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LIST OF EMBELLISHMENTS.
1.- The Right Honorable Lady Georgiana Agar Ellis.
Engraved by J. H. Watt; from a Painting by Sir
Thomas Lawrence, late P.R.A. Frontispiece. II.—The Narrative. Engraved by W. Greatbatch;
from a Painting by T. Stothard, R.A. . . III.-The Packet-Boat entering the Harbour of Ghent.
Engraved by E. Goodall; from a Drawing by F.
from a Drawing by George Jones, R.A. . .
from a Drawing by J. Holmes . . . VI.—The Maiden Astronomer. Engraved by E. Finden;
from a Painting by W. Boxall VII.--Robert Burns and his Highland Mary. Engraved
by J. Mitchell; from a Painting by R. Edmonstone VIII.-The Reading Magdalen. Engraved by W.H.Watt;
from the celebrated Picture by Correggio . IX.—The Canzonet. Engraved by C. Rolls; from a
Painting by H. Howard, R.A. . . X.—The Lady and the Wasp. Engraved by W. Great
batch ; from a Miniature by A. E. Chalon, R.A. XI.-The Destruction of Babel. Engraved by F. Jea
vons; from a Painting by H. Slous . . XII.-The Secret. Engraved by F. Bacon, from a Paint
ing by J. P. Davis .
LEGEND OF THE HAUNTED TREE.
BY THE AUTHOR OF “LILLIAN."
“ DEEP is the bliss of the belted knight,
When he kisses at dawn the silken glove, And rides, in his glittering armour dight,
To shiver a lance for his Lady-love !
.“ Lightly he couches the beaming spear ;
His mistress sits with her maidens by, Watching the speed of his swift career,
With a whispered prayer and a murmured sigh.
“ Far from me is the gazing throng,
The blazoned shield, and the nodding plume; Nothing is mine but a worthless song,
A joyless life, and a nameless tomb."
“Nay, dearest Wilfrid, lay like this
The minstrel turned with a moody look
From that sweet scene of guiltless glee; From the old who talked beside the brook,
And the young who danced beneath the tree : Coldly he sbiank from the gentle maid,
From the chiding look and the pleading tone; And he passed from the old elm's hoary shade,
And followed the forest path alone. One little sigh, one pettish glance,
And the girl comes back to her playmates now, And takes her place in the merry dance,
With a slower step and a sadder brow.
“My soul is sick,” saith the wayward boy, “Of the peasant's grief, and the peasant's joy; I cannot breathe on from day to day, Like the insects, which our wise men say
In the crevice of the cold rock dwell,
Beneath an ancient oak he lay:-
And a song on the sleeper's ear descended,
A song it was pain to hear, and pleasure ;
So strangely wrath and love were blended
In every tone of the mystic measure.
“I know thee, child of earth.
The morning of thy birth
I saw thy father weep
Over thy first wild sleep,
“And I have seen thee gaze
Upon these birks and braes, Which are my kingdoms, with irreverent scorn;
And heard thee pour reproof
Upon the vine-clad roof, Beneath whose peaceful shelter thou wert born.
“ I bind thee in the snare
Of thine unholy prayer ;
I give into thine hand
The buckler and the brand,
“ When thou hast made thee wise
In the sad lore of sighs, When the world's visions fail thee and forsake,
Return, return to me,