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While Henry V lay at the siege of Dreux, an honest Hermit unknown to him, came and told him the great evils he brought on Christendom by his unjust ambition, who usurped the kingdom of France, against all manner of right, and contrary to the will of God; wherefore in his holy name he threatened him with a severe and sudden punishment if he desisted not from his enterprise.— Henry took this exhortation either as an idle whimsey, or a sugeestion of the dauphin's, and was but the more confirmed in his desirn. But the blow soon followed the threatening; for within some few months after he was smitten with a strange and incurable disease.— MEzekar.

He past unquestion'd through the camp,
Their heads the soldiers bent

In silent reverence, or begé'd
A blessing as he went;

And so the Hermit past along
And reached the royal tent.

King Henry sate in his tent alone,
The map before him lay,

Fresh conquests he was planning there
To grace the future day.

King Henry lifted up his eyes
The intruder to behold;

With reverence he the hermit saw,
For the holy man was old,

His look was gentle as a Saint's,
And yet his eye was bold.

• Repent thee, Henry, of the wrongs Which thou hast done this land!

O King, repent in time, for know
The judgment is at hand.

* I have past forty years of peace Beside the river Blaise,

But what a weight of woe hast thou Laid on my latter days!

« I used to see along the stream The white sail sailing down,

That wasted food in better times To yonder peaceful town.

« Henry! I never now behold The white sail sailing down;

Famine, Disease, and Death, and Thou Destroy that wretched town.

• I used to hear the traveller's voice As here he past along,

Or maiden as she loiter'd home
Singing her even song.

« No traveller's voice may now be heard, In fear he hastens by,

But I have heard the village maid
In vain for succour cry.

w I used to see the youths row down And watch the dripping oar,

As pleasantly their viol's tones
Came soften'd to the shore.

“King Henry, many a blacken'd corpse
I now see floating down!

Thou bloody man! repent in time
And leave this leaguer'd town.”

“I shall go on,” King Henry cried,
“And conquer this good land,

Seest thou not, Hermit, that the Lord
Hath given it to my hand on

The Hermit heard King Henry speak,
And angrily look'd down;–

His face was gentle, and for that
More solemn was his frown.

« What if no miracle from heaven The murderer's arm controul,

Think you for that the weight of blood Lies lighter on his soul?

• Thou conqueror King, repent in time Or dread the coming woe!

For, Henry, thou bast heard the threat, And soon shalt feel the blow !»

King Henry forced a careless smile,
As the Hermit went his way;
But Henry soon remember'd him
Upon his dying day.


of A YOUNG MAN That would nr.AD UN LAWFUL Books, AND How He was punish Ed.


Cornelius Agrippa went out one day,
His Study he lock'd ere he went away,
And he gave the key of the door to his wife,
And charged her to keep it lock'd on her life.

“And if any one ask my Study to see,
I charge you trust them not with the key;
Whoever may beg, and entreat, and implore,
On your life let nobody enter that door.”

There lived a young man in the house, who in vain
Access to that Study had sought to obtain;
And he bett;'d and pray'd the books to see,
Till the foolish woman gave him the key.

On the Study-table a book there lay,
Which Agrippa himself had been reading that day,
The letters were written with blood within,
And the leaves were made of dead men's skin.

And these horrible leaves of magic between
Were the ugliest pictures that ever were seen,
The likeness of things so foul to behold,
That what they were is not fit to be told.

The young man, he began to read
He knew not what, but he would proceed,
When there was heard a sound at the door
Which as he read on grew more and more.

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- François Petrarque, fort renommé entre les Poètes Italiens, discourant en une epistre son voyage de France et d'Allemaisine, nous raconte que passant par la ville d'Aix, il apprit de quelque, Prestres une histoire prodigieuse qu'ils tenoient de main en main pour tres veritable. Qui estoit que Charles le Grand, apre, avoir conquesté plusicurs pass, s'esperdit de telle façon en l'amour d'une simple **, que mettant tout honneur et reputation in arriere, il outlia non seulement les affaires de son royaume, mais aussi le soing de ** Propre personne, au grand desplaisir de chacun; estant seulement *** courtiser ceste dame: Iaquelle par bonheur commenca a *"liter d'une grosse maladie, qui lui apport à la mort. Dont les Princes et grands Seigneurs furent fort resiouis, esperans que par ceste mort, Charles reprendroit comme devant et ses esprit, et le. affaires du royaume en main : toutesfois il se trouva telleinent infatué de ceste amour, qu'encores cherissoit-il ce cadaver, I'embrassant, laisant, accolant de la mesme façon que devant, et au lieu de prester Foreilleaux legations qui Iuy survenolent, it rentretenoit de mille bayes, comine s'il cust esté plein de vie. Ce corps commencoit deja non seulement a mal sentir, mais au e tournoit en putrefaction, “neanimoins n'y avoit ancun de ses favoris quiluyenosast parler; dout advint que l'Arclievesque Turpin mieux adviso: que les autres, Pourpensa que telle chose ne pouvoirestre advenue sans quelque sorcellerie. Au moyeu de quoy espiant un jour heure que le Roy s'estoit absent de la chambre, commenca de fouller le corps de toutesPart", finalement trouva dans sa bouche au dessous de a langue un "nmesu qu'illus osta. De jour mesme Charlemaigue retournant sur ** Premieres brisees, se trouva fort estonné de voir une carcatase ainsipuante, Parquoy, comme's il se fast resveillé d'un profond sommeil, commanda que l'on l'ensevelist promptement. Ce qui fut fait; mais en contr' “schunge de ceste folie, il tourna tous ses pensemen's vers l'Arclievesque porteur de cest anneau, ne pouvant estre de la en avant sans lus, et le suivant en tous les endroits. Quoy voyant ce age "relat, et craignant que cesi anneau ne tombast en mains de quelque autre, le jetta dans un lac prochain de la vilie. Depuis leguel temps on dit que ce Roy se trouve si espris de l'amour du lieu, qu'il se desemparala ville d'Aix, ou is bastitun Palais, et l'autre woulut estre ense vely. tous les Empercurs de Rome eussent a se faire sacrer premierement en ce lieu."—Les Recherches de la France, d'Estienne Pasquier. Paris. 1611.


un Monastere, en I un desauels il parfit le reste de ses jours et en | Now merriment, joyaunce, and feasting again

or donnant par son testament que

It was strange that he loved her, for youth was gone by, And the bloom of her beauty was fled;

'T was the glance of the harlot that gleam'd in her eye,

And all but the Monarch could plainly descry
From whence came her white and her red.

Yet he thought with Agatha none might compare, And he gloried in wearing her chain;

The court was a desert if she were not there,

To him she alone among women secm'd fair,
Such dotage possess'd Charlemain.

The soldier, the statesman, the courtier, the maid,
Alike the proud leman detest;

And the good old Archbishop, who ceased to upbraid,

Shook his grey head in sorrow, and silently pray'd
That he soon might consign her to rest.

A joy ill-dissembled soon gladdens them all,
For Agatha sickens and dies.

And now they are ready with bier and with pall,

The tapers gleam gloomy amid the high hall,
And the strains of the requiem arise.

But Charlemain he sent them in anger away, For she should not be buried, he said;

And despite of all counsel, for many a day,

Where array'd in her costly apparel she lay, The Monarch would sit by the dead.

The cares of the Kingdom demand him in vain, And the army cry out for their Lord;

The Lombards, the fierce misbelievers of Spain,

Now ravage the realms of the proud Charlemain, And still lic unsheathes not the sword.

The Soldiers they clamour, the Monks bend in prayer In the quiet retreats of the cell;

The Physicians to counsel together repair,

They pause and they ponder, at last they declare
That his senses are bound by a spell.

With relics protected, and confident grown,
And telling devoutly his beads,

The Archbishop prepares him, and when it was known,

That the King for awhile left the body alone,
To look for the spell he proceeds.

Now careful he searches with tremulous haste For the spell that bewitches the Ring;

And under the tongue for security placed,

Its margin with mystical characters traced,
At length he discovers a ring.

Rejoicing he seized it and hastened away,
The Monarch re-entered the room,

The enchantment was ended, and suddenly gay

He bade the attendants no longer delay,
But bear her with speed to the tomb.

Enlivened the palace of Aix; And now by his heralds did King Charlemain Invite to his palace the courtier train

To hold a high festival day.

And anxiously now for the festival day
The highly-born Maidens prepare;

And now, all apparell'd in costly array,

Exulting they come to the palace of Aix, Young and aged, the brave and the fair.

Oh! happy the Damsel who 'mid her compeers
For a moment engaged the King's eye!

Now glowing with hopes and now fever'd with fears,

Each maid or triumphant, or jealous, appears,
As noticed by him, or past by.

And now as the evening approach'd, to the ball
In anxious suspense they advance,

Each hoped the King's choice on her beauties might fall,

When lo! to the utier confusion of all,
He ask'd the Archbishop to dance.

The damsels they laugh and the barons they stare, "T was mirth and astonishment all;

And the Archbishop started and mutter'd a prayer,

And, wroth at receiving such mockery there,
Withdrew him in haste from the hall.

The moon dimpled over the water with light
As he wander'd along the lake side;

When lo! where beside him the King met his sight;

“Oh turn thee, Archbishop, my joy and delight,
Oh turn thee, my charmer,” he cried;

• Oh come where the feast and the dance and the song Invite thee to mirth and to love;

Or at this happy moment away from the throng

To the shade of yon wood let us hasten along-
The moon never pierces that grove.”

Amazement and anger the Prelate possest,
With terror his accents he heard,

Then Charlemain warmly and eagerly prest

The Archbishop's old wither'd hand to his breast, And kiss'd his old grey grizzle beard.

“Let us well then these fortunate moments employ:Cried the Monarch with passionate tone:

“Come away then, dear charmer, my angel,-my joy,

Nay struggle not now.-'t is in vain to be coy,
And remember that we are alone.”

“Blessed Mary, protect me !» the Archbishop cried; “What madness is come to the King!”

In vain to escape from the Monarch he tried,

When luckily he on his finger espied
The glitter of Agatha's ring.

Overjoy'd, the old Prelate remember'd the spell, And far in the lake flung the ring;

The waters closed round it, and, wondrous to tell,

Released from the cursed enchantment of hell, His reason return'd to the King.


But he built him a palace there close by the bay, And there did he 'stablish his reign;

And the traveller who will, may behold at this day

A monument still in the ruins of Aix
Of the spell that possess'd Charlemain.



. Les Catalans avant appris ques. Romuald vouloit quitter leurs pays, en furent très-affli ls delibérèrent sur les moyens de l'en empêcher, et le seul qu'ils imaginerent comme le plus sar, fur de le tuer, afin de profiter du moina de ses reliques et des guerisons et autres miracles qu’elles opéreroient après sa mort. La dévotion que les catalans avoient pour lui, ne plut point du tout a S. Romuald: il usa de stratagome et leur échappa.--St Foix, Essais Historiques sur Paris, t.v. p. 163. - St Foix, who is often more amusing than trustworthy, has fathered this story upon the Spaniards, though it belongs to his own countrymen, the circumstance having happened when Romuald was a monk of the Convent of St Michael s, in Aquitaine. It is thus related by Yepes. - En esta ocasion sucedio una cosa bien extraordinaria, porque los naturales de la tierra donde estava el monasterio de San Miguel, estimavan en tanto a San Romoaldo, que foltandoles la paciencia de quese quisiesse yr. dieron en un terrible disparate, a quien llama muy bien San Pedro Damiano Impia Pictus, piedad cruel: porque queriendose yr San Romoaldo, determinaron de matarle, para que ya que no le podian tener ensu tierra vivo. alomenos gorassen desus reliquias y cuerpo wanto. Supo San "omoaldo in determinacion bestial y indiscreta de aquella gente : y tomó una prudente resolucion, porque imitando a David, que lingio que estava loco, por no caer en manos de sus enemigos, assi San Romoaldose hiro raer la cabeça, y con algunos ademanes. Y palabras mal concertadas que devia, le tuvieron por hombre que leavia faltado el juyzio, conque se asseguraron los naturales de la tierra que ya perpetuamente le tendrian en ella : y con semejante estrotagema y traca tuvo Lugar San Romoaldo du hurtarse, y a centerroo topados (como dizen) buyr de aquella tierra, y llegar a Italia a la ciudad de Ravena. –Coronica General de la orden de San Benito, t. v, f. 274.

villegas in his Flo, sanctorum (February 7th), records some of st Romuald's achievements against the Devil and his imps. He records also the other virtues of the Saint, as specified in the poem. they are more fully stated by Ye: • Tenia tres cilicios, los quale, mudava de treynta en treynta dias: no loslalava, sinoponialoa al ayre, y a la agua que Ilovia, con que sematavan algunas inmundicias, que se criavan en ellos.”—ff. 398. - Quando alguna vez era tentado de la gula, y desseava comer de algun maniar, tomavale en las manos, miravale, oliale, y despuesque estava despierto el apetito, dezia, o gula, gula, quan dulce y suave te parece este manjar pero note ha de entrar en provecho: y entouces se mortificava, y le dexava, y le embiava entero, oal illerico, o a los pobres." —Ibid. More concerning St Romuald may be seen in the Omniana, vol. i.

One day, it matters not to know How many hundred years ago, A Frenchman stopt at an inn door: The Landlord came to welcome him, and chat Of this and that, For he had seen the Traveller there before.

• Doth holy Romuald dwell Still in his cell! » The Traveller ask'd, wor is the old man dead?” ... No ; he has left his loving flock, and we So good a Christian never more shall see,” The Landlord answerd, and he shook his head.

... Ah, Sir! we knew his worth! if ever there did live a Saint on earth!why, Sir, he always used to wear a shirt For thirty days, all seasons, day and night: Good mau, he kuew it was not right

For dust and ashes to fall out with dirt; And then he only hung it out in the rain, And put it on again. There has been perilous work With him and the Devil there in yonder cell; For Satan used to maul him like a Turk. There they would sometimes fight All through a winter's night, From sun-set until morn, He with a cross, the Devil with his horn; The Devil spitting fire with might and main Enough to make St Michael half afraid; He splashing holy water till he made His red hide hiss again, And the hot vapour fill'd the smoking cell. This was so common that his face became All black and yellow with the brimstone flame, And then he smelt, Oh Lord! how he did smell!

“Then, Sir! to see how he would mortify The flesh! If any one had dainty fare, Good man, he would come there, And look at all the delicate things, and cry, “O Belly, Belly! You would be gormandizing now I know; But it shall not be so!— Home to your bread and water—home, I tell ye">

“But," quoth the Traveller, “wherefore did he leave
A flock that knew his saintly worth so well!”
“Why," said the Landlord, “Sir, it so befell
Ile heard unluckily of our intent
To do him a great honour: and, you know,
He was not covetous of fame below,
And so by stealth one night away he went.”

“What might this honour be?» the Traveller cried; “Why, Sir," the Host replied, “We thought perhaps that he might one day leave us; And then should strangers have The good man's grave; A loss like that would naturally grieve us, For he 'll be made a Saint of to be sure. Therefore we thought it prudent to secure Ilis relics while we might; And so we meant to strangle him one night.”


The people at Isna, in Upper Egypt, have a superstition concerning Crocodiles similar to that entertained in the West Indies; they say there is a King of them who resides near isna, and who has ears, but no tail; and he possesses an uncommon regal quality, that of doing no harm. Some are bold enough to assert that they have seen him.—Brown's Travels."

« Now, Woman, why without your veil!
And wherefore do you look so pale?
And, Woman, why do you groan so sadly,
And wherefore beat your bosom madly?»

• Mr Browne had probably forgotten one of our legal axioms, or

he would not have conceived that the privilege of doing no wrong was peculiar to this long-eur'd Sovereign.

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“You have done well,” the King replies,
And fix'd on her his little eyes;
«Good Woman, yes, you have done right,
But you have not described me quite.

“I have no tail to strike and slay,

And I have ears to hear what you say:
I have teeth moreover, as you may see, -
And I will make a meal of thee.”


Betweene the Cytee and the Chirche of Bethlehem, is the felde Floridus, that is to seyne, the selde floriched. For als moche as a fayre Mayden was blamed with wrong and selaundred, that scue hadd don fornicacioun, for whiche cause sche was demed to the dethe, and to be brent in that place, to the whiche sche was ladd. And as the syre began to brenne about hire, she made her preveres to oure Lord. that als wissely as sche was not gylty of that synne, that he wold help hire, and make it to be knowen to alle men of his mercyfulle grace; and whanne sche had thus seyd, sche entered into the fuyer, and anon was the fuyer quenched and oute, and the brondes that weren brennynge, becomen white Rosetes, fulle of roses, and theise werein the first Roseres and roses, both white and rede, that every ony man saughe. And thus was this Maiden saved be the grace of God.—The Voiage and Trairaile of Sir John Massdeville. Nay, Edith ! spare the Rose;—perhaps it lives, And feels the noon-tide sun, and drinks refresh'd The dews of night; let not thy genile hand Tear its life-strings asunder, and destroy The sense of being!—why that infidel smiles Come, I will bribe thee to be merciful; And thou shall have a tale of other days, For I am skill'd in legendary lore, So thou wilt let it live. There was a time Ere this, the freshest, sweetest flower that blooms, Bedeck'd the bowers of earth. Thou hast not heard How first by miracle its fragrant leaves Spread to the sun their blushing loveliness.

There dwelt at Bethlehem a Jewish maid,
And Zillah was her name, so passing fair
That all Judea spake the virgin's praise.
He who had seen her eyes' dark radiance
How it reveal’d her soul, and what a soul
Beam'd in the mild effulgence, woe was he'
For not in solitude, for not in crowds,
Might he escape remembrance, nor avoid
Her imaged form which followed every where,
And fill'd the heart, and fix'd the absent eye.
Woe was he, for her bosom own’d no love
Save the strong ardours of religious zeal, |
For Zillah on her God had center'd all |
Her spirit's deep affections. So for her
Her tribes-men sigh’d in vain, yet reverenced
The obdurate virtue that destroy'd their hopes.

One man there was, a vain and wretched man,
Who saw, desired, despaird, and hated her.
His sensual eye had gloated on her check
Even till the flush of angry modesty
Gave it new charms, and made him gloat the mo"
She loath'd the man, for Hamuel's eye was bold,
And the strong workings of brute selfishness
Had moulded his broad features; and she fear'd

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