LAY OF THE FOREST MAIDEN.

"Let me be the captive of green trees, and my prison-house walled in with the rustling foliage of summer."-THOMAS MILLER.

Он, once again! yet once again!

My feet are on the fragrant heather,
I bound along, the glades among,

With heart as buoyant as a feather;

The breezes play around my way,

The fresh, cool breezes, perfume laden,

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They whisper me, Thou'rt free; thou'rt free;

Free as ourselves, young forest maiden!"

The leafy bow bends o'er me now,

The emerald sward around me spreadeth ;
And golden light, the day-god bright,
On open glade and vista sheddeth.
The fern and grass, where zephyrs pass,

And where the sunshine finds a pillow,
Shimmer and gleam, until they seem
Like ridges of the sparkling billow.

On every side, far, far and wide!

Spreads heath and moorland, copse and dingle;
And field and fell, and shady dell,

Where giant oaks their foliage mingle.
The dappled deer, now there-now here-
Are through the arches springing;
Around, above, their songs of love,
The mavis and the merle are singing.

The falcon, when 'mid haunts of men
She tarries, an unwilling vassal,
Heeds not if thong of leather strong
Doth bind her, or the silken tassel ;
She pines to soar the woodlands o'er;

To roost upon the green bough swinging;
To fold her wings, where slender rings
Of scented woodbine plants are clinging.

As with delight she wings her flight,
When from the gilded perch escaping,
So hail I thee, sweet Liberty,

My course unto thy lone haunts shaping.
The chain is broke-thrown off the yoke!
Again my birth-right I inherit;

Once more I roam my sylvan home,

Free as a disembodied spirit!

H. G. ADAMS.

ELLERTON CASTLE;

A Romance.

BY "FITZROY PIKE."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND

CONTAINS SEVERAL UNEXPECTED MEETINGS-AND PARTINGS UNDESIRED.

HERINGFORD's eyes were still fixed upon the lifeless body of Kate's pet bird, when the sound of footsteps in the room aroused him from his melancholy reflections. Looking round, he beheld Andrew Westrill and Spenton.

The latter, as the reader may recollect, was introduced with Curts and another in Joe Bensal's cottage; but it yet remains to describe his personal appearance. He was a thin, meagre-looking man, with a cadaverous countenance, of villanous expression; his hair was uncombed, and hung over his forehead, where it was cut off in an even line; thick bushy brows, like the hair of his head, of a red, sandy colour, shaded grey twinkling eyes; his nose long, thin, and hooked; his lips, but seldom closed, white and livid as the face itself; the bristles of a red half-shaven beard adorned his pointed chin, and completed the mean countenance of him who had withered Kate Westrill's happiness. He was clothed in a coarse brown tunic, confined by a belt around the waist; and below this, loose hose of cloth covered his spindle legs.

With a proud and stern gaze Edward regarded his despicable rival, who grinned in the consciousness of security beside Andrew, his supporter.

"Now that the lure is gone," said Andrew, "doth the bird still seek the net ?—the trap hath lost its bait, yet still doth it hold its prisoner. Heringford, Andrew Westrill bids thee welcome here!"

"He bids me welcome!" exclaimed Edward; "Andrew Westrill, is this thy home? Art thou master of these desolate walls? Andrew! Andrew! canst thou stand amid the solitude thyself hast made, where of old hath joy and happiness resoundedcanst thou stand here without one feeling of remorse?”

"What change should pain me?" replied Westrill; "father and sister dwelt here, and troubled me: they trouble me no more!"

Dost thou never feel one Hast never felt thyself the

"Do they not?" asked Edward. "Dost thou never think upon who bowed thy father to the grave? sting at thought of a sister's misery? guilty one? Andrew, thy crimes are beyond man's forgiveness; but for Kate's blood that flows within thy bosom—”

"Mine is no blood of hers!" cried Andrew, fiercely; "all kindred is renounced. Kate owned me not, and I disclaim her; she refused me a sister's love-let her not look to me for affection!" "She loved thee-"

"It is false! she gave to thee her love :-me-me, she hated ! Deny me not; I will not be deceived! I desired her love, for I felt how sweet would be the affection of one pure being; I thought that when all men scowled upon the reprobate, there would have been one,-one, aye, as good as any of my foes,-to smile upon me, soothe me, love me,-gently love me. I knew the world held no friend for such as I: oh, that it had held a sister! I prayedeven prayed, it was the only prayer I used to utter,-I prayed that she might not think of me as others would! But thou hast robbed me of her love; on thee, Heringford, fell the smiles that should have smoothed a brother's brow. It is over now! Now it is my

turn to hate!"

"She loves thee--"

"No!" thundered the wretched brother: “ we hate each other now! There is another she must learn to love her husband, Spenton."

"Her husband!" exclaimed Edward, casting upon the miserable object by Westrill's side a glance of furious despair. "Wretch, I would strike thee to the dust, did not my flesh creep at thought of touching thee!"

. Spenton trembled before Heringford's flashing eye, and retired instinctively to the door, ready to disappear at a moment's notice. "Thee at least," cried Edward, "I am not bound to spare; but Let me pass !"

"Not so!" cried Westrill; "we detain thee here! Spenton, look not so timidly on this blusterer! Lend me thine aid!"

But Spenton, quaking with fear, stirred not a footstep in advance. "Is this coward he," cried Edward, " of whose cruel menaces and threats I have heard so much! True, they were levelled at a girl-a friendless orphan! Pitiful scoundrel, tremble not! I pollute not a hand to touch thee! Andrew Westrill, shall I pass?"

"No!" replied Westrill, "unless it be to the grave, where Sir

Richard Ellerton may tread in triumph above thy corpse! We detain thee prisoner!"

To protect the passage Andrew had drawn a dagger; but the weapon was useless, as Heringford, with one blow from his unarmed fist, dashed his opponent to the ground, and, rushing in frantic madness past the terrified Spenton, sought from his companion below some explanation of what he had heard.

But Willie Bats was gone. That worthy had long been occupied in an examination of the saucepans, anxious by some trace to discover which Cicely last had used, that he might bear it as a bright relic from the spot; but, failing in the task, he had wandered thence, and now was nowhere to be found.

At the gate, entering in anxious haste, was Mat Maybird.

"Maybird! Maybird!" cried Edward, "my all is lost! my dearest hopes are crushed! Kate Westrill!-oh, be my reason spared while I make known this misery !—my Kate, to whom my vows were pledged, to whom my love was plighted, whose noble heart is mine-my Kate is Spenton's bride! Oh, why did I fly from persecution! Why did I leave her unprotected !—”

"Edward!" replied Maybird, "my heart bleeds; I thought ere I saw thee, misery was at its height! In evil hour are we returned; the old priest-Father Francis-our earliest friend, they lead him to a scaffold!"

"It cannot be! He is pure and spotless-guilty of no crime." "Accused of Lollardry; to-night he will be arrested;-this is the work of Curts! I met the villain, even now, in the village. Remembering the mine at Harfleur, he would have shunned me; that I permitted not; by seasonable lies I calmed his anger, put a good motive on the blow I dealt him, and won back his confidence. He told me then how Westrill and he had taken vengeance for many slights on the good old priest-"

"And of Kate?

"He told me nothing.'

Willie Bats, who had left Edward, now came running up, hot with the unwonted exercise to which his body was exposed. He was evidently delighted.

"She is found!" cried he, "safe! I have seen the charming Cicely, and she saw me, and blushed! Foolish that I found her not before! I might have thought-oh, Cicely! Cicely!"

"Where?" exclaimed Edward, eagerly, for Kate was in his mind.

"At the window," replied Willie. "Oh, charmer, have I found thee? I might have known they would have taken refuge there, for the old man so loves poor Mistress Kate! They are with Father Francis."

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"Alas! alas!” cried Edward," and to-night that home will be destroyed! And Spenton,-Kate! Kate!-Mercy!"

"There may yet be hope," cried Mat Maybird; "Spenton is not immortal, nor the tribunal of justice always deaf. Seek the good priest, Edward; I dare not, lest I lose the villain's confidence that I have just regained-we may need it yet!

"I also must go to Father Francis," said Willie Bats, "for I long once more to behold my charmer! Oh, Cicely! if thou but knewest how faithful a lover I have been, even Mistress Kate thou wouldst leave, to come to my longing arms!"

They soon reached the good priest's cottage, to which they obtained ready admittance. Father Francis was in every difficulty the friend and adviser of his family, for so he called the villagers, and was constantly visited by them: each looked upon the priest as a private friend-a superior; and almost deemed him possessed of infallibility, as he gave his pious counsels.

Eagerly Heringford hastened into his presence. The old man rose with surprise and joy to meet his old favourite again.

"Greet me not, Father," cried Edward; "rejoice not at my presence. Alas! I am returned only to be the harbinger of evil days; to be the first to disturb thy happiness with words of evil omen. Good Father, danger is at hand! thy white locks will be brought to shame, and a miserable end,-the most merciful a scaffold!"

"Fear not, my son," replied the priest, "I know the nature of the shame thou namest; I can anticipate my crime, and the penalty inflicted for that offence is rather glory than disgrace. I marvel much that the Lollard has been so long untouched."

"They shall not harm thee," exclaimed Edward; not one of thy white hairs shall they touch; the villagers will rise-"

"Edward," said the old man, gravely, " for the few last years of a life already in decay, wouldst thou bring fire and sword into a peaceful village? Say no more, dear son; urge not concealment— flight; the dignity of my creed requires that I fear not to avow it; the dignity even of man that I steadfastly abide the consequence of mine own actions."