in a tone of assumed moderation exclaimed, "For ourself, ladies, this matter touches us not; the disloyal minion and the frontless minx would have been forgotten in silent scorn, but that we will neither suffer our public service to be neglected, nor the decency of our court to be violated.

"For the latter, let the name of this flirting puppet be scratched from the list of our maids; and touching this misproved and disobedient Lord Deputy, who has dared to desert his post, and return from Ireland in open defiance of our orders, we will see that he be straightway humbled; where is our secretary? let him join us forthwith in the council room."

That same evening the Earl was committed a prisoner to his chamber, and after much delay and numerous vacillations, occasioned by the miserable perplexity of the Queen's mind, as she fluctuated between severity and returning tenderness, she at length publicly disgraced him, and deprived him of all his great offices and emoluments. Always haughty and ungovernable, and rendered alike desperate in fortune and in mind by these indignities, the ill-fated Earl was driven to those frantic and well known projects of rebellion which shortly afterwards conducted him to the scaffold.

1

As any, air likewise as fresh and sweet
As where smooth Zephyrus plays on the fleet
Face of the curled streams, with flowers as many
As the young spring gives, and as choice as any-
Here be all new delights---cool streams and wells,
Arbours o'ergrown with woodbines, caves, and dells.
THE FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS.

A VALLEY green and interlaced with flowers,
Bright with the vernal sun and April showers,
Was consecrate to their fond youthful love;-
And, while their gentle flocks around them fed,
Their's was the talk of Love untutored;-
And oft her beauty would he praise in song,
In strains as soothing as the tender dove ;-
For sweeter measures never swept along
Th' Ennean bright-enamelled plains, ere Dis
Bore Ceres' offspring to his bower of bliss:-

Oh! happy lovers-pure and undefiled

With hearts unsullied-thoughts to heaven allied ;
And bosoms like to some sweet scented stream,
Around whose banks the roses fondly bloom,

(Tho' for a season-such is Beauty's doom!)
And bright shapes-such as youthful Poets dream,
There gladly dance, and feed the waves with showers
Of budding gems, and odour-breathing flowers!—

Oh! had your lot been, haply, cast among
The gay tricked bevies of the city's throng,
Ye might have followed, with bedazzled eyes,
The lures outspread by Vice within her halls,
Full teeming with low crouching votaries;
Ye might have battened in the sensual stalls,
Where vilde Indulgence-all ashamed-hies.—
Out on the crimes and sins of Capitals !
For in their wilderness all silent stalks

Gaunt wolfish Care—and red-eyed Hatred walks,
And Anger burns, and fevered Envy toils
To heap upon her overteeming fane
Fresh gathered plunder, and the gory spoils
Of white-robed Innocence, and Virtue slain;
And crested Pride hath in loud mockery trod,
Aping the semblance of a mighty God;
And beauteous Honor panic-struck hath fled,
While boldly followeth the minion Shame,
Usurper base of Modesty long dead,

And tromping forth its foul degraded name!

But for my simple lovers they are gone!-
That valley now is mute-and desolate;
No sound is heard of pipe by shepherd blown-
No lightly carolled-joyous songs prevail—
Save when the eve-consenting nightingale
Gives a sweet requiem to their early fate!-
Far in the shady dell there lies a mound
Laved by a stream-and bright with flowers around
And there the Rustics made their early grave!—
Disease came o'er the youth-and his hot blood
In fiery eddies boiled-until he stood

A victim marked by Death's relentless hand-
And then he fell-whom neither art could save
Nor medicinal herb !-and she-the good
And beautiful, his loss could not withstand :-
For what of joy could this dull world impart―
Pale grew her cheek-and broke her tender heart!

Peace to their slumbers-tho' no funeral stone-
Pageant, nor gilded 'scutcheon deck their grave—
Yet few among those hills have mourned-will mourn
The bright, the beautiful, the young, the brave :—
More precious tears-that love and virtue own—
Than splendour's train, and pomp-and heart of
stone!

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTGA, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS.