the south bank in blow?"--"I observed something
more interesting," answered, he; "my mother's grave is kept quite neat
by the villagers, and the roses we set there are twined all over it.
Nay, Isabel, if you weep so, I cannot repeat to you the verses I made
yesterday, just as I caught sight of our old cottage." Isabel promised
to be composed, and Eustace proceeded--

The sun has roll'd round Skiddaw's breast
Of floating clouds a golden veil,
The heath-cock has forsook his nest,
And mounted on the morning gale;
While bursting on my raptured eyes,
Lakes, hills, and woods, distinctly rise.

And there in mountain-privacy
My father's rustic cot appears,
The haunts of happy infancy,
The fields my childish sport endears;
Where victor of each game I stood,
And climb'd the tree, or stemm'd the flood:

And there, beside the village-spire,
My mother's honour'd ashes sleep,
Who bade my noble hopes aspire,
Who also taught me first to weep,
When, with a kiss so cold and mild,
She whisper'd, 'I must die, my child.'

Oh! fitted for a world more pure,
Sweet spirit, who would wish thy stay,
To witness woes thou could'st not cure,
And dimm'd with clouds thy evening ray;
To see thy ardent boy denied
To combat by his father's side?

Yet, what is death? As seen in thee,
'Twas a mild summons to the grave;
'Tis the sure zeal of loyalty
And honour's guerdon to the brave.
How are the soldier's requiems kept!
By glory sung, by beauty wept.

"My dearest Eustace," said Isabel, "I wish I could send these lines to
my father, yet perhaps they would overcome him as they have done me."
She twined her arms around the neck of Eustace, sobbed for some moments,
and then observed, "I know what suggested the last stanza; it was
Constantia's weeping for the fate of brave Lord Lindsay."

Eustace blushed. "You are a Lancashire witch in more senses than one,
Isabel; but, hush! the calash has just drove up. Say not a word of my
verses to my uncle." "Why?" "I do not wish he would know I am unhappy."
"Keep your own counsel," returned Isabel, "and I am sure your looks will
never betray you."

The return of the party relieved Eustace from all fear of owing an
obligation to Morgan. An ordinance from Parliament had interrupted the
regular returns of public justice, and notwithstanding the King's
command, that th