The hermitage: a British story.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- PREFACE.

THE HERMITAGE.

POSSESSED of an ancient family estate, Periander dwelt in a village, exercising those virtues, which render a man happy in himself, and a blessing to his fellow creatures.

PROVIDENCE had made him the father of an only son, whose excellencies at once indulged the warmest of his parental wishes, and promised to the world a happy successor to Periander, whose grey hairs approached the grave.

THE first vestiges of the Reformation had not taken place in this kingdom; yet Periander, from a mind enlarged with learning and benevolence, had embraced certain principles dissenting from the Romish church.

IN the neighbourhood of the village stood a monastery, the chief of which an ecclesiastic, who, from the contracted habits of his education, had hardened his soul with every severity of superstition. His meagre tall figure, was made lean by a mind of anxiety, and his pale visage and hollow eyes, expressed avarice and envy. He had acquired a bigotry of principle, from example rather than judgement; his monastic learning not advancing his charity, had furnished him with censures and condemnations; and his aversions were more generally exercised than his compassion.

ARBITRARY in his principles, so was Father Peter arbitrary in his manners. The insolence of the church enflamed his bosom, and zeal for peculiar modes extinguished that essence of religion, universal love. To depart from Father Peter's precepts, was to sin without measure; and, amidst a thousand good actions, and a life of uninterrupted benevolence, Periander acquired the hatred and enmity of the ghostly Father.

FATHER Peter, who, from his holy office, might be conceived to be an imitator of the God whom he served; whose life, being totally abstracted from the cares of the world, was sustained in luxury by the hands of the labourer; whose religious zeal offering to the Deity through his ministers, stored the cloister with the tenths of all his fruits; possessed of abundant leisure to indulge his study of the Divinity through all his works; might we not have hoped, that such a man would have armed himself against the powers of satan, and have governed the impetuous ardour of human passions, correcting them with true religion: But so far from modulating the sallies of the soul with piety and virtue, wrath and persecution were the weapons which were wielded by his consecrated hands.

THE influence which the religious had over families, their secret intercourse, and the rigorous mode in which they sustained their arbitrary authority, gave Father Peter many opportunities of instigating mischief on his neighbour. His blind bigotry induced him to think, that, in distressing one who dissented from the church of Rome, he rendered essential service to the God of all; through zealous frenzy he devised a thousand treacheries, and a thousand snares to oppress and injure Periander.

THE Seigniory was Lord Melvil's, where Periander's lands lay; he held them by Knight's service. To this Lord, the treacherous priest address'd himself; and, from a forged instrument, alledged to be recorded amongst the rolls and legends of the monastery of St Benedict, he induced him to prosecute a claim to the estates of Periander. The secret engines from monastic emissaries were sent abroad; the ignorant, deluded through their blindness into zeal, were prepared as witnesses to evidence whatever they might be prompted to.

PERIANDER, already enervated with age, his soul untoned, his judgement relaxed, and his mind smoothed into that divine composure, which blesses the good man in his old age, as the harbinger of his dissolution; received these acts of oppression without dread: He confided in the God of justice, and smiled at the devices of his enemies: But too late he perceived, that the workers of iniquity were not always corrected by the instant hand of interposing Providence. He was at length alarmed with the reality of his danger; his paternal bosom felt apprehensions for his son; his age was disturbed in the midst of its infirmities, and the hand of care grasped at his fainting soul.

PERIANDER did not long sustain the shock, he sunk into the arms of death. With filial devotion, his beloved son Astianax laid him in the vault amidst his ancestors.

ASTIANAX, called from his travels by his father's approaching fate, an utter stranger to the enmity and stratagems of Father Peter, took possession of his inheritance: The contest still went on. Some little time preceding to the day of trial, Astianax had retired into the gallery of his mansion, to meditate on the posture of his affairs, and to consider of Lord Melvil's claim. As he walked pensive to and fro, on a sudden, behind him, at the further end of the gallery, he heard a clash of armour: Turning hastily, he observed the buckler and shield to shake, which once his great ancestor Norban wore; and in which, in Palestine, he testified his valour to the Saracens. He regarded the event as accidental, and on pursued his melancholy walk: Hearing the sound again, he looked up, and perceived the coat of mail to tremble on the crooks where it hung, and the gauntlet moved as if it beckoned him. This is no common circumstance, cries he, let me discover the occasion of that trouble in these arms, which, with their owner, long have been at rest. He ascended a few steps, and begun to hand the armour, when he distinguished, within the breast-plate, a light like the fainting rays which glow worms shed within the shadowy bower at eventide. Advancing further, he discovered, that the beams proceeded from a small onyx cross, which hung concealed by the armour, suspended in a golden chain, from the collar. The unexpected acquisition threw him, for a moment, into surprise. Strange it is, thought he, that such a gem should remain for seven ages undiscovered by his forefathers; a gem so rare, that, in its composition, it excelled all he had ever seen. It was, as the onyx stone, shadowy, and round, and variegated; but around it was diffused a livid light; on its parts were various engravings, of mysterious or emblematical characters, appearing like the Egyptian devices, representing the attributes of the God of nature. A sudden propensity led Astianax to place the chain upon his neck. Soon as the amulet had touched his bosom, from every point of the cross, there fell warm drops of blood; and, with a horrid clangour, the armour shook in every joint! Surprise now changed to fear. Have I, says he, with sacrilegious hands, polluted this fair gem? and is the spirit of the mighty Norban offended at my rashness? Again the armour shook! These uncommon appearances encreased his amazement; as, if danger was near, he laid his hand upon his sword, and, looking around, seemed to expect an enemy. His enemy was there! The insatiable ecclesiastic, not being content with the slow progress of the laws, in the oppression of Astianax, and not being appeased by the death of the good Periander; but taking advantage of the liberty which these times of bigotry afforded to the churchmen, he past through the apartments of the house uninterrupted, and sought the heir of Periander in his retirement, to accomplish his infernal purposes by his assassination. The blessed spirits of those who have left this life, remain our guardian angels; and, till this globe by fire shall be refined into a heaven for men, they hover in the upper atmosphere, where light alone fills the expanse, and ride above the watry vapourous veil which circumvades this planet: There they behold whate'er betides their kindred souls on earth: From whence, descending to our aid, as each emergency advances, far as such refined beings, spirits of heavenly mould, can move the dull and drowsy senses of our earthly form, they influence our will, or check our wish, or turn our rash resolve; by touch so delicate, that we, amidst the inspiration, know not how or why we pass between our purpose and the event: Their form is also pure, that, to our sight, the spirits riding on the beams of light, escape the sense, like colours, till they pass on mediums which are attuned to the dullness of man's nature; so, when they would conduct us from perils eminent, or to the fair possessions of prosperity, they assume some form terrestrial, to minister to us their more peculiar care.

THE approach of Father Peter, at first, struck Astianax with apprehension; but, on recollection of his holy office, and of his public name for godliness and rigid virtue, his fear subsided: Yet, not knowing why, he still retained his hand upon his sword. The ghostly father, in his bosom hid the dagger which he brought to shed Astianax's blood. With a solemn look of sanctity, he address'd the youth in language culled from all the store of base hypocrisy, first disciplined in dark monastic schools. With seeming tears he spoke of Periander; and, crossing his breast, prayed for his departed spirit. He sighed, and talked of all the ancestry of young Astianax, and called on saints to lead him in the paths of his forefathers. Forth he stretched his hand to bless him; and from his sword the unsuspicious youth was ready to withdraw, to clasp the monk within his bosom, where his soul rebounded with the fervour of his reverence and love to those of whom he spoke. In that instant the armour shook! Alarmed by the repeated sound, Astianax stepped back! The noise had touched the ecclesiastic's ear; and, with emotions not to be expressed, he felt unusual terrors seize his soul! The crucifix upon the bosom of Astianax again let fall fresh tears of blood; and, fixed with earnest and involuntary grasp, his hand remained upon his sword. Various passions wandered on his features. The monk long used to look upon the face of those he dealt with, there to discover, from that undeceiving index, the sentiments which agitate the soul, fixed a steady gaze upon the youth, wondering to behold a lustre beam o'er all his aspect, such as zealots fancy to their patron saints. His dark resolves were shaken! Astianax, thus upon his guard, rendered the monk's enterprise impracticable. The shaking of the armour was supernatural. Conscious evil filled the guilty mind of Father Peter with terrors and self-condemnation. His soul let go its bloody purpose, and, for a moment, relaxed into remorse; but for a moment only: For the succeeding thought turned on a future time to execute his project.

DURING the short time in which these few ideas moved within the mind of the ecclesiastic, Astianax and he stood motionless and silent; the monk gazing on the youth, and the youth, with eyes uplifted, fixed on the armour. Peter broke silence, and, arming his bosom with the tokens of the cross, he called upon the sacred name of God to bless and sanctify him; that he might avoid the snares and wiles of those infernal beings which possessed this mansion, and the frenzy'd spirit of Astianax. Amidst this ejaculation, with uplifted eyes and hands, he turned to quit the chamber; when, behold, the loosened garment let the weapon pass, and at his feet the naked dagger dropt! This was the hour of wonder to Astianax! He scarce gave credit to what he saw; his astonished mind could not form one conjecture, wherefore the good, the pious monk, wore in his bosom this dire instrument. Confounded in the event, the monk, in haste, pass'd on, not noticing the matter, but apprehending, that hence the youth would take the alarm, and ever, in his presence, be on his guard.

SOON as Astianax had recollected himself from his surprise, he stooped to take the dagger up; when he beheld the onyx sending forth more brilliant rays, than when he first perceived it on the breast-plate of his ancestor: He drop'd upon his knee, and, holding forth the glowing amulet, thus he poured forth his thoughts.

‘MOST glorious relick of my sire great Norban, do I not apprehend thy inestimable value, and thy wonderous qualities! Whilst suspended on my bosom, thy virtues can presage the unforeseen approach of danger, and the advancing changes to prosperity. Thy bloody tears foretel that hazard is not far behind, and thy lustre blazeth forth, to proclaim the footsteps of serenity and peace. O ye blessed manes of my departed ancestors, if ye behold the last remains, this single personage of your illustrious blood, with eyes of approbation; and, with angelic love, guard me from perils and the wiles of Satan; be present to my soul in all its resolutions; and so inspire me with the love of honour, that I may emulate your glorious deeds, and imitate your virtuous lives; and when my regenerated spirit shall leave this vale of sin and sorrowfulness, to meet you on the wings of light; may I be esteemed deserving of your approbation, and adjudged worthy to be enrolled by the recording angel, in the illustrious table of your genealogy in heaven.’

THE monk retired into his secret cell, and there, instead of devoting his meditations to religious prospects, his temporal ambition and rapacious avarice, led him to form new plans for the destruction of Astianax. Lord Melvil was a man, whose early life was dissolute and vicious; every degree of fashionable error was familiar to him; in his lasciviousness, he ruined half his vassals; in his ebriety, he mastered the Herculean cup of Alexander; in him, ignorance begat obstinacy; his resentment was insatiate; his will was arbitrary; and his whole demeans groaned under his authority. Age and disease had weakened his faculties, but left his mind all unreformed. The churchmen took possession of his soul: They ingrafted bigotry upon the darkness of his understanding; wound up the springs of superstition; and, from the horrors of their doctrine, induced his avarice to bend in purchase of salvation. Large endowments had been made, and Father Peter's monastery enriched with vast donations. The enmity to Periander first gave rise to the prosecuted claim of his estates. Lord Melvil had devoted it, for a thousand masses more, to the same monastery. The death of Periander removed the object of the ecclesiastic's vengeance; but the object of his avarice was yet in being. The active spirit of Astianax the heir, and the unbounded love his excellencies gained him, together with his determined purpose, of appealing to the King in person; seemed to throw such obstacles to a design which fraud alone supported, that Father Peter's subtlety was confounded. He was convinced, that Astianax would not be the same supine opponent he had met with in Periander: That he would never cease to trace the subject to its source; and that the esteem his virtues had procured him, would prompt a thousand friends to aid his suit, and second his appeal before the King; against a Lord whose violence and oppression had long been infamous. He reflected, that the claim sustained itself upon a forgery. That the King, whose youthful soul was not subjected to the bigotries of church dominion, would give but little credit to the dormant legends of a monastery. The world already entertained suspicions of the artifices of ecclesiastics. Their large acquisitions had promoted jealousies, and thence their authorities grew distasteful. An apprehension of the discovery of this fraud brought many terrors. He reflected, that Astianax was now the only one remaining of his ancient house; and that, without an heir, his lands reverted to the lord. An easier passage this, than what he had devised in the days of Periander. The death of Astianax would accomplish all his purpose. The perpetration committed to his own hands, avoided discovery, and left no accomplice to betray the treachery. With soul inured to sin, he resolved upon the horrid project; but angels interposing held his hands, and frustrated his device.

UNDER these circumstances, see the ecclesiastic in his cell: The religious habit the cloak of hypocrisy cast from his inflamed bosom, where disappointment irritated all his sinful disposition. On the table where he rested, stood the image of a suffering Deity, suspended on the cross; a rosary, and a book of prayer. The holy gospels lay upon his couch, with wafers, and the hallowed water-urn o'erwhelm'd. Objects, to other minds, excitive of reverence and adoration; to Father Peter nothing more than inanimate emblems of his profession. With such attendants, who could apprehend that temporalities were all his care, Rapine and avarice! Vengeance and blood? Could not such objects touch thy hardened heart, and prompt thee to look inward on thyself? Inured to wickedness, habituated to this cell with these its ornaments, even the representation of an expiring Saviour, even the doctrines of the Son of God, availed not. Undeterminate he in his gloomy mind, for some time revolved a thousand stratagems; and, with his wiles, he wearied out the midnight lamp.

ONE morning Astianax was called, by some peculiar friends, to join the chace. Willing to remove the melancholy ideas which had possessed his mind, he accepted the invitation. The boar was roused, was fierce, and made the hunters exercise all their alacrity and skill. Astianax was separated from his friends, one companion left with him in the same thicket, a stranger, who, during the diversion, seemed merely a distant spectator; but, upon nearer approach, appeared a spectator masked. The summer sun was vehement, and, for the freedom of the air, the youth had opened his bosom, where the onyx shone with rays distinguishing some propitious moment was at hand. The stranger still approaching, seemed with cautious looks to survey the wood, as if he feared their privacy might be interrupted. He drew near, when, opening his upper garment, and the mask being withdrawn, or vanishing, discovered him to be an ancient Hermit, whose venerable look and gracious countenance bespoke benevolence and virtue. The appearance of such a person gave Astianax some surprise; the secrecy of the place, the disguise, the fresh impressions Father Peter had left, all conduced to make him distrust the holy looks of the Hermit, and even to loose his confidence in the auspicious omens of the amulet. An expression of anxiety sate on his features. From Astianax's looks, the sage distinguished his ideas, for he was disciplined in phisiognomy. "Young man," says he, ‘lay aside all apprehension that I design you evil. I am no stranger to the reason why my appearance troubles your thoughts. The late visit which you received from the principal of the monastery of St Benedict, is well known to me. I knew his enmity to Periander. I knew his projects to dispossess you of your inheritance. I am no stranger to his influence over Lord Melvil. The record with which he arms that infamous persecutor, is all a forgery. My great esteem of Periander is not lessened in Astianax. I am now a stranger to you; some little time will reveal my real character. I have assumed this disguise, to give you such intelligence, and to warn you of the evils which await you. From hence I go to Father Peter; my authority and influence are such with him, that he shall stay the prosecution. But, young man, beware; for ere we meet again, a multitude of perils will beset thee. Arm thy breast with every virtue; cloath thee with patience; trust in Heaven; loose not thy confidence in God, even in the very moments of thy greatest afflictions. The hand of Providence conducts the events of this life, by ways so mysterious to man, that what we esteem the greatest evils, often prove the passage to prosperity and happiness. The monk is possessed of such inveteracy, such unrelenting vengeance, that this frustration of his purpose will stimulate his avarice, will serve him for the projecting of new schemes, and for the lighting up of malice yet more vehement. Prepare for wiles and treacheries, for they will surely tread upon thy heel, and circumvent thee in the most secret, secure, and unsuspected channels. His talent for such business is refined as Satan's, and there my aid is totally impossible. Heaven permits, that the Benedictine shall proceed in his iniquity, till, from the eminence, his fall shall become horrible. The sins of his house shall rase it to its foundation; and the traces of the habitation shall be effaced by the ploughshare. Thou shalt once more see my countenance, when peace shall bless thee. Virtue consisteth not in wrestling with the will of fate, but in sustaining the trials of life with fortitude and resignation; supporting the mind from falling through lassitude into despair, or from impatience being severed with rashness and headstrong resolution. The Author of every event trieth the heart of man; and, in his own good time, bringeth forth the fruits of virtue and of honour. To await with patience, to submit with resignation, and without complainings, to sustain the evils of mortality with perseverance, and with piety, to stand erect before the frowns of life's adversity, scorning to incline to either hand, either to forlornness, or to impetuosity; but, looking forward with faith, depending on the will of Heaven, is to work out the labours of propriety: For God ordaineth, and his ministers execute. What ever is, derives its origin from Heaven.’

ASTIANAX listened with reverence and astonishment. The Hermit did not give him liberty to reply: He turned swiftly away, and, skilful in the mazes and intricacies of the thicket, soon was effectually concealed, and clear of all pursuit! The conversation of this reverend personage filled Astianax's mind with thoughtfulness. He admired his wisdom and his precepts, yet feared his prescience. He turned homeward; and, as he passed along, thus he breathed his thoughts: ‘Whence or what are the evils to betide, I am not able to conjecture. Hence shall this venerable sage's precepts be ever present to my mind. Shame it is, that such a wretch as this Benedictine should cloath him with the cloak of sanctity, and, in his holy function, with hypocrisy, to screen such evil dispositions. Already learning gains a rapid progress in this land: The shades of ignorance are dispersing, as the vapours of the valley mount upon the morning rays, to bring on a serene meridian. The crafts and artifices by which the church have hitherto held the vulgar in bigotry and superstition, (an iron arbitrary reign), are gradually dissipating under the beams of learning; the darkness is stricken, the terrors and the goblins vanish, the authority of Rome wasteth away! Such men as Father Peter aid the blessed work of Providence; yet the vices of the ecclesiastics, not only reflect infamy on themselves, but even religion itself becomes odious through its ministers. Men draw conclusions from appearances. Miracles are no longer the infatuation of this land. These subtleties, when seen through, prejudice a people's minds even against the holiest institutions of the church. When men who minister in sacred office, shew themselves unaffected by the doctrine which they would inculcate, the doctrine suffers in the contempt which betides the teacher. Men cannot be divine, but men may be discreet. The principles of religion breathe the support of liberty; but the church hath subverted them for the promotion of captivity and bondage. The mind, when at large, will pursue the Divinity through every revelation, but strain it too far, or circumscribe it too narrowly, and religion is languishing in incomprehensibilities, or rushing headlong down the precipice of blind implicit faith. The acceptable services before God, are the workings of understanding; in other worship, alike the camel and the man bend the prostrated knee. My prophetic mind presages to me many degradations of the church. She hath advanced her pride and power with a rapid progress, and prosperity hath made her mad. Like an idiot who gazes at the moon, as she ascends the horizon, and from the level straddles to mount her rosy car; the church, intoxicate with greatness, levels to its authority all under heaven, and sees not the distance which intervenes between God's sufferance and his approbation; between his long probations and his judgement. The insolence of priesthood will exist to the last verge; till at length the total dissolution of these monasteries, these convents, these cathedrals and colleges, like shackles on the hand of liberty, worn in ages of supine indolence, will be torn off; and all the pompous acclamations of a choir of priests, will change for that most acceptable service, the sighings of a contrite heart.’

IN a short time Astianax experienced the accomplishment of the Hermit's promise: The suit slept: Tranquillity possessed the bosom of Astianax.

THAT his ancient family might not be extinct, he determined to marry; and, ere it was long, was made happy in the excellencies of Jessalind, the daughter of a gentleman, who, with his family, for a few months, had visited this land from Normandy. His fortune was but small, but his proper judgement had led him to give a liberal education to his daughter; whose fine taste had been improved in every degree of learning fashionable in the age. She was skilful in every domestic art, and added thereto a perfection in music and dancing. Her person was amiable, her manners elegant, and her sense refined. These were displayed by an uninterrupted flow of health, pleasantry, and good spirits. Time passed away felicitous and smooth.

AMONGST a few select friends, who sometimes with their visits changed the domestic scene, Polidore had gained a great ascendence over the mind of Astianax. He had cultivated in his principles the most punctual sense of honour, and inspired him with every military fervour for defence of that honour by arms. His readiness in rendering services, his alacrity in executing any project which he knew would give pleasure to his friend, his impartial and disinterested counsels, had made Astianax place in him the utmost confidence and esteem. Whilst those two friends were one day alone in the grove which adjoined to Astianax's mansion, thus Polidore addressed him. ‘I am so well known to my friend, that I need not seek to win his confidence, by a rehearsal of my services; or gain his opinion of my veracity, by assertions which would injure our mutual esteem. My regard for Astianax makes me jealous of every injury done to his honour; and it becomes a duty in me to apprize him of every danger which besets him. Be not too much shocked, my friend, by a discovery in which your happiness is in imminent peril. Your Jessalind is inconstant!’

AT that expression, Astianax started, shuddered, and grew enflamed. "Have a care," cries he, ‘these are weapons too accute to sport with.’

POLIDORE shewed a resentful look at this reply. "Can you," says he, ‘dispute my veracity? Then let the rest of the discovery sleep. If you think I injure her, my profession allows you means to satisfy your honour: You know I am a soldier.’

THE experience which Astianax had of Polidore's sincerity, gave him credulity: His thoughts were confused, his judgement confounded; and, amidst the distraction of injured love, and the shame of such dishonour, he gave way to an impetuous tide of jealousy and resentment. He was greedy of hearing his own calamities and disgrace, and devoured the poisonous and destructive tale with vehemence. Polidore, appeased by such apology as Astianax, in his confusion, could utter, was prompted to pursue the horrid history.

‘GRINVIL, your kinsman, who, from his earliest youth, hath been your intimate and bosom friend, 'tis he that injures you. The guilty hour of assignation is at hand. Is it not about the time at which you have often said, in this season of the year, your Jessalind retires to bathe?’ "It is," replies Astianax, ‘and what of that?’ "This winding walk," says Polidore, ‘will lead us to the bath-house undiscovered. I will attend you to the place, and leave you to be assured of my truth.’ They hastened on: They arrive within sight of the bath: Polidore departed.

WITH arms enfolded, and with down-cast eyes, Astianax stood ruminating on the tale. The more he revolved in his mind the circumstances and events attending his hours of married life, the more was he induced to discredit the relation. A wish arose within his beating heart, born from reviving love and kindling hope: But soon that wish was blasted, and jealousy, in his dire realm of chaos, swept away extinguished hope, and swallowed up expiring love; when, with eyes shedding tears of distraction, he beheld the amulet portending woe. In a few moments, as he stood thus concealed in his shady situation, he viewed the lovely Jessalind, without attendant, moving to the bath. The serenity of virtue sate smooth upon her brow; placid innocence becalm'd her looks, whilst fond felicity was sporting with insuspicion in dimples on her cheek. Over his whole soul, affection lay bleeding. His eyes, as they dwelt upon the object, swam in tears; whilst the blackness of his mind, in mourning, absorbed the image from the aching optics, and never returned one fair refraction to the seat of love. When nature struggled, to give birth to hope, the amulet, and Polidore's known faith, obstructed every passage, but the influx of despair.

SHE entered the bath. The sound of several voices struck Astianax's ear! His heart was thrown into dreadful convulsions, and all his bosom blazed with resentment. His impatience became unsupportable, he rushed from his concealment; and, bursting into the antichamber of the bath, discovered the disconcerted and alarmed Jessalind, with the treacherous Grinvil! For jealousy, for madness, this was evidence sufficient. The emotions of Astianax's breast stifled his words; he only had power left him to call Grinvil to defend himself. Grinvil would have parley'd, but Astianax rushed on. The terrified Jessalind fainted! Sword met with sword, and, in the bosom of Grinvil, the horrid steel was plunged!

SCARCE breathing from his victory, Astianax stepped forward to destroy the fair, the insensible Jessalind! A dreadful burst of thunder seem'd to make the earth tremble to the centre! Rous'd from the very grasp of death, Grinvil cast up his hand and eyes; and, faultering, bid him forbear! The attitude, the accents of his dying friend, seem'd to express something irresistible! Gasping with rage, Astianax paused, as the lion over his captive stag, when breathless with the chace, to meditate his ravenous repast. Grinvil took possession of this interval. ‘If you suspect the virtue of your wife, you are deceived. Our meeting here was accidental. I die content, if I should save her innocence.’ He ceas'd—The blood gushed from his wound in torrents—His speech is gone—His eyes grow dim—He faints—

ASTIANAX, like one who heard the direful voice of an avenging angel, denouncing desolation to whole empires, stood fixed in horror! His extended eyes shifted their distracted stare from Jessalind to Grinvil! His trembling hands, stained with the murder of his friend, convulsively grasped his reeking sword! Irresolute for suicide; irresolute for flight; too proud to seek for sanctuary; not longer able to endure the horrid spectacle, he sought the grove; he sought some hiding place, where he might form a resolution for his conduct. The grove renewed his grief. Conscience ceases not to haunt the steps of guilt. The grove, the bath, alike afforded him objects for despair: Too late he proved the want of discretion in Polidore; for, from his well-proved faith, he could never conceive that he was treacherous: Too late he recollects the pious precepts of the Hermit on the chase: Too late he finds that the abortive claim, so basely instigated by the Benedictine, was now effected; and, as a murderer, not only life was forfeited, but his lands escheated to Lord Melvil! How dreadful was the prospect of his total desolation? Divested of his property; guilty of innocent blood; a victim due to justice. By one rash act, rushed from the height of human happiness, into the darkest gulph of woe! Fallen from affluence, from the joys of virtuous love, domestic harmony, and heartfelt self-approving rectitude and honour! But yet, to aggravate and crown his misery, the innocent traduced Jessalind, widowed, in penury, and at the instant pregnant.

THE first interval of judgement, prompted Astianax to seek the thickest cover of an adjoining forest to conceal him, till the approach of night; as he was assured, in these walks, the alarm would speedily be spread, and his escape frustrated; thence, under the favour of the darkness, he determined to proceed into the mountains, and, at some secure distance, live unknown; till, perchance, a favourable opportunity might present, to gain an advocate for the obtaining royal clemency.

How distracting a scene presented itself to Jessalind, upon her recovery from her swoon: Grinvil weltering in his blood, convulsed, and in the agonies of death! Astianax gone! gone full of condemnations, jealousy and hatred against his innocent and forlorn Jessalind! "Then," cries she, ‘all the remainder of existence is given to despair!’ With lamentations and dishevel'd hair, she fled into the avenue, and strained her voice with incessant calls on her beloved husband! No voice reply'd but plaintive echo, sobbing in the gloomy grove. She flew to her late happy habitation: The domestics, alarmed at her complainings, stood astonished, and melting into tears.

As soon as the dreadful story was related, Grinvil's body was removed by a faithful old servant; and by him carried to a friend, a shepherd, who inhabited a cot, in an adjoining valley; a man well skilled in salutary drugs; and one, who, in his youth, from long services in arms, had acquired a wonderous knowledge in the art of surgery: Some faint remains of life appearing, he had hopes the wound might not prove mortal.

WHILST these matters were transacting, the rumour spread with rapid wing, and soon had reached Lord Melvil's ears; whose officers, like hungry wolves upon the snowcloath'd Alps, poured down their rude rapacious bands on the estates of the unfortunate Astianax. They beset the mansion house; possess themselves of all; and, with a brutality peculiar to their office, command the friendless heart-broken widow'd Jessalind to quit the place. The command admitted no reply; their hardened hearts suffered no compassion; and, whilst her lingering steps hung trembling on the threshold which she loved, with savage rage they push her out!

Now all the elements in war seemed to have made this habitation the scene of their dire vengeance! Fierce lightnings blazed in the apartments, and rush upon each gallery! Tremendous bursts of thunder shook the building to its foundation! As if a torrent poured its waters down the stairs, the noise of vast cascades were heard; and, in the painted gallery, the agitated coat of mail, sounded with the clangour of a mighty combat.

THE wretches who executed Lord Melvil's commission, conjecturing they were beset with evil spirits, fled, and left the place without inhabitants.

THE report of these amazing circumstances busy'd the ear of every villager. It reach'd the monastery of St Benedict. The priests, enflamed with the zeal of their hypocrisy, rejoiced in the intelligence, esteeming all these wonders, as the bugbears born of Credulity and Ignorance: And, apprehending this a fortunate opportunity to execute their exorcisms, and acquire an impious credit with the vulgar, by exercising the miraculous privilege of chaining spirits by their religious ofces; they sought their principal to crave his licence, for their visiting the house of the unfortunate Astianax. Father Peter was then in close conference with one, on business of importance, and would not be disturbed; well judging, it were best for these rash men, not to brave the wrath of the enchanted armour. At this very instant Father Peter entertained a visiter, whose friendship was not to be neglected. The grant of Astianax's escheated lands, already was framing for the records of the monastery: And Polidore was shut up with the monk in his cell, to claim the miserable reward of his inestimable services. Polidore had been gained by avarice and great gratuities, to perpetrate the worst of crimes. The monk, baffled in his former projects, cast his eyes towards the soldier, whose love of gain he perceived stood incompatible with his sincerity; and that interest could easily subvert his specious principles. He won the soul of this base man, by assurances that certain lands which lay contiguous to his scanty farm, should be granted by the monastery, together with infallible absolution, if he should be the means of Astianax's overthrow. Artful and subtle, he devised the plan; and, at this instant, the traitor listened to assurances, that so soon as Lord Melvil sealed the grant, he should receive the rewards of his treachery.

THE malicious monk, resolute in his purpose, had determined to engage this his emissary; for, from his having been many years a missionary in his younger days, he had acquired a competent knowledge of the disposition of a soldier, •born in abject life, and bred a mercenary; and, whilst he fixed his project and his plan, thus he meditated on the character of his accomplice.

‘THIS Polidore he is a soldier, born of the lowest of mankind, unlettered and unprincipled. He has risen through the fatalities of war, and mounted by the scale of death to superiority: He hath been tutor'd in subtleties and craft, purloining other mens opinions, passions, and purposes, to win the way to his promotion. It was his earliest object; his vacant soul received it for a solitary portion. Thus ambition hath become his only passion. The slaughter of his brother-soldier is his prosperity, and his exaltation comes fostered in bloodshed. Thence it is, that affection and compassion never were subjects of his brutal bosom. All true courage is derived from virtue, and honour from integrity; but the soldier's substitutes for these are savage insensibility, and the law of arms. From his youth, his estimates of mankind have been formed from himself; he barters existence for his pay; his blood is hired with the wages: So every attachment, every principle, every price is given to serve ambition.’ Such is the man in whom Father Peter puts his confidence. Immersed in crimes like these, such a man cannot possess one virtue. Such a man can assassinate his friend.

JESSALIND sought a resting place in an adjoining convent, whose abbess was a distant relation to her husband. Here she determined to remain, until she could hear from her father in Normandy, into whose arms she would throw herself, to spend the remainder of her miserable days.

THE night which had overshadowed Astianax, was heavily beset with clouds, and the young moon soon reach'd the dusky horizon; yet, with unremitting steps, he sought the heath. At length he sat him down, where rugged rocks had formed a little circle, resorted to by goats, who shunned the storms of winter, or sought the shadowy haunt to screen them from the summer-sun. Amidst the dusty tracks, some little plots of grass were scattered, inviting to repose; and, down the rifted cliffs, a stream of water trickled through the moss, to tempt the fainting lips with its refreshment. The weary limbs will yield to rest, even amidst the afflictions of the mind. The grass, the murmuring breeze, the water-trill, all tempted sleep. Astianax sunk into repose. Ere long, beyond the hills the distant thunders growl'd, and gushing winds bustle through the rocks. The storm advances, and now a horrid peal bursts o'er Astianax's head. Astonished he awakes. In terror he cries out, ‘Here rests the miscreant, O Lord: From thee the sinner finds no hiding place: Thy vengeance ever overtakes the guilty.’ The heavy clouds were rent; light changing instantaneous with darkness; floods of lightning fill the whole welkin with a blaze; light, too acute for mortal eye, succeeds impenetrable darkness; the loud thunder-claps, which seemed to convulse the world, in their intervals, were followed by a dreary universal silence, in which the very breezes slept. Astianax trembled! The human mind, conscious of evil, is busy to torment itself. Guilt dragging on remorse, brings terror his attendant. Astianax doubted not the angry arm of Providence wielded the storm, to brand the odious wretch, whose hands were red with the murder of his friend, and whose head was overwhelmed with the misery of having undone a virtuous wife, and beggar'd his progeny even in the womb.

AT length the hurricane subsides, and, ere it was long, the morning dawns; the clouds had gathered up their heavy skirts, and left the horizon tinged with a silver ray, which lighted up the pale grey eye of morn. The distant hills were green to the view, and night's last shadow fled adown the valleys, mixing with the blue trimmed vapours. The heavens above were muffled in a shaggy cloak, like ruffled plumes, when the awaking vulture shakes his pinions. At length the fringe of every folding cloud was stained with crimson; the dye improves, till the whole velvet mantle of the rising day, glowed into scarlet, edged with burnished gold; and forth ascends the ruddy orb of light, exulting in the race he now renews. All nature, as if ashamed of being caught within the sluggard arms of sleep, wore blushes. Now the universal silence is subdued: The birds awake the song: The curlew pipes it as he passes on: The plover, on her bustling pinion, sallies round, and the heath cock cackles to his brood, to lead them to the sweet repast of bilberries luxuriant.

How cheering is the face of morn to innocence! but to Astianax it was increase of woe. The night removed, removes his safety. Pent in by rocks, within a narrow space, far from the road of any passengers, save shepherds, he resolved to pass away the day; and when the evening returned, pursue his way into the mountains, where there are mines; and there, amongst these miserable men, who earn a sorry sustenance, by labouring in the bowels of the earth, he might at once support existence, and conceal himself, till he could send intelligence to Alfred, the father of his Jessalind, of his situation, that he might move the throne for pardon. Amongst the cliffs, he gathered berries to stay his hunger, from briers, brambles, and the juniper, and drank his drink fresh from the fountain's lip.

As he sate in tears, to pass away the heavy hours of day, the dreary waste surrounding, afforded no prospects to amuse the mind; where Nature sate in Desolation's weeds, and mourned the long protracted absence of Sylva and her sister Ceres. All around, or hill, or dale, was clad in russet heath; save here and there a barren mountain lifts its rugged brow, a mass of storm-bleach'd cliffs, where vegetation, from the reign of chaos, never smiled; or chance some plots lying on the distant steep, from whence the heath, by lightning burnt, had made a space for grass and pasturage; where shaggy goats were seen to climb, or some few scattered sheep; over which a starving shepherd hung, desponding of the providence of Heaven; and scarce believes himself the better brute. Whilst near at hand a hasty brook was seen, as driven on from rock to rock in course confused, pouring its frothy streams precipitate; impatient to escape the inhospitable, the native land: Along whose channel rocks beset with yew, stand mutes to mourn her passage into happier climes. No swallow flitted through the winding way, nor rail consoled her negro race with chearful call: A sad resort for sickening goats, a secret dell where they could hide their woe from mortal eye; save a single pair of ravens, who occupied the place, and named it the vale of melancholy; where, to the ear of misery, they told the daily tale of death. Whilst o'er the spacious tract of moor, and down the dreary dale, Astianax's eye wearily wandered, the sun had shot his rays beyond the cloud, and lighted up the distant hill, where, grief to his soul, at the stretch of sight, he viewed the fair enclosures, and the chearful verdure of a cultivated land, as extending from out the richer valley. The vapours which o'erhang the dale, seeming to blaze with light, as if the God of nature shed a bounteous smile upon the favoured scene.

AFTER some days journey, distance secured the wanderer; and now he ventured forth by day. In his wretched journey, accident had brought him to a shepherd's hut, placed in a little vale, surrounded by a chain of mountains; where a few acres, with fresh verdure, pastured a cow. The hills descending to the south, abounded with wild thyme, and variegated pansies; where a flock of sheep, with fleeces white as snow, were scattered up and down. The northern hills stood rugged and black, mourning the distant God of day, who only once a year, shot transverse rays across the waste; and look'd askance upon the seat of barrenness. Through this valley a little stream, with many meandrings, winds its tardy pace, as if it lingered in the scene it loved. Along the margin nodding willows play'd with fond reflection in the silver lake: There hazels mixed with poplars stand, where thrushes whistle on the rural song of sweet retirement. A little plain fronted the hut, where a single thorn had grown for half a century; beneath whose shade, a bench built up of stones and turf, afforded a pleasing resting place. Thick ivy covered the cottage front, and house leek ornamented the thatch. A little plot of garden ground was stocked with roots; where, in one continued range, a multitude of bee-hives stood, and, in the sunshine, sent their buzzing myriads forth to labour. At the approach of Astianax, a dog that slumbered in his watch, gave the alarm; and, to his barkings echo from the hill, repeats the signal to the distant swain. A grey old man came forth, whose countenance shone with benevolence; as wondering to behold a man in gay apparel wandering there, amidst the mountains, far from any road, a place scarce accessible, and seldom visited by any but shepherds: He, for a while, remained silent, whilst he surveyed Astianax with deep attention. He saluted him: Enquired what occasion brought him there, and what those sorrows were which he perceived to hang upon his brow. Astianax returned his gracious looks with tears. "Father," says he, ‘I am unfortunate: My miseries have overwhelmed me: The treachery of men hath made me hate their intercourse: And here I wander, finding greater satisfaction in wastes and wilds, sustaining life with berries and the fountain's brim, than in the crowded hall busy'd with servile cringing dogs, and smelling rank of luxury and riot.’

THE shepherd, from his talk, conceived Astianax was disordered in his mind. His compassion prompted him to lend his aid to calm his troubled reason. Charity, with her looks benign, lighted up his countenance; and the Divinity shone forth his presence on his features: Wisdom, with silver-hair'd experience, stood confest o'er all his figure: "Blessed old age," exclaimed the enraptured Astianax, ‘in thee mankind confess the image which God ordained in the first creation.’—

"YOUNG man," interrupts the shepherd, ‘rest here a little. First, I pray thee, recollect, that all the ways of Providence are left unsearchable to human understanding; and so blind are we, that oftentimes those things which we esteem calamities, lead to the birth of our felicity; and what is present evil, is the very passage to our prosperity. Tell me whence are all thy sorrows. I would talk to thee of that all-seeing everbounteous God, who, despising not the sighings of a contrite heart, drieth up the tears of men in misery. Perchance I thus, his minister, may lend thee consolation.’ Astianax was moved anew: He recollected the admonitions of the Hermit: Conscious that he had neglected his sage precepts, and yielded himself a sacrifice to passion, fresh tears were shed. After some moments of astonishment, that the judgement of each reverend teacher had admonished him to principles of the like import, and weighing in his thought the tenor of his crimes, as being incapable of consolation; he replies, ‘In vain you talk of that great Being, in whom alone is peace: In vain you ask of my afflictions: My miseries are not to be revealed: The secret, through a thousand vows, is bound in darkness! The recollection will for ever be my torment; madness would attend description! The baseness, the villainies, the treacheries of mankind, afford a history so horrid, that their permission, in the eye of Heaven, would make even zealots stagger from their religion into infidelity, and blasphemously cry, amidst the darkness, there is no God! My wretchedness hath wrestled with consolation by the way, and the Comforter is passed by. Time once elapsed turneth not his wings. Offended Heaven hath marked me with the seal of fate; from the celestial eye I wander forth, like Cain, to hide me from the countenance divine, which I have enflamed with wrath; if, in this world, a place is found where God abideth not. But behold! amidst these horrid wastes, this little paradise is placed, where he communes with shepherds.’

AFTER some little talk, the good old man desired his visiter to take refreshment, and set before him, milk, with butter, honey, and bread; and, to conclude the mess, in a plain cup of horn, served him with nectar, brewed from the stores the busy bees had yielded. The cheering repast, afforded gayer spirits. The shepherd, with joy, perceived his guest's countenance much brightened: His benevolent heart exulted, he asks the stranger to enter his hut, where a grave bending matron, the consort of the shepherd's happiness, was assiduous in the cleanly offices of her household. From the hills returned the shepherd's two sons; hardy and hale the youths breath'd freshness and health. In gratitude for the bounty of their father, Astianax, from his purse, presented them with each two broad pieces of gold. Wonder struck their countenance; they were astonish'd at the gift; and their hearts were filled with wishes, to render him good offices.

ASTIANAX arose, and bid the shepherd and his family adieu. The old man stay'd him, earnestly desiring to know, whither he sought to go, or where he hoped to rest? The question could not be resolved. He knew not whither he wandered; but, to the importuning of his host, at length he answered: ‘I seek some place for my retirement, where Innocence and Truth have formed their habitation; if they, ere this, are not escap'd to Heaven. I have forsworn the busy world, and seek to form some Hermitage, where I may spend my life in prayer and meditation, by penitence to purchase expiation of my crimes. Some Hermitage where few men come, and yet where human steps may tread, that seeing them I may remember what I am; and renewing to my mind the history of mankind, I may daily, to the throne of Heaven, put up petitions for mercies on them; to repay evil with good, and close this life of misery and care, in supplications for the pardon of the world.’

"AN Hermitage you seek," replies the shepherd, ‘the Hermitage of Paul Du' Monte, as old tradition goes, was near this place.’

THE name Du' Monte struck Astianax with horror! His own sirname. He thought he had associated with necromancers. The old man beheld his agitation with surprise, and ask'd the cause: But he was replied to with sighs. ‘My sons,’ added the shepherd, ‘shall attend you to the hill, where, story tells, this ancient Hermit dwelt; a man of holy life, and sage beyond his race: Of noted birth, near in blood to nobles; yet there he dwelt. The first surprise past over, Astianax, with impatience, desired the young men would accompany him.’ The task was arduous, but they were ready to testify their gratitude by such their assiduity. ‘Repose yourself with us this night,’ the shepherd said, ‘the spot is distant six hours journey; there I have a few good goats; and, at some seasons, these my sons go near the place, to see how fares my herd. In the morning they shall shew the way; and, that the hours may not seem irksome, I will relate to you the history, as I received it from my grandsire; who, though then of ninety years of age, had heard the tale when young, as a relation of far distant facts.’ With anxious ear Affianax attended. The shepherd thus:

‘FROM Normandy the good man came, the youngest son of Lord Du' Monte. Bred to the holy office of a priest; he was a member of the priory of St Augustine.’

ASTIANAX was greatly agitated at this prelude. His colour came and fled alternately. The shepherd, observing his confusion, asked him; ‘Wherefore the story moved him? The history of a man, who, centuries ago, had hid himself amidst these wilds; and of whom he apprehended, Astianax had never heard till then.’ To conceal his thoughts, he replied: ‘The story, in its beginning, reminds me of my father, who, in my youth, would often laugh, and tell of mad Du' Monte. The memory of that father, is sacred to my soul. These sighs a duteous tribute to his memory. His parental virtues are indelibly written on my recollection.’

"To the Hermit," continued the shepherd, ‘in reward for his great piety, a visiting angel left the realms of light, to pour upon him gifts most excellent and supernatural. The gift of healing was his own, and simples gathered from the cliffs and wilds, became from him most salutary medicine. His knowledge in Nature's secrets was extensive; he foretold the seasons and their changes, and saw the dire approach of famine, pestilence, or war. His wisdom afforded him the power of upright judgement; and with the shepherds he was judge, determining their wrongs and injuries. He taught the rudest men the sense of moral virtues; and the lips of infants breath'd his prayer. The sins and subtleties of the ecclesiastics of St Augustine's house disgusted him: Their avarice and their intrigues were oft his talk; and, when he uttered condemnations on their lives, he trembled for the wrath of Heaven, which those most impious men provoked by their hypocrisy. The errors of those learned sinners, defying the enlightened spirit of science, hardily braving a Deity, in whose name they taught deceit, and cloak'd the worst of crimes, so offended the upright soul of Paul Du' Monte, that he sought these barren mountains, there to devote his life to piety and godly works. In this solitude he remained for many seasons; at length, age and infirmity had bent his reverend figure; and every day, for long he sate at the entrance of his cell, as if watchful for his releasing angel, to give his spirit freedom from mortality: And every shepherd often would he ask, if yet no stranger was perceived about the mountains, as questing for his habitation. At length the visiter appeared, with whom he seemed affectionately intimate. One day he summoned to his cell the neighbouring herdsmen, and thus addressed them: That you may declare my words unto your children, and they to late posterity deliver the tradition down, I call you here. You have known me long, and know my truth; this visiter he is my brother. I had foretold his coming, and I knew it was the signal of my mortal dissolution. Scarce yet an hour remains for life. The herds all lov'd the Hermit, and all wept. Forth from his breast he drew a crucifix, and placed it on his brother's neck: Wear this, he cries, beloved Norban.’

AT that name Astianax, like one struck with instantaneous lightning, started, and sunk upon a knee, with hands extended towards the shepherd, in astonishment, devouring every accent, and each look.

THE old man thought these were the starts and passions of his malady, pitying which, he forbore to proceed. Astianax, yet kneeling, and trembling with impatience, requested him to go on. He obeyed. ‘Wear this, beloved Norban, said the Hermit; sword, pestilence, and storms, shall never injure thee, whilst this crucifix shall hang upon thy neck. The jewel of extraordinary nature, no sooner rested on the bosom of Norban, than forth it shed a blaze of light, too piercing for the herds to gaze upon. This shalt thou wear, continued the Hermit, till a good old age shall lead thee through the tranquil hours, and yield thee to the peaceful sleep of death; but I charge thee, never divulge to any of thy kindred what further I relate. When the hour of thy dissolution comes upon thee, enjoin thy son in vows, that with thy armour this gem may hang within the mansion of Du' Monte: There it shall hang for ages, till one of thy good race, whom Heaven appoints to give rest unto my ashes, shall reassume it, and with it all its virtues.’

THE agitation still encreased within the bosom of Astianax: He scarce appeared to breathe, for wonder! The shepherd went on. ‘Lament not for me, said the Hermit, it is alone the flesh which sleeps: For I shall change this nature into spirit, that I may, for seven ages yet to come, become the guardian of my friends: Until these bones shall lie with my forefathers in the tomb, my soul shall be a wanderer in the middle regions; thence I shall pass, a mediating spirit, into the presence of the Divinity, presenting the petitions of thy posterity on earth, before his everlasting throne. In that period of time, when my ashes shall rest in the sepulchre of the Du' Montes, thy issue Norban will again reassume their ducal title, and possess the large demains which Norman William granted to our ancestor, as a reward for his illustrious virtues. Depart, he cry'd, and leave me to my prayer. Indulge this last embrace —a brother's kiss—adieu!’

NORBAN, with the herdsmen, retired, and left the cell. Instantly the mountain shook, as if the world was falling into ruin; in the strange convulsion, the rocks, with mighty sounds, were torn asunder; bursting waters loosened from their subterraneous prisons; tumbling rocks and peals of thunder in the bowels of the earth; made a tremendous uproar! The cell was closed, and, from the cliffs above, a headlong torrent rushed, in whose waters the sun beams struck, and shewed a blaze of light, like that protecting sword, which shone at Eden's gate, to guard the sacred pass.

NORBAN, with the spectators, fled in astonishment! Astianax, in silence, listened to the latest accents, which, for some time, seemed to sound upon his wondering ear. His attitude was motionless, until the shepherd, in compassion to his malady, lent him his arm, and roused him from his depth of thought. With clasping hands, and eyes uplifted, he repeats: ‘Till one of thy good race, whom Heaven appoints to give rest unto my ashes, shall reassume it, and with it all its virtues.— Most wonderful and most mysterious sentences! Grant unto me, almighty Lord of Heaven, who seest all the secrets of futurity, the understanding of these dark presages; make me the minister of this great work, and guide me on to bless the spirit of Du' Monte.’

THE good old shepherd smiled, and his two sons laughed out aloud, at these his strange extravagancies. Astianax was not moved at their improprieties.

"GRANT unto me," he cries with an encreasing fervour, ‘grant unto me, O God, the virtuous labour of giving rest unto the bones of Paul Du' Monte within the tomb of his forefathers! Conscious I am of the imperfection of human judgement! Men are blind in their distinctions between good and evil! The wretchedness which I endured, thy Providence ordained for good, that thence I might be brought into this pious office; and all those evils which betided me, were only means of this thy work destined for me from seven long ages past. As my present duty was concealed in time elapsed, so are the means accomplishing these prophesies unveiled from comprehension; but my breast feels all thy holy inspiration, which pours upon my spirit confidence and intrepidity, and with me is thy mighty arm, before whose power nothing remains impossible.’

HE raised himself, and, on his opened bosom hung the onyx, blazing forth a lustre equal to the midnight moon, when passing clouds give forth her silver rays on the still ocean, as she rolls her chariot wheels o'er her meridian. Amazement struck the cottagers! they were ashamed of their arrogance, and turned away their face! Astianax consoled them: His wild appearance carry'd the impressions they had entertained. No wonder the idea of such malady had possessed their minds at his being seen amidst the wildest wastes of Britain, where none but shepherds had, for ages past, been known to visit: But now they looked upon the stranger as a man of God, led forth by Providence's secret hand, on embassy miraculous.

SOON as it was morning, Astianax, with the two young shepherds, proceeded to the hills. The country seemed to have changed its aspect; the young men wandered on bewildered! Terror came upon them, and they fled! Astianax all the day persevered in his journey up the steeps, led by a winding way which seemed to have been worn by passing goats. At length, fatigued, he sate down beneath the covert of a solitary yew, which hung from off the brink of rocks yet unessay'd; and, night approaching, there he slept! And, as he slept, his mind was touched with images, far distant from the thoughts which had employed the day. His friend, the slaughtered Grinvil, seem'd to pass before him, array'd for battle. Laurels wreathed a verdant shade over his casque; and, on his sword the image of victory stood graven; the field was gay with spring; and, o'er the flowers, his steed on bounding pasterns, seemed to tread as light as air; and, sporting with the bit, submitted play-fully to his restraint. The dreamer's fluttering heart received the accents uttered by the shade: ‘Did Astianax but live, did the brave man but know that Grinvil is on earth, and heard him call him to the field of glory, how would his bounding soul leap from the fetters of despair and wretchedness, and glow with the ardour of reviving virtue? brighter blazing, as the meteor adds to its lustre, by the darkness of the night, from whence it bursts into existence. Then would I restore him to these worthy friends, and save a suicide! They follow me.’ The vision seemed to keep silence. When there succeeded, drest in bridal robes, a fair one led reluctant on, whose down-cast countenance was hidden from the dreamer's eye. At distance stood the wedding couch crowded with attendants, and overspread with roses: The crimson curtain was supported by laughing Cupids, and the blushing Graces played with the bridal girdle. As the bride approach'd the bed, with tear-fill'd eyes, she cast up looks of anguish to the skies, and lifted her resolute arm to plunge a dagger in her bosom, crying out: ‘I never cease to love thee, my Astianax!’ But ere the blow was struck, there rush'd upon her a young stripling, calling himself her son, and shewed the dreamer that it was his Jessalind.

IN a tumult of distress and joy, trembling, yet fevered, the astonished wanderer awaked, when all was past away; and the uprising sun chid his dilatory steps, and gave him back the prospect of rude mountains, horrid wastes, and piles of rocks; such as old chaos formed in sportive mood, as monuments of his dreary empire. His amazement encreased, when he beheld the face of nature changed, and, like his dream, the wonderous work of causes supernatural presenting to him images fantastical and wild. The hill was rent, and opened to his eye a winding passage through stupendous rocks, which seemed to prop the azure arch of Heaven. As he passed on, within some little distance, a crystal rill poured its divided streams from high, and trill'd from cliff to cliff around a gaping cavern, which opened its dreary bosom to the view. Led by an impulse irresistible, Astianax with virtuous fortitude approached. The onyx shed propitious beams, conducting him through narrow passes to a spacious cell; whose ample roof, incrusted with variety of minerals, reflected to his eye the blaze of gems innumerable.

AT a table, form'd of porphyry, cut from the solid mass whereon it stood, there sate, in meditative posture, the figure of a man, as if preserved by spices and embalming. His long and spreading beard, and graceful locks which hung upon his neck, were white, and shone as silver, as struck by the faint beams of day, which entered some apertures in the roof. A shaggy mantle, the skin of a wild roe, cloathed his shoulders; and his jacket was encircled with a leathern girdle. As he reclined his head upon his hand, one elbow rested on the table; before him lay a book, an extinguished lamp, and rosary; around the cell instruments for astronomy were scattered. In a niche formed in the wall by Nature, studded and emboss'd with spar and spangles, representing amethysts, an empty urn was placed, inscribed, ‘The dust of Paul Du' Monte.’

As Astianax approached, the lustre of the onyx seemed to blaze upon the effigy, and every limb was agitated. A livid lambent flame surrounded all his image, and darted on his eye, like light refracted on the emerald. A voice, as one that spake aloft in air, call'd on Astianax. The voice, the apparition, renewed to him the remembrance of the Hermit in the wood. Kneeling, he replied: ‘Thou hallowed spirit of my ancestor, for such thou surely art, here am I; conducted by the hand of Providence, I come to serve thy will, and see the wonderful accomplishment of thy presagings.’ The vision raised his head, and, with extended arm, seemed to demand attention; when a voice was heard to say: ‘Here thou shalt remain, to serve thy God in prayer and meditation, until the time shall be accomplished, which hath been written in the book of fate! To delight thy solitary hours, peruse this book; it will enrich thy mind with science; and, from science true religion is derived: For, as thou advancest in philosophy, the growing ideas will enlarge thy knowledge of the Deity, as his wonderous works and attributes are revealed to thy understanding. On the day in which thou shalt attain the last of these few folios, on that day the will of Heaven shall lead thee hence. When thou departest, carry forth my ashes, and let them rest amidst my ancestors!’

As the last sounds expired, the apparition quivered in each limb; and, as it sunk, Astianax snatched off his cloak, and, spreading it to catch the sacred form, received it as it wasted in a shower of dust. With pious care, he lodged the hallowed remains within the urn; after replacing which, bending on one knee, thus he poured forth his prayer: ‘Holy spirit of Du' Monte, thy prophetic knowledge hitherto foretold these wonderful events, perceiving, through the course of centuries unborn, this pilgrimage of mine! if thou art not enthroned in the realms of Heaven, and far abstracted from all cares for thy posterity, art reigning in the ineffable beatitudes which await thy virtue; but as thou foretoldest, art a mediating spirit, presenting to the throne of mercy, mens petitions; O bend thy gracious care towards my Jessalind! May some benign spirit save her, and the issue of our love! And, when thy holy self shall pay the adoration undefiled, which spirits only know, before the throne of the Divinity; let thy mediating intercessions breathe in Heaven for these thy kindred! Oh! may she be sustained with some spiritual consolation, to reconcile her soul; effacing from her memory, the injuries her rash Lord hath done her virtue; and may she conceive, that all the dire events she hath endured, were works conducing unto good, good not revealed, yet ordained in Heaven; and may her bosom entertain a confidence her Astianax survives.’

HE ceased, and around the grot, innumerable voices, in strains seraphic, sung an hallelujah! The enraptured soul of Astianax, amidst the melody, seemed to depart from its imprisonment, and quit its mortal senses; tasting of transports far surpassing what in human being she had hitherto experienced. In a little time he became habituated to his cell: Not far distant ran the rill, which fill'd his daily cup; the cliffs afforded berry-bearing shrubs and nuts; the shepherds brought him milk of goats; and, facing the sun, some little fertile plots he fill'd with herbs. The pleasing pages of the book of science occupied the hours, which were spared from his other avocations; and thus he pass'd a life of fair tranquillity. The evening led him to his peaceful couch, where fleep was uninterrupted with images arising from distempered nerves, and with the dawn he wakes.

THE prophecy being by tradition handed down amongst the shepherds, the coming of Astianax was soon made known. The strange event brought the astonish'd people to the cell, to pay him homage as a man divine, and offer gifts. Their pious hands strewed his couch with skins of goats, and cloathed him with garments, such as their humble life afforded. To them Astianax incessantly was teaching moral duties; and, to their maladies, applied the salutary simples which he cultivated; thus imitating the excellencies of his predecessor, and emulating all his virtues; and hence, inspiring the minds of his attendants with reverence and love. The sons of the hospitable shepherd in the vale, from frequent intercourse, experiencing the virtues of his soul, as a saint esteemed him. Depending on their fidelity, and recollecting the vision which preceded his approach to this his Hermitage, and which, he apprehended, was designed to touch his mind with resignation and consolatory hopes, presaging better fate; he often wish'd to send the young men forth, to gain intelligence, whether his Jessalind was yet alive, and what betided the possessions of Du' Monte: But ever, as the wish grew anxious, the lustre of the onyx languished, and weep'd with blood! The dire appearance was succeeded by contrition, for his transgression of the maxims of his hallowed ancestor; and all the images which hope or expectation painted on his mind, quickly were effaced; and his disturbed spirit left the ideas of the world he wished for, and from prayer regained his lost serenity.

ALREADY were fourteen years elapsed in this abode; the book of wisdom yet remained unfinished, and the latest page of knowledge was far distant.

ONE morning, after his usual adoration, the same harmonious voices, which saluted Astianax upon his arrival, with the melody of Heaven, sung a Te Deum; and, from the sacred urn, there blazed a livid flame, which shed the sweet perfume of eastern spices, when consumed in incense: The gems around the urn reflect the rays, which glowed with beauties like the train of Iris, when she arises with a rosy toe upon the mountain's top, and rides upon the summer shower. The book of knowledge turned as leaves toss'd by the breeze, and shewed this last most sacred sentence: ‘The essence of all human wisdom is religion; in prosperity, it guides the giddy spirits to the paths of rectitude; and, in adversity, it blesseth us with confidence in God.’

ASTIANAX perused the lines; no sooner were they read, than the book closed, and to the table became firmly united, part of the very adamant itself. As he sate, his eyes were cast upon the ground, in meditation on the wonders to which he had been witness; from whence, he was roused by the voice of one who called him by his name! As he looked up, behold, there stood before him, the apparition of his murdered friend, of Grinvil! Guilt filled his breast with horror; in his astonishment he let go the maxims of the book of knowledge, and cried out: ‘Am I then summoned with thee to pass before the judgementseat? Will not my contrition expiate? Are my prayers unheard, and shall not my soul find mercy?’

HE was interrupted by the wellknown voice of Grinvil, assuring him, his prayers were heard; that he, yet living, and recovered of his wound, sought for Astianax in this solitude, to restore him to the world. Astianax's amazement was encreased! He scarce believed his senses! After a few moments, recovering himself, he arose to embrace his friend! Grinvil being seated, thus related his story:

‘A FEW days being over, after my removal from the bath, my wounds shewed symptoms flattering with hopes of a recovery; but, as they yet were dangerous, I was not suffered to bestir myself. I improved daily, till at length my skilful surgeon, gave permission to return to my own house; from whence I sent to make enquiry after Astianax; after Jessalind; after Lord Melvil! No intelligence could be gained of you: It was believed you died a suicide, and all enquiry ceased. Lord Melvil, urged to the pursuit of you, the fugitive, by Father Peter, armed a few domestics, and ranged the forests and the heath, as if he quested wolves: They were benighted; and, seeking shelter under the cliffs, which stand upon the crown of Mount Avaro:’—

"OF Mount Avaro," cried Astianax: ‘There was I! That was my hiding place! There I sustained a dreadful storm! There the avenging elements seemed to pursue the miscreant!’—

"SEEKING shelter in that place," continues Grinvil, ‘Lord Melvil, with two more, the chiefs of his domestics, died, branded by lightning!’—

ASTIANAX could not forbear to cry aloud, lifting his hands and eyes to Heaven: ‘How arrogantly blind is sinful man, presuming judgement in the darkest of his ignorance! Surrounded with the terrors of the storm, I deemed myself the mark for the enraged bolts; the wretch whom justice followed, armed with the brands of Heaven: I thought myself adjudged to misery! when, behold, the very things which I called wretchedness, were given me for blessings! Had morning arose upon us, I had fallen by the hands of Melvil; but, preordained for mighty works, here in this mountain, the will of Heaven was not to be confounded.’—

GRINVIL went on: ‘Lord Melvil's retinue dispersed, terrified and amazed, fled homewards, and left the bodies to the tempest. Geofrey, the son and heir of Melvil, took possession of his seigniories. Geofrey, a youth of high deportment, and a haughty spirit, contemning the bigotry and insolence of churchmen, refused to seal the grant of Astianax's escheated lands to the Benedictine monastery, in pursuance of the superstitious folly of his father. Polidore, whose treachery was publicly suspected, he who occasioned all these dire calamities to your ancient house, it was he that named the hour and place, for me to meet him on the fatal day, on a pretended urgency of business. I was a stranger to the time when the virtuous Jessalind usually resorted thither. The plot was wound up with a soldier's resolution, and the subtlety of priests.—You know the rest.’—

ASTIANAX weep'd with Grinvil.—

"BUT, as to Polidore," continues Grinvil, ‘he, wretched man, was soon no more: Possessed of Father Peter's secrets, the minister of an abortive plot, the holy Father, remaining in the power of one whose principles were well known to him, and in whose character at large, he could only place the momentary confidence for an assassin; he died the death—in the holy wafer it was administered— He departed from the altar full of health; and, ere it was midnight, he gave up the ghost. Receiving of the sacrament in him was sacrilege: By the vengeance of an offended Deity, or by poison, he was slain.’—

"BUT what of Jessalind," cries Astianax?—

"OF her," returns Grinvil, ‘I only heard, that, retiring to the convent where Lucia was Lady Abbess, in a little time, meeting with some disgust, she retired into Normandy, where she is living with her father: But whether there is issue of your love, is yet unknown to me. My coming here (continues he) may seem miraculous. I apprehended that, if you could escape, you would have fled to Normandy; but the monastic, in Lord Melvil's name, had gained immediate power to search the ports and passengers; thence all probability of that attempt was void. Fruitless enquiries for many years, induced me to believe that thou wert dead; when by accident, as we were hawking in the Melshaw downs, I overtook a shepherd, and his flock, proceeding southward; I ask'd his way, and whence he came; and finding that of late he journeyed from the mountains, in a part of Britain where I had never been, curiosity prompted my enquiries. Amongst a multitude of stories such ignorant men relate, of wonders which they have heard, I was struck with his description of Pengerard, and this Hermitage; but much astonished, when I heard him relate a wonderful prophecy, which an Hermit, Paul Du' Monte, some centuries ago, published to the peasants: And when he told me these dark sayings were verified, and that the promised one was come; my soul presaged, that hither you had bent your way, and taken your abode: Thence I determined to visit the place. My anxiety grew every hour upon me, and I was restless day and night, until I set forward on my journey.’—

"AND you, dear friend," replies Astianax, ‘bear a great part in the accomplishment of that ancient prophecy.’—

GRINVIL interrupted him, crying, ‘Now haste, my friend, and quit this gloomy cell. The field of honour calls thee to arms: For even now the young Lord Melvil, with his uncles the Lords Selbourn, and Henricks, and a mighty band of great confederates, have taken arms against our Sovereign, and march their rebel troops towards the royal residence. This is the season for thee at once to shew thy loyalty and valour, and claim thy usurped inheritance. Some chosen troops arrive from Normandy, perhaps with them comes Alfred, Jessalind's father, to redress the injuries of his family. My attendants wait my coming, about ten miles full west, and with them some spare steeds well train'd to arms. Haste to reassume thy honours.’—

THE dream now stood revived upon Astianax's memory, and hope inspired the pleasing images of Jessalind's return: ‘Were it not for the pious duty,’ cries Astianax, ‘which I owe to the sacred memory of Paul Du' Monte, and to these his hallowed ashes, I would instantly accompany my friend towards the field of honour: But the angelic voice of him departed, left me this indispensable injunction, When thou goes hence, carry forth my dust, and let it rest amidst my ancestors! First permit me to fulfil his last request, committed to me from the regions of spirits.’—

GRINVIL was silent.—

AFTER some little preparations, they left the Hermitage, Astianax in his arms bearing the urn; thus journeying until they reached the retinue, which waited Grinvil's return. As they pass'd on, towards night they gained a village. Astianax retired to the church, and, on the altar, placed the sacred urn; then prostrate he poured forth his thanksgiving to that bounteous Providence which had preserved him thus miraculously. From hence he retired, leaving the ashes of Paul Du' Monte till morning.

EARLY as day break, Astianax again approached the altar; with reverence he laid his hands upon the urn, to bear it on his journey; but it was six'd immoveable! Amidst his astonishment, he heard a voice, commanding him to leave the ashes there at rest, till peace was in the land. With pious resignation he obeyed, and retiring, informed his friend, that he was now at liberty to accompany him to the seat of war. He quitted the Hermit's garb, and, from his beard, which reached his girdle, formed his countenance into the modern cut. Furnished with a suit of armour, he assumed the lance, and strode the managed steed. As they journey'd on, they approach'd the territories of Lord Albon. This Lord had called to arms his vassals and his knights, and was preparing his march to join the royal standard! It was now evening, and Astianax, with his friend, had formed their little camp, upon the brow of an easy eminence, where they overlook'd the vale. They determined to join their forces in the morning• and, to that end, sent a messenger to greet Lord Albon, and inform him of their arrival. As Astianax sate in the door of his tent, meditating on the bounties of Heaven, and enjoying the delightful prospect, with the freshness of the evening, thus he express'd himself to his friend:

‘WHILST we attend to the works of Nature, we receive innumerable testimonies of the benevolence of that great Existence, whose eye superintends, and whose breath pervades the universe. Every landscape is the manifestation of the presence of its all-powerful Author: Every individual object in this scene bears inexpressible beauties, which exceed human imagination, leading us at once to astonishment and adoration: See how the velvet-verdant carpet, which overspreads the lawn, is embroidered with flowers, and fringed with shrubs, irregularly scattered round: The autumn dresses yonder woods in a variety of colours: The foliage of the shadowy sycamore is gilded, the oak puts on his russet, the holly half conceals her ripened berries with her evergreen, the trembling poplar mixes its silvery hue amidst the dusky elms, and, here and there, thro' the thick grove, the white-skin'd birch seems to conceal its nakedness. Amidst the windings of the woods, the river shews its shining lakes, where the glad spirit of the streams, laughs at the dancing myriads of the sun beams. Their fleecy multitudes whiten the extended pasture, browsing around the hillocks, and with their bleating wake solitary echo from her Silvan grot; all intermixed, the lazy oxen stand sullenly, and recollect the flowery feast, whilst the gay fantastic colts play round their dams, vaulting in airy sport; and to their airy sport, the dams cast looks askance, and neigh maternal cautions to their frantic rounds. On this hand, golden furrows gladden the ascent, and load the reapers arms with wealthy sheafs. The yellow hills stretch out the distant view to yonder heathy mountains, where Barrenness sits sullenly, and frowns on Sloth; and, whilst she eyes her haggard bosom, furrowed over by storms, with extended arms she grasps the cumberous clouds, to veil her desolation. Wilder the aspect on the other hand, which terminates the prospect; the vale extends itself to such a distance, that, tinged with azure hue, it seems to mix with Heaven; the nearer objects are o'ertop'd in gay perspective with objects still behind. Hamlets and rills, and cottages delightfully dispersed, and mingled with the various teints of trees and streams, of pastures, corn, and fallow. The church spire thrusts its head above the smoak which clouds the town; and there the solemn ruins of a castle nod upon the cliff and precipice, and tremble o'er the brook below, whose frighted Nereides hide them in the reeds which wave along the marsh. Oh! thou most splendid object, thou descending orb of light, how wonderful, how delighting! From thy abounding glory are shed forth the golden streams which paint the western Heavens: To thy blazing chariot wheel gay vegetation, ever young, and fair fertility, with joys prolific wait: Now the slant ray overstretches all the valley, and there, behind the hill, the beams shoot up aloft, and skirt the pale grey, and the crimson clouds, with rich embroidery: But, whilst we contemplate the beauties of the scene, behold, far east, the horizon stands crouded with ascending vapours; and thou day-imparting constellation, hastenest thy career, and drives the rosy-footed hours beneath the mountains: As objects are withdrawing from our view, another sense finds pleasure: The bleating of the sheep, the voice of cattle trudging down the plain, and mourning for the pail, salute my ear; the song of yonder blackbird perch'd upon the thorn, the calling notes of every tenant of the spray; the cooing of the doves that lodge in dusky pines, the rustling gales which wanton with the aspine leaves, the ivy-cover'd sage, who whoots his trembling prayer to deities of darkness, the deep ton'd cadence of the distant water-fall, the voice of busy men who bear the harvest home, the clangour of the smith's laborious hammer from his hovel, the dashing of the streams which turn yon mill, the barking of the cottage cur, who waits impatiently the long protracted steps of his dear peasant master, with the solemn sound of curfew bell which dies along the dale, as thus united or intermixed, afford delightful harmony. Through all thy glorious works, almighty Lord, the enraptured spirit of the human mind wanders forth, and full of wonder, full of praise, dwells on each object, till in itself enlarged with the pure flame of adoration; through unbounded space it bends inspired imagination, and presents itself prostrate at thy throne, full of humiliation, reverence, and gratitude; paying to thy divine existence, that worship which human language never can express.’

GRINVIL now invites his friend to share a slight repast, and sweet repose concludes the night. The day-spring calls them to their march, and ere it is noon they reach the territories of Lord Albon. A trumpeter salutes the stranger allies; they draw near the castle; a massy pile of building thrown together by various architects, all irregular and confused; towers jostle towers, and battlement rides on battlement; a dark unhallowed aspect hangs upon it. Time had dress'd the walls in sable, and gasping loops and yawning grates, beset the horrid front, and strike it with the characters of savage times, of power uncivilized, of slavery, and arbitrary rule. Here the open gallery conducts to each rude tower, whose walls stand garrisoned with men of stone to mock the siege. As the strangers approach the gate, the pavement sounds beneath the horses hoofs, and hollow arches multiply the noise. They cross the draw-bridge of the ditch, and, to the trumpet's summons, the iron studded gates roll rumbling on the massive hinge, and the portcullis, in its passage, harshly grates as the watchmen heave it up. From a multitude of sluices waters rush, and fill the muddy ditch. On the outward wall, men buckled up in steel, bearing various arms, spears, bills, and battle axes, stand arraigned, and archers throng each turret. The noise of busy workmen, with shrill clangour, fitting harness, armour, and arms, is heard on every side! Lord Albon's extensive seigniories command seven hundred knights, with their esquires and retinue, together with twelve hundred villains, valient men, renowned in arms, which composed the garrison. These were the guests he entertained. An herald conducted the strangers to Lord Albon, where, with his knights, he sate in council.

THE spacious hall received the concourse most commodiously; situate within the inner court, and sheltered from an enemy, it wore a different aspect to the outworks. The ascent was by an open stair, where ten might move abreast. The walls within were hung with tapestry, where the historian told the atchievements of his Lordship's ancestors. The windows admitted shadowy day, shining through painted glass, where shields and family-coat armour were blazoned. The painted rafters were sustained by gilded effigies of Hercules, bending his bearing neck. In the gallery stood musicians, on the strangers approach, sounding the salute. Lord Albon sate, and on each side a rank of knights armed cap à pè; behind each of whom stood an esquire bearing the shield, stained or engraven with the several devices of their proper arms. Between the ranks Grinvil and Astianax mov'd on, their retinue halting at the foot. These ranks form a gloomy avenue of armour, an arrangement of steel statues, and burnish'd images. As the strangers pass, the lances were bent down by each saluting knight. The agitated plumes toss'd on each helmet's brow, and from the moving joints of every gauntlet and each coat of mail, a harsh and horrid din re-echoed in the hall. They approach Lord Albon, whose noble figure struck each stranger with respectfulness. His armour polished and black as adamant, was flowered and figured with inlaid gold! His cuirass, like the scales of dragons, shone with burnish'd silver; and, round his collar, and on every joint, the studs were diamonds! On his helmet plumes of scarlet waved, and, at his thigh, a scimitar suspended in a belt of gold embroidery, blazed with precious stones! He graciously received the visiters, retained them with their retinue in his corps, and sate them one on each hand to attend in council. From his uplifted beaver, Lord Albon shewed a benevolent countenance, and, from his dark grey eyes, shot forth intelligence. The news brought by the scouts and spies related, that the royal army was moving towards the rebels, which shewed that the battle was not far off. After a farewel repast, it was resolved to march and join the royal standard. The ample board was spread, the seats were placed along the hall, and every officious 'squire unbraced the buckler, and removed the helmet with a din of arms tumultuous and confused; as the sound of hail, when in a hasty storm, it falls upon the leafy forest: And now each hero's countenance revealed with gracious smiles; they greet the strangers. The table was encumbered with the mess: With every dainty of this luxurious land the dishes swell'd! The forest and the chace poured forth their stores; the pasture and the streams their stock: The service was in silver, and a thousand dishes stood smoaking with the rich repast! The sun beams glazed upon the arms, and danced upon the splendid feast, which far outshone the pomp of antient Rome. With officious care the board was cleared by multitudes of well taught slaves; and straight in porcelain were placed fruits, pastry, and variety of sweet meats, served to the guests with knives and spoons of solid gold! The musicians fill'd the air with martial melody, and, from the flowing cup, the sparkling wines were quaffed. After the feast was ended, they prepare for march, and in some days they join the royal army. Within sight, the rebels lay encamped upon an eminence so near, that, from the outposts, the passing of the watch was heard, the neighing of the steeds, and one confused murmuring of the voice of busy troops, mixed with the clang of arms. The King commanded in person, and to the royal tent the allies being introduced, were stationed in the right wing of the army. No Norman troops were in the field, detained by adverse winds, they had not disembarked. Orders were issued for the next day's attack, and all the troops were under arms. A spacious plain laid extended between the armies, hem'd in by hills upon the left, and to the right a deep morass. Each with ditches and high mounds of earth lay in their camp entrenched! The mind of brave Astianax, an utter stranger to emotions of fear, employed itself in thoughts divine: Humane compassion for his fellow creatures mov'd his soul: He viewed, with anxious eye, the long extended camp, stretching its storm bleach'd canvass o'er the hill: ‘How many worthy men, whose hearts beat ardently for honour, ere tomorrow's sun shall set, will sleep in death? How many valiant spirits, through a wreck of wounds, will pour themselves into eternity? How many widowed eyes must weep? How many orphans groan beneath adversity? Oh! cursed ambition, first introduced by Satan to the souls of men! A simple woman's passion, a passion with which simple woman first contaminated seduced man! A foolish name for avarice! Unlawful wish for other mens fair honours and possessions! Essence of Lucifer; the contrariety of Heaven; whose hand writes on the world, universal benevolence! What crimes are infolded in thy girdle? What wretchedness is enclosed in thy grasp? The circling zodiac; the belt of Heaven is scarce thy boundary! Oh! ambition! in thy illegitimacy, foster'd by rebellion, whither dost thou stretch thy raven wing, and bend thy boding flight? On whose raven wing not one white plume, or one fictitious mark of justice shines; but all is sable as the curtain which conceals the damn'd! What havock shall stalk forth amongst mankind? What horrid slaughter stain thy sullen crest, ere once the sun shall circle us; and, o'er the book of fate, the sorrowing Seraph who enrolls the day, will dip his pen in blood, in massacre, in wrong, in spoil, in desolation? But Providence permits these errors of mankind, and perhaps permits them in compassion to the dying! For man, in this estate, is on a pilgrimage from birth to death! must pass the ills of life to purge him from those defilements of sin original! sin of the spirit in its primeval state! As the ore is cast into the furnace and reduced to litharge, ere the refiner pours it forth in burnish'd gold! We, with mere mortal sense, view the events of life through mediums deceitful! We call the horrors of pestilence, and the havock of the war, as scourges that are wielded in the hand of some avenging angel— perhaps we err—perhaps they are the mode of clemency profuse, a clemency which calls in thousands of men from out their misery; giving short date to their calamities, and leading them into a realm of joy.—Good Lord, thy will be done!’

EARLY as the dawn, the royal army takes the field, and heralds pass, to call the foe to battle. The rebels, waiting for a tardy reinforcement, loiter in their entrenchments; till braved by the left wing, who seize the outward works, and shower their arrows on the foe; impatient in their restraint, receiving unretaliated wounds, they leap the trench. Lord Melvil, with the confederate chiefs, perceive their rashness, and compelled with their main army to sustain them, the battle becomes general. Astianax, with Grinvil, fought side by side. Astianax's armour turned aside the javelin and arrow; and the proved falchion made no impression on his coat of mail! Grinvil did wonders! His charge was rapid as the lightning, and thought itself could not outstrip his guard! At length, his javelin was shiver'd in the assault, and, to his trusty sword, he yielded all his valour! Long he fought, and vanquish'd every oppressing foe! But fate had wrote his doom; and he receiv'd an arrow through the plaits of his cuirass, a slant way shot, which pierced him underneath the arm, and rendered his sword no longer serviceable: He was compelled to retreat; and, meeting Astianax, who slaughtered like a pestilence, and cut his passage through the ranks whereever he assaulted; he, seeing his friend was wounded, forebore the havock, and retired to guard him to some safer spot, where the surgeons might withdraw the barb, and dress the wound. His friendly office once accomplished, Astianax flew back to join the battle. Providence ordained, that he should fill the most momentuous instant! The King, from his rash ardour, rushing too far, became encircled by a troop of choicest foes; sustained only by a few, who, overpowered, were falling round him, had already thought himself a prisoner; when, to the victorious phalanx, Astianax push'd on his steed: He fretted on the bit, and snuff'd the air impatiently, as conscious of the glory he should win. The crucifix upon Astianax's bosom blazed like a passing comet, and bedim'd the gazers eye! Destruction rode on every side, and gave him passage. The royal arm, the rebel hand had that instant rested; that instant to Astianax's falchion fell the sacrilegious hand, and scorn'd the miserable wretch who had abused its valour! Courage revived within the rallying guard! In the right wing, the cry of victory resounded! The centre pushes on, and joins the King. The rebels, from despair, now fought with madness!

ASTIANAX was foremost in the field for deeds of valour! One competitor alone fought for the King, and almost equal'd the hero in his claim for glory! Mounted on a dappled roan, a gallant steed, that toss'd his silver main aloft in air, a young man braved the greatest terrors of the war! The red teints on his horse's glossy skin, seem'd like a shower of blood! A crimson plume covered his helmet, and crimson ribbons bound his armour: Amidst the carnage of his sword, he was known only by the name of the Bloody Knight! Where'er the foes rush'd on, and gained upon the royal troops, there he attacked! and, when the fury of the despairing rebels made the battle the most sanguine, then, amidst the ranks, he forced his way, and, meeting with Lord Melvil, braved him to engage; unhors'd him, and, amidst his amazed vassals, severed his head from off his body; and bore it by the hair aloft to view! The spectacle dismayed the rebel troops;—they fled!—Whilst he approach'd the King, and made the offering which ensured the peace! The rout was general!

THE King sent forth an herald through his army, commanding the two valiant strangers to attend him in his tent. The Bloody Knight obeyed the summons; but Astianax had left the field, to visit his friend: Grinvil was still alive, but languish'd in his wound, which then portended inevitable death. He received Astianax, and heard his description of the battle, with a smile. Amidst the circumstances of the fight, the Bloody Knight engaged Astianax's wonder and applause: He dwelt upon his valour with a partial pleasure: "But," cries he, ‘what most astonishes, is the device he wore upon his shield; he bare a lion argent on a bloody field, supported on a rising golden sun; the coat of the Du' Montes.’—Grinvil interrupts: ‘Could this be a son of thine, my friend!’ ‘Oh! flattering thought,’ replies Astianax, ‘but empty and delusive! Had he been my son, he would have quartered Alfred's arms; that strange device, a savage tearing up a pine. But now, my friend, (says Astianax), let me conduct you to the neighbouring town, where you may rest commodiously, and have the ablest surgeons in the army to attend your wound. From thence, I will immediately repair to execute the will of Paul Du' Monte; and, when the pious office is accomplished, I will approach the King, and seek, as a reward, the restitution of my lands.’

BEFORE Astianax departed from his friend, Grinvil, apprehensive of the approach of death, thus address'd him: ‘Oh! Astianax, my friend, my kinsman; if thou feelest affection for me, remember my dear Livia, my sister. The fates decree a period to thy sorrows: The happy days approach, in which thy toils and sufferings will end. Then think of me. To thy care, I give the beauteous maid. She will inherit all my possessions; and, with that sufficiency, will display the bright, the illustrious excellencies of her soul. For she hath virtues which surpass most of her sex. Then Astianax:’— He paused.—

‘What would my friend require of me?’ cries Astianax.—

‘If thou hast a son, O let her asylum be thy regard.’—

AFTER these words, the friends both remained silent. Astianax relieved the anxious moment of deep thought, and, clasping his friend's hand, assured him of his protection of the fair Livia: ‘Whatever be my fate,’ adds he, ‘she shall be as a daughter to me.’—

GRINVIL returned his friendship with tears, and, on his hand, imprinted kisses. Alas! the last imprinted kisses of his life! These faithful friends embraced, and bid adieu!

ASTIANAX hasted to the village where the sacred ashes of his ancestor were rested. The King, after publishing a general pardon to the rebels who came in and swore allegiance, dispersed his army, and removed his court to York.

LORD Morton, who was a favourite with the King, was of a soul benevolent, as exalted with science. He rejoiced in rewarding virtue, wheresoever he discovered it. The valour of the Bloody Knight had fired his mind with admiration and esteem. He sent to invite him to his tent, and, with a courteousness peculiar to his character, engaged the heroic youth, with his attendants, to his castle; from whence, after a few days repose, he promised to conduct him to court; there to receive the royal bounty promised by his Majesty after the victory.

LORD Morton was desirous of knowing the quality of this stranger, in order that he might council him, what was the fittest request to offer to the throne; as his Majesty had left him to his option, in what manner he should honour him.— Thus he related the circumstances of his life:

‘I AM of Normandy, the grandson of Alfred, a man of ancient family. By my father's side, I am a lineal descendant of the Duke of Belfort, whose honours and domains were granted by the Norman William, for his valiant services. In a succeeding reign, Lord Alexander giving displeasure to the King, in not coinciding in some pernicious measures, was betrayed by a servile minister, to gratify the royal resentment; was impeached, and, with his head, lost the vast territories, and the title of his ancestors. Lord Alexander had a younger brother, who possessed an ample fortune, and was owner of an estate and mansion, which, from his family name, was called Du' Monte. This estate descended to my father; but, from the malevolence and avarice of a crafty priest, the principal of the Benedictine monastery; and, from his own youthful impetuosity, he entertained a groundless jealousy against my mother; and, seeking revenge for his mistaken wrongs, he slew his kinsman Grinvil; a man of spotless fame; and with my mother innocent of the alledged crime. Lord Melvil having the seigniory, seized the lands. My father fled, and died an obscure death. My mother, then pregnant with me, retired into a convent, where a relation was the Abbess. My father's estates were to be granted by Lord Melvil to the monastery of St Benedict, in consequence of a vow extorted from the terrors of his troubled conscience. The principal of the monastery had concerted the horrid plot; all the treachery flowed from him; and Lord Melvil's bigotry was to have rewarded the crime. As Providence directed, the grant remained unsealed, when a sudden death took off Lord Melvil. The disappointment drove the monk to madness: For many years a raving horror harrowed up his soul; and, in his malady, the most distracting desperation wore down his carcass to the grave. My mother, overwhelmed with her distresses, would have remained amongst the nuns, had not my approaching birth obliged her to retire into the arms of Alfred. Soon after her arrival in Normandy, I was born. I was named Leo Du' Monte. From my infancy, my constant residence has been with my grandfather; till the rumour of this insurrection induced me to take up arms, and seek for honour, under the British standard. My mother would attend me, determining, if I should fall in battle, that she would retire into a convent. Adverse winds separated the little fleet in which we sailed, with some few Norman troops. My mother, with her attendants, were drove back, whilst the bark in which I sailed, fortunately made land. The hand of Heaven sustained me in the battle; and, from the royal bounty, with Lord Morton's influence, I doubt not but I shall regain the possessions of my father. But, be that as it proves, I think myself fortunate, that justice wielded my sword, and young Lord Melvil fell beneath my arm!’

LORD Morton found himself greatly interested in the young champion's history; and, during the relation, his regard for virtue moved his resolves. At length, they prepare to attend the court: Lord Morton introduced the valiant Leo, having related to the King in his closet, the hero's history. The essential services he had rendered the state, together with the intercessions of Lord Morton, for whose great power and good offices, he was not to depart the throne dissatisfied; induced the King, of his royal munificence, to restore to Leo Du' Monte, the possessions of his ancestors, and the title of the Duke of Belfort.

WHILST these transactions were passing, Astianax having reach'd the church where the hallowed dust of Paul Du' Monte was deposited. On his knees, before the altar, he reassumed his pious duty; and, in slow journeyings, bearing the urn, he bent his way over the heights, the nearest passage to the mansion of Du' Monte.

GRINVIL's wound, beyond the power of surgery, proved mortal; and he slept with his ancestors.

ASTIANAX, in his way, passing over mountains, deserts, and dreary wilds; one day, towards evening, found himself embarrassed by a hasty river, which shewed no tokens of its being passable, until the flood subsided, which had swelled the stream. He stood upon the banks for some time irresolute whether to pursue the current: The noise of water-falls struck his ear, he followed the sound, and entered into a bay, formed by nature, of stupendous rocks. The night drew on. In this secure recess he determined to remain till morning: His servants pitched their tents upon the hill. The novelty of the scene afforded him delight; the high cliffs under which he sat, were porphyry; the apertures every where were grown with shrubs; and, on the brow, rude oaks extend their old mishapen arms over the bay, and form'd a lofty shade. The continued rocks enclose a spacious amphitheatre, in some parts, standing erect like massive pillars; in others, shaken and irregular, as rude as native chaos; tremendously suspended o'er their base and threatning instantaneous wreck. Here and there the sable yews cling on the cliffs, and, o'er the precipice, the trunks of storm-torn trees hang woven round with ivy, whose fantastic branches play pendulant on every gale. In the centre of this rocky circle, stands, divided from the rest, a mighty pile, bearing the image of some fortress; on either side of which, a foaming torrent, the whole river's flood, falls down precipitate an hundred fathom. The sounding waters eddy in the deep and dismal gulph below, where, hem'd by many a rugged rock, the giddy streams lash, foam, and twist, and bustle on their voyage. The ear astonish'd, admits no other sound, but the uproar of the impetuous water God, who bellowed in the lake his hasty laws to the astonished streams. So Vulcan's voice resounded in the noisy forges of the Cyclops.

As night advances forth from the chambers of the east, the moon ascends, and silvers the light vapour. And now surmounting every shade, rufulgent rides the azure firmament. In her fair aspect, meekness seems to reign in regions of tranquillity: So conscious virtue smiles within a soul serene: Her countenance, like fair content, diffuses peace; and her pale rays, as moderation shining clear, but cool. No ruffling winds range through the heavy air, but all above is stillness, all below is horrid tumult! Astianax here seated, in his mind revolves the various changes of his life, the darkness of futurity, the obscure meaning of the prophecy, the improbability of his restoration to the honours of his family, at the time when the ashes of Paul Du' Monte should rest in the tomb of his ancestors.

MEDITATION formed this scene for her abode; and, in this season, she delights to walk abroad under the pale beams of the midnight moon: She fills the recollection with a croud of subjects, and leads a train of young ideas forth, forming their progress from the charts of old experience: Her last result is confidence in Heaven: For, when imagination's wandering visions have exhausted fancy, the undetermined thought comes weary home, and lodges in the haunts of hope, refreshed by holy faith in Providence; whose paths mysterious lead to paths of peace.

SUCH ideas closed his waking thoughts—he slept—When there arose, to his astonished fancy, visions by supernatural creation, presented to his entranced spirit.

ON high sat Justice, in her garb seraphic, suspended on a pale grey cloud: The rays which blazed on her celestial form, glowed in the vapoury couch, and skirted it with silver. Deep in the hollow of the dreary rock sat Malice, like a wolf, enraged by hunger, haunching at the chains which bind her to her cell. With eyes which seem'd to weep the purest crystal, stood Treachery transformed to stone, and petrified with her own tears. Avarice stood opposite, a haggard form extending withered arms, and grasping at the air. Beneath their feet, pale Envy shewed her sickly face, and drew along her squalid form, that lengthened out a crawling nauseous serpent. Deep in the horrid whirlpool roll'd in torture; Superstition, over whose head the cataract, incessantly poured down its filthy torrent, stained with the blood of martyrs and of massacres, and polluted with the sins of ages. Whilst bending o'er the brink, behold Hypocrisy pregnant with monsters, who, in their birth, torture and revile the agonizing demon in the lake. The ministers of Justice calling forth eternal night, she spreads her shadowy wing to hide the vision from the eye of Heaven, and, in oblivion's sable mantle, gathers them up.

THE morning wakes Astianax with her rosy finger: The sun surmounts the horizon: These visions were esteemed, in his interpretation, as the revelation of his concluded sorrows; as his former dream presaged the progress of his redemption from the dreary solitude of Mount Pengerard. As down the channel he pursues his way, from the cataract a shower of spray is driven round the bay; on which the sun's opposing rays, with lights divisibility, spreads a painted bow upon the waters, which emulates the robe of Iris, when bearing tidings to the earth, of God's benevolence; she comes saluting the new born smiling spring with fertilizing showers. Through this lucid portico he passed, and soon arrived in a cultivated country, where open roads rendered his journey expeditious. His labours drew towards their conclusion. He reach'd the well known valley, where stood the mansion of Du' Monte! Alas! how changed! The Benedictine monastery was laid in ashes; and smoaking ruins alone denote its situation! Being proved a nursery of the rebellion, by royal mandate laid in destruction, and its possessions confiscated! The woods, the groves, the old patrician oaks, which once had graced the mansion of his father; and had enjoyed two centuries and more, of far extended wealth and splendour, were no more! The fatal hand of Desolation had laid low the long stretched avenue! and one confused ruin mark'd the spot where once the dwelling stood, save one wing alone, which had sustain'd the shock of time, and sav'd the gallery where once Astianax was miraculously saved! With tears he viewed the waste! Amongst the ruins, he attempts his way! At his approach, the doors which had remained shut up for years, as if shook by tempests, spontaneously gave way! He gains the gallery! Shrouded and concealed by dust and ruins, the armour of his ancestor trembled! Thence there seem'd to awake, a slumbering pelican, which sat supported on the casque, and shook its snowy plumes; then stretching forth its fair white wings, as if preparing for her flight, on either side the vast extended plumage reach'd, displaying all her ample breast, where every silver feather shone, spotless and burnish'd as the Seraph's heavenly buckler, when he stands array'd in the glowing arms of light; with a mighty sound she took her way aloft, and, as she mounted to the realms of Heaven, a lucid train, such as the sun beams shoot from out the evening cloud, traced her passage to the skies.

ASTIANAX, gazing upon the vision, breathed this short ejaculation: ‘Blessed spirit of the mighty Norban, have the labours of Astianax gained thy approbation? Have these accomplished toils procured thee peace? Is the hour at hand, which shall restore thee to the regions of felicity?’

ASTIANAX summoned the ecclesiastics of the several adjoining houses, to attend him to the church of Saint Paul, their to rest the ashes of his ancestor! The villagers, a mighty concourse, throng around in silent reverence! Through the separating ranks of priests, Astianax approach'd the vault, in his arms bearing the urn; behind him, an attendant carried the arms of Norban! The heavy gates which closed the cell, moved stiff! The harsh sounds wind along the wide extended arches! The repository of the ancient family of Du' Montes, was revealed to the spectators; where, for successive centuries, heroes and sages slept! The solemn scene struck every eye with reverence and holy awe! Around stood ranged the cells where the deceased lay deposited, each closed with marble, on which the name and character of every one inter'd, stood graven! Above were placed the effigies and arms; by time and damp, cloathed with a sable veil, in mournful order, pointing out the long successions of the spoil of death. The last, stands Periander!

WITH down cast eyes Astianax pass'd on, and, in its proper cell, deposited the remains of Paul Du' Monte, and hung aloft the arms of Norban: Then, bending to the earth, he cries aloud:

‘YE sacred manes of my father, ye spirits of my ancestors, hallowed be ye in Heaven! If ye regard the affairs of your posterity, accept this filial duty; and, in your prayers to the Omnipotent, for us and our successors, intercede! Pray that we, perceiving what is acceptable, may-deviate no more! Pray that we may, in all our days, have present with our hearts, each excellence, and every virtue of our parents; and for our emulation their examples! Let our memory of them be full of gratitude, and full of love! Lively in our recollection, may their tenderness and care for ever live, and be our days one universal scene of filial affection! And thou most mighty God, whose bounties are equal'd only by thine omnipotence, on whose finger sits the stary zodiac as a ring; and by whose mighty arm creation is suspended! Thee to adore, is man's incessant duty, thou great parent of the universe! As our souls are warmed with gratitude and love to our terrestrial parents, thence let our thoughts ascend to thee, replete with holy reverence: Conscious of thine exalted goodness, thy long sufferings, and innumerable mercies, extended unto all mankind: And, whilst we, reviewing all thy divine munificence to man, and measuring our own unworthiness, by thy inestimable bounties, may we adore thee a gracious Being, with purest piety and contrite hearts! And, when thou wouldst that we should pray, correct the blindness of our wishes with propriety, and let our petitions become acceptable; and may our supplications, divested of all arrogance, be answered with thy paternal love. Extend unto us, Lord, the gift of grace; sustain us in the hour of mortal woe; and, when this expiring frame shall sink to rest on the maternal lap of earth; grant that, through the propitiation of thy son, we may become partakers in the enjoyment of that ineffable beatitude, which awaits those whom thou approvest.’

THEN, raising himself from off the earth, he cries: ‘Heaven's will be done.’ Straight was heard celestial melody which fill'd the air; the voices of a multitude of chaunters singing to the harp, and pronouncing: ‘Praised be thy name, O Lord, for all thy mercies shewn to man on earth, of whom thou takest such abundant care, and unto angels designs to equal them.’

AMIDST the hallelujah, and the chorus, Astianax lifted up his face, and, to the strain, accompanied his voice. Forth from the urn a livid lambent flame arose, which shot its quivering point aloft, and fill'd the vault with fragrance. On the breast of Astianax, the onyx spread a blaze of light, such as surrounded the heavenly form of Gabriel, when sped to earth on errands of divine import, to patriarchs of old.

OVER the urn two cherubs, with their lucid pinions, hovered; and, catching the ascending flame, wafted it to Heaven: Whilst all above, the choir of aereal voices, with the sounds of many trumpets, sung his requiem.

AT the opening of the vault, there appeared a youth of noble port, in rich apparel, with a croud of gay attendants. Silent, and in astonishment, he stood, with projected figure and extended hands, now gazing on Astianax, then on the urn, devouring every sentence! The vulgar, all behind, trembling at these miraculous events, stood mute in reverence! The youth never yet presumed to express his wish of knowing the cause of what he saw; neither could he bear to look intent upon Astianax, who seem'd of a celestial form—a minister of light!

As Astianax, with the ecclesiastics, departed the vault, he observed a person entering the church, attended by a mighty croud of men, in whose countenances sat festivity and joy. The aereal melody, as if suspended on the breeze, gradually departed, and the distant and decreasing sounds, slowly died upon the ear.

ON nearer approach, Lord Albon, who led the jocund band, recollected Astianax to be the knight who had accompanied him to the war; and Astianax immediately knew his noble host. They approach to salute each other: The rays of the onyx confounded Lord Albon; they were too radiant for his eye to gaze on! He stopt—He thought he saw the spirit of his friend, deck'd in angelic lustre! But Astianax relieved his confusion; and cries out: ‘My noble Lord, this meeting affords me infinite delight. My pilgrimage is ended: My vow is fulfiled: Behold, I have borne the ashes of the Hermit, Paul Du' Monte, to this their resting place! And, my Lord, the will of Providence sends forth unhop'd for circumstances to aid the completion of the prophecy. Hence, departing, I shall approach the throne, and crave from royal bounty, the restoration of my lost possessions: To aid which purpose, I beg your Lordship's interest and intercession.’

THEY salute the stranger youth; the stranger youth returns the bow; and was about to inquire in whose presence it was he stood; but thus Lord Albon interrupts:—

‘AND you, my valiant knight, (says he, to Astianax), from whose puissant sword such havock fell; such noble deeds of arms! You came, as sent by Heaven, on this illustrious day, at once, to finish all your pious labours; and grace my nuptials! For this day I shall espouse a captive, taken after the battle, of whom I grew enamoured. I took her from a band of ruffians, who guarded her, and a train of impious ecclesiastics, by whom she was accompanied; bearing the shrine and relicks of St Benedict, in supplications for their Sovereign's overthrow! She would conceal her real character; and says, that in the perils of the day, as she advanced towards the field of battle, to secure herself from a band of plundering rebels, she sought refuge with the monks! From the humour of the female mind, which human wisdom never could decypher, no other place must witness to our vows but this! To female will, contention is ridiculous, as blows bent on the wind! Hither I conduct her, to experience better fortune, and partake of all my honours! See, as I speak, she comes!’

AT that instant, a troop of ladies entered; as they advanced, Astianax thought he recollected her, who, hand in hand, came with the person dressed in bridal robes! A young maid of excellent beauty! As nearer they approach, he perceived she was the fair Livia, the sister of his departed friend! The dying petition of Grinvil renewed upon his memory! He recollected, that unsearchable are the secret paths thro' which Providence brings on the decrees of Heaven; and he already apprehended, it was the will of fates, that he should make this maid his wife!

THE procession now approaches to the altar, before them, virgins scattered flowers; and, in the train, soft voices sung the bridal song, attuned to the lute! The bride, with downcast eyes, appear'd abashed; and, shedding tears, endeavoured to conceal her disconcerted looks; nor raised one glance towards her Lord, who stood exulting in the happy moment! And, in whose breast the rapid tides of joy beat to his bounding heart!—The officiating priest advanced.

THE bride, with collected resolution, at length looks up. Her looks struck on Astianax, the lustre of whose amulet had reach'd her eye! She started! stretch'd her arms to catch assistance! shriek'd and fell! And, as she fell, from her fair hand there drop'd a dagger, which she had concealed, to prevent the odious espousal! Odious, as contrary to inclination!

THE congregation were filled with astonishment! Lord Albon trembled! All but Astianax, and the young stranger, were struck with horror! They, as being actuated by one mind, at the same instant, rushed forward; and, stretching forth their arms, sustained her in her swoon! Kneeling, they raised her returning spirits, opened her quivering eyes! The young stranger, with Astianax's voice uniting, mix'd the varied exclamation of "O! save my mother!" "Oh! save my Jessalind! my wife!"

AT these words, her alarmed spirits brought back her agitated senses! She looks on one, and then upon the other: The silence of an instant is interrupted by her voice, repeating: ‘My husband! and my son! My Astianax! and my Leo! Are we in the regions of death? or are we still on earth? Astonishment! yet an astonishment of heavenly import.’

LORD Albon thought himself abused, and called to his attendants for his sword: "Here are tricks," cries he, ‘and subtleties, and holy frauds, which interpose between me and my purpose, and would deprive me of my bridal joys. This pious knave, who, in his treachery, usurps a husband's title, shall be the first to feel my indignation! Here, my sword! Vassals, my sword!’ He grasp'd Astianax by the collar!

THE instant he laid his hands upon him, a dreadful clap of thunder burst above their heads! The air was red with lightning! The church rock'd on its pillars: ‘Demons, I defy you,’ cries the enraged Lord: ‘All, all the tricks of this magician! all his sorceries!’

THE surprise and terror again threw Jessalind into great emotions. She fell upon the bosom of the young stranger, and wept! The youth stretched forth his hand, entreating Lord Albon to suspend his anger, until these wonderful circumstances were explained; assuring him, that the intended bride was his mother; and craving her to decypher the remaining mysteries.

THE explanation soon was given. Lord Albon's rage subsided: He was convinced this was more than artifice; and, correcting impassioned wishes with propriety of judgement, his excellencies of soul were renewed in all their benevolence and honour. He join'd the hands of Astianax and Jessalind!

THE youth kneeling, implanted kisses on the hands united: ‘Father,’ cries he, ‘bless me with your pardon; ignorant that you still lived, I have abused the bounty of the throne; I have usurp'd the name of Belfort! This ducal title, these estates, these honours, they appertain to you; and at your feet I here resign them! I will immediately present my petition to the crown, for their removal.’

ASTIANAX raising him, clasp'd him to his enraptured bosom: "Enjoy thy honours, worthy youth!" cries he, ‘Enjoy the rewards of thy valour, and thy virtue! The mansion of Du' Monte, and these demains, are all I ever wish'd for, or will possess.’

JESSALIND relieved her son from Astianax's embrace; and, on her neck, received his tears of transport!

THE general confusion stood becalm'd in general astonishment and joy!

LORD Albon thus addressed them: ‘Above the selfish sentiments of partiality for my own happiness, sincere joy fills all my soul for your restored felicity, and your rewarded merit. And you, Lord Belfort, full of valour, and warm with principles of honour; go on and scorn the little gains of selfenjoyment, when an emulation of the God, whose image it is you wear, prompts to the exercise of virtues, in the field of life. For in virtue only true nobility consists, and self approving conscience calls it happiness.’

THE END.

THE HERMITAGE; A BRITISH STORY.

YORK: Printed by C. ETHERINGTON, for the AUTHOR; AND SOLD BY JOHN BELL, Bookseller in the Strand, London; and C. ETHERINGTON, York.

M,DCC,LXXII.

PREFACE.

THE following sheets were wrote by a gentleman respectable for his knowledge in the useful and ornamental parts of life. The work, in general, inculcates resignation to the will of Heaven, filial reverence, and universal love.

THE EDITOR.

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Title statement

The hermitage: a British story.

Hutchinson, William, 1732-1814.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/5022

ID [isbn10]

1106020219

ID [isbn13]

9781106020215

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K094528.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3311648000

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0247100700

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— The hermitage: a British story., Hutchinson, William, 1732-1814.. [2],260p. ; 12⁰. York :: printed by C. Etherington, for the author; and sold by John Bell, London; and C. Etherington, York,. 1772.. [Anonymous. By William Hutchinson.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT117937.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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