QUEEN ELIZABETH'S ENTRANCE INTO KENILWORTH.

LONELY sits the lovely lady,

Lonely in the tower;

Is the dell no longer shady

Where she was the flower?

Wherefore did she leave that dell?

There she knew no ruder sorrow

Than some childish toy,

Vanished whensoe'er to-morrow

Brought some newer joy.

Captive in a captive cell,

She hath bade her youth farewell.

While the lonely lady keepeth

Vigil sad and lone,

Asking every hour that creepeth

When will night be done,

Watching makes the hours seem long.

Mocking at the mourner's sadness

Rises from below,

Every sound of feast and gladness

That the night can know.

What avails those sounds among—-
One low sigh is borne along.

66

Kenilworth Castle is one of the most magnificent piles of ruin in England. In the reign of the first Henry it was private property, but its owner taking an unsuccessful part in the civil wars, it fell to the crown, and remained so till the time of Elizabeth, who bestowed it on her favourite Leicester. On the 9th of July, 1575, a banquet was given to Elizabeth, by its ambitious lord, which Langham, an officer of the Queen's household, who was present at the time, has described minutely: The queen approaching the first gate, a man of tall person, and stern countenance, with a club and keys, accosted her majesty in a rough speech, full of passion, in metre aptly made for the purpose-demanding the cause of all this din and noise, and riding about within the charge of his office. But on seeing the queen, as if pierced at the presence of a personage so evidently expressing heroical sovereignty, he falls down on his knees, humbly prays pardon for his ignorance, yields up his club and keys, proclaims open gates, and free passage to all :'-immediately the trumpeters on the gate-tower, six in number, each an eight foot high, with their silvery trumpets of a five foot long, sounded up a tune of welcome."- Vide Langham's Account of the Festivities at Kenilworth.

From the topmost turret ringing

Comes the giant bells,

Till the very walls are swinging,

Of the sad one's cell

Deafened with the iron roar

Loud the fiery cannon sounding,

Seem to rend the skies,

While the multitude surrounding

Answer with their cries.

Loud as waves upon the shore,

Fast the hurrying horsemen pour.

Lute and voices soft are stealing,

Soft and musical;

But the trumpet, proud appealing,

Rises above all.

Proud it welcomes England's Queen.

Slow amid the crowd she rideth

With a stately grace,

While with queen-like art she chideth

Her white courser's pace

That no one who there had been

But might tell who he had seen.

Blue her eyes are, as the morning
Flashing into day;

Clear as are the falcon's, scorning

Not to meet that ray.

Now its light is soft the while.

In her golden hair are blended

Diamond and pearl;

But that glittering head is bended

To the favourite Earl;

And the Lady of our isle

Listens with a conscious smile.

Suddenly the air is gleaming

With a rosy light,

And thousand rockets streaming

Seem like stars, when night

Shakes them from her raven hair.

Gloriously the golden splendour

Flashes o'er the scene:
Thus the lake and castle render

Homage to the Queen.

Shouts from all the crowd declare
That the Queen hath entered there.