66 appeared, under the conduct of Sir Walter and a guard. All the tents of the English were instantly emptied. The soldiers poured from all parts, and arranged themselves on each side, to behold, to contemplate, to admire, this little band of patriots, as they passed. They bowed to them on all sides; they murmured their applause of that virtue which they could not but revere, even in enemies; and they regarded those ropes, which they had voluntarily assumed about their necks, as ensigns of greater dignity than that of the British garter. As soon as they had reached the presence, "Mauny," says the monarch," are these the principal inhabitants of Calais ?"-" They are," says Mauny: "they are not only the principal men of Calais, they are the principal men of France, my Lord, if virtue has any share in the act of ennobling.' Were they delivered peaceably ?" says Edward: "Was there no resistance, no commotion among the people?"-"Not in the least, my Lord: the people would all have perished, rather than have delivered the least of these to your Majesty. They are self-delivered, self-devoted; and come to offer up their inestimable heads as an ample equivalent for the ransom of thousands." Edward was secretly piqued at this reply of Sir Walter; but he knew the privilege of a British subject, and suppressed his resentment. Experience," says he," has ever shown, that lenity only serves to invite people to new crimes. Severity, at times, is indispensably necessary to compel subjects to submission by punishment and example.-Go," he cried to an officer, "lead these men to execution." At this instant, a sound of triumph was heard throughout the camp. The Queen had just arrived with a powerful reinforcement of gallant troops. Sir Walter Mauny flew to receive her Majesty, and briefly informed her of the particulars respecting the six victims. As soon as she had been welcomed by Edward and his court, she desired a private audience-"My Lord," said she, "the question I am to enter upon, is not touching the lives of a few mechanics-it respects the honour of the English nation; it respects the glory of my Edward, my husband, my king. You think you have sentenced six of your enemies to death. No, my Lord, they have sentenced themselves; and their execution would be the execution of their own orders, not the orders of Edward. The stage on which they would suffer, would be to them a stage of honour; but a stage of shame to Edward-a reproach to his conquests an indelible disgrace to his name. Let us rather disappoint these haughty burghers, who wish to invest themselves with glory at our expense. We cannot wholly deprive them of the merit of a sacrifice so nobly intended; but we may cut them short of their desires. In the place of that death by which their glory would be consummate, let us bury them under gifts; let us put them to confusion with applauses. We shall thereby defeat them of that popular opinion which never fails to attend those who suffer in the cause of virtue."-" I am convinced: you have prevailed. Be it so," replied Edward: "prevent the execution: have them instantly before us." They came: when the Queen, with an aspect and accents diffusing sweetness, thus bespoke them:-" Natives of France, and inhabitants of Calais, ye have put us to a vast expense of blood and treasure, in the recovery of our just and natural inheritance; but you have acted up to the best of an erroneous judgment, and we admire and honour in you that valour and virtue, by which we are so long kept out of our rightful possessions. You noble burghers! you excellent citizens! though you were tenfold the enemies of our person and our throne, we can feel nothing, on our part, save respect and affection for you. You have been sufficiently tested. We loose your chains; we snatch you from the scaffold; and we thank you for that lesson of humiliation which teach us, you when you show us, that excellence is not of blood, of title, or station; that virtue gives a dignity superior to that of kings; and that those whom the Almighty informs with sentiments like yours, are justly and eminently raised above all human distinctions. You are now free to depart to your kinsfolk, your countrymen— to all those whose lives and liberties you have so nobly redeemed―provided you refuse not the tokens of our esteem. Yet we would rather bind you to ourselves by every endearing obligation; and, for this purpose, we offer to you your choice of the gifts and honours that Edward has to bestow. Rivals for fame, but always friends to virtue, we wish that England were entitled to call you her sons." “Ah, my country!" exclaimed Pierre; it is now that I tremble for you. Edward only wins our cities; but Philippa conquers our hearts.” Fool of Quality, On Living to One's-Self. WHAT I mean by living to one's-self, is living in the world, as in it, not of it: it is as if no one knew there was such a person, and you wished no one to know it: it is to be a silent spectator of the mighty scene of things, not an object of attention or curiosity in it; to take a thoughtful, anxious interest in what is passing in the world, but not to feel the slightest inclination to make or meddle with it. It is such a life as a pure spirit might be supposed to lead, and such an interest as it might take in the affairs of men -calm, contemplative, passive, distant, touched with pity for their sorrows, smiling at their follies without bitterness, sharing their affections, but not troubled by their passions, not seeking their notice, nor once dreamed of by them. He who lives wisely to himself and to his own heart, looks at the busy world through the loop-holes of retreat, and does not want to mingle in the fray. He hears the tumult, and is still." He is not able to mend it, nor willing to mar it. He sees enough in the universe to interest him, without putting himself forward to try what he can do to fix the eyes of the universe upon him. Vain the attempt! He reads the clouds, he looks at the stars, he watches the return of the seasons-1 -the falling leaves of autumn, the perfumed breath of spring-starts with delight at the note of a thrush in a copse near him, sits by the fire, listens to the moaning of the wind, pores upon a book, or discourses the freezing hours away, or melts down hours to minutes in pleasing thought. All this while, he is taken up with other things, forgetting himself. He relishes an author's style, without thinking of turning author. He is fond of looking at a print from an old picture in the room, without teasing himself to copy it. He does not fret himself to death with trying to be what he is not, or to do what he cannot. He hardly knows what he is capable of, and is not in the least concerned, whether he shall ever make a figure in the world. He feels the truth of the lines "The man whose eye is ever on himself, Doth look on one, the least of nature's works: He looks out of himself at the wide extended prospect of nature, and takes an interest beyond his narrow preten sions in general humanity. He is free as air, and independent as the wind. Wo be to him when he first begins to think what others say of him. While a man is connected with himself and his own resources, all is well. When he undertakes to play a part on the stage, and to persuade the world to think more about him than they do about themselves; he is got into a track where he will find nothing but briars and thorns, vexation and disappointHazlitt. ment. 66 Comal and Galvina. MOURNFUL is thy tale, son of the car," said Carril of other times." It sends my soul back to the ages of old, and to the days of other years.-Often have I heard of Comal, who slew the friend he loved; yet victory attended his steel; and the battle was consumed in his presence. Comal was the son of Albion; the chief of an hundred hills. His deer drank of a thousand streams.-A thousand rocks replied to the voice of his dogs. His face was the mildness of youth.-His hand the death of heroes. -One was his love, and fair was she! the daughter of mighty Conloch.-She appeared like a sun-beam among women. Her hair was like the wing of the raven.-Her dogs were taught to the chase. Her bow-string sounded on the winds of the forest.-Her soul was fixed on Comal. -Often met their eyes of love.-Their course in the chase was one -Happy were their words in secret.—But Gormal loved the maid, the dark chief of the gloomy Ardven. -He watched her lone steps in the heath; the foe of unhappy Comal! "One day, tired of the chase, when the mist had concealed their friends, Comal and the daughter of Conloch met, in the cave of Ronan.-It was the wonted haunt of Comal. Its sides were hung with his arms.-A hundred shields of thongs were there; a hundred helms of sounding steel. Rest here,' he said, my love, Galvina; thou light of the cave of Ronan!-A deer appears on Morar's brow. I go; but I will soon return.'I fear,' she said, dark Gormal my foe; he haunts the cave of Ronan!—I will rest among the arms; but soon return, my love.' "He went to the deer of Mora.-The daughter of Conloch would try his love.-She clothed her white sides with his armour, and strode from the cave of Ronan!-He B thought it was his foe.-His heart beat high.-His colour changed, and darkness dimmed his eyes.-He drew the bow. The arrow flew.-Galvina fell in blood!-He ran with wildness in his steps, and called the daughter of Conloch.-No answer in the lonely rock.-'Where art thou, O my love?' He saw, at length, her heaving heart beating around the feathered arrow.- O Conloch's daughter, is it thou?' He sunk upon her breast. The hunters found the hapless pair. He afterwards walked the hill—but many and silent were his steps round the dark dwelling of his love. The fleet of the ocean came. -He fought; the strangers fled. He searched for death along the field.-But who could slay the mighty Comal! -He threw away his dark-brown shield.-An arrow found his manly breast.-He sleeps with his loved Galvina, at the noise of the sounding surge!—Their green tombs are seen by the mariner, when he bounds o'er the waves of the north." Ossian. On the Psalms. BESIDES the figure, supplied by the history of Israel, and by the law; there is another set of images often employed in the Psalms, to describe the blessings of redemption. These are borrowed from the natural world, the manner of its original production, and the operations continually carried on in it. The visible works of God are formed to lead us, under the direction of his word, to a knowledge of those which are invisible; they give us ideas, by analogy, of a new creation rising gradually, like the old one, out of darkness and deformity, until at length it arrives at the perfection of glory and beauty: so that while we praise the Lord for all the wonders of his power, wisdom, and love, displayed in a system which is to wax old and perish; we may therein contemplate, as in a glass, those new heavens, and that new earth, of whose duration there shall be no end *. The sun, that fountain of life, and heart of the world, that bright leader of the armies of heaven, enthroned in glorious majesty; the moon shining with a * Read nature; nature is a friend to truth; |