Soon raising his astonished head he found himself alone,
Sheltered beneath a genial heap of vestments not his own;
The light increased, the solemn truth revealing more and

more,

His soldiers corses self-despoiled closed up the narrow door.

That very hour, fulfilling good, miraculous succour came,
And Prince Emilius lived to give this worthy deed to fame.
O brave fidelity in death! O strength of loving will!
These are the holy balsam-drops that woful wars distil.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE LAC DE GAUBE IN THE PYRENEES.

THE marrriage-blessing on their brows,

Across the Channel seas

And lands of gay Garonne, they reach

They loiter not where Argelés,
The chesnut-crested plain,
Unfolds its robe of green and gold

In pasture, grape, and grain ;

But on and up, where Nature's heart
Beats strong amid the hills,

They pause, contented with the wealth
That either bosom fills.

R

There is a Lake, a small round Lake,

High on the mountain's breast,

The child of rains and melted snows,
The torrent's summer rest,-

A mirror where the vete'ran rocks
May glass their peaks and scars,
A nether sky where breezes break
The sunlight into stars.

Oh! gaily shone that little lake,

And Nature, sternly fair,

Put on a sparkling countenance

To greet that merry pair;

How light from stone to stone they leapt,

How trippingly they ran;

To scale the rock and gain the marge

Was all a moment's span !

"See, dearest, this primæval boat,
So quaint, and rough, I deem
Just such an one did Charon ply
Across the Stygian stream:

Step in, I will your Charon be,
And you a Spirit bold,—

I was a famous rower once

In college days of old.

"The clumsy oar! the laggard boat!

How slow we move along,—

The work is harder than I thought,

A song, my love, a song!"

Then, standing up, she carolled out

So blithe and sweet a strain

That the long-silent cliffs were glad
To peal it back again.

He, tranced in joy, the oar laid down,
And rose in careless pride,

And swayed in cadence to the song
The boat from side to side:

Then clasping hand in loving hand,

They danced a childish round,

And felt as safe in that mid-lake

As on the firmest ground.

One poise too much !—He headlong fell.

She stretching out to save

A feeble arm, was borne adown

Within that glitte'ring grave :

One moment, and the gush went forth

Of music-mingled laughter,

The struggling splash and deathly shriek Were there the instant after.

Her weaker head above the flood,

That quick engulfed the strong,
Like some enchanted water flower,

Waved pitifully long :

Long seemed the low and lonely wail
Athwart the tide to fade;

Alas! that there were some to hear,
But never one to aid.

Yet not alas! if Heaven revered

The freshly-spoken vow,

And willed that what was then made one

Should not be sundered now;

If She was spared, by that sharp stroke, Love's most unnatural doom,

The future lorn and unconsoled,

The unavoided tomb!

But weep, ye very Rocks! for those,

Who, on their native shore,

Await the letters of dear news,

That shall arrive no more;

One letter from a stranger hand,—

Few words are all the need,—
And then the fune'ral of the heart,

The course of useless speed!

The presence of the cold dead wood,

The single mark and sign

Of her so loved and beautiful,

That handiwork divine!

The weary search for his fine form

That in the depth would linger,

And late success,--Oh! leave the ring

Upon that faithful finger.

And if in life there lie the seed

Of real enduring being,

If love and truth be not decreed

To perish unforeseeing;

This Youth, the seal of death has stamped,
No time can wither never,

This Hope, that sorrow might have damped,

Is fresh and strong for ever.*

THE PERSECUTION OF THE TEMPLARS.

THE toweʼring cliffs of Gavarnie,

Severely closing round

My onward steps, had seemed to me

A nation's natural bound:

The topmost ridge with cloud was bent,

Save where antique Rolànd

Is said the mountain to have rent
With his gigantic hand.

The hazy memo'ry of the Knight
Of Faery suited well

The huge dimensions of that sight,
And touched them with his spell;
I almost saw the armour glance

In every chance sun-ray,

And feathers move and horses prance

Amid the cata'ract-spray.

When swift within me rose the thought

Of some chiválrous forms,

Who bodily here dwelt and fought
With worse than Nature's storms;

* Mr. and Mrs. Patteson were drowned in the year 1831.