July, 1825. This poem is of considerable length, and is divided into four cantos. The festival of the Golden Violet, which, at Toulouse, in the 14th century, was appointed for the bestowal of the prize due to the Troubadour victor, suggested the subject; and the hero of it, Raymond, figures bravely and brilliantly in all the honours that a mastery in love, and war, and minstrelsy, may confer upon him, until he wins from the hand of his fair mistress, who is queen of the floral games, the prize of the Golden Violet. In this subject we have some spirited descriptions of scenes where—
"With the lightning's speed, the thunder's peal,
flashes the lance and strikes the steel;"
in contrast with the most lovely, or the most gorgeous pictures of fair gardens and gay pavilions; then, again, bursts of wildest passion and bitterest grief, succeeded by such touches of sweet and natural feeling, that the heart is lulled, and the ear scarcely heeds the faltering measure and the jagged verse—
"Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh."
It is noticeable that, in her picture of the Troubadour, L. E. L. describes, what she could not yet have experienced, the insufficiency of a fair fame fairly won to atone for the evils of sacrificed repose, of unambitious dreams dispelled, of privacy invaded, of the cold sneer, the envious tongue, the heart-searing slander. The wreath of song, she says,—
"Though seemingly all bloom and light,
Hides thorn and canker, worm and blight. * *
Mocking will greet, neglect will chill
His spirit's gush, his bosom's thrill;
