ST. CATHERINE OF LEDBURY.

WHEN human touch, as monkish books attest,
Nor was applied nor could be, Ledbury bells
Broke forth in concert flung adown the dells,
And upward, high as Malvern's cloudy crest;
Sweet tones, and caught by a noble Lady blest
To rapture! Mabel listened at the side

Of her loved Mistress: soon the music died,
And Catherine said, "Here I set up my rest."
Warned in a dream, the Wanderer long had sought
A home that by such miracle of sound
Must be revealed :— she heard it now, or felt

The deep, deep joy of a confiding thought;
And there, a saintly Anchoress she dwelt

Till she exchanged for heaven that happy ground.

THE

RUSSIAN FUGITIVE.

G

[Peter Henry Bruce, having given in his entertaining Memoirs the substance of the following Tale, affirms, that, besides the concurring reports of others, he had the story from the Lady's own mouth.

The Lady Catherine, mentioned towards the close, was the famous Catherine, then bearing that name as the acknowledged Wife of Peter the Great.]

THE RUSSIAN FUGITIVE.

PART I.

1.

ENOUGH of rose-bud lips, and eyes
Like harebells bathed in dew,

Of cheek that with carnation vies,
And veins of violet hue;

Earth wants not beauty that may scorn
A likening to frail flowers;

Yea, to the stars, if they were born

For seasons and for hours.

2.

Through Moscow's gates, with gold unbarred,

Stepped one at dead of night,

Whom such high beauty could not guard

From meditated blight;

By stealth she passed, and fled as fast

As doth the hunted fawn,

Nor stopped, till in the dappling east
Appeared unwelcome dawn.

3.

Seven days she lurked in brake and field,
Seven nights her course renewed,
Sustained by what her scrip might yield,
Or berries of the wood;

At length, in darkness travelling on,
When lowly doors were shut,

The haven of her hope she won,

Her Foster-mother's hut.

4.

"To put your love to dangerous proof I come," said she, "from far;

She led her Lady to a seat

Beside the glimmering fire,

Bathed duteously her wayworn feet,
Prevented each desire: