He sees his moving tents again,
The leagured walls around him lie,
The squadrons gleaming on the plain,
The ocean-wave of cavalry,

The rapid order promptly made,
And with the speed of thought obeyed.

Alas! beneath its punishment

Perchance the wearied soul had drooped
Despairing; but a spirit sent

From heaven to raise the wretched, stooped
And bore him where diviner air
Breathes balm and comfort to despair.

THE GRAND DUKE AND THE JEW.

A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE.

[From the Scotsman.]

THE following singular story, which was current among the English residents in St. Petersburgh, at the time of the coronation of the present Emperor of Russia, has been narrated to us by a person newly arrived from that part of the Continent.

In the early part of the year 1826, an English gentle. man, from Akmetcht in the Crimea, having occasion to travel to France on business of importance, directed his course by way of Warsaw in Poland. About an hour after his arrival in that city, he quitted the tavern in which he had been taking a refreshment, to take a walk through the streets. While sauntering in front of one of the public buildings, he met with an elderly gentleman of a grave aspect and courteous demeanour. After a mutual exchange of civilities, they got into conversation, during which, with the characteristic frankness of an Englishman, he told the stranger who he was, where from, and whither he was going. The other, in the most friendly manner, invited him to share the hospitalities of his house, till such time as he found it convenient to resume his journey; adding, with a smile, that it was not impro

bable but he might visit the Crimea himself in the course of that year, when, perhaps, he might require a similar return. The invitation was accepted, and he was conducted to a splendid mansion, elegant without and rich and commodious within.

Unbounded liberality on the part of the Pole, produced unbounded confidence on the part of the Englishman. The latter had a small box of jewels of great value, which he had carried about his person from the time of his leaving home; but finding that mode of conveyance both hazardous and inconvenient in a town, he requested his munificent host to deposite it in a place of security till he should be ready to go away. At the expiry of three days, he prepared for his departure, and on asking for his box, how was he amazed when the old gentleman, with a countenance exhibiting the utmost surprise, replied,— "What box?" "Why, the small box of jewels which 1 gave you to keep for me!" My dear Sir, you must surely be mistaken; I never really saw nor heard of such a box." The Englishman was petrified. After recovering himself a little, he requested he would call his wife, she having been present when he received it. She came, and, on being questioned, answered in exact unison with her husband-expressed the same surprise-and benevolently endeavoured to persuade her distracted guest that it was a mere halucination. With mingled feelings of horror, astonishment, and despair, he walked out of the house and went to the tavern at which he had put up on his arrival in Warsaw. There he related his mysterious story, and learned that his iniquitous host was the richest Jew in Poland. He was advised, without delay, to state the case to the Grand Duke, who fortunately happened at that time to be in Warsaw.

He accordingly waited on him, and, with little ceremony, was admitted to an audience. He briefly laid down his case, and Constantine "with a greedy ear devoured up his discourse." Constantine expressed his

astonishment-told him he knew the Jew, having had extensive money transactions with him-that he had always been respectable, and of an unblemished character. However," he added, "I will use every legitimate means to unveil the mystery." So saying, he called on some gentlemen who were to dine with him that day, and dispatched a messenger with a note to the Jew, requesting his presence. Aaron obeyed the summons. "Have you no recollection of having received a box of jewels from the hand of this gentleman?" said the Duke. "Never, my Lord," was the reply. Strange, indeed. Are you perfectly conscious," turning to the Englishman, that you gave the box as stated?” Quite certain, my Lord." Then addressing himself to the Jew"This is a very singular case, and I feel it my duty to use singular means to ascertain the truth-is your wife at home?" "Yes, my Lord." Then," continued Constantine," here is a sheet of paper, and here is a pen, proceed to write a note to your wife in such terms as I shall dictate." Aaron lifted the pen. Now," said this second Solomon, "commence by saying, 'All is discovered! There is no resource left but to deliver up the box. I have owned the fact in the presence of the Grand Duke.'' A tremor shook the frame of the Israelite, and the pen dropped from his fingers. But instantly recovering himself, he exclaimed, "That is impossible, my Lord. That would be directly implicating myself." "I give you my word of honour," said Constantine, "in presence of every one in the room, that what you write shall never be used as an instrument against you, farther than the effect it produces on your wife. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear; but if you persist in not writing it, I will hold it as a proof of your guilt."

With a trembling hand, the terrified Jew wrote out the note, folded it up, and, as he was desired, sealed it with his own signet. Two officers were dispatched with it to his house, and when Sarah glanced over its contents, she

swooned and sunk to the ground. The box was delivered up, and restored to its owner; and the Jew suffered the punishment his villany deserved. He was sent to

PISA EDITION OF MOORE'S MELODIES. No. VII. ADDITIONAL STANZAS.*

"Oh! think not my spirits are always as light."

Our destiny's web is best checquered, you know,
Then why should we keep from enjoyment aloof?

Let us weave some bright tints in the ground-work of woe,
And stripe Sorrow's mantle with Pleasure's gold woof.
If earth's loves and friendships we've found not the truest;
If life's calm stream of peace, into rapture distilled,
We quaff at a draught, with 't we'll drink to the newest

Of the friends we have won, and the charms that have thrilled. Then, again fill the bowl! Lethe made one forget

Both old pleasures and pains, but this cup only blots

With oblivion the memory of sorrows we've met,
While it brightens reflection on life's sunny spots.

"Rich and rare were the gems she wore.”

The heart and love of her rudest son
Cannot be conquered, but may be won;
A thousand blows have ne'er been felt
On the ore the gentlest warmth will melt!
Hate hath no breastplate kindness-proof;
Peace grows weary of dwelling aloof;
Clothe thee, then, in gentleness' mien,
And Erin's love is thine I ween.

The Legacy.

Take this wreath, round my brow now twining,
Green, while dewed by a patriot's tear,
Leaves of promise when hope was pining,
Make it a chaplet for Freedom's bier.

But if some bard again awaken

The patriot fire in song that lies,

O then from the bier let the wreath be taken,
And bind his brow with the hallowed prize.

* See No. I.

THE BRIDAL OF WINTOUN TOWER,

A TALE.

In the Language of an Old Story Teller.
BY D. M. MOIR.—(4.)

THE Leddy Jemina Borthwick, ye see, was a proud woman, and, thinking her bairns would be contaminated wi' coming within sight o' common folk, never let them stir a fit out into the open air, except within her ain garden wa's, attended by some ane or ither o' her bower maidens.

My lord was, at this time, away at the wars; at what place I couldna just take upon me to say, but likely either oure at France, or on the Borders, harrying the cattle parks of Northumberland. Howsomever, it fell out, that ae day, the orchard yett being left open by some mistake, Lillian, the younger o' the twa daughters, ran thereout in her playfulness, while Margery, the elder, was busying the nurse, by letting her see some flowerpots or ither. She had muckle better hae been looking about her; for, when she raise up, and missed the wee thing, and began to cry, nae answer was gien; and her searching was to nae purpose.

For fear of her scolds, (the auld leddy being a terrible tartar when vexed or angered,) the puir nurse was frightened out of her senses to make ony complaint, or say what had happened, till some hours had passed away; so at lang and last, Margery ran to her mother, telling her that Lillian was nae where to be found. Then siccan a business there was! The auld leddy first bade them ring a' the bells; then scour a' the country; then fell into hysterics, and had a power of feathers burned at her nose; syne screamed, syne giggled, and, i'faith, seemed quite gaen gite. But, to cut a long story short, at night when the scourers cam home, they brought nae tidings of the lost bairn.

It was a sair calamity, nae doubt; but, whether we