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'Tis a wild tale--and sad, too, as the sigh

Yet her infatuation is all-powerful. That young lips breathe when Love's first dream

Still she ings fly ; When blights and cankerworms,and chilling sbowers,

--- pledged the magic cupCome withering, o'er the warm heart's passion The maddening cup of pleasure and of love! flowers.

There was for her one only dream on earth ! Love! gentlest spirit! I do tell of thee,

There was for her one only star aboveOf all thy thousand hopes, thy many fears,

The scene, however, changes under Thy morning blushes, and thy evening tears; What thou hast ever been, and still will be,

the heart-subduing spell of the poet, Life's best, but most betraying witchery !

and Rosalie, deserted, is seen on her To this succeeds a landscape, on repentant pilgrimage to and arrival at which Claude might look with de

her natal Cotlight

How very desolate that breast must be, It is a night of summer,-and the sea

Whose only joyance is in memory! Sleeps, like a child, in mute tranquillity.

And what must woman suffer, thus betrayed ?Soft o'er the deep-blue wave the moonlight breaks ;

Her heart's most warm and precious feelings made Gleaming, from out the wbite clouds of its zone, But things wherewith to wound : that heart—so Like beauty's changeful smile, when that it seeks So soft-laid open to the vulture's beak!' (weak, Some face it loves yet fears to dwell upon.

Its sweet revealings given up to scorn The waves are motionless, save where the oar,

It burns to bear, and yet that must be borne ! Light as Love's anger, and as quickly gone,

And, sorer still, that bitterer emotion, Has broken in upon their azure sleep.

To know the shrine which had our soul's devotion Odours are on the air :—the gale has been

Is that of a false deity ?-to look Wandering in groves where the rich roses weep Upon the eyes we worshipped, and brook Where orange, citron, and the soft lime-flowers Their cold reply! Yet, these are all for her Shed forth their fragrance to night's dewy hours. The rude world's outcast, and love's wanderer! Afar the distant city meets the gaze,

Alas! that love, which is so sweet a thing, Where tower and turret in the pale light shine,

Should ever cause guilt, grief, or suffering! Seen like the monuments of other days

Yet she upon whose face the sunbeams fallMonuments Time half shadows, half displays. That dark-eyed girl--had felt their bitterest tlırall! This is the very soul of poesy. How

The very air many charming similies in a few short Seemed as it brought reproach ! there was no eye lines! The sleeping sea like a child; To look delighted, welcome none was there !

She felt as feels an outcasť wandering by the breaking moonlight like Beauty's

Where every dvor is closed ! changeful smile ; the oar light and transient as Love's anger ; and all the oth

She strayed er delicious images which are raised Through a small grove of cypresses, whose shade within so small a compass of song, meet

Hung o'er a burying-ground, where the low stone with not many parallels even among

And the gray cross recorded those now gone!

Nor our greatest masters of the lyre.

There was a grave just closed. Not one seemed

To pay the tribute of one long-last tear! (near, is the portrait of the lovers introduced How very desolate must that one be, into this Neapolitan scene less beautiful : Whose more than grave bas not a memory! There was a bark a little way apart

Then ROSALIE thoaght on her mother's age,From all the rest, and there two lovers leant:

Just such her end would be with her away : One with a blushing cheek, and beating beart,

No child the last cold death-pang to assuage And bashful glance, upon the sea-wave bent;

No child by her neglected tomb to pray! She might not meet the gaze the other sent

She asked-and like a hope from Heaven it came! Upon her beauty ;-but the half-breathed sigbs,

To hear them answer with a stranger's name.
The deepening colour, timid smiling eyes,
Told that she listened Love's sweet flatteries.

She reached her mother's cottage ; by that gate Then they were silent :--words are little aid

She thought how her once lover wont to wait To Love, whose deepest vows are ever made

To tell her honied tales !-and then she thought By the heart's beat alone. Oh, silence is

On all the utter ruin he had wrought! Love's own peculiar eloquence of bliss !

The moon shone brightly, as it used to do Music passes and awakes in the Ere youth, and hope, and love, had been untrue ;

But it shone o'er the desolate ! The flowers breast of Rosalie the memory of her

Were dead; the faded jessamine, unbound, distant home and widowed mother, Trailed, like a heavy weed, upon the ground ; whose age she had left

And fell the moonlight vainly over trees, to 'weep

Which had not even one rosé,-although the breeze, When that the tempter flattered her and wiled Almost as if in mockery, had brought Her steps away.

Sweet topes it from the nightingale had caught!

She entered in the cottage. None were there! furled her sails, she must abide by the The hearth was dark,-the walls looked cold and

perils of the winds and waves. All-all spoke poverty and suffering ! (bare!

From the minor pieces we have now All-all was changed; and but one only thing Kept its old place ! ROSALIE'S mandolin space for only one short example ; and Hang on the wall, where it bad ever been. we take a pretty and graceful oneThere was one other room, and ROSALIE Sought for her mother there. A heavy flame

THE VIOLET. Gleamed from a dying lamp; a cold air came

Violets !-deep-blue Violets ! . Damp from the broken casement. There one lay,

April's loveliest coronets ! Like marble seen but by the moonlight ray !

There are no flowers grow in the vale, And ROSALIE drew near. One withered hand

Kiss'd by the dew, woo'd by the gale,Was stretched, as it would reach a wretched stand

None by the dew of the twilight wet, Where some cold water stood! And by the bed

So sweet as the deep-blue Violet ! She knelt-and gazed and saw her mother-dead!

I do remember how sweet a breath

Came with the azure light of a wreath Were there any thing like art in the

That hung round the wild barp's golden chords, effusions of L. E. L., we should praise

Which rang to my dark-eyed lover's words. the contrasts of this affecting poem, and

I have seen that dear harp rolled the dramatic art of its conclusion ; but With gems of the East and bands of gold ;

But it pever was sweeter than wben set we praise her for nothing but pure nature and true genius. The gay and

With the leaves of the deep-blue Violet !

And when the grave shall open for me, sombre scenery spring alike from the

I care not how soon that time may be, same untutored perceptions of what is Never a rose shall grow on that tomb, appropriate; and the affecting turns in It breathes too much of hope and of bloom! the conduct of the catastrophe are sim

But there be that flower's meek regret,

The bending and deep-blue Violet ! ply transcribed from the vivid feelings of the writer. But admire as we may, With this we conclude, rejoicing that even our pleasant duties must have an so far the public opinion has coincided end ; and we come now to bid our with ours upon the genius of the author youthful bard farewell, and wish the ut- and the merits of this volume ; for on most prosperity to her bark's onward the first day of its appearance nearly the course. From the storms of criticism it whole of a large impression was rapidly can have nothing to fear; but the sea disposed of, and other editions, we have of literature is not altogether like a child not the slightest doubt, will follow in in slumber ; and now she has fairly un- quick succession.

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IN
N the forest of Charnwode, at a The forest in which this edifice

considerable distance from any was erected, though still abounding public road, deeply situated in a vale in bold and beautiful yet somewhat whose bosom is watered by a mean- barren scenery, at the period alluded dering stream, stands all that now to bore no want of vegetation ; it remains of the once goodly priory of was covered with foliage, so thick Ulvescroft!

and verdant as to exhibit one ample In the time of the Edwards, the grove of stately oaks, softened and Henrys, and even Mary, this priory variegated by the birch, the beech, possessed no mean advantage in and the clustering ash. The vicinity point of monastic grandeur. It was of Ulvescroft still preserves a large the abode of Eremites, of the order portion of this interesting foliage, of St. Augustine, and was endowed partly, we will hope, from a respect with many privileges, amongst which to the ruined pile which graces its · an unbounded right of hunting or valley, and partly from the rocky hawking over the adjoining wastes surface, that bids defiance to all agriwas none of the smallest.

cultural improvements. Whichever ATHENEUM VOL. 2. nero series.

4

motive

may have actuated its owners, chace, and he entered into them with the dell in which the priory stands is an avidity hardly to be looked for of itself sufficiently picturesque to

even in those more connected with attract the notice of every lover of the world. Yet, although this nlight woodland scenery:

Retired and soli- be termed a failing on the part of tary, it is enclosed on almost every Whatton, it was not considered inside by high and rocky eminences, compatible with his situation as Prior, about whose sides the twisted and such diversions being allowable in knotty oaks assume a thousand gro- the heads of monastic institutions at tesque forms, according as their roots that period; but Whatton followed have found the means of penetrating his privilege to its extent. their granite beds. A gentle brook

The red deer of Charnwode were waters this lovely spot-a brook so in high estimation, not only on acfair, so romantic in its course, that count of their superior flavour, but Leland in his writings has taken oc- for the superior sport they yielded in casion to mention it. As it approaches the field ; and the Earls Ferrers and the little town of Newtown Linford, it Leicester, as well as the Lord Hastassumes a bolder surface ; but here, ings, at that time the possessor of it murmurs softly and peacefully over Witwicke, looked with no small jeaits rocky beds.

lousy upon the encroachments made The ruins of Ulvescroft priory by the Superior on this their favourstand in solemn grandeur, betwixt ite breed. But Whatton cared little this stream and the adjoining emi- for the rebuffs of these noblemen ; he nence, rather to the west. One tower held his right of chacing the deer by and a considerable portion of one grants from his sovereign. It was imside of the building yet remain, and material to him who winced under seem in tolerable preservation, at these privileges, and he spared neileast as far as regards its pointed ther the red nor the fallow, when it arched door-way and windows. The suited him to indulge in the recreatower may even yet be ascended tion. Indeed, so freely and so frenearly to its summit, although some quently did he hunt, that it became of its steps are in a precarious condi- proverbial in the mouths of his enetion. Two stone niches which seem

mies : to have contained benches, are likewise perceptible within the interior of the building, probably belonging to In hunting, hawking, or netting, the chancel. Although this ruin is Prior Whatton was indeed an adept. neither so extensive in its dimensions, Every corner of the forest rang at nor in such high preservation as intervals with the notes of his bugle. many others, it exhibits so chaste The swift-footed animals started at and solemn an appearance, in the the sound of it; they left their leafy midst of its lonely situation, that it beds, and shook the dew from their is impossible to look upon it without haunches, with the terror and the the mind reverting to what it must fleetness of those who fly for freehave been in former ages.

dom! The very trice cock fluttered About the middle of the fifteenth his plumage, and fled fearfully from century, the priory of Ulvescroft was the branch on which he was reposing, in its glory; it was rich in lands and as its lengthened tones were echoed high in reputation, not only as re- through the vallies. garded the piety and good conduct of Yet expert as the friar was at his its superior, but for the charity ex- favourite diversion, he could not altended to the neighbouring poor.ways boast of success ; there were Prior Whatton was in truth a good seasons when the wary animal, desand a pious man,—but he had one pite of the most active exertions of failing, if failing it might be termed, his enemies, would keep long at bay, where an unbounded latitude was and finally bafle the skill of the purgiven; he loved the pleasures of the suers.

Seeke the deere in his lair,
Friar Whatton is there.

It was on an occasion of this kind, were bent constantly upon the ground, after a lengthened chase, when the and, though not endowed with the stag had made good his retreat and the gift of speech, their motions seemfound a secure covering in the wiles ed to indicate that they partook largeof the forest, when both men and ly in the chagrin of their master. dogs were at fault, that Whatton, dis- When Whatton paused, which at gusted by the ill success of the morn- length he did, on the summit of a ing's amusement and scarcely con- small knoll, it was to fix his eyes on scious of what he was about, turned the mansion of his enemy. The his horse's head from the party who proud walls of Witwicke were indeed had accompanied him, and, striking before him, they towered over the suddenly into another part of the trees with which they were surroundforest, motioned as though he would ed, and seemed to frown defiance be alone. No one presumed to fol- upon the Prior. The pace of Whatlow him; the Prior of Ulvescroft was ton unconsciously quickened ; he too exalted in situation to admit of spurred the beast that bore him, and his orders being treated with neglect; the towers of Witwicke were soon and Whatton, with that listlessness lost in the distance. It was not, howwhich usually attends the disappoint- ever, the disposition of the Prior to ment of our wishes, rode for some urge either man or beast to extremitime alone. But the defeat of his ty; his horse had undergone much morning's exertions was not the only fatigue that morning; he had rode cause for chagrin that Whatton at hard ; and, being pretty certain that that moment had in his heart;-he he could not now be in much danger had recently received intelligence of encountering any one, whose presthat the owner of Witwicke, whose' ence might be unpleasant to him, he ample possessions, and fair park, ren once more gave a slackened rein. dered him as formidable as any no. As he patted the neck of the high bleman on that side the county, and spirited animal, and smoothed his with whom the inhabitants of the sleek mane with the butt end of his priory were at variance, had suddenly whip, his attention was arrested by visited his castle with a numerous one of his quadruped companions, company of friends, and it was a cir- whose eyes at that moment met his, cumstance of too much import not to and there seemed so much of mute dwell upon

the mind of the Prior. expression in them, that Whatton Their quarrel had its source, like read, or fancied he read, the many others, from a question con- ture's meaning. cerning forest rights, and it had been “ Chantress," he said, “thou wert pursued so long, and with so much wont to do thy duty without failing, acrimony on both sides, that a total my old girl. But thou hast baulked estrangement had taken place be- thy master this morning.

We must tween them; the monks not choosing have more mettle another time." to yield one inch of their prerogative, Accustomed to his voice, the hound and the Lord Hastings, in the pleni- fawned upon him, but while in the tude of his power, looking for, and act of so doing, she turned round exacting more than seemed consistent with a celerity that showed there was either with good nature or generosity. no want of animation, and that nei

Whatton had rode over several : ther age nor fatigue had yet dulled miles of hill and dale before he be- her senses.

car thrown came really conscious that he had back upon her neck, and her nose to left his companions--so much had his the ground, she gave the usual deep mind been engrossed by internal re- tongue when in pursuit of game, and flection. A brace of tired dogs paced in an instant was lost to the sight of sluggishly at his horse's heels, the her master. Surprised by the action one a stag-hound, the other an old of the dog, the Prior remained irresoblood-hound; their coats were soiled, lute what course to pursue : the their tails down; their heavy eyes hound had fled in the direction of the

crea

With one

castle, and Whatton, vexed by the The youngster had found time to circumstance, felt strongly inclined aim a bolt which' would the next into leave her to her fate. But affec- stant have been fixed in her heart, tion for an old favourite made him had not the voice of Whatton arresthesitate ; there was also another ed his intention. Accustomed to the strong incitement towards his pursu- word of command, the animal slunk ing her,—the propensity of the blood- behind her master ; and, having rehound for tracking the human foot; duced her to obedience by the usual and Whatton, though the towers of harsh tones of authority, the Prior Witwicke were so closely at hand, turned his regards on her antagohad a heart too much alive to human- nist. ity, to risk the mischief so dangerous The boy was standing in a low a propensity might occasion. After dingle or bottomg beside a thicket of a few seconds given to consideration, evergreens. His cap was off, and a therefore, he turned short by the way profusion of light brown hair that fell the animal had taken, not however around a forehead of the most dazwithout some internal feelings of the zling whiteness, and flowed in natuunpleasant encounter which must ne- ral ringlets to his shoulders, formed cessarily take place, should the lordly so strong a contrast to the dark shades owner of the domain present himself of the holly which grew behind him, before him.

that Whatton thought he had scarceBut he was not doomed to meet ly ever beheld so beautiful a figure. with him. On reaching the summit of Indeed, the whole appearance of this a slight eminence that overlooked a youth exhibited a whimsical and inromantic dell, he found Chantress in- congruous medley. The rich colour deed engaged, but with a youth of and fantastic style of his dress, so so slender an appearance, that the different from any thing worn by lads Prior trembled as he beheld them.

of his age, excepting those attached It truth it was a boy, a fair boy, to the court, joined to his native of such few years, that it seemed as grace, forcibly impressed the Prior. if one onset alone of the enraged The cross-bow he held in his hand, animal were sufficient to destroy him: though its bolt had been thus hastily but he parried her attack so adroitly, arrested from its purpose, was still twisting round and round, as the dog grasped in an attitude of defiance, and bore furiously towards him; at the as he returned the gaze of Whatton, same time, defending himself with so it was with so saucy and independent much skill

, and attacking Chantress an air, that the latter could scarcely in his turn with a cross-bow he held suppress a smile as he observed it. in his hand with such violence, as to

The retreat of the dog, however, send her several paces from him had the desired effect, the extended howling with pain. But Chantress arm gradually sunk to its natural was no coward ; -as she was usually position, and, after a short interval, foremost in the chace, so was she in given as it should seem to the confight. She returned to the attack sideration of who and what was the again and again, with redoubled rank of the person who addressed energy; and was as often as success- him, the youth replied : fully repelled by the dexterous boy. “May I ask, Sir Friar, who it is, It was after a severe struggle, in that so authoritatively woos me from which Chantress had been thrown to the chastisement of an enemy?” a considerable distance, that her fate 66 One who leans to the side of must have been inevitably decided, mercy, good boy." had not the Prior at that instant ar 66 Indeed ?" said the lad tartly, rived and saved her.

“ it were an act of mercy truly, to “ Hold, hold, brave youth, harm spare the life of one who would take not the dog ; spare her, I beseech yours in return! I hold it no sin to

Down, Chantress, down. kill your blood-hound, Sir Monk, Back, good lass, back with you." since doubtless she left your side for

you."

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