much importance, or those still dearer, possessions once identified with our name. Oh, lady! you think you require from me a toy, a trifle ; but imagine the value my heart attaches to that jewel, when I tell you, that, even at this moment, it all but overpowers in the balance, the hope of gaining back my early home.' She paused-and then nestling closer to Lady Ormond, and glancing upwards with a child-like and deprecating expression, she exclaimed, 'Forgive me, dear lady, most true and early friend, and say, can you spare me one short hour while I relate how those pearls came into my possession, and why they surpass earth's richest treasures in my heart?' The Duchess made no answer, but with a look of the deepest interest, she made a silent gesture of acquiescence, as again she pressed her lips on that fair brow: and Florence, sadly smiling, commenced. (To be continued.) LINES WRITTEN AFTER VISITING GLOUCESTER CATHEDRAL. * Он, shine not here so brightly, Not on these time-worn monuments Suits better with this cloistered aisle, Go, and athwart the dancing wave Oh, shine not here, for sleeping low Lies Normandy's young gallant Duke,* Robert, Duke of Normandy, son of William the Conqueror. He, who o'er Palestine's broad plains The Saracen's oft dreaded foe, The brave crusader's boast. Oh, shine not thus, resplendent sun, For bright as were his early years And shine not here, not on the grave, Of a scorned fallen king ;* 'Twere mockery on that sculptured form, Thy golden beams to fling. Ah, Edward, better hadst thou lived, Poor, lowly, and unknown, Than worn a kingly diadem, Or filled a regal throne; The victim of a nation's hate, Left by a faithless wife; In Berkely's dreary dungeon towers, And here they laid thee, here, where oft, In days of pomp and pride, Thou satt'st a crowned and flattered Prince Thy Bride Queen at thy side; All silently they laid thee here, None sorrowed o'er thy cruel death, *Edward the Second. Oh, sunbeam, shed not thy glad light, Oh, shine not here, this fretted roof A poor And superstition's voice been heard Unsheltered by these ancient walls,* Oh, sunbeam, ever brightly shine Upon the sacred spot, For on this hero's worthy fame Is found no stain, no blot. Strengthened by Jesu's power, Oh shine, the flames which wreathed his form, But freed the deathless soul, And proved a nearer road to heaven, The spirit's wished-for goal. * In the church-yard of St. Mary de Lode. |