shade betwixt the bloomy gridelin.
The borders of their petticoats below
Were guarded thick with rubies in a row;
And every damsel wore upon her head
Of flowers a garland blended white and red.
Attired in mantles all the knights were seen,
That gratified the view with cheerful green:
Their chaplets of their ladies' colours were,
Composed of white and red, to shade their shining hair.
Before the merry troop the minstrels play'd,
All in their masters' liveries were array'd,
And clad in green, and on their temples wore
The chaplets white and red their ladies bore.
Their instruments were various in their kind,
Some for the boy, and some for breathing wind;
The sawtry, pipe, and hautboy's noisy band,
And the soft lute trembling beneath the touching hand.
A tuft of daisies on a flowery lea
They saw, and thitherward they bent their way;
To this both knights and dames their homage made,
And due obeisance to the daisy paid.
And then the band of flutes began to play,
To which a lady sang a virelay;
And still at every close she would repeat
The burden of the song, _The daisy is so sweet_.
_The daisy is so sweet_, when she begun
The troop of knights and dames continued on.
The concert and the voice so charm'd my ear,
And sooth'd my soul, that it was heaven to hear."

O bardlings of Young England! withhold, we beseech you, from winsome
_Maga_, your verse-offerings, while thus the sons of song, evoked from the
visionary land, coming and going like shadows, smile to let drop at her
feet the scrolls of their inspiration. Poetry indeed! "You lisp in
numbers, for the numbers come." But in big boobies a lisp is only less
loathsome than a burr. Some of you have both, and therefore deserve to
die. Readers beloved! prefer you not such sweet, strong strains as these
sounded by Dryden, when he had nearly counted threescore and ten? "Yet was
not his natural force abated"--while his sense of beauty, instructed and
refined by meditations that deepen amongst life's evening shades, became
holier within sight of the grave. You will thank us for another quotation;
for much do we fear, O lady fair! that thou hast no copy of Dryden in thy
_boudoir_, and yet life is fast flowing on with thee, for thou art--nay,
there's no denying--yea, thou art--in thy twentieth year--and _if you
continue to refuse our advice_--will soon be an old woman.

"The Lady of the Leaf ordain'd a feast,
And