12.

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.

13.

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 pass'd by.

14.

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

Hoping each on herself that the King's choice might fall,

When lo! to the utter confusion of all,

He ask'd the Archbishop to dance.

15.

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,
In haste he withdrew from the hall.

16.

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

But the King had pursued, and o'erjoyed at his sight,
"Oh turn thee, Archbishop, my joy and delight,
Oh turn thee, my charmer," he cried;

17

"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."

18.

As thus by new madness the King seem'd possest,
In new wonder the Archbishop heard;
Then Charlemain warmly and eagerly prest
The good old man's poor wither'd hand to his breast,
And kiss'd his long grey grizzle beard.

19.

"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."

20.

"Blessed Mary, protect me!" the Archbishop cried; "What madness has 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.

"Les Catalans ayant appris que S. Romuald vouloit quitter leurs pays, en furent très-affligés; ils déliberèrent sur les moyens de l'en empêcher, et le seul qu'ils imaginèrent comme le plus sûr, fut de le tuer, afin de profiter du moins 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 de tout à S. Romuald; il usa de stratagème et leur échappa." —St. Foir, Essais Historiques sur Paris, t. v. p. 163.

St. Foix, who is often more amusing than trust-worthy, has fathered this story upon the Spaniards, though it belongs to his own countrymen, the circumstances 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 á San Romoaldo, que faltandoles la paciencia de que se quisiesse yr, dieron en un terrible disparate, á quien llama muy bien San Pedro Damiano Impia Pietas, piedad cruel: porque queriendose yr San Romoaldo, determinaron de matarle, para que ya que no le podian tener en su tierra vivo, alomenos gozassen de sus reliquias y cuerpo santo. Supo San Romoaldo la determinacion bestial y indiscreta de aquella gente: y tomo una prudente resolucion, porque imitando á David, que fingio que estava loco, por no caer en manos de sus enemigos, assi San Romoaldo se hizo raer la cabeca, y con algunos ademanes, y palabras mal concertadas que dezia, le tuvieron por hombre que le avia faltado el jugzio, con que se asseguraron los naturales de la tierra que ya perpetuiamente le tendrian en ella: y con semejante estratagema y traça tuvo lugar San Romoaldo de hurtarse, y á cencerros topados (como dizen) huyr de aquella tierra, y llegar á Italia á la ciudad de Ravena."-Coronica General de la Orden de San Benito, t. v. f. 274.

Villegas, in his Flos 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 Yepes. "Tenia tres cilicios, los quales mudava de treynta en treynta dias: no los labava, sino ponialos al ayre, y å la agua que llovia, con que se matavan algunas inmundicias, que se criavan en ellos," f. 298. "Quando alguna vez era tentado de la gula, y desseava comer de algun manjar, tomovale en las manos, miravale, oliale, y despues que estava despierto el apetito, dezia, O gula, gula, quan dulce y suave te parece este manjar ! pero no te ha de entrar en provecho! y entonces se mortificava, y le dexava, y le embiava entero, ó al silleriço, ó á los pobres."

There is a free translation of this poem, by Bilderdijk, in the second volume of his Krekelzangen, p. 113.

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, "or is the old man dead?
"No; he has left his loving flock, and we
So great a Christian never more shall see,"
The Landlord answer'd, 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 man, he knew 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,.. O Lord! how he did smell!

THE KING OF THE CROCODILES.

"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.

If the Crocodile Dynasty in Egypt had been described as distinguished by a long neck, as well as the want of a tail, it might be supposed that some tradition of the Ichthyosaurus, or other variety of the Præadamite Crocodile, was preserved in those countries.

No one who has perused Mr. Waterton's Wanderings will think there is any thing more extraordinary in the woman's attack upon her intended devourer, than in what that enterprising and most observant naturalist has himself performed. He has ridden a Crocodile, twisting the huge reptile's fore legs on his back by main force, and using them as a bridle. "Should it be asked," he says, how I managed to keep my seat, I would answer, I hunted some years with Lord Darlington's fox-hounds."

There is a translation of this ballad by Bilderdijk, published in his Krekelzangen, 1822, vol. ii. p. 109., before the second part was written.

PART I.

"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 ?"

"Oh! I have lost my darling boy,
In whom my soul had all its joy;
And I for sorrow have torn my veil,
And sorrow hath made my very heart pale.

"Oh, I have lost my darling child,
And that's the loss that makes me wild;
He stoop'd to the river down to drink,
And there was a Crocodile by the brink.

"He did not venture into swim,
He only stoopt to drink at the brim;
But under the reeds the Crocodile lay,
And struck with his tail and swept him away.

"Now take me in your boat, I pray, For down the river lies my way, And me to the Reed-Island bring, For I will go to the Crocodile King.

"He reigns not now in Crocodilople,
Proud as the Turk at Constantinople;
No ruins of his great City remain,
The Island of Reeds is his whole domain,

"Like a Dervise there he passes his days, Turns up his eyes, and fasts and prays; And being grown pious and meek and mild, He now never eats man, woman, or child.

THE ROSE.

"Betwene the Cytee and the Chirche of Bethlehem, is the felde Floridus, that is to seyne, the felde florsched. For als moche as a fayre Mayden was blamed with wrong and sclaundred, that sche hadd don fornicacioun, for whiche cause sche was demed to the dethe, and to be brent in that

place, to the whiche she was ladd. And as the fyre began to brenne about hire, she made her preyeres 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 Roseres, 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 by the grace of God."-The Voiage and Traivaile of Sir John Maundeville.

NAY, EDITH! spare the Rose; . . perhaps it lives,
And feels the noontide sun, and drinks refresh'd
The dews of night; let not thy gentle hand
Tear its life-strings asunder, and destroy
The sense of being!.. Why that infidel smile?
Come, I will bribe thee to be merciful;
And thou shalt 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 in 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 to him! 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. Alas for him! her bosom own'd no love Save the strong ardour 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, despaired, and hated her, His sensual eye had gloated on her cheek Even till the flush of angry modesty Gave it new charms, and made him gloat the more. She loathed the man, for Hamuel's eye was bold, And the strong workings of brute selfishness Had moulded his broad features; and she feared The bitterness of wounded vanity

That with a fiendish hue would overcast

His faint and lying smile. Nor vain her fear,
For Hamuel vow'd revenge, and laid a plot
Against her virgin fame. He spread abroad
Whispers that travel fast, and ill reports

There was a barren field; a place abhorr'd,
For it was there where wretched criminals
Receiv'd their death! and there they fix'd the stake,
And piled the fuel round which should consume
The injured Maid, abandon'd, as it seem'd,
By God and Man. The assembled Bethlemites
Beheld the scene, and when they saw the Maid
Bound to the stake, with what calm holiness
She lifted up her patient looks to Heaven,
They doubted of her guilt. With other thoughts
Stood Hamuel near the pile; him savage joy
Led thitherward, but now within his heart
Unwonted feelings stirr'd, and the first pangs
Of wakening guilt, anticipant of Hell.
The eye of Zillah as it glanced around
Fell on the slanderer once, and rested there
A moment like a dagger did it pierce,
And struck into his soul a cureless wound.
Conscience! thou God within us! not in the hour
Of triumph dost thou spare the guilty wretch,
Not in the hour of infamy and death

Forsake the virtuous! They draw near the stake,.. They bring the torch!... hold, hold your erring hands!

Yet quench the rising flames!.. they rise! they spread !

They reach the suffering Maid! oh God protect
The innocent one!

They rose, they spread, they raged; ...
The breath of God went forth; the ascending fire
Beneath its influence bent, and all its flames
In one long lightning-flash concentrating,
Darted and blasted Hamuel,.. him alone.
Hark! . . what a fearful scream the multitude
Pour forth!.. and yet more miracles! the stake
Branches and buds, and, spreading its green leaves,
Embowers and canopies the innocent Maid
Who there stands glorified; and Roses, then
First seen on earth since Paradise was lost,
Profusely blossom round her, white and red
In all their rich variety of hues;

And fragrance such as our first parents breathed
In Eden she inhales, vouchsafed to her
A presage sure of Paradise regain'd.

Westbury, 1798.