wounded and helpless. There was no stir here, but that of the pillaging conqueror stripping

the slain.

While walking with commiserating step among heaps of mangled remains, half wishing, half fearing, to find the gory remains of his late friend, the brave and generous Brennus, he heard a noise, as if of a person digging; and on directing his sight to the quarter from whence it proceeded, beheld at a slight distance from him, the venerable figure of old Morgan, who was vainly attempting to drag a body into a grave, which, with infinite toil, he had prepared for it. Pudens advanced to lend him assistance; but the old man, seeing his Roman garb, but not discerning his features, told him mockingly, that there were no spoils to be had there. Nor did he seem much more amicably disposed when he recognized the voice of Pudens; for he called him traitor, and charged him with betraying his benefactors to the Romans; adding, moreover, that the King was now well aware what a viper he had nursed in his bosom, although poor Brennus had persisted to the last in his credulity. "Think not, however," the faithful bard continued, with an impotent menace, "think not to spoil his

corpse; for old as I am, it shall not be touched by a foe, while I live to defend it."

Pudens was inexpressibly hurt at this charge of treachery; but at length succeeded, although not without great difficulty, in persuading the bard that his absence had been quite accidental, and that the assault of the Romans had been wholly unexpected, nor indeed known to him until within a few hours. A few manly tears, which fell hot upon the old man's hand, as Pudens beheld the blood-stained features of his late friend, and recalled the many noble traits in his character, were more convincing than eloquence; and the faithful minstrel at length allowed him to assist in performing the last sad office of friendship.

Pudens found it necessary to deepen the grave very considerably; for the feeble hands of the old bard had scarcely enabled him, though with infinite toil, to penetrate the earth, soft and turfy as it was, to the depth of about a foot and a half. As they were proceeding in their labours, which were much delayed by the unsuitableness of their rude implements, their attention was arrested by the whinings of a dog; and on looking round, to their great surprise, they beheld the faithful

Luath, whose sagacity it appeared had conducted him hither, unknown to his master, and who was now alternately licking the unconscious corpse of poor Brennus, and barking for assistance. It was not long before the affectionate creature discovered the old bard; upon which, he seized the skirts of his long blue robe, and endeavoured to drag him to the body; and when he had got him near it, again resumed his own attentions, mingling his caresses with the most touching expressions of affliction. Hitherto, he had taken no notice of Pudens, who remained in the grave continuing his mournful labours; but when old Morgan attempted to raise the head of the corpse in order to dispose it more decently, and seemed hardly adequate to the task, the sagacious Luath, after having in vain applied his own feeble aid, ran off to Pudens for assistance, as fast as his old limbs could carry him.

But perhaps the most affecting circumstance of all was, that when the body was laid in its last resting-place, the affectionate animal leapt into the grave, and at every fresh handful of dust thrown in, looked piteously up at the tear-bedewed faces of Pudens and the bard, as though to ask, 'Is this necessary too?' Nor would he for some time allow the mould to

obscure the features of his loved master, but scratched it away with the tenderness of a mother brushing the dust from the delicate cheek of her infant. At last the faithful animal, seeing these labours unavailing, covered and defended the cherished remains with his own body; and although himself half buried, could only be dragged away by force.

A handsomely carved brazen knife, which poor Brennus was in the habit of wearing suspended from his girdle, was laid beneath his head ; while on either side were placed flintpointed arrows, which had been collected from the battle-field, and his limbs were enwrapped in his tartan.

No useless coffin inclosed his breast,

Nor in sheet nor in shroud they bound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,

With his martial cloak around him.

A barrow was afterwards raised over the chief and his brave companions; and for many a century, a moss-covered stone pointed out to the curious traveller the peculiar chamber of death in which he reposed.

As for poor Luath-for Luath too shall have one tear-neither soothings nor threatenings

* They have laid their swords under their heads.-See Ezekiel XXXII, v. 27.

could induce this affectionate creature to quit the grave of his loved master. In vain did the bard call him-in vain did Pudens try to secure him; in vain did the Romans afterwards attempt to induce him to quit it by placing the most savoury viands at a little distance. The viands remained untouched-the grave undeserted. Luath maintained his post during the brief remainder of his existence, which, as he refused all sustenance, continued but for a few days, at the expiration of which time, he was honourably interred by the Romans, who placed a stone on his grave inscribed “To Fidelity!" (R)

The old bard resolved that the heroic young chief should not remain unsung, and took up his harp, telling Pudens to go his way, for that he was determined not to stir from the grave of his friend. Pudens, however, after trying many persuasives in vain, told him that to pursue such conduct, were to desert Arviragus and Roscrana, just when they most needed his counsels and consolation. He, therefore, reluctantly and sorrowfully turned away, exclaiming, in the bitterness of his heart, as his hand swept instinctively over his harp, “Oh! Brennus! Brennus! thy country's pride! I