And Treachery up from his mining came,

And walk'd above the ground with righteous Faith:
And Covetousness unclench'd his sinewy hand,

And oped his door to Charity, the fair:

Hatred was lost in Love; and Vanity,

With a good Conscience pleased, her feathers cropp'd:
Sloth in the morning rose with Industry:

To Wisdom, Folly turn'd: and Fashion turn'd
Deception off, in act as good as word:

The hand that held a whip was lifted up

To bless; Slave was a word in ancient books

Met only; every man was free; and all

Fear'd God, and served him day and night in love.

How fair the daughter of Jerusalem then!
How gloriously from Zion's hill she look'd!
Clothed with the sun, and in her train the moon,
And on her head a coronet of stars;

And girdling round her waist, with heavenly grace,
The bow of Mercy bright; and in her hand
Immanuel's cross, her sceptre and her hope.
Desire of every land! the nations came
And worshipp'd at her feet; all nations came
Flocking like doves.

The east, the west, the south, and snowy north,
Rejoicing met, and worshipp'd reverently
Before the Lord in Zion's holy hill;

And all the nations round about were bless'd.

"THE KINGDOM; THE KINGDOM !"

THE LAST WORDS OF A YOUNG RELATIVE.

(From the "Lake, and Poetic Musings.") "THE kingdom; the kingdom!" What kingdom is this? Ah! not of the world; but a kingdom of bliss, Of light and of love, where JEHOVAH is King, And where the blest subjects his praise ever sing.

And who are the subjects? The angels of God,
And mortals redeem'd by Immanuel's blood;
There sickness, and sorrow, and death are unknown,
And its glory and joy is the Lamb on the throne.

The kingdom; the kingdom! O, soon may it come,
Dispelling from earth all its guilt and its gloom:
The kingdom; the kingdom! may I too depart,
With this prayer on my lips, this desire in my heart!

Roche, Printer, 25, Hoxton-square, London.

RICHARD the Second, in 1385, granted Flint Castle, together with the Chief Justiciary of Chester, to the infamous Robert Vere, Earl of Oxford.* Fourteen years after it was surrendered to Percy, Earl of Northumberland, who basely deserted and treacherously inveigled his Sovereign. In this "dolorous Castell," as Hall styles it, was deposed the unfortunate, because inefficient, Monarch, Richard the Second. Through the hypocritical management of Percy, he was betrayed, and put under the power of his rival Bolingbroke, who insidiously intimated that he only wanted an interview with the Monarch for two exclusive purposes, which were, to give the nation a Parliament, and to have his own lands restored to him.

Richard's conduct on that occasion clearly showed his weakness, as well as the wanton and deceitful villany of the Earl. The King, on his return from Ireland, was met by Percy, at Conway. When he delivered the purport of his message, the King doubted much the sincerity of the Earl; but, to remove

* Grose's Antiquities of England and Wales.

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G

all doubt, and to quiet the apprehension of his royal master, the Earl accompanied him to church, attended high mass, and at the altar took the oath of allegiance and fidelity. This being done, the King proceeded with the Earl; but, to his sorrow, he soon perceived that a snare had been laid for him, and likewise the error that he had fallen into by placing his confidence in a sacramental oath. In a defile near the top of Penmaen Rhôs, he saw a numerous band of soldiers, bearing upon their standard the Northumberland arms. He was shocked at the appearance, and would have escaped from the decoy, but the Earl sprang forward, caught hold of the bridle, and forcibly directed his course onwards. In this dilemma the poor deluded Prince had only just time to reproach the vile wretch for his perjury, by observing, that the God he had sworn to that morning would, at the day of judgment, amply retaliate the atrocious and blasphemous deed he had perpetrated that day. Percy caused his royal prisoner to stop at Rhuddlan for refreshment, and conveyed him with promptitude that evening to the Castle of Flint.

The following morning Richard was greatly astonished by seeing a numerous army marching along the beach, and commanded by his rival, the Duke of Lancaster, who, after surrounding the Castle, received the King with that mock appearance of respect which can only be necessary when the last act of cruelty is to be completed. After dinner the King came down from the keep to meet Bolingbroke, who, on the appearance of his Sovereign, fell on his knees, with his cap in his hand this ceremony he repeated, and for some time assumed a dutiful and respectful conduct. The King, on seeing this apparent act of submission, took off his hood, and spoke first: "Fair cousin of Lancaster, you are right welcome." The Duke, who very courteously was still bowing, said, "My liege Lord, I am come before you sent for me: the reason why I will show you. The common fame among our people is such, that ye have for the space of twenty years ruled them very rigorously; but if it please our Lord, I will help you to govern better." Then the King answered

and said, "Sith it pleaseth you, it pleaseth me much." The Duke immediately threw off the mask, and, adding insolence