Hotter and hotter still the place-
For breath each warrior gasps ;
And faintly prays Our Lady's grace,
Her altar faintly clasps.

From burning roof and falling spire
Now steams the molten lead,
In heavy drops of liquid fire,
Upon each morioned head.
Nature no further might endure,
And faltering tongues propose
Terms of surrender to procure
From their encircling foes.
Alas! Exulting in success,
The Earl the host bebeld
The helpless fugitives' distress,
Their suit with scoffs repelled.
The leaden rain, the stifling air,
With Gerard's cruelty
Combining, sank them in despair
When rising from his knee,
On which, at Blessed Mary's shrine,
He long had bent in pray'r;
Inspired, perchance, by grace divine,
And nerved e'en by despair.
A man, of wife and child bereft,

Thus spoke in solemn voice-
"Brothers, 'twixt life and death is left
To us not e'en the choice.
"Death-doomed, this only now remains,
As free men should to die;
Avenged our violated fanes,

Our loved ones' butchery!"

His words in that desponding band
A sudden passion woke ;

Each grasped his weapon with strong hand,
Forth from the church they broke.
On the elate, unwary foe,

With frenzy's strength they rushed;
And, amidst wine and conquest's glow,
Th' astonished conquerors crushed.
Surprised, disordered, stupified,

Unable to resist,
Before Ditmarsen's rage their pride
Vanished like morning mist.
Thus upon Oldenworden's plain,
Lit by the lurid glare,
Its desecrated, blazing fane
Cast on deep midnight's air
Victims of that furious mood,
Could to such crime impel,

Of their own tiger thirst for blood,
Earl Gerard's legions fell.

No more Earl Gerard home returned,
Sage counsel to despise ;

Glutting their rage whose prayers he spurned,
Beneath that church he lies.

Ditmarsen, when the fight was done,
And fierce revenge allayed,
Scarce crediting the victory won,
The field of death surveyed.

Then softening to a gentler strain,
The fierce avengers wept,

And called on wife, on children slain,
The sacrifice t' accept.

Upon that death-encumbered place
In bumble zeal they knelt;
Ascribing to Our Lady's grace
The sudden impulse felt.

Vowing, of gratitude in proof,

A convent there to raise, Beneath whose consecrated roof Chaste nuns should hymn her praise.

INQUISITORIAL FANATICISM. A clergyman who is now, or was within the last few years, officiating in London, was in the earlier part of his life for some months in Spain, and had amongst his books an old family Bible, his possession of which, by some means or other, reached the ears of the heads of the Inquisition. He had been out one morning sight-seeing, and on his return to his residence, the female attendant who opened the door to him appeared evidently terrified, and her countenance was of a ghastly paleness. He spoke to her, but the only token she gave of possessing hearing or recog nition, was by placing her forefinger on her lips, and hurried from his presence with all speed. He proceeded to his apartments, and to his surprise found them in possession of some of the familiars of the misnamed Holy Office. They had already possessed themselves of his books and papers, which they had sent off to the office of the Inquisition, and were themselves waiting to conduct him thither, also to answer the questions of the officials.

Though innocent of any offence, he could not help feeling alarmed at his situation. The inmates of his residence did not dare to speak to him, or in his behalf, and he was taken forthwith to one of the secret chambers of this tribunal of bigotry. He was not there long before he was conducted in silence to the presence of the Inquisitor, who, masked and seated on a kind of throne covered with black cloth, with his secretary before him, began to interrogate him as to his reasons for being in Spain, and whether it was not his intention to translate the volume into the vernacular tongue, for the purpose of deluding the Spaniards from their established faith. He gave them his reasons boldly and fairly, and even satisfied the official of his innocence, who with a bow told him he was free, and that his books and papers would be returned to his apartments, even before he could reach home himself. This he found to be true, and has frequently since expressed his wonder at the celerity with which the familiars of the Inquisition execute their orders. An officer was deputed to see him in safety to his lodgings, and as they passed through one of the squares, a large bonfire was burning, and a long procession advanced towards the pile.-" Heretic!" said the familiar, "look at it.' He did so, and could scarcely help smiling, when he found it was one of the most harmless of their Auto dei fas— simply the burning of some little painted or printed cupids, and such groups as decorate the fans of our English ladies, which fanaticism had denounced as impious and heretical.

LEIGH CLIFFE.

A community of religion is the most powerful sympathy of a people.

A TALE OF THE PASSIONS.

BY MISS ANNA MARIA SARGEANT.

"These shall the fury passions tear The vultures of the mind."

GRAY.

The necessity of the proper government of the passions cannot be too strongly enforced by those who have the important charge entrusted to them of instructing others. History, both sacred and profane, holds forth innumerable instances of the fatal results of their mismanagement; nor does our every-day experience prove less forcibly the truth of the wise man's remark, that "He who governeth his own spirit is greater than he that taketh a city." But to enter on our narrative. The loves of Julien Montrevor and Clara Derwin were marked by none of those romantic events which not unfrequently really occur in real life, and yet more often adorn a tale." Mr. Montrevor was the only son of an old and valued friend of Mr. Derwin's, which gentleman he had visited at his retired but beautiful villa, amid the mountains of Wales, little supposing that beneath his roof he should meet his future wife. He had for some years amused his fancy and instructed his mind by travelling over the greater part of Europe, and arrived at the age of two-and-thirty without finding bis affections seriously engaged. In vain the vivacious French-woman, the stately Spaniard, or the empassioned Italian, displayed their fascinations; and he was considered by the sex as a piece of adamant, impenetrable to every charm.

It remained for Clara Derwin, uninitiated as she was in all the arts of coquetry, to soften this hitherto invulnerable heart. The simplicity of her beauty, the artlessness of her manners, and the pure and guileless sentiments which flowed from her lips, surprised and delighted him. He thought her unlike all other women, and for this reason-because he had mingled with the sex, or at least its more youthful part, only in the haunts of dissipation, not in the home circle of domestic life, where it is their province to shine.

spect and admiration into an affection as deep and sincere, though less passionate, than was that which glowed in his breast.

A far different being was the Julien Montrevor -the guest at the retired Welsh villa, and the suitor of Clara Derwin-to the individual bearing that name, who had so lately figured in every scene of gaiety, not from any real interest he felt in the pursuit, but from the want of a being on whom to fix his affections, and who would make his home attractive. The presence of a pure-minded and amiable female has at all times a hallowing effect upon even the most dissipated of the other sex; and our hero, in the society of the fair and gentle girl who was now the world to him, thought every other pleasure valueless in comparison to that which the reciprocity of virtuous affection produces.

Warm as was the attachment Clara now felt for her suitor, she was unwilling to leave her father, fearing he would miss the many little attentions she was in the habit of paying him; but anxious, above all things, for her welfare, and believing that her marriage with Montrevor would effectually ensure it, Mr. Derwin readily gave his consent to a speedy union, and his daughter, who never thought of opposing his wishes, gave her blushing sanction also.

At the hospitable mansion of Mr. Derwin there was another guest, besides the son of his early friend. This was a young lady distantly related to the family, who not unfrequently paid them a long visit. Alicia Egerton was as opposite in character to her young entertainer as are the antipodes to each other. She was crafty and designing, with strong passions, upon which she never placed a curb; yet she had sufficient skill to conceal the venom of her nature, and display only an appearance of virtue. In personal attractions she certainly exceeded her relative, whose child-like beauty she despised; for her's were the perfect features from which a sculptor might have modelled a Venus. She no sooner beheld Julien Montrevor, than she resolved upon a conquest, vanity prompting her to believe she could not try in vain. She never for a moment dreamed that Clara could become a rival; but our hero had seen many women of a similar character, whose beauty was equal to her's, and seen them unmoved; nay, she served rather to set off the simplicity of her unassuming relative.

On the arrival of Montrevor she received him as the son of her father's friend; she listened with interest to his conversation, and admired his polished manners, but never thought of exciting any other sentiment than esteem, until he, sanctioned by her parent, made her an offer of his hand. She besitated, and explained the true nature of her feelings, but further intercourse mellowed her re

trevor was the suitor of his daughter. No language can describe the rage which filled her bosom at the intelligence, yet she had the art to conceal it, and express pleasure at the event, though she inwardly determined to do all in her power to break the engagement. This, however, was not practicable. Montrevor was devotedly attached, and he had made arrangements to prolong his stay until he should carry his beloved Clara away as his bride.

If the fury passion which glowed in the breast of Alicia could be honoured by the sacred name of love, she loved the more as the object became less

likely to be gained. Hopeless of preventing the union, she determined upon marring their happiness, and, if possible, separating them; and this savage purpose consoled her under her present affliction. She had discrimination enough to perceive that Montrevor's ruling passion was jealousy, and she resolved to rouse it; she saw, also, that Clara was undecided, and easily led, and upon such a character it was easy to work; all that remained, therefore, was for her to ingratiate herself into the favour of the youthful bride elect, and to accompany them to London, where Montrevor's town residence was in preparation for their reception. This was easily effected; her petition to be permitted to act as bridesmaid was readily granted by the unsuspicious girl, and her proposition to be her companion was eagerly seconded.

Beneath the sacred pile in which the gentle Clara had ever paid her public devotions, she solemnly pronounced the vows which bound her to him whom her heart had chosen, and she little imagined that she was cherishing a viper who would not be satisfied till she had wrought their destruction.

Our party took a circuitous journey, visiting all the most beautiful scenes in the west of Eugland ere they arrived at the metropolis, and then Clara had to go through the form of presentation, for the present was her debut in the fashionable world. A task was it to one naturally timid, and who had mingled so little in such society, to be introduced to a circle of strangers; but her modesty and unaffected simplicity could not fail to win the esteem of all those whose friendship was worth obtaining. Miss Egerton took up her residence with a friend in town, and paid frequent visits at the mansion of the unsuspicious bride and bridegroom. Clara sought her society with eagerness, because she was the only person known to her in London; and as her husband was now much from home, having put up for one of the neighbouring boroughs, she was glad of the society of one with whom she could talk of her so much loved Welsh

mountains and vales.

So circumspect was the youthful bride in her conduct, and so attached to her home, it was impossible for Alicia, however crafty, to find the shadow of a blemish whereon to found her diabolical plot; but an opportunity shortly occurred in the arrival of the son and two daughters of Mr. Manderville, vicar of Clara's native village. The worthy clergyman was lately deceased, and his children consequently thrown upon the world unprovided for. The young ladies had been the companions of Clara from childhood, and to Lucy, the younger, who was nearly her own age, she was particularly attached. As soon, therefore, as the first shock of their grief had subsided, the afflicted girls thought of their early friend, and hoped it might lie in her power to assist their brother, who had been educated for the church, and to whom they now fondly looked as their only support.

Eustace Manderville had been a youthful suitor of Clara's, but as their years increased, and his good sense pointed out the improbability of a gentleman of fortune bestowing his daughter upon a young man whose only title to favour was his

merit, he ceased to distinguish her by any marked attention. That he still loved her was obvious to every one but the fair object, who bad considered his past conduct only in the light of boyish caprice, and never thought of entertaining any warmer sentiment than friendship in return.

The appearance of this ci-devant admirer of Mrs. Montrevor, and more especially his seeking the patronage of that lady, was a circumstance not to be overlooked by Miss Egerton, whose thoughts were ever full of her cruel determination. Little imagining how her laudible motives would be misrepresented, Clara felt happy in having an opportunity of serving the children of her esteemed pastor, and immediately opened the subject to her husband, begging his permission to offer Lucy Manderville a home beneath her roof, and warmly soliciting that he would use his interest to procure a living for her brother.

Montrevor, to whose generosity an appeal was never made in vain, cheerfully granted the former, and promised to bear in mind the latter request.

The jealousy of Alicia Egerton was now doubly roused; in the gentle Lucy she beheld a rival in Clara's affection. Hitherto she had been the sole confidant of the fair bride, and she was stung to the quick to perceive how delighted she was with this addition to her household. Lucy Manderville, like her friend, was timid and pliable, yet possessed a mind of greater strength and an understanding beyond her years; she discovered the unamiable traits in the character of Miss Egerton, and most fervently wished that Clara was less attached to her, yet her feelings would not permit her to express what she felt, for she could not bear to incur the suspicion of endeavouring to reign the sole favourite of her generous friend.

The wily serpent does not always dart immediately upon its prey, but coils itself around the frame in order to make its strength more secure; and Alicia took this precaution in her advances towards the desired end. She contrived to awaken mistrust without any open censure, and proceeded by slow degrees until she had so far conquered as to render the married life of her victims-before so full of happiness-a constant scene of misery. The jealousy of Montrevor once roused, he was irritable and peevish, sometimes even harsh; he thought on the probability of Miss Egerton's suggestions-that Clara's affections were really engaged to the young clergyman, who was nearer her own age, and had been her companion from childhood, and that her union with himself was only consented to from a sense of duty to a parent whose will she had never disputed, till he was almost maddened, yet never once did he drop a hint in the presence of his wife which might lead to an explanation of the cause of his altered conduct towards her.

The young bride for some months wept in secret over her disappointed prospects, but at length ventured to reveal her distress to the two beings whom, besides her husband and father, she most loved-these were Alicia and Lucy; the latter strove by every gentle effort to heal the wounded spirit of her friend, the former to lacerate it more effectually. By a well-feigned indignation at the unkindness of Montrevor, she essayed