METRICAL ROMANCES.

THE WITCH OF THE NORTH.

And thus I won my Genevieve,
My sweet and beauteous bride.

COLERIDGE.

INTRODUCTORY SONNET.

FROM the lone silence of my dreamless cell
A wizard voice hath call'd me:-I obey,
And fain would greet that summons with a lay
Which should outshine my brightest.-Oh! 'tis well,
That the last notes that ever this weak shell
Perchance shall utter, thus should melt away,
Hymning the name of that most gentle fay
That e'er on Poet's spirit laid a spell!

Come, my own Muse-thou Feeling, who dost rest
In my heart's inmost sanctuary; thou
Who art the soul of all my musings blest,
Dreams, wishes, hopes, affections! aid me now
To twine, for Her, the brightest and the best,
A wreath which shall not shame her peerless brow.
Windsor, 1824.

THE WITCH OF THE NORTH.

I.

THERE is a witch, whose freaks in English story,
Ballad, or ode, have never yet been sung;
Although 'tis said that poets, young and hoary,
Sages, and wizards, at her feet have flung
Rich tribute: warriors, from their dreams of glory
Drawn by her potent charms, have meekly hung
Their laurels on her threshold: lawyers wise
Have bowed before the magic of her eyes.

II.

Within a Northern cavern, dim and vast,

This lady-witch was born: a twilight gleam Of everlasting icicles was cast,

From the arch'd roof, on the maternal dream Wherein she was conceived; faint music past From the earth's bosom, while each breeze and

stream

Murmur'd and sigh'd delight, and every flower
Breath'd tenfold fragrance on her natal hour.

III.

A fairy form was her's, and well she wore
Its light aerial beauty; from her cave
Into the northern vapours, thick and hoar,

When first she pass'd, a path the vapours gave To her, as to a sunbeam; the wild roar

Of torrents paused, as o'er Loch Lomond's wave She glided like a zephyr; each fir-grove Grew bright in the effulgence of her love.

IV.

Amidst the Northern forests, lakes, and hills,
Her infancy was nurtured, and she grew
Remote, and unacquainted with the ills

Of the corrupted South: 'tis said, she drew
Sweet inspiration from the rocks and rills,

From the free air, and from the mountain dew* Of her wild clime, and that her wizard ken Pierced far beyond the dreams of elves or men.

V.

And to her beck, while yet she was a child,

A thousand strange and savage natures came; Yea, whatsoe'er of wonderful and wild

The grim North teems with, her sweet looks

could tame;

The kelpie crouched before her, when she smiled, With claws curled in, and eyes of softened flame, Brownie, and elf, and warlock, came to enrich · The festal pageants of this wondrous witch.

VI.

Her's was a reign of love; her mild dominion

Was o'er the heart and will of living things; Her gentle voice could bind the eagle's pinion, Her gentle looks rob dragons of their stings: Yet more than this-'tis the received opinion,

That the sly witch held secret communings With dread mysterious powers, and made her eye Familiar with the realms of phantasy;

* Honi soit qui mal y pense.

VII.

So that the Muses, from their viewless bowers,
Would oft descend, obedient to her spells,
And crown her forehead with Pierian flowers;

With music and with light they fill'd the dells Wherein the witch abode; and she, for hours,

Would listen to their harpings, till the cells Of her most secret thought began to teem With shapes unknown to woman's brightest dream.

VIII.

Some say that Germany sent forth her sages
To do meet homage at the witch's feet,
Bearing that wondrous science, hid for ages;

The witch received them in her calm retreat,
Heard them discourse, and, from their mystic

pages,

Drain'd secret draughts of knowledge pure and

sweet,

Which the fool scoffs at:-but the witch well knew That this same knowledge was both wise and true.

IX.

Thus childhood pass'd, but ere her young cheek

shone

With the first blush of womanhood-ere yet, Encircled in the Queen of Beauty's zone, The perfect graces of her form had met,Ere her young heart had love's first rapture known, Or love's first sorrow made her eyelids wet, From her enchanted cell the witch went forth, And left the fruitful vineyards of the North.

X.

What drew her from her solitude, and why,
Quitting that mountain paradise, she came
To shiver in our frosty Southern sky—

And whether on the tempest's wings of flame, Or on a broomstick, she thought fit to fly,

No record now informs us; but the dame, Beyond all doubt, in after years, was found, Playing her wicked pranks on English ground.

XI.

Beneath the shadow of a castled steep,
In which the ashes of ancestral kings,
Rocked by the roll of ages, soundly sleep,-

Hard by a forest, where, in moon-lit rings, The fairies still those gamesome revels keep

Hallow'd by Shakespeare's sweet imaginings, The witch her dwelling fixed, and with strange

power

Raised, and adorned, a bright enchanted bower;

XII.

Wherein, with potent cabalistic scrolls,

And spells contrived by necromantic lore,
And charm'd elixirs, mix'd in magic bowls,
Of power to penetrate the inmost core
Of human hearts, and e'en in rudest souls

Love's quenchless flame to kindle or restoreFraming strong lures to tempt and to betray, The wizard-maiden dwelt for many a day.

XIII.

The deep recesses of her inmost cell