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We shall forth with depart; for nevermore
Will I be suitor in this business
Unto your Majesty, who thus accuse,
Either of want of knowledge or of truth,
Those who would stake their lives on the event:
Madam, farewell.

Eliz.-(after a pause) - Stay, let me think again
If you say south, and I have found you ever,
My Lord, a faithful friend and counsellor,
Into your hands I here resign, in trust,
My dearest treasure upon earth,-my son.
Of you I will require him, before Heaven;
Yet, foz tbe love which his dead father bore you,
For kindnesses of old, and for that trust
The King, my husband, ever placed in you,
Think, if a wretched mother fear too much,
O think, and be you wary lest you fear
Too little! -

My poor child! here then we part.Richard ! Almighty God shower on your head His blessings, when your mother is no more.Farewell ! my own sweet son,-yet, ere we part, Kiss me again, for God doth know, poor babe, Whether in this world we shall meet again !Nay, my boy Richard, let me dry thy tears, Or hide them in my bosom-dearest child, God's blessing rest with thee !—Farewell, farewell My heart is almost broken-Oh! Farewell.

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THE

FORTRESS OF SAGUNTUM.

JOURNEYING, many years ago, through the Eastern provinces of Spain, 1 lingered in Valencia to survey the ruins at Morviedro, the ancient Saguntum. Early one bright morning, I ascended the mountainous range, on the summit of which the remains of the ancient town are situated, and which, stretching out to the waves of the Mediterranean, separates the valleys of Valencia and Almenara.

I gazed with enthusiastic admiration on the beauties by which I was surrounded,-on the perfect picture whose loveliness met my view on every side. Wide to the east expanded the dark waters of the sea, foaming and glistening in the beams of the rising day-God; north and south the valleys glowed in the same life-giving splendour. The newly risen spring was gushing forth in very wantonness; and the fertile olives and the golden foliage of the mulberry trees, clothed the sides of the hills and the beau

tiful plain of Valencia; beyond which, with its light steeples and sun-gilt spires, lay the city itself gleaming in the all-pervading radiance. Herbage, abundant and luxuriant, rioted in fulness; wild flowers sprang up at every step; and the breezes redolent with perfumes, and freshened by the waves over which they were wafted, bore with them a coolness more than delicious; nothing was wanting to the perfect unity of loveliness-the rich natural enchantment of the scene. The songs of innumerable birds saluted the ear, and as the muleteer followed his quadruped companions along the paths that wound around the hills, their jingling bells rang with many a merry peal.

And then with what seeds of reflection, what food for fancy did the spot on which I stood furnish me. The remains of empires, each powerful and splendid in its day of triumph, but now alike faded and vanished, lay crumbling around me. The ancient Fortress mingled in its remains the architecture of nations and times far distant and unlike. The walls that long withstood the power and skill of the Carthaginian, were varied with the barbaric masonry of the Saracen. The strange inscriptions, the horse-shoe arches, and fantastic ornature of the East, were employed to deck the unadorned strength of its former defences. The works of two dynasties had faded away, leaving in their decay one common

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