Next day the case gave further hope yet,
Though still some ugly fever latent;-
"Dose, as before". a gentle opiate,
For which old Hymen has a patent.

After a month of daily call,

So fast the dose went on restoring,
That Love, who first ne'er slept at all,

Now took, the rogue! to downright snoring.'

But that which has most of real poetry, and is executed with much delicacy and feeling, and elegance, is a small piece called

LINES TO MY MOTHER, WRITTEN IN A POCKET-BOOK.

They tell us of an Indian tree,

Which, howso'er the sun and sky

May tempt its boughs to wander free,

And shoot, and blossom, wide and high,
Far better loves to bend its arms

Downward again to that dear earth,
From which the life, that fills and warms
Its grateful being, first had birth.

'Tis thus, though woo'd by flattering friends,
And fed with fame (if fame it be),
This heart, my own dear mother, bends,

With love's true instinct, back to thee!'

This is the piece which of all others has most made us doubt whether there may not be some more intimate connexion between young Mr. Brown and our old friend Mr. Moore. However this may be, the production is a very pleasant one.

QUENTIN DURWARD.

THE ingenious author of Waverley has come again before the public, in a shape somewhat different from those which he has previously assumed. In his new novel, which, according to our purpose, we enter upon without indulging in any lengthened criticism, he has taken a more decidedly historical tone. The scene is laid in France, in the tempestuous reign of Louis XI. The characters of that monarch, and Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, are drawn with a fidelity and precision which belong rather to history than to romance.

The story begins with introducing to the readers a young Scottish adventurer, who has left his home, his whole family being destroyed in a feud, to seek his fortune in France. His only relation is Ludovic Lesly, one of the Scottish Guard, to whom Louis was so much attached; a post of honour and emolument in those times. He is described as in search of his maternal uncle at the opening of the work, and travelling with very slender means, but a good stock of animal spirits and inextinguishable courage. The following sketch is very striking :

'The age of the young traveller might be about nineteen, or betwixt that and twenty, and his face and person, which were very prepossessing, did not, however, belong to the country in which he was now a sojourner. His short grey cloak and hose were rather of

Flemish than of French fashion, while the smart blue bonnet, with a single sprig of holly and an eagle's feather, was already recognised as the Scottish head-gear. His dress was very neat, and arranged with the precision of a youth conscious of possessing a fine person. He had at his back a satchell, which seemed to contain a few necessaries, a hawking gauntlet on his left hand, though he carried no bird, and in his right a stout hunter's pole. Over his left shoulder hung an embroidered scarf, which sustained a small pouch of scarlet velvet, such as was then used by fowlers of distinction to carry their hawks' food, and other matters belonging to that much-admired sport. This was crossed by another shoulder-belt, which sustained a hunting knife, or couteau de chasse. Instead of the boots of the period, he wore buskins of half-dressed deer's-skin.'

He is narrowly observed by two men, of whom, upon his discovering them, he asks whether the river he is about to cross is fordable: as they do not answer, he prepares to wade through it, and is carried away by the stream. He saves himself, and, highly enraged, is about to chastise the persons who had not cautioned him, when a conversation ensues, in which he very frankly tells who he is, and the elder of the men invites him to a breakfast, as a recompense for the wetting he has had.

The youth breakfasts as becomes a hungry traveller, much to the amusement of his new friend. They talk of his future prospects, and discuss the merits of the different chiefs of that day under whom a warlike youth would take arms. The old man does not eat with him, but directs the innkeeper to send him some confitures and a cup of water by a certain lady to whom he alludes:

'As he spoke the door opened, and a girl, rather above than under fifteen years old, entered with a platter, covered with damask, on which was placed a small saucer of the dried plums which have always added to the reputation of Tours, and a cup of the curiously chased plate which the goldsmiths of that city were anciently famous for executing, with a delicacy of workmanship that distinguished them from the other cities of France, and even excelled the skill of the metropolis. The form of the goblet was so elegant, that Durward thought not of observing closely whether the material was of silver, or, like what had been placed before himself, of a baser metal, but so well burnished as to resemble the richer ore.

'But the sight of the young person by whom this service was executed attracted Durward's attention far more than the petty particulars of the duty which she performed.

'He speedily made the discovery that a quantity of long black tresses, which, in the maiden fashion of his own country, were unadorned by any ornament, excepting a single chaplet, lightly woven out of ivy-leaves, formed a veil around a countenance, which, in its regular features, dark eyes, and pensive expression, resembled that of Melpomene, though there was a faint glow on the cheek, and an intelligence on the lips and in the eye, which made it seem that gaiety was not foreign to a countenance so expressive, although it might not be its most habitual expression. Quentin even thought he could discern that depressing circumstances were the cause why a countenance

so young and so lovely was graver than belongs to early beauty; and, as the romantic imagination of youth is rapid in drawing conclusions from slight premises, he was pleased to infer, from what follows, that the fate of this beautiful vision was wrapped in silence and mystery.

"How now, Jacqueline!" said Maitre Pierre, when she entered the apartment-" Wherefore this? Did I not desire that Dame Perette should bring what I wanted?-Pasques-dieu !—Is she, or does she think herself, too good to serve me?"

"My mother is ill at ease," answered Jacqueline, in a hurried yet an humble tone; "ill at ease, and keeps her chamber."

"She keeps it alone, I hope?" replied Maitre Pierre, with some emphasis; "I am vieux routier, and none of those upon whom feigned disorders pass for apologies."

'Jacqueline turned pale, and even tottered at the answer of Maitre Pierre; for it must be owned that his voice and looks, at all times harsh, caustic, and unpleasing, had, when he expressed anger or suspicion, an effect both sinister and alarming.

'The mountain chivalry of Quentin Durward was instantly awakened, and he hastened to approach Jacqueline, and relieve her of the burden she bore, and which she passively resigned to him, while, with a timid and anxious look, she watched the countenance of the angry burgess. It was not in nature to resist the piercing and pitycraving expression of her looks, and Maitre Pierre proceeded, not merely with an air of diminished displeasure, but with as much gentleness as he could assume in countenance and manner,- "I blame not thee, Jacqueline, and thou art too young to be-what it is pity to think thou must be one day-a false and treacherous thing, like the rest of thy giddy sex. No man ever lived to man's estate, but he had the opportunity to know you all. Here is a Scottish cavalier will tell

you the same."

'Jacqueline looked for an instant on the young stranger, as if to obey Maitre Pierre, but the glance, momentary as it was, appeared to Durward a pathetic appeal to him for support and sympathy; and with the promptitude dictated by the feelings of youth, and the romantic veneration for the female sex inspired by his education, he answered hastily, "That he would throw down his gage to any antagonist, of equal rank and equal age, who should presume to say such a countenance, as that which he now looked upon, could be animated by other than the purest and the truest mind."

"You are a foolish young man," said Maitre Pierre," and know as little of women as of princes,-whose hearts," he said, crossing himself devoutly, "God keeps in his right hand."

"And who keeps those of the women, then?" said Quentin, resolved, if he could help it, not to be borne down by the assumed superiority of this extraordinary old man, whose lofty and careless manner possessed an influence over him of which he felt ashamed.

"I am afraid you must ask of them in another quarter," said Maitre Pierre, composedly.

'Quentin was again rebuffed, but not utterly disconcerted. 66 Surely," " he said to himself, "I do not pay this same burgess of Tours all the deference which I yield him on account of the miserable VOL. 1. June, 1823, Br. Mag..

Y

obligation of a breakfast, though it was a right good and substantial meal. Dogs and hawks are attached by feeding only-man must have kindness, if you would bind him with the cords of affection and obligation. But he is an extraordinary person; and that beautiful emanation that is even now vanishing-surely a thing so fair belongs not to this mean place, belongs not even to the money-gathering merchant himself, though he seems to exert authority over her, as doubtless he does over all whom chance brings within his little circle. It is wonderful what ideas of consequence these Flemings and Frenchmen attach to wealth-so much more than wealth deserves, that I suppose this old merchant thinks the civility I pay to his age is given to his money— I, a Scottish gentleman of blood and coat-armour, and he a mechanic of Tours!"

Such were the thoughts which hastily traversed the mind of young Durward, while Maitre Pierre said, with a smile, and at the same time patting Jacqueline's head, from which hung down her long tresses, "This young man will serve me, Jacqueline-thou mayest withdraw. I will tell thy negligent mother she does ill to expose thee to be gazed on unnecessarily."

"It was only to wait on you," said the maiden. will not be displeased with your kinswoman, since❞—

"I trust you

"Pasques-dieu!" said the merchant, interrupting her, but not harshly, do you bandy words with me, you brat, or stay you to gaze upon the youngster here?-Begone-he is noble, and his services will suffice me."

The ease of the old merchant surprises Quentin greatly; but he is still more amazed, when, on his departure, he leaves with him a considerable number of silver pieces and a cup, recommending him to stay in the inn until he hears from him. He is afterwards visited by his uncle, a rough hard-hearted and hard-headed soldier, from whose assistance he finds he has little to expect. On the departure of Lesly he goes out to stroll, and takes this opportunity of inquiring after Maitre Pierre, but to no purpose. An adventure then happens to him, which, as well on account of its own interest, as because it introduces some remarkable personages, we extract. Quentin, seeing the body of a man hanging on a tree in the agonies of death, cuts him down. It appears that this was a Bohemian, or gipsy, who had been executed with little ceremony by the provost-marshal, Tristan l'Hermite. While Quentin is employed with the gipsies in endeavouring to restore their comrade, the provost-marshal returns, and Durward is seized and bound, just as he recognises in the provost the younger of the two persons he had first met in the morning, and whom he had struck.

"Trois-Eschelles and Petit-André," said the down-looking officer to two of his band, "these same trees stand here quité convenient. I will teach these misbelieving thieving sorcerers to interfere with the king's justice, when it has visited any of their accursed race. Dismount, my children, and do your office briskly.”

Trois-Eschelles and Petit-André were in an instant on foot, and Quentin observed that they had each, at the crupper and pommel of his saddle, a coil or two of ropes, which they hastily undid, and showed that, in fact, each coil formed a halter, with the fatal noose

adjusted, ready for execution. The blood ran cold in Quentin's veins when he saw three cords selected, and perceived that it was purposed to put one around his own neck. He called on the officer loudly, reminded him of their meeting that morning, claimed the right of a freeborn Scotchman in a friendly and allied country, and denied any knowledge of the persons along with whom he was seized, or of their misdeeds.

The officer whom Durward thus addressed scarce deigned to look at him while he was speaking, and took no notice whatsoever of the claim he preferred to prior acquaintance. He barely turned to one or two of the peasants who were now come forward, either to volunteer their evidence against the prisoners, or out of curiosity, and said gruffly, "Was yonder young fellow with the vagabonds ?"

"That he was, sir, and it please your noble provostship," answered one of the clowns; he was the very first blasphemously to cut down the rascal whom his majesty's justice most deservedly hung up, as we told your worship."

"It is enough that you have seen him intermeddle with the course of the king's justice, by attempting to recover an executed traitor," said the officer." Trois-Eschelles and Petit-André, despatch."

66

Stay, signior officer!" exclaimed the youth, in mortal agonyhear me speak-let me not die guiltlessly-my blood will be required of you by my countrymen in this world, and by heaven's justice in that which is to follow."

"I will answer my actions in both," said the provost, coldly; and made a sign with his left hand to the executioners; then, with a smile of triumphant malice, touched with his fore-finger his right arm, which hung suspended in a scarf, disabled probably by the blow which Durward had dealt him that morning.

"Miserable, vindictive wretch!"-answered Quentin, persuaded by that action that private revenge was the sole motive of this man's rigour, and that no mercy whatever was to be expected from him.

"The poor youth raves," said the functionary; "speak a word of comfort to him ere he makes his transit, Trois-Eschelles; thou art a comfortable man in such cases, when a confessor is not to be had. Give him one minute of ghostly advice, and despatch matters in the next. I must proceed on the rounds.-Soldiers, follow me!"

The provost rode on, followed by his guard, excepting two or three who were left to assist in the execution. The unhappy youth cast after him an eye almost darkened by despair, and thought he heard, in every tramp of his horse's retreating hoofs, the last slight chance of his safety vanish. He looked around him in agony, and was surprised, even at that moment, to see the stoical indifference of his fellow-prisoners. They had previously testified every sign of fear, and made every effort to escape; but now, when secured, and destined apparently to inevitable death, they awaited its arrival with the most stoical indifference. The scene of fate before them gave, perhaps, a more yellow tinge to their swarthy cheeks; but it neither agitated their features, nor quenched the stubborn haughtiness of their eye. They seemed like foxes, which, after all their wiles and artful attempts at escape are exhausted, die with a silent and sullen fortitude,