SAINT CLOUD.

[Paris, 5th September, 1815.]

SOFT spread the southern summer night
Her veil of darksome blue;
Ten thousand stars combined to light

The terrace of Saint Cloud.

The evening breezes gently sigh'd,

Like breath of lover true, Bewailing the deserted pride

And wreck of sweet Saint Cloud.

The drum's deep roll was heard afar,
The bugle wildly blew
Good-night to Hulan and Hussar,
That garrison Saint Cloud.

The startled Naiads from the shade
With broken urns withdrew,

And silenced was that proud cascade,
The glory of Saint Cloud.

We sate upon

its steps

of stone,

Nor could its silence1 rue,

When waked, to music of our own,

The echoes of Saint Cloud.

Slow Seine might hear each lovely note
Fall light as summer dew,
While through the moonless2 air they float,
Prolong'd from fair Saint Cloud.

And sure a melody more sweet

His waters never knew,

Though music's self was wont to meet
With Princes at Saint Cloud.

Nor then, with more delighted ear,
The circle round her drew,

Than ours, when gather'd round to hear,
Our songstress at St. Cloud.

8

Few happy hours poor mortals pass,-
Then give those hours their due,
And rank among the foremost class
Our evenings at Saint Cloud.

1 [MS.-"Absence."]

2 [MS.-"Midnight."]

3 [These lines were written after an evening spent at Saint Cloud with the late Lady Alvanley and her daughters, one of whom was the songstress alluded to in the text.]

LINES,'

ADDRESSED TO

RANALD MACDONALD, ESQ., OF STAFFA.

STAFFA, sprung from high Macdonald,
Worthy branch of old Clan Ranald!
Staffa king of all kind fellows!
Well befall thy hills and valleys,
Lakes and inlets, deeps and shallows-
Cliffs of darkness, caves of wonder,
Echoing the Atlantic thunder;
Mountains which the grey mist covers,
Where the Chieftain spirit hovers,
Pausing while his pinions quiver,
Stretch'd to quit our land for ever!
Each kind influence reign above thee!
Warmer heart, 'twixt this and Staffa
Beats not, than in heart of Staffa!

[These lines were written in the Album, kept at the

Sound of Ulva Inn, in the month of August, 1814.]

LINES,

ADDRESSED TO MONSIEUR ALEXANDRE, THE CELEBRATED

VENTRILOQUIST.

Of yore, in old England, it was not thought good To carry two visages under one hood;

What should folk say to you? who have faces such plenty,

That from under one hood, you last night show'd us twenty!

Stand forth, arch-deceiver, and tell us in truth, Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth?

1 [“ When Monsieur Alexandre, the celebrated ventriloquist, was in Scotland, in 1824, he paid a visit to Abbotsford, where he entertained his distinguished host, and the other visitors, with his unrivalled imitations. Next morning, when he was about to depart, Sir Walter felt a good deal embarrassed, as to the sort of acknowledgment he should offer; but at length, resolving that it would probably be most agreeable to the young foreigner to be paid in professional coin, if in any, he stepped aside for a few minutes, and, on returning, presented him with this epigram. The reader need hardly be reminded, that Sir Walter Scott held the office of Sheriff of the county of Selkirk."—Scotch Newspaper, 1830.]

Man, woman, or child- -a dog or a mouse?
Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house?
Each live thing, did I ask?—each dead implement,

too,

A work-shop in your person,-saw, chisel, and screw!

Above all, are you one individual? I know

You must be at least Alexandre and Co.
But I think you're a troop-an assemblage-a

mob,

And that I, as the Sheriff, should take up the job; And instead of rehearsing your wonders in verse, Must read you the Riot-Act, and bid you disperse.

ABBOTSFORD, 23d April.1

[The lines, with this date, appeared in the Edinburgh Annual Register of 1824. M. Alexandre Vattemaire became celebrated as the originator of the system of international literary exchanges.]