Began now to revive again,

And wildly stare around.

But when she saw her lover's blood
Down sunk her lovely head,
Convulsive heav'd her snowy breast―
She mingled with the dead.

Nought now was for Alphonso left
But fell remorse and woe:

What comfort could his conscience feel,
What rest his bosom know?

Retiring to this lonely cave,

Where Liddall murm'ring strays;
Thither he liv'd to sigh and weep,
And linger out his days.

Perhaps thou hast, my young friend, felt elevated by hope, or depressed with fear; perhaps too thou hast felt pleasure from a dignity of conduct, or disquietude from the contrast; but be that as it may, thou wilt do well to learn wisdom from the voice of experience, and to rectify thy resolves by the rules of prudence. I must own that the lines which I have just quoted had always appeared to me as a fiction; but experience with mankind and the world taught me to be more liberal, and that it was not improbable

they might have had their origin in truth: tradition also pictured the dreary cave to have been situated on the banks of the Liddall. I had more than once shewn the lines to the stranger, who hesitated not in saying that a discovery might be made, especially as the author had in the margin described the spot in question. Corvinus and I there-fore determined to explore it, and set out one afternoon on the discovery. We proceeded to the place alluded to, examined the deep recess, but had almost despaired of success, when luckily we espied a track, that betokened a path-way at some distant time. We followed it, and were taken through a gloomy glen, then to one of those deep and melancholy recesses which nature here and there hath scattered to diversify and harmonize her works. We passed forward to a vast column of jetting rocks that overhang the river. Here we paused, and examined minutely the astonishing display of a wild yet endearing scenery. The station in which we now were placed was one of those deep solitudes in which silence has taken up her abode, to which superstition retires, and to which the melancholy mind attaches ten thousand charms. Struck with reverence at the wild and solemn stilness of the spot, and meditating on the beauties of nature which surrounded us, and exploring the apertures of the rocks, we at length descried the very cell we so anxiously

looked for. The entrance was nearly concealed by a profusion of wild branches. So luxuriantly did the hazel; the bramble, and the ivy shoot, that it was with difficulty we penetrated the recess. Passing this rugged barrier, we came to another aperture in the rock presenting a very wild appearance. From hence we could just discern a faint ray of light, and by which we were directed to the interior. Nature, at first sight seemed to have been the only architect; but on a closer inspection of this secluded cave, we perceived evident marks of human industry. There are three apartments, alike plain and unadorned, yet differing in their dimensions. There is also a fourth division varying materially from the others; it is on the right: the entrance confined, and the inscription at once points out its gloomy appropriation.

Stranger, whoe'er thou art, by chance or fate
Brought hither.-See here, in mouldering dust,
A wretch's relics.-Mark well this dismal cave
Where once secluded deep in hated woe,
Bereft of ev'ry social bliss,

Linger'd the dread unhappy parricide!

"Dismal indeed," said I. "Wretched brother," said the stranger. We again looked around the lone place with sorrow, then slow and pensive back retraced our steps.

A less melancholy and more endearing story.

On the romantic banks of the Esk, lived Mirinda and her lovely Lucinda, whom fame justly extolled. Corvinus visited the peaceful mansion, and was received with much respect. Their kindness and their elegant conversation escaped not his attention, and from this moment he felt himself interested in their fate. Lucinda was fair, and, to use the language of Thomson

"Her form was fresher than the morning rose

"When the dew wets its leaves; unstained and pure "As is the lily, or the mountain snow;

"The modest virtues mingled in her eyes :

"Sat fair proportion'd on her finish'd limbs,
"Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire."

Who then could contemplate such perfection unmoved? Corvinus could not. From the first moment he saw Lucinda, a something more than friendship warmed his breast-love. I cannot bet ter describe his emotions, than by inserting a few lines by a youth of my acquaintance:

A something awak'd in his breast,
He could not behold her unmov'd;
He found that his heart was oppress'd;
He honor'd, respected, and lov'd.
With her he at ev'ning would stray,
On her he delighted to gaze.
All objects to him then look'd gay,

Nor thought on unhappier days.

He panted-he throbb'd for the hour,
To call the sweet charmer his own;
And fortune, his love was so pure,

Ere long his fond wishes did crown.

When the stranger apprized Mirinda of his intentions, she, good lady, heard them with delight, and soon was Lucinda acquainted with his friendly propositions. With downcast eyes, " darting their humid beams into the blooming flowers, won by the charm of goodness irresistible, and all in sweet disorder lost, she blushed consent."

But let us leave the lovers for awhile, and take a brief and faithful sketch of Mirinda's history.

By ivy circled, near the rolling flood,

A lovely pile, Mirinda's dwelling, stood:

Green woodbine wander'd o'er each mossy tower;
The scented apple spread its painted flower;
The flower that in its lonely sweetness smil'd,
And seem'd to say, I grew not always wild!
In this retreat, by memory's charm endear'd,
Her lovely child the fair Mirinda rear'd :
Taught young affection every fondling wile,
And smil'd herself, to see her infant smile.

LEYDEN.

With much confidence may we assert, it was not Lucinda's beauty alone that rendered her truly worthy of the stranger's love. She possessed a good heart, a well-cultivated mind, and was nearly allied to a very honorable family. Loveliest