ty to be considered at all established. It is well known that at the time Sir Richard Selby lived, the revival of letters in Eu-. rope, and the reformation had greatly tended to change the philosophy of the schools, but that persons were as yet hardly sufficiently venturesome to announce themselves complete converts to the new doctrines; and with such a man as him, with whom religion too appears to have had weight, the hazard and inconvenience of so doing, are likely to have operated strongly in preventing him from shewing his pursuits to the world. For all that you have related of his magical or alchemical pursuits, there is not a syllable of proof; to me it appears that his studies were of natural philosophy and the fine arts: his going out to seek for herbs in the woods and on the hills confirm the one supposition, and his dear bought purchases, and receipts of goods from foreign countries, the other. The story of his marriage has been connected by gossips with that of his death, but rests on no foundation; had he married a wife, however lovely, yet of a low condition, we have sufficient motive for his not mentioning her origin, and for wishing to retire from public life. Of Sir Richard's temper much seems to have been exaggerated, for people inevitably conceive they see traces of the character, which they have laid down as that of any one," though they themselves may be exceedingly mistaken. As to Lady Selby's death, there is by your own account no foundation for the tale or at least for the principal fact rumoured respecting it and as to the rest it is but report. The priest's horror at hearing the dying man's confession is natural enough, if the statement be kept within its true bounds, a death-bed scene is horrible enough at all times. The water which the deceased drank on his way, when heated with a long journey under a burning sun, will easily account for his fever, and nothing is more natural than death under such circumstances without looking for the agency of poison. The cup too, if we take away the fictitious story of its changing the nature of poison, might well have been left by a connoisseur in these matters to his heirs as an heirloom and chef d'œuvre in art which I consider this to be; the Italian, I can well believe to have been some able artist who assisted Sir Richard in his laboratory, and perhaps executed many clever works which were lost when the wing of the Priory was destroyed. If that cup were the work of a devil, he must have been a cunning one. But by the way do you recollect the name of that Italian? "I do" said Selby, rather sulkily "it was Antonio Librodoro." "As I live" said I none other than he that studied under the far famed Benvenute Cellini of Florence." "what do you "Well then" replied he still more pettishly think of the family tradition, current for so many years in the household, and supported by Wilkins and Whicker ?" "Why" returned I" with due deference to such respectable authority, I beg leave to observe, that I never have eat or drank poison hitherto, nor do I intend to do so hereafter-but if ever I am condemned like Socrates to swallow hemlock, I will borrow your cup. And now as I hear the piano, let us proceed up stairs." R. The stream with fretful murmur falls And hushed are all those madrigals Which filled the morning breeze, The humming of the distant bee And from yon spreading cypress tree, The noontide sun is up, but here Beneath the tall trees' shade, There's not a single ray to cheer The deep and darksome glade, Rank weeds in coarse luxuriance glare And pour their withering breath, Blackening where pois'nous night shades wear The livery of death. "It suits me well," cried Egbert, "ne'er "In knighthood's martial train, "Mid feasts and halls and ladies fair "May I appear again, "Can I forget the foul disgrace “A knight ! I swear by Lancelot's crest My page? my squire? the stripling reared "Now dreams, but vainly dreams to beard "His patron in the lists, "A rival too, and Ingelrand "Must dub the gentle knight, "That he may win his lady's hand "And crush him in the fight. "Thine upstart pride, thy vaunting words 66 My bitter scoff have been, "Think'st thou that knights will measure swords 66 "With things so basely mean? Rejoice vile worm that thou mayest live "In thine obscurity, "For know thou never could'st survive "A measured lance with me!" "Could I bear this, and could I brook "I bore it all-each raven note "Had stunned me with its stroke,"I did not spring upon his throat "And choke him as he spoke! Deeper and deeper in the woods The hapless Egbert sprang, And hoarser grew the sounding floods Throughout those dark and murky glens, Hours passed, and Egbert still pursued Nor paused till closing night, A beacon to his weary eye Through fog and clinging damp He followed till a cemetry Illumined by a lamp, Met his strained gaze the creaking gate Its portals opening threw, And there decayed and desolate, A chapel rose to view. Pacing the dim aisle's shadowy lines The tapers mouldering at the shrines, And by those flames so blue and pale Piled up, he saw a coat of mail With spear and helm and blade. All deftly placed in fitting guise |