Then the gruff grim carle1 girned2 amain,
And they trampled him down, but he rose again,
And he baited the lion to deeds of weir,3

Till he lapp'd the blood of the kingdom dear,1
And, weening his head was danger-preef,5
When crown'd with the rose and clover leaf,"
He gowl'd at the carle, and chas'd him away,
To feed with the deer on the mountain gray.7
He gowled at the carle, and he geck'd at Heaven,
But his mark was set, and his arles9 given;
Kilmeny awhile her e'en withdrew,

She looked again and the scene was new.

She saw before her fair unfurl'd,
One half of all the glowing world,
Where oceans roll'd and rivers ran,
To bound the aims of sinful man ;
She saw a people fierce and fell,

Burst from their bonds like fiends of hell,10
There lilies11 grew, and the eagle12 flew,

And she herkèd on her ravening crew,

Till the cities and towers were wrapt in a blaze,

And the thunder it roared o'er the lands and the seas.

The widows they wail'd, and the red blood ran,

And she threaten'd an end to the race of man;
She never lened,13 nor stood in awe,
Till caught by the lion's deadly paw.
Oh! then the eagle swinked11 for life,
And struggled in a mortal strife,

1 Fellow.

2 Grinned.

4 Charles the First's.

6 The Union of the three Kingdoms.

3 War (rebellion).

5 Proof.

7 The Covenant persecution.

These are the evil days of the later Stewarts.

8 Scorned.

9 Earnest or pledge. 10 The excesses of the first French Revolution.

11 The badge of the French monarchy.

12 The badge of the French Emperor.
14 Strove.

13 Bent.

But flew she north, or flew she south,

She met wi' the gowl of the lion's mouth.1

With a mooted2 wing and waeful maen,
The eagle sought her nest again;

But lang may she cower in her bloody nest,
And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast,
Before she try another flight

To play wi' the northland lion's might.

But to sing the sights Kilmeny saw,
So far surpassing nature's law,

The singer's voice would melt away,

And the string of his harp would cease to play;
But she saw till the sorrows of man went by,3
And all was love and harmony,

Till the stars of heaven fled calmly away,
Like the flakes of snow on a winter's day.

Then Kilmeny begged again to see

The friends she had left in her ain countree,
To tell of the place where she had been,
And the glories that lay in the land unseen;
To warn the living maidens fair,

The loved of Heaven, the spirits' care,
That all whose minds unsoil'd remain
Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane.

With distant music, soft and deep,
They lull'd Kilmeny sound asleep,

And when she awaken'd, she lay her lane,
All happ'd with flowers in the greenwood wene;
When seven lang years had come and fled,
When grief was calm and hope was dead,
When scarce was remember'd Kilmeny's name,
Late, late in the gloaming, Kilmeny came hame.

1 The great war between Britain and France.

And O, her beauty was fair to see,
But still and stedfast was her e'e;
Such beauty bard may ne'er declare,
For there was no pride nor passion there,
And the soft desire of maiden's een,

In that mild face could never be seen.
Her seymar1 was the lily flower,

And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower,
And her voice like the distant melody

That floats along the twilight sea.

But she loved to roam the lonely glen,
And kept afar from the haunts of men,
Her holy hymns unheard to sing,
To suck the flowers and drink the spring;
And whenever her peaceful form appeared,
The wild beasts of the hill were cheered.

The wolf played blithely round the field,
The lordly bison lowed and kneeled,
The dun deer wooed with manner bland,
And cowered aneath her lily hand;
And when at eve the woodlands rung,
While hymns of other worlds she sung
In ecstasy of sweet devotion,
O, then the glen was all in motion !
The wild beasts of the forest came,

Broke from the boughts and faulds the tame,
And gazed around, charm'd and amaz'd ;
Even the dull cattle croon'd and gaz'd,
And murmured and looked with anxious pain
For something the mystery to explain.
The buzzard came with the throstle-cock,3
The corby left her nest in the rock,
The blackbird along with the eagle flew,
The hind came tripping o'er the dew,

1 Scarf.

2 Hawk.

3 Thrush.

4 Crow.

The wolf and the kid their raike began,

The tod1 and the lamb and the leveret ran,

The hawk and the heron around them hung,

And the merle2 and the mavis brought their young ;
And all in a peaceful ring were hurled :-

It was like an eve in a sinless world!

When a month and a day had come and gane
Kilmeny sought the greenwood wene.

There laid her down on the leaves sae green,
And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen.
But O, the words that fell from her mouth
Were words of wonder and words of truth;
But all the land were in fear and dread,
For they knewna if she were living or dead;
It wasna her hame, and she couldna remain,
She left this world of sorrow and pain,
And returned to the land of thought again.

THE LONDON OF CHARLES I.

From "Prince Rupert and the Cavaliers."

ELIOT WARBURTON.

Born, 1810; Died, 1852.

1620-1645.

Mr. Warburton was the writer of a book of Eastern travel"The Crescent and the Cross "'—as well as of this history. He was lost in the steamer Amazon.

THE London of the Cavaliers differed as much socially, as architecturally, from its gigantic successor in our time. It then possessed so formidable an influence in the affairs of the empire, that to any enemy but the enemy of the King, its occupation would probably have decided the contest.

The vast wealth, power, and intelligence, that now render all England vital, were then very much concentrated in the narrow and dirty, yet picturesque streets of the old capital. At that period, one bridge, eight hundred feet long, with a drawbridge in the middle, sufficed to connect the fields and villages on the southern bank of the Thames with the dense city that in 1600 was composed entirely of wood. The streets, as we find them in old prints and paintings, were as narrow at the basement as those that now bid defiance to an omnibus, and far narrower above; for the black and white half wooden house beetled over the lower stories, till they sometimes almost encountered their neighbour over the way. The façade of each street, broken, confused, and picturesque as those of part of Chester, were still further varied by the numerous sign-boards that swung above each doorway. These were considered necessary appendages of every shop and lodging-house, so as to catch the eye of the illiterate passengers, and rivet it when caught. A long street on a windy day looked like a great fluttering picture gallery, in which all animated nature, and many monsters were depicted; lions and swans of every colour, dragons and unicorns of every shape flaunted in the air.

In the warehouse beneath, and the eating houses, very curious articles of apparel and luxury shewed dimly through the dull and narrow panes, or appealed to the appetite with very different luxuries from ours. On the outspread board, though devoid of linen or of three-pronged forks, were often to be seen the flesh of wild beeves and bustards, and sometimes even of that royal favourite, the boar; cygnets and herons, too, had no business there, being rigidly preserved, but there they were; inanimated fish, carp and tench, and roasted chub; and there were manchets and marchpane, ollas and dishes of hangoin, flanked by large flasks and "choppins" of canary and sherries-sack; but no tea, coffee, or chocolate, asparagus, lettuce, or cauliflower, till 1660. The customers, too, were very different in externals, from those who now throng the same streets with the same