ses, that fram'st a paradise of airy nothingness, canst thou in pleasing dreams still picture possibility to D'Anville as to me? if so, thou art the veriest cozener of created beings, the ignis fatuus of existence; and man should drive thee hence with reason's icy lash, and chain thee in the fathomless depths of everlasting oblivion.

Why am I? wherefore was Chatelar created? to whom are his praises due ?-scarce nineteen summers yet have mark'd my pilgrimage of life, and I am doom'd to love, and love in vain.-Oh! that I could drive the demon, melancholy, from me; that fiend, who now sits hovering o'er my soul, affrighting every gleam that might afford me comfort.- -No! not even the air-fram'd phantom of my queen can chace the gloom away. -Life is all a blank to me; for reason bids me cease to hope.-Better be warm'd by madness, than chill'd by coward fear; better burn with jealousy, than die the silent fool of black despair— yes!-I see him, he smiles; Gordon, the happy Gordon, mocks my grief, and Mary, cruel Mary, sanctions all-yes! her eyes beam heaven upon him; Gordon is bless'd, and Chatelar accursed for ever.-The blame is kindled in my veins; 'tis the murderous hour of night; furies now prowl; in church-yards beldams sing their incantations; and Chatelar two is the slave of jealousy.

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TO THE DEMON, JEALOUSY.

To such as feel the body's pain,

And cry with anguish, I would say— With joy your agonies sustain ;

For I am suff'ring more than they.

To such as feel the weight of care,
And curse the world with bitter tear,
I fain would say your sorrows bear;
For agony is only here.

If any rail at fortune cross'd,

I'd say, your wealth you may regain; But all my peace and joy are lostMy days are woe, my nights are pain.

If death of parent, or of wife,

If loss of infant, or of friend,

Assail the mind; yet still the strife May wear away-mine hath no end.

Nor malice, or revenge can live,

Like those fell pangs which I endure For time may teach them to forgive, But time my woes can never cure.

To say what can surpass all these
And prove that torture lives in me,
It is that sting which knows no ease-
The pang of hell-fraught Jealousy.

FRAGMENT VI.

CHATELAR, thou hast drained the sluices of thine eyes, and not a tear remains to commiserate thine own distress.-For D'Anville thou hast wept; for him whose friendship fostered thee, and whose rank protected thee; for him who bids these shores adieu for ever, hast thou rendered the flood of agonizing woe.

This morn he took a solemn, sad farewell of lovely Mary; upon her beauteous hand he left the parting kiss, and with it fell a pearly tear, that sparkled like the May-morn gem upon the lily's spotless bosom.-Heavens! what sadness mantled Mary's brow; what pale dejection clad the features of my lord.-He look'd, as did our first parent, Adam, when at the portals of the paradise he'd forfeited; he gazed upon the sterile expanse that surrounded him, a monumental effigy of fix'd despair.

The Marechal in silence left the queen; he strove to speak, but utterance was denied him;

yet, ah! what language was there in his manly eye, which, to the last, bent languishingly on the queen.- Can it be !-yes !-Chatelar confesses, that pity stifled envy in his breast; he felt not for himself, but for D'Anville.

Supported on my arm, my wretched lord, with an unsteady step and downcast look, bent his course towards his chamber.-Still was he speechless, and still within his hand he clasped mine own; he fixed his gaze upon me, and, after venting forth a struggling groan, he thus bespoke

me:

"Dear youth, my friend, my Chatelar, would "that I might exchange with thee the bliss of "still remaining here, and sighing out existence "'fore the queen of love.-Thou know'st my "soul-but, ah! tho know'st not all the pangs "which it endures, my Chatelar.-To thee must "I commit my fate; plead for me, my friend; and, if in language is to be conjured up, expres"sion bold enough to picture all my anguish, "then let that language be my friend's.-Speak "of my love, my grief, my madness, and my jealousy.Oh! detested bondage that en"slaves me-accursed tie which has for ever "link'd me to another!-Had I not worn those fetters, Mary, perchance, might have been mine, " and I for ever blessed with love and inexpres"sive extacy."

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