"Peace," good father-in-law, said the sham Reginald, shaking off his drunkenness, and leering around him with an arch look of self-satisfaction, “ I am not Reginald d'Arennes, but yet as good a man! I am Robin, the son of Egwulph; truly a cunning Knave, and a Wily." "I do begin to perceive," said the waiting-woman, Bertha, looking on the sham Reginald with a disappointed air, "that our plot hath altogether failed." "Mine hath fared no better!" said the Knave, returning a glance of equal disappointment upon the mock Elfrida. "In this I have been but a silly Knave, and a Witless! " Dost thou comprehend, gentle reader, the circumstances which led to these mistakes? or is it necessary for me to inform thee, that the Knave, Robin, proceeded to Kennet-hold in Reginald's apparel, with the purpose of revenging, by his wedding with the heiress, the death of his master, which he fancied had been occasioned by the heir; that at Kennet-hold the said Knave met with the counterplot which had been prepared by the jocose Saxon, and became the husband of the maid instead of the mistress; that Reginald, recovering from his swoon, after the departure of his attendant, advanced towards Kennet-hold, and encountered, in his way, his new acquaintance, Richard de Mallory; from whom he had the good fortune to rescue the life of Lothaire and the honour of Elfrida? There is yet one point unexplained. The reader must be aware that a considerable interval took place between the memorable blow given by Lothaire, and his rencontre with de Mallory. Upon this point the MS. makes mention of Winifred→→ a certain arch-damsel, who but Decorum puts her forefinger on her mouth-I have done. Rather than desert a long-established custom, I proceed to state that the personages of my Tale lived and loved to a green old age. Robin died before it was thoroughly decided whether he was more properly termed "the Wily" or "the Witless." Reginald, it appears, never got rid of his old trick of hesitation; for it is upon record, that when he told the story of his adventures to Cœur de Lion, at the siege of Acre, and was asked by the humorous Monarch whether the Knight or the Knave were the more fortunate bridegroom, he scratched his chin for a few minutes, played with his sword for a few more, and replied slowly, "I have doubts as touching this matter." Oh! hast thou ne'er in fancy view'd The shadows dark of days to come→→ Their toils and cares, a hideous brood, Pain, sickness, agony, distress, When yearns the heart in weariness Tow'rds absent friends, the dead, the lost, To some far distant home? Though many an hour of love and mirth And friends may meet in moments gay, Yet oh! far oftener must it bear Aching in anguish deep and lone, To Man such sympathies were given ; Then tell not me-it cannot be, That Death, my love, may alter thee. III. And hast thou ne'er, at fall of Even, When moans the breeze in sounds of woe, And stars begin to wink in Heaven, And Earth in twilight melts below, And, in the stillness of the hour, The voice of waters solemn seems Felt some unknown mysterious Power Breathe o'er thee, from the woods and streams, Till wandering thoughts spring up on high, From the heart's fresh and lonely springs ; And the charmed soul through the blue sky rushing, On the Spirit of Twilight's wings. Then rise, each sense to rapture hushing, Visions of unforgotten things, And they who loved, whose Spirits love us, Float in the deep blue sky above us, In dream-like wanderings. On every passing breeze float by They tell of some untroubled land, Where souls that love repose together, With gentlest motion waves us thither. And feel, while yet we breathe beneath, IV. In sleep I dream of happy days, That smile beyond the tomb; And fond imagination roves Through wondrous valleys, fields, and groves, And skies eternally serene, Make one perpetual bloom. And ever in those dreams divine, Thy form is floating in my view; Then tell not me-it cannot be, That Death, my love, can alter thee. 3 с No. II. "This is merely the recollection of an actual dream."-BARRY CORNWALL. "Upon my soul a lie!"-SHAKSPEARE. I HAD a wond'rous Dream-methought I stood Which I had loved in childhood-forms well known, I gazed upon the forms around me. One And gentleness, and charity, and faith, Shone there, and from her soften'd eyes beam'd forth And all around that venerable form Beautiful creatures floated-cheeks of bloom, And eyes of watery light, on her alone Fixed with such fond and beaming earnestness, |