LIS

T: CAR EEORUM.-Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal and Archbishop of York; from a letter to Henry VIII. dated 1529. He died 29th November, 1530.

O CROMWELL.-The Protector of England; from a paper, dated 1st December, 1650.

WILL. RUSSELL.-William Lord Russell was engaged in a conspiracy for effecting a Revolution, and beheaded in Lincoln's Inn Fields, July 21, 1683; from a letter, dated in Newgate, July 19.

R. RUSSELL.-Lady Russell distinguished herself much by her affectionate conduct towards her husband at this crisis; from a petition to the King, July, 1683.

W. PENN.-The founder of the colony of Pensylvania. He was in great favour with James II., and died, much respected, in 1718; from a letter about 1680.

ALBEMARLE.-General Monk, afterwards the Duke of Albemarle, and First Lord of the Treasury; from a document, dated 1st July, 1668.

WENTWORTH.-Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, Lord Deputy of Ireland; from a paper, dated 31st May, 1631. He was beheaded on Tower Hill, 12th May, 1641.

ANNE BOLEYN.-The second wife of King Henry VIII. She fell a victim to his jealousy, and was beheaded in the Tower, 19th May, 1536: from a familiar letter, without date, but written about 1529.

JOHN MILTON. From an affidavit in his hand-writing, dated 25th February, 1650-1.

EVENING LANDSCAPE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF MYRTLE LEAVES."

Goldner Schein

Deckt den Hayn.

THE Woodland height,

With magic light

Is decked-and o'er the castle walls

The golden tinge of evening falls.

The silent sea

Flows ripplingly;

And swan-like gliding to its home,

We see the fisher's light skiff come.

The silver sand

Gleams on the strand;

Now redder here, now paler there,

The hues of heaven the bright waves bear.

The zephyr bound,

The golden crowned

And rushy-covered foreland height,
Is circled by the sea-bird's flight.

'Midst blushing flowers

And close-'twined bowers, And fountain's drops with gems that vie, The hermit's cell salutes the eye.

While on the stream

Day's parting beam

Fast fades, and o'er the ruins grey
Of yon old castle dies away.

The moon so pale

Shines through the vale,

Lighting the warrior's sunken tomb— Where spirits seem to haunt the gloom.

WRITTEN ON THE

ANNIVERSARY OF MY BIRTH-NIGHT,

When entering my Thirtieth Year.

BY EUGENIUS ROCHE.

ANOTHER twined!-my wreath of years
Grows full and heavy on my brow;
My Spring is past, and summer now
In all its blaze of soul appears.
Forsake me not, Almighty Guide!

Amid the tempests of the hour!

Thy mercy bade me gently glide
O'er infancy's and youth's wild tide;

And now when fiercer dangers lower,

Oh! let me on thy pinion ride
Unharmed amid the fiery shower!

Thou know'st my infant eye
First oped to Thee!

hou know'st my infant sigh
First rose to thee!

Thou know'st, in peace or strife,

The day and night of life,

My hope is linked to Thee!

A thousand stars are in the sky,

And not a cloud obscures their light;
They flash, as rays of bliss on high,
That stray to mortal sight;

And yet perhaps no human eye

But mine, now wakes to drink the glories of the night!

A thousand gales are on the wing;
And while in torpor long and deep,
Earth and her millions sleep,

Instinct with life and mystic sound,

Like wandering harps they fling

Wild melodies around.

And yet perhaps no human ear

But mine, now wakes the thrilling notes to hear!

"And why so wakeful is thine eye,

So vigilant thine ear?

Art thou a spirit of the sky,

Chained for a moment here,

And struggling for thy liberty?"