A LEGEND OF CHARITY.

BY THE SAME.

"WHO calls?"—" A stranger, passing by, Benighted, weary, and astray;

He asks relief for charity,

And shelter till return of day."

"What help, in such a woeful shed,
Canst thou expect so late to find?
The night is cold, and I'm in bed;
To wake me, stranger, was unkind."

"Forlorn and fainting, here I lie ;

A fellow-creature's claim I make : Permit me not for want to die,

But help! some help, for mercy's sake!"

"Hold on your way, and you shall find
A wealthy Lordling's open gate.
Go, friend; and be your welcome kind;
He banquets oft, and revels late."

"Must I then perish at thy door?"—

"Not so-the rich man's board is spread. Alas! he spurneth hence the poor, And I have but one crust of bread;

"Of barley bread, full coarse and stale; My children's breakfast that, and mine: Cheese I have none, nor beer, nor ale,

Nor bacon-hock, nor flesh of kine."

"One crust is all that I require,

For dainty cates are not my due; 'Tis cold and wet;-a little fire

-

Permit, and saints shall comfort you."

'May woe betide the churlish wight, Whose ruthless heart no pity knows! I will arise, the fire I'll light;

Come in, for chill the north gale blows.

"See here; 't is all the bread I've got." Enough! enough! I ask no more:

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Hereafter be thy labours less;

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May favouring saints increase thy store!"

Holy Saint Thomas,-is it true!

The scraps of bread both stale and small, Have loaves become, full large and new; The pitcher foams with mantling ale!

"The fire, too, blazes high and free,
Yet small of wood is its supply;
Nor aught consumed it seems to be,
Although the boughs be old and dry!
"Thou art no beggar! but, I ween,
Some fairy elf, or favouring sprite ;
Or, in disguise, some angel sheen,
Descended from the realms of light!"

Inquire no further - where I dwell,

Nor who I am. For thee to know

Let it suffice, thou hast done well,
And I my blessing will bestow.

"Good health shall make thy labours light,
And plenty at thy board attend;
Stern death shall not thy soul affright,

For CHARITY shall thee befriend."

ST. JOHN'S EVE IN PALESTINE: *

A Legend of the Crusades

IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.

I CANNOT tell ye, in sooth, from where
That maiden came, with her golden hair,
And her snowy brow; but I say to ye,
She was fairer than aught in Christentie!
I cannot tell ye that maiden's name,-
I cannot tell ye from whence she came ;
But from her kirtle's gold broidery,

I should say, she was damsel of high degree.
And onward she glides, in the still moon-light,
Seeking the tower of her captive knight;
She standeth beneath, and she lifteth her veil,
And her voice sounds sweet as the nightingale.
"Rise up, Sir Guy! arise at my call,—
I have left my bower and my castle hall;
For goodly tidings I bring to thee,—
Ere morning, I'll die or set thee free."

"Alas!" quoth Sir Guy," thou fair lady,
If sorrow or harm should chance to thee,
How shall I again take lance in hand,-
How shall I again see merry England!"

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O, fear not for me, thou gentle knight! The spell must be won ere morning's light,— 'Tis a mighty spell; but my knight I'll win

From the chains of the haughty Sarrazin."

* From a very ingenious and beautiful work, entitled "London in the Olden Time." Second Series. 1827.

Sore mourned Sir Guy, as that maiden went,-
Alas! he was close in donjon pent;
Else he had followed her steadfastly,

That she might not for him be in jeopardy.

'Tis the mystic eve of Saint John, I ween,-
On Jordan's bank is that maiden seen;
And a golden cross on her breast she weareth,-
And a chalice of gold, in her hand she beareth,

For spirits and demons are flitting about,
And goblins grim-shaped, an horrible route;
While Hecat and Lady Benzoria prepare
To mount with Hera, the Queen of the Air.

For she who shall first dip her hand in the stream,
When the full-moon at midnight sheddeth her beam,
Shall govern all sprites till the shadows flee,
And whatever she wisheth, granted shall be.

I would ye had seen how that maiden stood,
Lofty of brow, and fearless of mood;
Looking to Heaven, with many a prayer
To shield her from fiends of the midnight air.

The hour's at hand, the moon 's at her height,-
Up, maiden! nor fear thee nor goblin nor sprite;
Thou art sained with water and rites divine;
On thy bosom thou bearest the holy sign!

There is shriek-there is shout-there is death-like cry:
But the maiden hath rushed all reckless by;
She stands in the stream, 'mid goblins fell,-
An angel girt round by the fiends of hell!

Joy to thee, maiden! the spell is won
Haste with thy cup, ere the morning sun

Shall gleam o'er the mountains; the water thou holdest
Will govern all fiends, and appal the boldest.

Joy to thee, maiden! — look not behind; ·

Heed not the shouts that are borne on the wind;

Mount yon goblin-steed, he dareth not harm thee;

While thou bearest that cup, there shall nought alarm thee.

The steed flieth swiftly: the bolts of the keep
Start back, for the warders are locked in sleep;

Sir Guy springeth forth; his chains have unbound,
As that mystic water is sprinkled around.

And onward, and onward—ay! onward they fly,
O'er hill, vale, and flood, while the moon rides high;
And still holds the maiden the cross to her breast;
And still is that chalice with firm hand prest.

Haste, haste ye! speed on, while the moon is yet bright;
Your steed must evanish at dawn of light:

Still, still grasp the chalice! nor heed the fierce rout
Of goblins who follow with yell and with shout.

The gale of the morning breathes fresh and chill;
There's a streak of faint light on Hermon's hill ;—
One bound, they have crossed the rushing river;
The steed and the fiends are evanished for ever!

O, joy to thee, maiden! look
and see,
up
The towers of Acre are smiling on thee;
Our holiest sign in the sun-beam is glowing,
And the red-cross banner above thee flowing.

And, joy to thee, maiden! look down and behold
What gleameth so bright in thy chalice of gold:
There is topaz, and ruby, and every gem,
That can garnish a Soldan's diadem.

Yes, joy to thee, maiden! thy task is done;
Yes, joy to thee, maiden! thy knight is won;
And that fearful adventure achieved by thee,
Shall be sung in each hall throughout Christentie.