: Maimoune,” though it had filled our whole Number, :, But you would not have had my “Private Correspondence,” which I should have regretted extremely, although my modesty hints to me that you would not have cared a rush about the matter. i - . .!:.....
I used to promise, you will remember, that in all and in each of our Nunibers, twenty pages only should be devoted to our Foreign Correspondents. This resolution was, I believe, rigidly adhered to, during the existence of the Saltbearers but since his exit I have grown more idle and less scrupulous. In our present Number you will find a much greater proportion of matter from the Universities. · I tell you so fearlessly, because you are, in no small degree, a gainer by the fraud.
When I look back on my life, my dear Public, I cannot help thinking what a life of impudence,what a life of hoaxing, what a life of singularity, I have led. If all the Brass I have shown in my writings could be transferred to my Monument, my memory would be immortal. I have told, in print, more lies than ever Munchausen did ; and, in the sphere of my existence, have been guilty of as much deceit as the Fortunate Youth. As for the “ Letter to the King,"? however, I can't, for the life of me, see a grain of impertinence in its composition; all I wonder at is, that it did not procure a Holiday for Eton; nor Knighthood for Sir Thomas, nor a thousand a-year for myself. Nevertheless, in spite of the mortifying silence with which my communication was received, I am happy to observe that our Etonians continue very loyal. On the night of the Coronation, when the Mob said " Queen!" the Boys said “ King !” and many, forthwith, risked their own crowns in behalf of his Majesty's. . But, whether this proceeded from the love of Loyalty, or the love of Blows, must remain a question.
Howbeit, I am not naturally addicted to impudence, or hoaxing, or singularity. To convince you of this, I had at one time an intention of drawing up a Memoir of my own Life, containing an accurate detail of my thoughts, and words, and actions, during the whole period which my memory comprehends. I found it very difficult to settle the title of my Book. Should it be the stately “ Life of Peregrine Courtenay, Esq. of the College of Eton, Foolscap Octavo ?” or should it be the quaint “ Notice of a Gentleman who has left Long Chamber?” or should it be the concise and attractive “ Peregriniana ?” It was a weighty affair ; and I abandoned the design before I could settle the point. For I at last began to believe, my Public, that this is all of which
believe ign befolana "