a well-tried blade, and Guido, seeing | poor peasants hard by, and I find me make such preparations for a des- that almost all of my companions perate assault, and thinking it fit to have paid the forfeit of the law. This defend himself, drew a huge broad- morning I was attracted by this sesword. I advanced, and was making questered place of concealment, with a thrust, when, lifting up his weapon what degree of success you well on high, he made it descend on mine know." with such terrible force, that it broke in two, and I fell. The stern villain waved his steel thrice o'er my head, and told me to arise, and interrupt him no more. He then strode off, having first spread a cloak over his giant limbs, to conceal a dark lantern | and a lighted match tied to his belt. "I arose, and looked after the fellow with some sensations of dread, for his almost supernatural strength half inclined one to believe him a demon. I was now bound to him by the same ties of gratitude as I was to Monteagle, for he had spared my life when he had it in his power, and I knew not whose interest ought to predominate. I was still perplexed, and almost wishing that he had plunged his steel in my bosom, when I perceived some men carrying lights, who went towards the vaults where Guido had descended. They were headed by a man whom I had often seen, and consequently recognized Sir Thomas Knevett. I confess that this narrative exceedingly disappointed me. From the title, and what Sir Robert Bradgate had always told me of it, I expected to find it an interesting and animated narrative, conveying both information and amusement. But, alas! the egotism and cunning of the Jesuit seems to have prevailed in his story, and I find myself compelled to make a few remarks rather unfavourable to him. First, on his egotism, which is excessive. We have in the commencement of his account of the plot a long narrative of what HE thought, and did, and felt; but when others come upon the scene, how brief and short his story is! He slurs over what would be interesting passages, in the most inexcusable manner, particularly the characters of Catesby, Piercy, &c.; and, I think, only mentions Guido Fawkes (or Guy Fawkes, as he is more commonly called,) because he was too prominent a figure to be omitted. "The thought that the plot was discovered, and the king and his no- Next, his cunning. Oswold Desbles saved, chained me to the spot, mond well knew that, although Sir and I awaited the return of the men Edmund had promised to assist his as immoveably as a statue. It was escape, even if he confessed himself not long before the detection of our to be one of the worst of the conspischemes was evident; brawling voices rators, (which I rather think he was,) were heard below, and not three mi- he would be much more favourably nutes after, I saw Guido brought out inclined, if he represented himself as in the knight's custody. As he pass- averse to the plot. Accordingly he ed, he cast a stern look on me, and passes over what he did, &c. from made motions to counsel my flight. I January till October, which is so did not delay following his advice. I glaring an omission, that I wonder first ran to his house, and informed the knight did not notice it, and dethe conspirators of these circum-mand it should be filled up. He restances, then sought my own, and giving Dame Beatrice some coin for her long and faithful services, placed the rest in my pockets, and bade her farewell for ever. "I have since wandered about the country, like Cain, seeking refuge in woods, caves, and hollow trees. I shun a town or a village, and if I repose in a human habitation, it is but in the lone cottage that stands alienated from all others on the desert moor. Every day I learn the tidings, by venturing into the society of the presents himself as the author of the sheep," and that he speaks with all the impetuosity of a hot-brained youth, when in fact he was old, (according to the narrative of Sir Robert prefixed to the "Historie of the Plotte," which was, I believe, collected from authentic sources,) the circumstance appears highly improbable. Altogether, the chief interest of the story is to observe the cunning and egotism of Oswold; and the only interesting part which can be deemed true, is the commencement; where, however, he speaks with a levity utterly incompatible with the remorse which he asserts preyed on his mind. "Et sic lector vale." Nov. 25, 1824. ARTHUR HOWARD. (To be continued.) POETRY. THE DEATH OF MOSES. (Continued from col. 175.) THUS they in heaven; but other thoughts engage The powers of darkness, who assembled sat Where lay the body of the patriarch. This when they saw, with hellish joy, the fiends There might be seen the soul of Abiram By nature's Ruler to convince the king And shew'd the vengeance of Jehovah's ire That bowl amidst its ruins; his stern brow "Hear me, companions in my misery, Ye who have shar'd my fortunes, curst exiles From yon blest regions of unsullied light, To which there's no return; no hope is left Our seats of glory to regain, for we Have forfeited our title to that heav'n Where reigns the eternal God, our only foe, Whose power we feel, but cannot love Him DOW. Hear then, ye assembled legions, as we've lost Yon thrones of happiness, once call'd our own, Up and be doing; let's no more delay, He ended, and a burst of loud applause Shook the dread regions of this Tartarus; When from the midst uprose Adramelech, A fiend whose prowess often had been tried In war and council, whose infernal power Had gain'd accessions to his conquering arm, "Hail, listening spirits, hail, ye demons all, And gloomy imps of darkness, hail, all hail! Here we are met, my friends and sufferers, To plan and scheme, devise, and think upon, The surest way to overthrow yon hosts Which dwell in safety under yon bright cloud, Shielded by power omnipotent, which hurl'd In Moloch's statue; no more teraphims Give ear, ye wizards, witches, and ye sprites "Now, as the Deity abhors the sight Of heathen idols, and the gods of gold, Fashion'd by human fingers, cat and carv'd With diligent attention and nice art; As he no rival in his sight can bear, We'll tempt the multitudes a calf to make, Same as before, when Moses from the mount Descended with the tables of the law, Which on its fated head with rage he broke. Should this succeed, and Israel still provoke The God that wrought such wonders in their sight, Kindled afresh, his rage will know no bounds, But sweep from off the earth this traitorous Rides o'er the heaps of frantic devotees, Crush'd in the general wreck of bones and blood; Prince of the air, as through the earth we roam'd In search of something to reward our toil, A human body stretch'd along the ground. No sooner finish'd, than the dungeon roar'd, The Prince of darkness rising up to speak. He wav'd his paw, and order spread around, So that no breath was heard, for all was still As ruin'd abbey or the silent grave. "This happy hour, if happy I can call Ought that transpires within this horrid gulf, Has brought th' intelligence of Moses' death. Now, trusty friends, the welcome time is come, When our fall'n honour will again be rais'd, When war shall rage, and discord stalk along With strides terrific midst the Hebrew tents. I'll go this moment, singly and alone, With all the terrors I can summon here, see. Loud yell'd the fiends, and thrice the cavern shook With tenfold thunders; grim despair forsook For once their bosoms, quickly to resume Her wonted seat, and bring a thicker gloom. Now on the chariot-wheels of flashing fire The arch-apostate spread a loathsome cloud Of noxious vapours; lightnings were the steeds, And hissing serpents twin'd around, were seen. A pitchy mantle o'er his back he flung, Hemm'd round with scorpions; caught by Avernus, Fed on the cinders of this burning lake. That bade defiance to the veriest dregs With hurrying fury; violence was seen In all his movements; soon the seas were cross'd; The equinoctial scarce had time to gaze, As o'er the vales he drove the car along. As the fell tiger couchant stoops and springs Dispersing darkness from the mountain-top, The frantic Lucifer forbore his prey; : "Satan, I know thy cunning, well thou canst Throw out thy threatenings, but I fear them not. The living Lord is still my shield and strength, Compar'd with that which built the starry heav'ns. The eternal God's my hope and anchor still, To him alone is praise and honour due." (To be concluded in our next.) held! Astonish'd saw the pow'rs of darkness quell'd. Was counted vile, and number'd with the dead; And mighty Captain, who alone could bring ELIZA. FROM AN EPITHALAMIUM OF As safe from flocks, by ploughs uninjur❜d, blows, In charming solitude, a fragrant rose, Call'd forth by dews, by suns made fair and strong, By gales refresh'd, the pride of summer's throng! The blooming maids are lavish in its praise, So while the fair one innocent remains, J. J. And deep the meridian sky overspread, tire, I wander'd, and wonder'd, and puzzled my head; At length I espied what so rais'd my desire: The very same house-but no longer 'twas Red! Its shape stood exactly the same to my eye, But youthful no longer, no longer 'twas gay; Alas! I'd forgotten how time marching by Had stol'n the bright Red, and infix'd his deep gray! But soon as recover'd from stupid surmise, Dismiss'd each wild whim that had tortur'd I said to myself with a pleasant surprise, my brains, "What funds for reflection this subject contains!" The views that so charm'd us in childhood and youth, When a few silent years have insidiously fled, Though sought by the eye of affection and truth, Recede from the sight-they no longer are Red! That "grow with its growth," and by which it is fed, Succeeded by cares, or bewilder'd with noise, Tho' yet they exist, they no longer are Red! The hurry of bus'ness, its bustle and glare, The showers of gold 'tis expected to shed; Or drop'd in the coffers, or melted in air, Review'd from a death-scene, no longer are Red! So honours, and riches, and pleasures, and fame, (The phantoms so gay, by which thousands are led,) Each prospect was cover'd with mist and Though sparkling with lustre and burning with with gloom; When yet 'twas my hap to be trav'lling again The long-estrang'd paths, o'er the fernwilder'd waste; I said "The Red House does undoubted remain, Although my bright prospects and sunshine are past! "Its walls I will seek, and beside them beguile In view retrospective, the pangs I endure; The landscape shall meet me, the sunshine, the smile, I'll riot in bliss, though I claim it no more! 75.-VOL. VII. flame, A few years escap'd, they no longer are Red! The sinner profane, to all goodness averse, To vile dazzling pleasures most heartily wed; When" sin finds him out" at the end of his course Proves (glitter all over) no more are they Red! The miser that bathes in a gold-bedded stream, Till nigh turn'd to metal, his sympathies dead; "When drown'd in perdition," will certainly deem The suare that decoy'd him no longer is Red! S |