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replied the burgher! "Oh that to-morrow were over, my poor, poor child! this is indeed a sorry bridal for thee!" "Thinkest thou," exclaimed Agnes, as she raised her dark veil that had fallen round her face, and gazed on the gaoler with her dark beautiful eyes, "thinkest thou that the meeting between the father and son may effect any change,-nay, a respite in the frightful sentence?" "Alas! no lady," sorrowfully replied the gaoler, as he gazed, with sad and profound respect, on the beautiful face of her, who was deemed the fairest maiden of the North, "alas, no! his doom is fixed!" With compressed lips, and knit brows, her hands clasped together on her lap, and her hair in long tresses fallen from the band over her neck and bosom, the damsel sat with her eyes fixed on the opposite wall, motionless and pale, as if cut out of stone. Her father gazed on her for a minute, with a melancholy smile; at length taking one of her hands in his, he exclaimed, Agnes, love, how cold thy hand is! speak, speak to me! thou shouldst not have been brought here,-alas! if you are thus so soon overwelmed, how wilt thou meet him?” "Was it not the last request of a condemned lover?" interrupted Agnes, "how should I tarry in my chamber, when the cord was twisting for his doom? no! no! no!" she exclaimed, with a sort of hysterical laugh, "we shall meet," and after a pause, Agnes resumed, in an altered voice "and part-I to shame, sorrow, and loneliness, and he to a dishonoured grave! Alas!" she again exclaimed, “why did we ever love? why were we betrothed? 'twas doomed, doomed, and my heart must, and will break!" At this moment, with a noiseless step, the mayor entered the apartment; his face was pale,-deadly pale, and his lips still quivering from the effects of some recent excitement. "Gammaline, 'tis kind thy coming, though I cannot say welcome,-and thy daughter?" "Sits there," replied the burgher, "alas, I fear the meeting!" "Nay, have but little concern on that score," interrupted the mayor, "my wretched, guilty son, is now calm; and I trust, from the spiritual aid of the superior of the cathedral, in a far different mood from this morning,-let thy daughter come." Agnes!" he exclaimed, as stooping down, he imprinted a kiss on her brow, " I, who should have been your second father, entreat you to bear yourself with firmness; 'tis thy last meeting with my lost, ruined boy!-Agnes, bear thyself firmly!" The maiden arose in silence, and with even a firm step, followed the mayor and her father, from the apartment; another passage, branching from the one they were then traversing, conducted them to the head of a flight of winding steps, lit at intervals in the descent, by small crevices or lamps fixed in the rough stone walls. At the foot of the stairs was another small passage, at whose extremity a dim lamp was burning, whilst the figures of two men were discernable, moving backwards and forwards before the light; they proved to be the centinels placed at the entrance of the condemned cell-and Agnes trembled, as the creaking door gave them entrance into the dim abode of her lover. Reclined on a pallet, she beheld the form of Walter, who now, instead of his rich velvet suit, was attired in a coarse, grey cloth doublet and hose; a lamp was suspended from the vaulted roof of the chamber, and cast its dim light on the pale and haggard features of

the prisoner. The mayor and Gammaline had left the chamber, and Agnes found herself alone with her lover.

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Walter!" she faintly exclaimed, as she sank into a chair, "I have come at thy bidding to see thee, for the last time-thou art irretrievably doomed, but I shall soon follow you to the grave!" Nay, speak not thus!" replied Walter, who had arisen, and, as well as the weight of his chains would permit, stood by her chair, "this is a fearful abode to bring thee to!" "There is no time for maiden fears, " replied Agnes, in an agitated voice. "To-morrow, at sunrise!" replied Walter, in a hollow voice, "This is the last I shall see of thee. Though dishonour and guilt brand my name, and infamy attend my last moments, still let thy young and innocent heart feel for me!" "Heaven knows, I have felt but too deeply, madly already!" interrupted the maiden, as with clasped hands, she bent her eyes gloomily on the ground. "Agnes!" again interruptWalter, as he took one of her cold and passive hands in his, "I shall soon cease to exist; still let not the cry of shame and guilt weigh heavy on thy heart; learn to despise, to loathe a wretch like me; still tears, which the usage of a cold unfeeling world, could not wring from me,’ now freely flow. Alas! to part, and thus! There are many that will love thee, Agnes, when I am gone; many that will speak those praises in thine ear, that I was wont,-come Agnes, come to this heart that is unworthy thee; happy years may yet be thine, forget me if thou canst!" "Oh! never, never can I!" sobbed forth the maiden, as she leant her head on his shoulder, "how-how couldst thou slay him; but I'll upbraid thee not; would that this hour I died, to be spared years of sorrow, shame, and hopeless love!" "Dearest Agnes!" exclaimed Walter, as he folded her in his arms, 66 weep not! A little while, and the shock will be over; yet, how can I leave thee? this is a fearful trial, condemned by the voice of a parent to suffer the death of a felon!" Walter could feel Agnes shudder as she lay in his arms. Agnes! but a few minutes remain, and we must part; this ring I have so long worn, thy first and most treasured offering, shall go down with me to the grave. Even though it be a dishonoured tomb-to-morrow! How the hours fly! some one approaches-'tis my father!" The few hours allotted to his meeting with Agnes rapidly passed away, and already the dull booming sound of the midnight bell had chimed through the building; it was the signal for their parting; and Walter, as he held the still lovely girl to his bosom, exclaimed, "Now, now Agnes, farewell!-take her!" he resumed to her father, who now stood in the room, a weeping spectator, take her away, or I am for ever unmanned! "Oh no, no, no!" exclaimed the sobbing girl, "do not send me away! thou wilt not!" "Agnes, we must part; the vicar of the cathedral waits to pass with me the few wretched hours that remain; so fare-fare thee well, and for ever!" In an agony of grief the maiden clung round his neck, and it required the united exertions of her father and the mayor to disengage her from her lover; and she was carried from the cell in a state of insensibility. When her form receded from his view, Walter cast himself once more on his rough couch, and burying his face in his hands, lay silent and motionless.

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The remainder of the night, sitting between his father and the vicar of Saint Nicholas, was spent in prayer by Walter; nor could he help shuddering when the fatal hour approached. “Oh must I, must I die, such a death-father canst thou not save me?" "No, no, my poor boy! thou hast been tried by your equals, and must suffer like others. In a public capacity I have performed my duty;butOh! as a parent, what do I not suffer? would to God thou hadst never been born, to have brought this shame and desolation on our house! but oh, still happy thy mother lives not to see thy degradation, and yon lovely, heart-broken girl! thou too hast murdered her! " Walter replied not, but in a state of stupefaction sat on his rude couch, whilst Fitzstephen Lynch paced the vault with hurried steps. In vain the priest, who sat beside Walter, endeavoured to awake him from the lethargy he had fallen into; his face had changed rapidly, and a blueish hue spreading over his countenance, gave him an almost unearthly appearance. The night waned fast, whilst the feelings of the wretched sire were wrought to a state bordering on madness. The time soon came, and the gaoler entering, announced to the prisoner the hour of his doom, and the mayor staggered back when he saw the fearful change that had taken place in the countenance of his son. "Walter! Walter !-what hast thou done?" he exclaimed. 66 Swallowed poison," was the slow reply," but I fear, 'tis too slow"-"This," exclaimed the mayor, as he clasped his hands together "this was but wanting to make up the measure of your crimes; now, now thou art, indeed, lost!"" "Tis day," interupted the gaoler, "and the hour of the sentence has arrived." As he spoke the bell tolled, and Walter could even catch in his cell the distant murmur of the multitude assembled to witness his execution. With tottering steps and clanking chains Walter slowly rose from his couch, whilst his father, after gazing at him for an instant, folded him in his arms, as he sobbed aloud, "my last, lost son!" A few minutes and Walter stood on the temporary scaffold that had been erected in the front of the gaol, whilst his dim eyes wandered over the sea of heads beneath. The roofs and parapets of the opposite houses were covered with spectators, whilst every casement that commanded a view of the drop was crowded to excess. The sun had just risen, and its golden rays glistened on many a window and church spire, and the heart of Walter sank within him, as he cast his eyes down the long crowded street, in the direction of Gammaline's house. A dead and fearful silence ensued, on the appearance of Walter. Whilst all the civil powers of the town, in detached parties, were keeping off the pressure of the crowd, at the bottom of the scaffold, a body of men at arms had formed a circle, their spears' points being nearly on a level with the boarding of the fatal drop. Immediately behind Walter stood the priest and executioner; the rope was soon attached to the beam, and after a few short prayers muttered by the priest, Walter could feel the hands of the executioner busy round his neck; a scarf of linen was next bound round his eyes, and Walter, in despite of the poison he had swallowed, stood a living man on the brink of fate. A long pause ensued, for the executioner refused to draw the bolt, whilst a deep murmur ran through the crowd; in vain the mayor urged the exe

cutioner to the performance of his duty; he was inflexible, nor could one out of the assembled multitude be found who would draw the fatal spring; and it was then that Fitzstephen Lynch exhibited so strange and fearful an instance of fortitude, as from the refusal of others it became his duty to be the avenger of the law. With an averted face he drew the bolt, the victim fell, but moved not a limb or muscle. Whilst one simultaneous shriek burst from the crowd, an arrow bounded from the bosom of the mayor, whose steel breast-plate, which he always wore under his vest, alone saved his life. It was from the bow of Dermid the harper; who, on seeing the failure of his attempt, uttering a deep curse, mingled in the throng of the people, and disappeared.

A beautiful morn! 'twas the merry month of May, and flowers strewed the streets; and Robinhood and maid Marian paraded the town in fair masquerade, and morris dancers and jugglers were displaying their respective accomplishments to the delighted mob, and fair faces were at the windows, when the booming of the bell of Saint Nicholas commenced, as a long train of virgins, in white, followed by the vicar and wardens of the cathedral, made their appearance from the "Boagher Keam." A coffin, strewed with flowers and white ribbons, preceded by one fair girl, and borne by four young men, next followed, and immediately after a silverhaired old man, in a suit of deep mourning, while a young maiden, sobbing violently, walked by his side. The train was followed up by an immense crowd of both sexes. It slowly drew near the portal of the cathedral. Beneath a lovely Yew tree, in the burial ground, a grave had been dug, and into it the coffin was lowered. Gammaline wept bitterly as the clay rattled on the lid of the coffin, whilst Cathleen fainted away. At the foot of the grave stood the mayor of Galway, watching the filling up of the grave; and when the ceremony was concluded, joining the chief mourner, he exclaimed, "Peace to the spotless soul of Agnes Gammaline! "

WORDS FOR MUSIC.

I.

Oh! leave me now, for see the blush
Of wakening daylight paints the sky;
And soon its matin hymn the thrush
Will pour in vocal harmony.

Oh! leave me, for thou would'st not flush
My virgin cheek with shame's red glow;
And now, even now, I feel it rush,

All burning o'er my breast and brow!

II.

Begone, and quick!-I hear the tone
Of human voice in yonder brake;
Yet stay, 'tis but the plaintive moan

Of the young wood-doves, just awake.
At night we'll meet,-nay, now begone,
Yet, ere thou go'st, two kisses take—
The first says " Thee I love alone,"

The second-"Do not me forsake!"

C. M.

R. C. C.

GRAND OPERATIC SCENE.

DRAM. PERSON.

Sir Alexander Goutly, a wealthy o'd Indian.

Mr. Hector MacMurrain, a newly imported" unabsorbed. "
Miss E. Moore, a young lady, from England.

Scene lies in Calcutta.

(Curtain rises and discovers a handsomely furnished drawing room→

In front.)

[HECTOR AND MISS MOORE.]

Hector (kneeling).

Oh, do not leave me, for I love you!

And kneel to bless the shrine that I adore!
By every thing beneath, around, above you,
I love but you-you only-Emma Moore!
Miss Moore.

Now, bless me, Sir, how very rude to say so!
What manners these, you young unblushing clown?
Again, I tell you, 'tis no good to pray so,

Nor wring your hands, nor weep-leave go my gown!
Hector (starts to his feet.)
Good Heavens! How you frown, my Emma,
How very black you look and scowl at me!
Why, what's the reason of this strange dilemma?
You're not the same as you used once to be!

Do you forget the promises you made me
On board that sweet and happy ship, Thalia?
I see you
have, false girl! and quite betrayed me,
And made yourself scarce better than a I!

Was it for this your faith to me was plighted,
Your vows and promises to be sincere ;

And is it thus my fondest hopes are blighted,

And withered ere their bloom? Oh dear, Oh dear!
Miss M.

Pray Sir, don't mention all the tittle tattle,

And all the nonsense past 'twixt me and you;

I dare say once it might be pretty prattle,

But now, I tell you, Sir, it will not do.

Hector.

But what the deuce can now be your objection?
I'm not a bit worse looking than I was;

So tell me, love! the cause of this rejection?

There's nothing changed in me, for worse, that's poz.