of the amphitheatre, a young man, beautiful as the day, but having the lustre of his complexion dimmed by the cloud of long afflictions. It was Alischar, and Smaragdine had nigh swooned away with the joy of beholding him.

After he awoke in the street without his turban, and learnt from the old woman what had happened, and that his dear Smaragdine had indeed vanished, though not in his company, his spirit was yielded up as a prey to the bitterest anguish. A sore illness fell upon him, and for a whole year he had lain helpless, nursed carefully by the good old woman. But as soon as he began to recover a little strength, he set out a-wandering through the world, if, perchance, he might yet once again find out and possess his love. It happened that he came on the morning of this feastday to the city where she was king; and, being unacquainted with the regulations of the amphitheatre, he fell into a mistake similar to that which had already proved fatal to so many travellers. He was, like them, accused and summoned to the prince's footstool. He knelt down reverently, and kissed the dust before her; and being asked what was his name and his business, made answer, without hesitation, "My name is Alischar, and I am come hither, wandering over the whole earth, in quest of the fountain of my life, my dear Smaragdine, whom I have lost." The king sent for the tablet Romla and the steel have said the truth," says the king; "and I perceive that Heaven designs ere long to restore to you your lost love." With this she commanded them to lead Alischar to the bath, to clothe him in a robe of ho

8

pen.

"You

nour, and treat him in her palace with all respect and consideration.

Smaragdine could scarcely wait until night came, so great was her impatience. When it was dark, she commanded that Alischar should be brought to her, and invited him to partake of the royal supper. The young man, who was naturally modest, was confounded with this condescension, but constrained himself, and acquitted himself as well as he could. It appeared that his behaviour gave no displeasure to the king; for, supper being ended, the chief of the black eunuchs came into the apartment, and Alischar heard him receive his sovereign's orders to place one of the fairest of the female-slaves in the palace in the sleeping-chamber of the stranger. Alischar knew not what to say. He stammered, and made many excuses; but it seemed as if no one conceived these could be any thing but words of course; for almost immediately the king rose, and Alischar was conducted with great ceremony to the chamber from which he had come. The slave who attended upon him extinguished the lamps after he was in bed, and the perplexed young man found himself in total dark

ness.

Presently a whisper was heard close to his pillow, and, ere he could make any answer, his visitant took her place beside him. A small delicate hand found out his, and pressed it with gentle force; soft sighs reached his ear, and the atmosphere around him seemed to have been enriched with all the fragrance of Yemen. “No,” said Alischar, pushing her from him, "No, no.-I am the husband of my Smaragdine,

and all the houris of paradise could not tempt my faith to waver."

But when Smaragdine perceived the extent of his fidelity, she was out of herself with joy: she burst out into loud laughter, such as could proceed from no lips but hers, and made herself known to the enraptured Alischar. "I perceive," said he, "that I was on the point of a grievous error. He is ever right who complies with the orders of the sovereign. I swear obedience and homage to him by my hair and my eyes." *

Next morning the king called together the nobles of the city, and requested them to choose some one to act as viceroy for a season, announcing the necessity of undertaking a journey to his own country in company with the stranger.

They immediately complied with this request, and escorted the prince from their gates with all the splendour of royal attendance. But Smaragdine had no intention ever to reclaim their homage ;—she had found her Alischar, and preferred a life of love and peace in her native place, to an unnatural disguise, and the troublesome magnificence of sovereign estate.

* By my hair and my eyes-semaan wa tataan ala ras wal ain, -still a common form of plighting homage in the East.

THE WESTERN CAMPAIGN.*

AIR,-"Black Joke."

LET us sing of the heroes that march'd from yon town To keep liberty up, to put Radicals down,

With their long spurs and sabres so bright. Their majestic manœuvres in cross-road and lane— Their walk on the hill, and their trot on the plain— The butts that were shed, and the beeves that were

slain

Stamp'd immortal renown on the western campaign, And the long spurs and sabres so bright.

Through Auld Reekie thy note, Preparation! was heard,

The hallooing of Horne, and the bellow of Baird,
For their long spurs and sabres so bright.
At their magical call, what a muster began!

What a figging of horse! what a rigging of man !
Lawyers flung by the fee-book to furbish their pops,
And mettlesome merchants strode fierce from their

shops,

With their long spurs and sabres so bright.

* This song is, we believe, one of the many standard and approved daily ditties of the Edinburgh Yeomanry Cavalry's mess. It was written by one of themselves, in jocular commemoration of a march to Lanarkskire and Ayrshire, when these districts were in a disturbed condition in the spring of 1820.

Twas at Bathgate this war might be said to commence,
To the tune, as was fitting, of " D-n the expense !
By our long swords and sabres so bright.”-
As the Waterloo cheesemongers batter'd the French,
So these nurslings of luxury, stretch'd on a bench,
In a pitiful pot-house durst patiently snore,
Or boldly bivouack'd round a bowl on the floor,
All in long spurs and sabres so bright.

Yet ere long they were destined still higher to soar, In endurance heroic, on Slammanan moor,

In their long spurs and sabres so bright.
On that scene of devotion there twinkled no star :-
The occasional flash of a lighted segar

Scarce sufficed to distinguish a fir from a foe,
Or the wet Mandarin from a turnip scare-crow,
Spite of long spurs and sabre so bright.

Neither pot-house, nor pent-house, nor pea-shed was here,

Nor the heart-stirring clunk of one cork of small-beer,
To greet long spurs and sabres so bright;
Yet, all sleepless and fagg'd, when to Airdrie they came,
Colonel Smith canters in with a visage of flame ;
"There's a thousand hot colliers," quoth he, "I've just

seen

Reviewed by old Soult on a farmer's back green :
Go it, long spurs and sabres so bright."

There was mounting in haste beside Airdrie's canal;
Every pistol was cock'd-some were loaded with ball-
Besides long spurs and sabres so bright.
Over ditches and dikes, and through marshes and mire,
They gallop-you need not be told they perspire;

S