such sentiment remained there, it had become so mixed up with ambition, that Percy dreaded more nearly to analyze it. Some mighty mischief seemed about to be disclosed heavier than even her lover had anticipated: she sighed deeply, like one who seemed resigned to a fate inevitable; and dropped one pearly tear when she beheld the injured youth, to whom she had vowed everlasting attachment, now before her. But visions of greatness in royal guise swam before her, and robbed Percy of almost every tender sympathy.

Henry in the field; he now felt unmanned as the veriest villain before his feudal lord, and he was left by the scorning courtiers gazing listlessly on a whistle, which hung dangling with the tassels of falconry from a small chain at the points of his vest. While thus absorbed in meditation, the light form of a maiden passed slowly before him. She was somewhat taller than the common height; her forehead, high and polished, was of a dazzling whiteness, and appeared of the purest ivory as it burst from between two braids of hair, black as that of the raven, guarded by rows of the largest pearls, from which was thrown backwards a kerchief of 'the finest lawn. Her nose somewhat approached to the Grecian; her lips were full and rosy; her cheeks, it is true, were almost colourless, yet was there on them a delicate tint of peachy bloom, which gave an air of inexpressible tenderness to her whole countenance; while a pair of dark eyes, of a full dazzling and search-of Arragon, it was thought that the ing brilliancy, lit up her face with splendour. The natural clearness of her skin was well heightened by a black velvet kirtle and petticoat; her bosom rose above a garniture of pearls; while bracelets, given by the now unhappy Percy, rivalled the whiteness of her ivory fingers.

My gentle Anne," murmured the forlorn lover, "dost thou not tremble at our wayward fate? or, as -partner of a throne, dost thou not rejoice, forgetting the pangs of him thou once lovedst so dearly?" The damsel paused, and taking up a psalter which hung from her girdle, seemed indeed to peruse its contents, for the searching eyes of a lover saw in her countenance no sympathy with his feelings; at least, if any

Mild, lively, and thoughtless, says an accurate historian, Anne Boleyn was formed rather to attract than to maintain affection; to inspire gaiety and kindness, rather than confidence or respect. Bred in courts, and flattered in her cradle, is it unnatural to suppose that she had imbibed some insincerity in the air she breathed? Even at the time when she became maid of honour to Catherine

king shewed her a preference above the rest of the queen's maidens. This preference was now drawing to a crisis, and the rumours of her elevation to a throne, surmised to Percy by officious friendship, told him that a storm was gathering which would sooner or later crush him. It is true his beloved Anne still smiled, but coldly smiled, upon him; but at this meeting her behaviour assumed more than usual of its new constraint. And yet she pressed his hand for the last time, and brushing off with her kerchief a tear that dropped from her cheek, besought him to regard her no longer with any tender feeling, but to preserve his life for one more worthy to share his affections than she was. "Never! never!" exclaim

ed the irritated Percy as he entered || ed such arbitrary authority over what with her the hall of entrance. "Ne-he termed his vassal, that he was comver, Anne, shall even braggart Hen-pelled, under the threatened curses ry-"-" Ha!" exclaimed the king, of bell, book, and candle, to renounce whose wont it was sometimes to go un- the lovely Anne. attended, and who now burst into the hall, which he as quickly quitted, uttering something about minion; and chafing like a wild boar, he sought his attendants. The affrighted Anne left her lover, and retired overcome with terror to her closet.

Not only had the cardinal in these times the power to rob this nobleman of his lady, but the great Northumberland himself was summoned to court, in order to assert all the authority of a parent, to compel his son to renounce his hopes; and Percy eventually was not only forced to swear that he would not even think of one in whom his own existence seemed to be entwined, he was even obliged to wed another, to whom he was perfectly indifferent: he married a daugh

The unhappy Percy, as was the custom in those days, attended with the sons of nobles the lord cardinal; and as soon as the evening song was concluded, he sent for the indiscreet youth, and having thundered in his ears the punishment due to the trea-ter of the Earl of Shrewsbury. The sonable crime which he accused him ill-fatedAnne Boleyn shared a throne; of committing, by daring to love one but Percy has left no tale to tell whom the Lord's anointed had whether he lived happy or wretched. wished to raise to the throne, assum

when their remonstrances and exhortations failed to reconcile three powerful neighbouring clans. The Macdonald, Macleod,and Mackinnon vassals had a violent quarrel at a feast after a boat-race; but "the uplifted arm of feud was stayed" by the vision and soliloquy of a lady, the maternal ancestor of the chiefs who were in

THE ingenious Madame de Gen- was rendered subservient to the palis has thrown the splendours of high-cific interferences of the priesthood, ly wrought fiction over the Battuecas of Spain; and a bard of the Gael has wrapped in superstitious awe a rock-girdled valley in the Isle of Sky. The Hebridean Battuecas is situated in the parish of Kilmuir: it is accessible only by four passes; and there, in the days of yore, were sheltered superannuated "grandsires and great-grandsires of the people,volved in the contention of their refeeble-souled women, and helpless children; while the mighty in arms of manhood or youth, and heroines of beauty, chased invaders from their shores." This custom has furnished a theme for the bards, and probably Vol. IV. No. XXIV.

tainers. In those times a pious fraud could easily exhibit a lady in bondage to the elfin Tomhans, and no argument could be so irresistible.

The shadow of a dark rock hangs over the bard in his grief. The Z z

ped cliffs, or whistling along shaggy heaths or birch-clad mountains; and hoarse torrent gushes in snowwhite spray from the creviced precipice, to meet foam-topped billows dashing against the rugged northern shore. But the war of spirits of the deep, or elves of the air, bellows around all unheeded by the bard; for his soul, shut up in sorrow, forebodes a strife of steel enkindled at a feast of friendship. The red dawning east spread burning rays over a cloudless sky, and calm lay the answering face of the bay, when rulers of the dark-leaping tides pushed their berlins to a race through the smooth expanse; the gladdening irams of the rowers echoed from coast to coast, and every voice swelled in mirth and peace. So close the track of war-barks in the water, that the prize of victory is freely given to the shrine of the Holy Virgin; and blessings from the sons of the church descend on the men of the Isles, as dews of heaven refreshing the hope of spring.

night-gale is moaning on cloud-top- their tumbling seas; the pride of Arden bursts out in vaunting words for his leader; and the bitter tongue of Gruamach gainsays both, with a rushing song in honour of the head of his own tribe. The maddening voice of strong waters resounds from all the clans over their board; and the chiefs, hot with wine, spring from their high seats to stifle the rising choler of their people; but one angry glance, as a spark of fire dropped on parched heaths near a forest of pines, meets rude gusts to spread the flame. The aged bard, with imploring words and clasped hands, prevails to suspend for nine days the uplifted spear of feud. His secret counsel draws each chief to meet him in the valley of Shelter. The hour of gloom arrives; each knows not that others come by a different pass to the deep glen of Tomhan circles; and as a glimpse of the pale daughter of night from behind a cloud, the healing of wounded pride may gleam from dark shades in the retreat of the helpless, concealed from the sons of rapine. The craggy hills, a rugged wilderness, inclose them on all sides; while the aged bard, in a song of spirits, calls the green glittering tribes, to reveal traditions of years long carried away on the wings of olden time. Rolling in heavy broken masses, as rivers in the tempest of a winter-flood tinged with the gore of battles, close, red, wreathing fogs overspread the moon and all her sparkling train. Hushed is the voice of the bard, for unearthly notes pour along the vault; awaiting the bright eye of the morning star, each chief is separately stretched in awful silence on the moss of the Tomhan cave, dimly seen through wandering crescents of

Spread the feast, let wine-cups overflow for the chiefs, and the strength of their own lands give mirth to the vassals in quechs* of abundance! Praise the song in a chorus of glowing bosoms, that the deeds of our fathers may shed beams on our night of joy! Fast wears the hight of joy, and dawn contends with the moon, when wild affray hurls tumult among the clans, as a clamour of ten thousand struggling tides. Firgach in wrath lays claim to the prize for his chief as lord of the Isles, and all above or below * Quechs were wooden cups for wine or whiskey; the latter supposed to be mentioned as strong waters.

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light around a daughter of beauty. of the muime to crowding fays in Stately in her signs of woe, she dank dreary cells. No tide of years, moves, as a faint beam of the dawn no change of rolling seasons, sets her over a blossomy heath of hinds. Her free. Early was her spring of life, green robe in transparent folds floats when fierce riders of the northern round her slender limbs, as the main sent fire and swerd over the drooping boughs of the tree of grief. smiling lands of Barra. Curling Her heaving breast, half concealed flames wrap the castle of the abby locks of gold, rises as growing sent chief, and shoot from the batsnows on mountlets, bright with a tlements. His spouse, of the high stream of rays from the sun to cheer race of Maccean an More, with the noon of a wintry day; and, sym- their elder - born daughters, must bol of bondage to the Tomhans, the wear the bond of frozen Isles, and green elfin haze over her brow is their sister hides in a sea-worn cleft stroked with half circles of trem- of the rocks. Moinvana and her bling light. She tries to cross her damsels sought healing herbs beside white arms on her sighing bosom, a mountain of streams, when the but they drop feeble by her side, black ships and furious warriors of and tears cover her cheeks of beauty. Cruadal spread on Barra, as a flight "Offspring of heroes," she said, || of shrill-screaming sea-fowl prowling "like Ossian, first of bards, a son of for prey among the watery shallows thy son was for thee a star of joy, of a sandy beach. In terror fled sparkling in his own light of renown; the damsels, and their shrieks soon and to Moinvana, what was Raouil, announce that they fled in vain. Moinchief of the valiant, since his soul, vana plunges in the briny flood, and unmoved by peril, guided a prow wades to a cleft in the overhanging through tumbling surges, to snatch a rock. Three days and three nights stranger maid from the sea-beat cave? she hears the shouting foe from morn Beneath the dark arch of his brow to even, when the raven on a jutting reposed the trust of her safety, the crag, and winds howling to the wide joy of her love, her honour, far-de- echoing main, give a voice to darkscended mothers. His eye-beam gave ness. The spirit of her fathers in a sun to her soul, and meeting hers, her breast forbade the chill of fear: their spirits, as pure streams of the her eager eye watches for the passing rock joined in a vale of flowers, barks; but wave-tossed, they cut the blended in unfailing truth: the flow- tides, and see not or regard not the ers decay, and again lift their lovely signals of distress. The blustering heads; but Moinvana calls for death, north and warring currents roar on and death flees the Tomban circle all the coasts, when rulers of ocean, she never can leave. The eye-beam in many-tinted garb, urge their prow of Raouil gave a sun to her soul; to the creek. Awful spirits of the and where now is the eye that regards hills are on the rustling wing of the the ancient yet unaltered daughter tempest; the dreadful vaults of thunof Barra and spouse of the Isles? der peal forth their voice of rage; Generations have again and again and lightnings rend the thick gatherpassed away, while sad in ever-bloom-ed clouds: but Raouil was there to ing youth she must yield the nurture

* Nurse.

defy the storm; he guides the helm | ravaged bowers, the woody hills of

to succour a virgin in her tears: the
brave would deliver the unhappy or
die. His venturous skill gains the
narrow inlet, and Moinvana, wasted
by famine and watching, sinks into
the arms of a hero. Sleep falls
heavy on the eyes unclosed for three
days and three nights. She awakes:
the hero, the sigh of her secret soul,
is not near. As the grey dry arms
of the blasted oak, strong, though
gloomy in dusky leaves, a chief in
the mist of years supports her head."
Fair beam of loveliness," he
said, " vast is my reach of power on
land and sea.
From shores remote,
and over sunny-faced billows, I bring
gems that outshine the stars of hea-
ven, and costly labours of the loom,
to deck the maid of my love."

Where, where is Raouil?" I replied; "where is Raouil, that took Moinvana from the sea-beat cave?"

Rejoined the silver-haired chief, "Beseems it a daughter of Barra to fix a glowing thought upon a landless youth, a youth with no inheritance but high blood and the sword of his fathers?"

Chieftain," said Moinvana, "to Raouil only belongs the answer of thy words. Great is the chief of Barra in far-stretching lands, as in arms and loud-sounding fame. He will return in might to his own Isles, and drive off the foe, as sea-eagles tear the finny tribes that venture beyond their own deep waters. The deliverer of Moinvana shall be first among the thousands of Barra, for she is daughter to a chief that largely requites friend or foe."

"Maid of the blue-rolling eye," said the chief, "my brother, the lord of a hundred Isles, shall give thee to my love, or restore thee to the

Barra, or bestow thee on a landless youth of the towering stature and ruddy cheek. But will his high blood and the sword of his fathers deck thy beauty with costly gems and labours of the loom?"

"Chieftain, those words shall be answered only to Raouil," again replied Moinvana, firm in soul; but tears dimmed her eyes, for the youth of her secret sigh offered no comfort to her grief. She met him in a glen of streamy pastures, and he led her to the lord of a hundred Isles, kingly in his long course of years. The chief of Barra returned a star of renown, and scattered the foe as leaves of autumn whirling along the desert. He came to seek Moinvana back to the windy halls of her fathers."

"I gave Moinvana to the son of my son," said the lord of a hundred Isles. "His father and all my sons won their fame in death amidst battles of the south. Raouil is heir of my hundred Isles, though her soul cleaved to him as a landless warrior. My brother proved the secret soul of the virgin-like Raouil, born of a daughter of Argathela. She gave him her love, and turned away from the offer of costly gems to deck her light steps in the halls of mirth. A || holy Culdee* joined Raouil and Moinvana. Chieftain of Barra, leave the weak-voiced sons of the wildst, and settle thy hope on the blessed roll of the Culdees."

"Shall Barra forsake the ways of his ancestors?" said the chief of the || windy halls. "Shall Barra forsake the old for the new? Moinvana pertains to Raouil, and like him may follow the Culdees, a name unknown to her long line of fathers; but the * Druid. + Christian missionaries.