TO MARGARET.

LET Fortune frown; let Sorrow reign;
Thou, ever smiling, meet'st my sight;
Thy bosom's sunshine can disdain

To yield its empire to the night.

Of change thy mind no shadow knows,
Thou art superior to its sway;
Mild as the dawn, when orient glows,
And tranquil as the eve of day.
Without thy smile to gild the scene,
And bid the shades of sorrow flee,
Life had a rayless vision been,

And earth a wilderness to me !

What more than thee could passion seek?-
In vernal softness ever fair,

There is a lustre on thy cheek

To bless the eye that gazes there:

And thou hast that which charms no less,
A link 'tween heaven and earth below,
A heart that melts in tenderness,

At every tale and tone of wo!

I would to heaven thou could'st forget,
There e'er was such as me on earth,
I would to heaven we ne'er had met,
If only grief reward thy worth:
Oh! often, it hath pained my heart,
Desponding with its load of care,
To think in it thou bor'st a part,

And never changed, and still would'st bear: Like some benign, supernal power,

To cheer my bosom by its beams,

For ever, on my lonely hour,

The lustre of thy spirit gleams;

For ever, in my evening walk
My footsteps undirected stray,
To where, in fondly whispered talk,
We oft have lived the eve away!

The eglantine perfumes the air,
The hawthorn blossoms on the spot;
I think of thee-who art not there;
I listen-but I hear thee not;

I pass my hand across my brow,
And muse on days that we have seen,
Contrasting the unhappy now,

With all the raptures that have been!

I turn me to the happy years,

When first our hearts together clung;
When ardent hope o'ermastered fears,
And love was warm, and life was young:

I turn me to the glowing scenes,

It was our happy lot to share ;-
A lapse of darkness intervenes,
Triumphant o'er the joys that were:
But still, upon my mind, they rise

In autumn sweetness, rich and warm,
As when they first did bless mine eyes;
As when they first my heart did charm!

Oh! think upon the lovely nights-
For we have roamed on many such;
Oh! think upon our lost delights,

And do not deem a tear too much!

When, thro' the heavens, the cloudless moon,
Careering, cleaves the pathless sky,
Around thee gaze, and think how soon
The summer of the soul can fly!
How soon, before unwelcome truth,
The rapturous dreams of hope can fade;
How fast the visions of our youth,
Sink from the sunshine to the shade!

Is happiness the aim of man,

The end, and object of his care ?
How doth he waste his little span,
On empty trifles, light as air!
His are the selfish aims of life;
For these he sacrifices rest;
His years are an eternal strife,

'Tween promised joy, and hope unblest.
Oh! could he list to Wisdom's tongue,
And give the reins to Nature's hands,
And let his heart be ever young,

To sink, or swell, as she commands:
Then, then a happier, nobler race

Would tread the weary walks of earth;
And Vice would shrink from Virtue's face,
And Wealth subservient be to Worth.
My time below has not been much ;

But I have witnessed storm and shine,

And never tasted blessings such

As those my heart hath shared with thine.

And thou, in proud fidelity,

Hast stood my beacon through the night,
And shed, athwart the moonless sea,

Thy faithful and unfailing light:
And, when the waves of error drove
My bark upon the deep to roam,
Thou ever wert the sheltering cove

To bid the wanderer welcome home.
And since the charm will never break

Which bound, and binds my heart to thine,

If grief and joy our portion make,

Oh! be the sorrows only mine!

For thine a constancy hath been,

Which could the shafts of wo endure;

In doubt that ever stood serene,
In trial and temptation pure.

Tho' many a change, since first we met,
Hath, frowning, come to mar my lot,
Thou wert too noble to forget,

And too well loved to be forgot.

And, though no earthly recompense
To thy benignant heart be given,

Thou hast thy treasure far from hence,
And thy reward awaits in heaven!
1816.

• A's request shall be most gladly complied with, whenever he puts it in our power to

do so.

C. N.

The Opening of King Yngurd.

KING Yngurd, the greatest and most affecting of all the works of Adolphus Mullner, is in form a regular tragedy of five acts; but such is its length, that, in scenic performance, it has generally been split into two parts. This is a thing which we suspect no English audience could ever be brought to tolerate; but a German theatre, instead of containing few except mere lovers of spectacle, effect, and declamation, (as ours too often do) is filled with persons who have bestowed deep and deliberate study on the philosophy of the drama, who place, not only decent attention, but an enthusiastic earnestness, at the free service of any author of genius-and from whom, therefore, such a poet as Mullner can seldom demand, in vain, any measure of indulgence. What renders the indulgence demanded by King Yngurd still greater than might be expected, is this, that the first representation, that of the two opening acts, cannot be said to offer any action of interest, far less to conclude any one: it is merely the preparation for the real life and business of the drama.

We have found, on consideration, that it would be quite impossible for us to do any thing like justice to the whole of King Yngurd in one Magazine-paper; and have, therefore, to request the attention of our readers, for the present, to a sketch and a specimen of the Proæmium merely. Unless we be very greatly mistaken, the skilfulness of Mullner's exposition of the groundwork will sufficiently delight our more critical readers, while the lovers of poetry and passion will find enough of both here to make them amends for all they may miss. It is commonly said, that it is a bad thing to divide a subject in a periodical work; but there are exceptions to every rule. King Yngurd, our readers must be told, is a mere imaginary king; for the poet says, in a sonnet prefixed to the play, that his object has been to embody, not the truth of any actual and determinate set of events, but "the truth that never was and yet is always," the truth of human character

and passion. This hero is a King of Norway, ruling in right, not of blood, for he was born a peasant-but of marriage, for he had espoused the daughter of a preceding monarch; and of covenant-for, on the day of that marriage, he had been publicly associated in the government by his fatherof the people as the rightful partaker in-law, and recognised by the whole pire; and lastly and chiefly, in right and successor of their monarch's emof possession-for he has already, when the drama commences, ruled for many years, and nobly supported, by his he roic character, the whole dignity both of the crown and the nation.

however, for the sceptre, which has
There is a formidable claimant,
King Yngurd.
so long been placed in the hands of
in-law of that sovereign, after Yn-
Ottfried, the father-
gurd's marriage with his daughter,
and the already mentioned solemn and
voluntary assumption of the bride-
groom into a share of the royal autho-
rity-had himself fallen in love with
a princess of Denmark. He married
after, left her pregnant.
her, and, dying within twelvemonths
given birth to a daughter, the natural
Had she
right of Yngurd's wife would have
remained of course in full vigour; but
she bare a son, and the appearance of
the boy might well give Yngurd cause
to fear for the durability of his own
sovereignty. Yngurd, however, ruled
for some time with undisputed sway,
because such as thought he had no
right to be king of Norway, were com-
pelled to acknowledge that he was the
natural guardian of the infant prince,
and the natural protector of the king-
dom during his minority.

dowager, being afraid that Yngurd
Ere long, Braunhilda, the queen
would never resign his crown to her
son (Oscar), removed with him back
to the court of her own father in Den-
mark, and there the boy grows up to
be a man.

time, continues to govern Norway
Yngurd, in the mean
wisely in peace, and to be the success-
ful and glorious leader against her ene-
mies in war. The custom of power has

That soft and white, like swans'-down, gent- Had these good people thought that in their