To lead my steps where thine before had gone,
And let me feed my soul with visions wild,

Of how thine eyes had looked-thy lips had smiled :
To leave me even renounced-abjured by thee,
Beneath th' illumined lattice, where beguiled

By present thoughts and feelings, silently

Thou dwellest now without one wandering thought of me.

XI.

That I might see thy shadow in that room

Glide to and fro upon the marble wall,

And from my station in night's circling gloom,
Watch thee, and dream I heard thy footsteps fall
Lightly in that (to me) forbidden hall;

Conjure thy low sweet voice by fancy's art,
Shed wild and burning tears unseen by all

Whose chilling gaze forbid those drops to start,

And feel a strange joy swell within my rapturous heart.

XII.

Oh! Mother, youth is vanished from thy life,

The rose of beauty faded from thy cheek,

Little to thee this world of guilt and strife,

Thy fame men's scorn-are shadows faint and weak;
And yet thou wilt not let me hear thee speak
Words frozen back by woman's struggling pride.
Thou wilt not let me in thy bosom seek

The rest for which my heart hath vainly sighed;

This-this was all I asked-and this thou hast denied!

XIII.

Lone hath my life been; lone, and very sad;

And wasted is the form thou wouldst not know;

And some have cursed, and some have deemed me mad,
And sorrow hath drawn lines upon my brow.

Ah! who would cheer me half so well as thou?
Who could so soothe my feverish dreams of pain?
Yet never for my sake thy tears shall flow.
Unheard, unheeded, still must I complain,

And to the hollow winds pour forth my woe in vain.

THE CASTLE OF LAWERS.

BY LORD WILLIAM GRAHAM.

HE feast was high in the ancient hall of Lawers; the

year, and his kinsmen and retainers from every part of the country were gathered together to celebrate Breadalbane's birthday. Around the hall were hung the trophies of the chase and the triumphs of war. The noble antlers of the stag were crossed with the broadsword and the targe; while the casque and spear, and burnished breast-plate, showed, that though in profound peace the chieftain was ever ready for the fight. In the middle, hung the broad banner of the Breadalbanes; and beneath, the escutcheon of their arms, with the proud and chivalric motto, "Follow me!" The table in the centre of the hall groaned beneath the burden of the feast: at the upper end, on a seat of dais, sat the noble chieftain, with high features and commanding look; but, ever and anon, a dark scowl from his shaggy eyebrows seemed to tell that Breadalbane never forgave an offence. However, generous in peace, and fortunate in war, his vassals followed willingly whithersoever he led. About him sat the ladies of his house, with fair hair and glancing eyes, bedecked with rich robes and precious stones, that glittered and shone in the flickering

light of the blazing pine torches with which the hall was illuminated. But, one there was of surpassing beauty; her long sunny ringlets clustered on her graceful neck, which rivalled in whiteness the plumage of the ptarmigan, when the ground is covered with snow. Her blue eyes, as she gazed vacantly on the scene before her, poured forth a kind of dreamy light; but if aught said or done touched the latent feelings of her heart, the orbs suddenly expanded, and were lighted up with all the glow of enthusiasm, or of passionate indignation. This was the Lady Alice, a cousin of the house of Breadalbane, and one who cared not to mingle too much in the gaieties and follies of the rest. For, most of all, did she delight to wander alone on the heathery mountains when the summer suns were setting in the west, and to linger and watch each departing ray, as it silently disappeared, like the vanishing hopes of glory. Sometimes, would she go forth when the spirit of the storm brooded on the hills; and wrapping her mantle around her, listen to the groaning of the tempest and the rushing of the winds, till she returned with her hair and her dress all dripping with the outpourings of its fury. Often would the Lord of Breadalbane chide her for these her wanderings, unbecoming, as he would say, in a noble lady.. With that, would her eye glisten, her lips part as if to give utterance to the workings within; but anon, remembering the respect due to the head of her house, she would smother her rising feelings, and lower her head in token of feudal obedience. In the evening, she again won back the chieftain's smile, by pouring forth her mellow voice in the songs of her native country, some spirit-stirring ballad

of love and war; or almost melt even his iron nature to tears, by lingering with melancholy strains, over some touching lament of the dead.

Such was the Lady Alice; but at the present moment she gazed upon the rude and boisterous scene with a vacant air, as if her thoughts were wandering far away from the festal board. Albeit, now did the feast become more joyous; rude and riotous grew the revelry at the lower end: toast upon toast was proposed and drunk, nor were the healths of the female part of the audience, and especially of the Lady Alice, forgotten. Many hearts throbbed at the mention of that name; for many were assembled in the hall that day who had been suitors for her hand. Nobles of high degree, barons, and chieftains, had wooed, but wooed in vain; to all did she return a firm but dignified refusal, till her kinsfolk began to surmise she had made some vow of eternal chastity. But they knew not her heart; her spirit was made for loving deeply, passionately, madly; yet, she could not devote her affections to beings. who had no feelings in common with hers, who had no ideas beyond the best way of killing a stag or a man: and such were the only suitors that had as yet addressed her.

In one of the pauses which occurred preparatory to the announcement of a new toast, a knock was heard at the door. The guests looked surprised, for none could come at such an hour, who intended to do honor either to the feast or to the giver. Moreover, it was not the knock of one secure of admission, of the haughty chieftain or impatient noble, but that of some humbler person, who hesitated as to the reception that might be awarded him. Breadal