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if my breathing would stop, the mo- daughter is buried alive, force her to ment I enter that horrible vault. Dear sit over the vault, with a basket full of mother, tie the

rope
round

my waist- of gold at her feet. The efforts by my hands want strength-you must which she now and then attempts to support the whole weight of my body. stop her ears, are supposed to indi. Merciful Allah! my foot slips! Oh, cate that, for an hour, she is compelled mother, leave me not in the dark !' to hear the unfortunate Zuleima crying,

" The vault was not much deeper Mother, dear mother, leave me not in than the girl's length; and upon her the dark ! slipping from one of the projecting This very pretty story is enough stones, the chink of coins scattered by in itself to recommend the Forget me her feet, restored the failing courage of Not. the mother. There, take the basket, child-quick ! fill it up with gold, A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR AN feel for the jewels,-I must not move

INFANT DAUGHTER. the lantern. Well done, my love! Another basketful and no more. I

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY. would not expose you, my only child, I loved thee, daughter of my heart!

yet, the candle is long enough : Sarah, I loved thee dearly ; fear not, it will burn five minutes ... And though we only meet to part, Heavens! the wick begins to float in Nor life nor death can sever

How sweetly-how severely! the melted wax: out, Zuleima !.... Mother and Babe forever! the rope,

the

rope .... the steps are on this side !'

Thy days, my little one, were few 6 A faint groan was heard. Zulei- That came and vanish'd with the dew;

An angel's morning visit, ma bad dropped in a swoon over the 'Twas here--'tis gone-where is it? remaining gold. At this moment all Yet didst thou leave behind thee was dark again : the distracted mother A clue for love to find thee. searched for the chasm, but it was clos- The eye, the lip, the cheek, the brow, ed. She beat the ground with her The hands stretch'd forth with gladness, feet ; and her agony became downright All life, joy, rapture, beauty now, madness on hearing the hollow sound

Then dash'd with infant sadness; returned from below. She now struck Till, brightning by transition,

Return'd the fairy vision :the flints of the pavement, till her hands were shapeless with wounds. Where are they now :—those smiles, those Lying on the ground a short time, tears, and having for a moment recovered She sees them still, and still she hears

Thy mother's darling treasure ? the power of conscious suffering, she

Thy tones of pain or pleasure ; heard her daughter repeat the words, To her quick pulse revealing

Mother, dear mother, leave me not in Unutterable feeling.
the dark? The thick vault, through Hush'd in a moment on her breast,
which the words were heard, gave the

Life at the well-spring drinking; voice a heart-freezing, thin, distant, Then, cradled on her lap to rest, yet silvery tone. Fatima lay one in In rosy slumber sinking. stant motionless on the flints; then Thy dreams-no thought can guess them;

And mine—no tongue express them. raising herself upon her knees, dashed her head, with something like super- For then this waking eye could see, natural strength, against the stones. In many a vain vagary, There she was found lifeless in the The things that never were to be, morning.

Imaginations airy

Fond hopes, which mothers cherish, « On a certain night in the month of Like still-born babes to perish. December, the few who, ignorant that the house is haunted, have incautious. Mine perish'd on thine earthly bier ;ly been on the spot at midnight, report

No,-changed to forms more glorious, that Fatima is seen between two black They Aourish'd in a higher sphere,

O'er time and death victorious ; figures, who, in spite of her violent Yet would these arms have chain'd thee, struggles to avoid the place where her And long from Heaven detain'd thee.

Sarah, my last, my youngest love,

The crown of every other, Though thou art born again above,

I only am thy mother;
Nor will affection let me
Believe thou canst forget me.

Then, thou in Heaven and I on earth,

May this one hope delight us, That thou wilt hail my second birth,

When death shall re-unite us ; Where worlds no more can sever, Parent and child for ever.

THE LOVER'S LEAP.

The Dargle, in the county of Wicklow, has long been celebrated for its wild and romantic beauties. To this chosen retreat the citizens of Dublin repair to regale themselves with a cold dinner, in Grattan's cottage, and to enjoy a rustic dance on " the flowery sod.” A steep promontory on the northern side of the glen, commands an extensive view of the beautiful scenery attached to the domains of Lords Powerscourt and Monck. This fearful eminence, which is called the Lover's Leap, is an object of peculiar interest to all young men and maidens, both from its romantic situation, and the melancholy story which has given rise to its name.

BEHOLD yon beetling cliff whose brow
Hangs pending o'er the vale below;
A tale not easily forgot,
Is told of that same fearful spot ;
And thus it runs--one summer's day
A bridal party blithe and gay
Came hither to enjoy the scene
And dance at evening on the green.
Maria was the lovely bride,
Her parent's and her husband's pride;
That morning sun arose to shed
Its lustre on her happy head ;
And ere its parting beams glanc'd down,
On valley green and mountain brown,
A mourning bride she was.-
They laugh'd and revell’d, till the sun
In heaven his mid-day course begun,
When to avoid the scorching heat,
In groupes they sought some cool retreat,
Maria, with a chosen friend,
In yonder grove retired to spend
An hour of confidence, and share
The breezes that were sporting there ;
While William, full of hope and joy,
His happy moments to employ,
Wound round those rocky paths to gain
A prospect of the neighbouring plain,
Which bounded by the distant skies
In variegated beauty lies.

Borne on the wings of bliss elate,
And thoughtless of impending fate ;
He just had gained the steepest place
And felt the fresh breeze fan his face,
When pale and trembling in his ire,
With quiv'ring lip and eye of fire,
His foe sprung on the fatal spot-
Their conference was brief and hot;
Insult began-defiance flash'd,
A rash and sudden blow was dash'd ;
They grasp’d--they strove-they strain'd

for breath
The struggle was for life or death.
Twice to the dizzy ledge they rollid,
Clasp'd in each other's fatal fold,
And twice they backward rollid and then
Renew'd the deadly strife agaio.
The aim of each was now to throw,
His rival on the rocks below.
To compromise they bade adieu,
And nothing short of death would do.
Again the frightful steep they ey'd,
And struggling hard again they tried
To fling each other down- at length
William's activity and strength
Had work'd his now exhausted foe,
Just to the gulph that yawn'd below..
One effort more and he was free
But in this dread extremity
His rival drew a deadly blade,
One sure and fatal plunge he made,
The weapon pierc'd young William's breast,
A grean and struggle mark'd the rest.
The murderer then the deed to hide,
Flung from the precipice's side
The reeking corpse o'er cliffs and all,
'Twas dash'd to pieces with the fall.
He saw it plunge from rock to rock,
And smil'd at each repeated shock ;
Till all the mangled fragments lay,
Deep buried from the light of day;
And then he silently withdrew
The fearful story no man knew-
But when the bloody tracks were found
The sad report was spread around
That William as he climb'd the height,
Fill'd with fond hopes of pleasures bright,
His footstep miss'd and thus he fell
All lifeless in the rocky dell
A mangled corpse. Maria's grief,

His steps were watched, his way pursued,
By one who thirsted for his blood;
Inflam'd with jealousy and fired
By fiendish rage, he but desired
To live to strike a deadly blow,
And stretch his hated rival low.
Maria he had lov'd and strove
By all the stratagems of love
To captivate her gentle heart;
But still in vain he found his art,
That undivided realm to share,
For Williamn ruled supremely there :
Enraged, and stung, his hair he tore,
A deep and deadly vengeance swore ;
And to fulfil his dark intent,
The bridal morn he chose to vent
His smother'd rage-he traced the way
Like blood-hound hov'ring on his prey,
Silent and sure, while gay and light,
The happy bridegroom climb'd the height.

Was silent, but beyond relief;
Deep in a gloomy solitude
She kept her maiden widowhood
For three sad years—and when at last
That lonely boundary she pass’d
To iningle in the world again,
All friendly efforts were in vain,
Her cheerless moments to beguile,
Or raise one melancholy smile ;
At last she died-and time rollid on,
Till years were counted twenty one,
Since that sad bridal day-when lo!
There came a night of storm and snow,
And at a monastery in Spain,
A wearied map and worn with pain,
Implor'd admittance not in vain.
He fell exhausted on the ground
The pitying fathers gather'd round,
And strove to cheer his sinking frame,
Before their hospitable fame ;
They us'd mild words of comfort too,
His mental sufferings to subdue,
But all in vain- for scarce the day,

Had chas'd the stormy night away,
When worn with pain-life ebbing fast-
The wretched wand'rer breath'd his last.
Yet ere he died, 'twas said that he,
In deep remorse and agony,
Confess'd a murder he had done
Beneath the full meridian sun,
Just one and twenty years before,
In a wild glen on Erio's shore.
Since then he'd wander'd round the earth
A guilty wretch that curst his birth;
Alike to him each distant clime,
For still the victim of his crime
Pursued his steps-amid the storm,
Aghast he saw the bleeding form
Of him he slew—'twas pale and grim,
And did it ?-yes !--it beckon'd him!

Such is the melancholy tale,
That's current in this peaceful vale,
And thus it is that yonder steep
Is nam'd by all “ The Lover's Leap."

ALLAN FITZALLAN,

ROCKITES-OR, A SCENE IN IRELAND.

I HAVE promised, in a former let- consternation,

It was some time beter, that those gentry should form fore he could articulate—“ Mr. Warthe subject of one of my “hours;" dow! there they are all !-gone up to and as fortune (howev

ever singular, al- the cross by the forge !" ways fortunate to a literary gossip) 66 Who?", exclaimed my friend, enhas placed it in my power to lay be- deavouring to preserve an appearance fore your readers a scene-quorum of dignified calmness. pars parva fui—which, I flatter my “ The boys, Sir—the boys! and 'tis self, they may not consider uninterest- thought they're going to do something ing, I hasten to redeem my pledge. that's bad, Sir, by the Peppards,* Sir,

I was sitting quietly in the house of now the army arn’t to the fore. an acquaintance (a county of Limerick - Where are the military stationed !” I gentleman,) about twelve o'clock at asked. “ Och, your honour, there noon, on a fine, still

, sun-shiny day: isn't a sodger near to us than Adare; the good lady of the mansion was busi- and it's but a poor account you'd have ly engaged in preparing luncheon: the o’the business be the time you'd get master, a quiet, inoffensive, timid kind there, let alone the road back.” The of man, who by his neutrality during distant report of a shot instantly conthe disturbances had secured him- vinced us that this was but too true. I aelf against injury on all sides, was rushed toward the door, however, raporing with eyes aghast, and a counte- ther rudely flinging back my friend, nance surcharged with expression who opposed himself to my exit with which he vainly endeavoured to sup- the most haggard and woe-begone look press, over the columns of the last of entreaty I ever beheld. In a few Limerick Evening Post, where in all minutes I reached the hill of Lisnathe authenticity of neat long primer, the muck, a place which cut rather a condoings of the last week were recorded, spicuous figure as a place of rendeznot in the most soothing strain to the vous on the nocturnal occasions of self-alarınist,—when Pat Cahil, a gen- those people, and in some part of tleman who did my friend the honour which, knowing folks will tell you

with of officiating as groom of his stables, burst into the chamber, hatless, coat

* It may be necessary to remark, that this atless, and shoeless-his whole frame

tack on those gentlemen, and their manly resistevidently agitated by the extremity of ance, is pure history.

went as

a wink and a nod, an old cavern servesceive the impression which such a as an armoury to the worthy General's spectacle must have produced on the forces; but at all events I reached the mind of a stranger, in the deep stillness summit of the hill, and in an instant the of a summer noontide, and in a popuscene of battle lay before me. Cappa lous country where there was something House, the residence of Mr. Peppard like civilization and civil government and his two sons, was an elderly-look- talked about ! Every man ing edifice, and apparently well calcu- coolly and openly to work as if the lated to sustain a seige in which mus- grey frieze on their backs had been ketry were the heaviest modes of as- regular, protracted, loyal scarlet, and sault to he apprehended. It was situ- the resisting housekeepers the proscribated rather on a low ground, with a ed men of the law. Very soon after, slope on one side leading to a plain and while the clouds of smoke were still lower, and surrounded by a lofty rolling towards a clump of trees on wall, the only entrance through which the south, two of the windows were was a small narrow gateway. It fact suddenly thrown up, and as suddenly a it had the appearance of a regular little reciprocal discharge was commenced fortress. I afterwards found by the pub- from within. The battle now began to lic papers, that the elder Mr. P.

was, at wax earnest; the Rockites sent forth the time the Rockite party suddenly a yell with every discharge, which came upon the house, outside this gate, came over the still champagne around and unarmed. On seeing themi ap- with almost a redoubled loudness; and proach he ran toward it, and closing it the advantage of the housed warriors after him, made what haste he could becaine quickly apparent.

With all along a narrow straight passage which the credit for discipline which the led directly from it to the back-door of Rockites have achieved, their mode of the house. This was open.

Before battle on this occasion was not very he reached it he heard behind him the imposing: they regularly, after disgrating of the blunderbusses against charging a volley irregularly, ran the iron railing as the ruffians poked down the slope a briglia sciolta, and them through to take a deliberate aim, squatted themselves behind a hedge, and he sprung towards the door. It reloaded, and readvanced to the charge was shut in his face! The alarm bad in anything but marching order. been given in the house. Unconscious Then, again unburthening their fireof Mr. P.'s absence, and imagining arms with all the serious silence in the that the assailants had made good their world, they again sent forth a shout, entrance into this inner passage, they and scampered off to prepare for a new slapped to the door, and left him to the volley. One only among them seemmercy of the men without, or rather of ed to despise this pusillanimous protheir blunderbusses, for these bad more cedure: he appeared to command the than their owners, and contrived to band, and, in fact, did so, as was afterthrow their contents harmlessly all wards found; but he was only distinaround him. Indeed his escape was guished from the rest by a white hand“almost miraculous. The door, the kerchief tied round his hat. He repanels and jams of which were perso- mained during the whole affray in the rated by slugs, so as scarcely to leave a same spot, but he did not continue to hair’s-breadth more than the space ne- expose himself with impunity : as his cessary for his preservation, was for a party advanced to the charge for the considerable time afterwards an object last time, he was in the act of raising of intense curiosity to numerous visi- his musket, when a ball from one of tors. Before the discharge could be the windows struck him on the arm, renewed, however, he was placed be- and the piece fell to the ground : he yond its reach. The aggressors now instantly tore the handkerchief from the (and it was just at this juncture the hat with his left hand, and bound it scene presented itself to my sight) re- round the other, accompanying every tired from the gate, and commenced twist with what Hotspur lusciously calls firing upon the windows. Only con- “a good mouth-filling oath," alter

nately directed, in a tremendous roar, a scanty distance of the spot where I to his poltroons, as he called them (for now lay. There were loud voices for they now evidently showed symptoms a moment, and words of reproach exof tergiversation, and no very equivo- changed in their vernacular tongue. cal ones,) and to the bandage, which Then ensued the silence and sullenness he did not find ready enough to assist of defeat-disgraceful discomfiture; the awkward efforts of the left hand. and they walked down the road in a He was the last who left the scene of body towards Curra Grove, the estate fight, and he walked off sulkily down of Sir Aubrey De Vere Hunt, which, the slope, and across an adjacent bog, during the occasional absences of this trailing his dishonoured musket after amiable proprietor, was made a frehim.

quent place of meeting by those miserIn a few minutes they all united at ably misguided creatures. They enthe Cross of Lisnamuck, within rather tered the wood, and I lost them.

EMMA'S GRAVE. By T. W. KELLY.

SLOWLY approach yon yew-tree shade Where many a rose of richest tint
'Neath which is told the tender tale

Has blush'd in nature's loveliness.
Of her within its fring'd turf laid,
Poor Emma, lifeless, cold, and pale. And one more fair than all beside,

Nurtur'd by some peculiar care,
And read the silent record there,

Expanded forth in leafy pride,
Of one, whose life was chill'd by scorn, And shed its sweetest fragrance there.
Was blasted by thy damps, despair
And slighted love, too meekly borne. In peeerless beauty, nature's gem,

It grew in summer's sunny hours,
Oh! if some swain of pity's mould,

The fairest and the prettiest stem
Has e'er felt tears bedew his eye,

Among the sisterhood of flowers.
The while some rustic tongue has told
More than the lay could well supply At fall of eve this rose I viewed,

And then the balmy flower bloomed gay, Then memory to his generous mind But ah! ere morn, each opening bud, While musing on her hapless lot,

With dew o'ercharged had drooped away. May paint the scene, when lilies, twined In wreaths, bedecked this silent spot. Like Emma, was this short-lived rose,

Which met the orient morning dew,
Or further to his fancy trace

Its leaves of beauty to disclose,
When scented flowers and deadly rue, Then sink in tears beneath the view.
O'er her white shroud and beauteous face,
'Twas each young maiden's task to strew. Oh, could the sun's soft glow alone,

With genial warmth soft beauty raise,
Perchance more faithful still may tell This flower in lovely pride had blown,
What sighs were breath'd of grief profound, And nourish'd still to Nature's praise.
When sadly tolled her funeral knell,
And awe-struck was the hamlet round. Its leaves their wonted bloom would wear,

And, placed in Emma's bosom twine, And o'er her grave mark many a print More fresh when water'd by the tear Of warbling words with soft impress, Of eyes that speak a love like mine.

SONG.

AH! could I tben, could I then bid thee farewell!

No, no, lovely girl, something wrong appears in it, Or why does it sound on my beart like a knell?

Why could I not bid thee farewell every minute? Yet, dearest, I could, and how sweet would the

sound be Of farewell, if whisper'd to meet thee again; To meet thy pure love in the charms that surround

thee, And know that my passion is breath'd not in vain; And, oh! I could love thee, love, though rejected,

Like Adam, when sadly from Paradise driven,

To gaze on his home he turn'd lone and dejected,

So could I gaze on thee, my Eden, my Heaven ! And when for some rival your coldness dismisses,

My love, as transgressing, annoying and vain,
Should I once be refresh'd by the dew of your kisses,

I'm sure I should sweetly transgress, dear, again;
For in my fond bosom eternally lies
A feeling, spell-bound; but I cannot tell whe-

ther
'Tis charm’d by the lip, or the star of thine eyes,
But I know that 'twill make me adore thee for

ever.

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