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Ibe Chevalier Byard and Madame de Randan. A Tale. How short did the days appear to them, of persons of quality, whose fears be those days which others think so tedious calmed by his discourse, and by the prein the country! Reading, and rural caution of placing two soldiers as a guard, amusements were their molt serious busi- to whom he gaye a present of eight bun. nefs. In short, the widow confented to dred crowns as an indemnification for be a vidow no longer. She had sworn the pillage of the house to which they nuver to relinquith the name of Mons. were intitled. When his impatience to de Randan.--She could not break her join the army rather than his curr, which outh. Her marriage therefore with Bay- was not compleated, determined him to ard was performeri in private, and long depart, the mistress of the house threw remained a ferret.

herself at his feet. • The right of war Tojudge of the happiness of this fond said she, makes you master not only of pair, it is necessary to have seen them. our property but of our lives; and you Madame de Rincian had brought the have saved our honour; we hope how Chevalier a daughter, destined to inhe ever from your generosity, that you will rit her mother's beauty, and her father's not treat us with rigour, and that you honour. To see Bayard, like another will accept of a prelent more suited to Hector, take off his helmet not to fright- our fortune than to our gratitude. At en with its black and foreac!ing plumes, the same time, the presented him with a the little infant which his wife, in an ex; box full of golden ducats.' Bayard looktacy of conjugal love and maternal affece ed at her, and asked how many there tion, held out to him; to fee Bayarı, the, were. “ Two thousand five hundred, flower of chivalry, and the dread of the my Lorrl, faid he, but if you are not iafoes of France, lying on the green fod, tisfied, we will do every thing in our with a little child on his knces playing power to procure something more.with the hult of his sword-one must be . No, Madam, said Bayard, I will aca father one's self to conceive it.

cept of no money; the care you have taOne day as he was amusing himself ken of me is beyond any recompence I in this way, his friend Pajice came to can make to you; I only at your friendsummon him to the field. Ile was not hip and beg you to accept of mine."surprised to find Bayard thus employed. A moderátion 13 unusual affected the laPeople in those days had not deviated dy more yith surprise than with jer. She froin nature to far as we have, and there threw herleif again at the Chevalier's feet is a penetrating charm which attends and faid he would not rise if he did not every a aion referable to her. The cap- accept of that proof of her gratitude. tain saw at once how matters stood. “ Since you will have it so, faid Bayard, “ This is your daughter, Chevalier, I will not refuse you; but cannot I have sáid he : what a chaiming little inro- the honour of faluting your daughters becent!" and he lifted her up, and prefied fore I go?" When they came in he her to his beart. Bayard blushed. “I thanked them for their attention to him, give you joy, my brave friend, said Pa- for their company and their kind endealice ; allow me to pay my respectsto your vours to amule him in his diftress. “I wife"-Madame de Randan was in some would willingly testify my acknowledge. corfusion, but the foon recovered herself, ments to you, said he'; but military men and accepted the salutations of the cap feldom have any jewels fit for persons of tain with a good grace. “ You are go- your sex. Your mother has made me a ing, said she, to take the Chevalier from present of two thousand five hundred du. me, and to lead him to the field of dan- cats; I hope each of you will accept of çer,”?-

“ To the field of honour, Ma- 'a thousand as an addition to your dowry:

-"The king's will thall be obey. I define the remaining five hunered to ed, returned the with a figh. She weót the Nuns of this city who have been plunimmeljarelv and prepared with her own derer', and I beg you will take the true hands the field equipage of the Cheva- ble to see them properly distributed." lier, and she communicated to Boudin, It was thus that Bayard endeavoured his faithful squire, the secret of dressing to loften the horrors of war. But while all fots of wounds, with a box of me he thus did honour to his country, and decines carelully made up from herbs of was gloriously thedding his blood for the sovereign' virtue by herself.

Bare there were not wanting persons at Bayard departed. Let us pass over the court who were forming plots against his adiens. In the first battle he was weund- domestic peace. Certain favourites who ed at the beginning of the action: he was remained with Francis I. in a theme. carried off the field and taken to the houle ful in dlivity, and who attacked, st their

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pleasure, the reputations of the brave and lier's own hand. The king read it. * I the beautiful, did not spare the fair in- " know said she, and I am happy in habitant of the Calle or Ferte. Francis “ thinking, that it was not the wife of chid their calumny in that quarter, but “ Bayard whom you meant to seduce." ftill he believed more of it than he ought “ No Madam, replied Francis, no ; up-, to have believed. He loved the fex, and on the honour of a gentleman, justice Madame de Randan was so beautiful that “ fall be done to your reputation. I he grew desirous of seeing her, and as he I have been impor d on, but I was an amiable, a gallant prince, and a « shall repair my fault. Bayard thall king, was it not natural for him to in- 6. always find a second in me when dulge some pleasing hopes ? but as he was the honour of his fair spouse is attacks ever courteous, he wrote the lady a let

" ed.” ter informing her of his intension to pay So saying he summoned his attendants her a visit with only two attendants. and mounted his horse: “ Gentlemen The lady answered respetfully, and the " said he, as he took leave of the lady, Monarch soon arrived at.thecastle, where “ I have been paying a visit to the wife he found her ready to receive him with- “ of the Chevalier Bayard ; Honni foit out the court. As soon as he saw her " qui mal y pense,. he dismounted, took off his hat, and com- The lady latisfied with the manner in ing up, pulled off his glove, then killing which this visit had terminated, waited the hand the presented to him, led her with impatience for the return of the into the cattle,

Chevalier ; but alas! He was never to After the first compliments had pafled see him more, and the king had refre/hed himself with Innumerabie faults, committed in that a Night collation, the two noblemen who compaign by Bonnivet, to whom the attended him, on various pretences, with. king had given the command of the drew. Francis immediately began to army, made it necessary for the troops to address the widow in a tone of gellantry, abandon their enterprise. The flower of and nobody knew better how to assume the French army was given in charge to the Monarch or the lover as occasion re. Bayard, in order to secure their retreat, quired. But, on finding in the present which he effected, but at the expence of cafe an unexpected refillance, he threw his own life. He was morially wounded himself at the lady's feet. “ Sire, said by the shot of a musquct, then used for “ se, bursting into tears, “ you rauft the first time; and having fallen from his " have a very contemptuous opinion of horse he was carried to a little distance “ me when you put yourself

in that and laid at the foot a tree. • humble posture before me. Have you Here, with his face turned to the e“ forgotten that I am the widow of nemy and his eyes fixed on the cross of “ Monf. de Randan who formerly ren-' his word, he recommended himself to “ dered you fuch fignal services ?" The heaven

and patiently waited his end. But king, piqued at this unexpected apoftro. did be forget Madame de Randan? No: phe, fórgor for a moment the respect he he dictated a letter to Boudin; his always shewed to the fexmre And have whole foul, tender and full of those virtues you, Madam, faid hr, not forgotten that dignified the character of the antiM. de Randan?” These words brought ent cavaliers, was poured forth in that a blush into the cheeks of the lady, letter. " Take, said he, take the name 6. Ah Sire, said me, what have you been of Bayard, and thus honour the reuc told of me?" “ Madam," said he, mory of a true knight who has loved inftantly aware of his imprudence, and “ you while he lived, and who was all assuming as much respect as possible, . " his life without fear and irreproach“ I have been told that you are as vir. - “ ablc, ever zealous for g'ory, faithful « tuous as you are fair.” “ I know “ to his king and true to his love."

Sire, returned the, that it is to other The constable of Bourbon, as he was “ reports of me that I am indebted for in pursuit of the fugitiva", paired by him

the honour of this vifit; you have been and was deeply affecter with his fate. “ flattered, you have been impofed up- * I am not to be pitid, sad this brave

Yes, Sire, you have been imposed man; I die in the performance of my “ ypon; it is true I have forgotten M. duty; but it is you who deferve pity, " de Randan ; the Chevalier de Bayard who are in arins against your country, « is now-my husband.” At these words your king, your friends, your oath, your He opened a casket and took out the con- honour and your intereft,” At this mopract of marriage written by the Cheva- ment a page arrived from the king with

6 on.

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Poetry. a letter for the chevalier. By this Fran- she was always fondly anticipatiog, withcis invited him to return to court that he out dreaming of the sad tidings that might acknowledge his wife in public; were about to be announced to her. and in confideration of his marriage, the

Francis had been informed by a page king conferred on him the government of the death of the chevalier. This conof Burgundy. “ Ah! my most gracious fiderate prince took measures for preliege, criedBayard; how well do you de venting the faral news from reaching her serve the love I ever had for you! I'would by surprise, and went to pay her a visit now die content but for the thought of that he might weep with her and enleaving a widow in despair.” Pescaire, the deavour to comfort her when it Phould greatest enemy of the French, but full of arrive. admiration for Bagard, had no fooner, In a short time Palice suddenly entered learned that he was wounded than he the castle: the widow met him with looks ran to him and cried, " Ah! chevalier, of joy which she saw were not returned : would to God I had kept you safe and “ Alas! said Me, I know it, my husband found as my prisoner, that you might is dead.” He is, said Palice: he bas falhave experienced by the civilities I len in the field of glory; the pride of would have thewn you, how much I his frieads, the admiration of his eneefteem your valour and high proweso; mies. He recommended you to heaven but since there is no remedy for death, I with his lateft breath, and his last repray. God to receive your great foul in- quest was that you would live for the to his hands, as I am sure he will.” He sake of his child.” then set a guard over the chevalier, with The widow trade a Cign to Palice to order, on pain of death, to defend hin' leave her alone for a few moments; after and not to quit him as long as he had life. which she sent for her child, took her in Bayard soon ofter expired.

her arms and killed her ; then recom. Madame de Randan, in her retirement mending her to the care of the king and at Ferte was wholly employed in think of Palice, the fell back in her chair and ing on her honoured Lord, whose return expired.

POETRr.

OF

« Nay, that the best of us, at times, are

willing ON THE PECULIAR DISADVANTAGES

" To let our father starve, and save a shil

ling;
He finds his virtuous efforts are in vain ;

The Beast of Reason” hears him with A Modern Poet.

disdain :
The vulgar gape-the learn'd, like Share

SPEARE's fool,

Profess themselves too old to go to school; Nihil agit

, qui diffidentem verbis folatur fuis, The clergy love do sermons but their Is eft Amicus, qui in re dubia, rejuvat, ubi re Each crabbed pedant pants to pull him eft opus.

down;

Each puppy curses the contemptuous dog : F a rafh Rhymer honefly intends Aud every (windler fwears that he's a

rogue. Lamenting loudly, as cach former Pard, For ninety generations has declar'd- But, viewing matters on the other side, " That itič, in spite of parsons and their What shall be gain'd by fawning upon rules,

pride? “ Nine-tenths of all, mankind are knares On panegyric, if he turns his head, and fools; The lowest of all beggars lies for bread;

And

PLAUTUS.

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land il,

hand.

And every body knows he wants a hire, While fome with air baloons amuse the And every living mortal scorns a liar.

mob, Sir Rob his bounty for his pimp reserves, Some fail in search of rushes round the The lacquey fatténs--but thc Laureat globet, ftarves.

Describe the age and tonnage of the earth,

What maggot or what egg-shell gives us Add--that the dull, the busy, and the

birth; grcat,

Teach cannoneers to level and to load, With boundless ridicule your labours treat; Observe a planet, or diffect a toad ! For almost nobody has taste, or time, Tell the velocities of sound and light, To feel and cultivate the sweets of rhyme. Or preach that fractur'd limbs are firmi The doctor must trepan, and purge, and and right bleed,

Or, straining mental and material light, The priest has work enough to prop his Descry a ship five hundred leagues from

creed; And while our reason and our faith debate And prove the Day of Judgment just at To paint a heretic's tremendous fate, The lawyer wrangles in defence of knaves; For stallions, whores, and port, the Gami Nay, what is worst of all, the very men Law Justice raves;

Who really feel the beauties of the pen, Merchants, if men of sense, mind only Whofe taite, in justice, ought to be pretrade;

ferr'd, Enfigns-would always strut on the parade.. Who soar in sentiments above the herd, And which of these d'ye think will conde- Who love your verses better than your fcend

wine, To hear the finest verse that c'er was And read with far more keenness than they penn'd!

dine, Such gross stupidity we scarce would None, but the fool who trusts them, can mourn,

believe. Since every class are useful in their turn. Of these, what numbers at his progress And who could reap the corn, or mend the grieve! roads,

And should success accompany your lay, Were all the human race perusing Odes? They dare not cenfure--but they will not Alike in mathesis and metre skill'd,

praije ; But rare's the man a serious trust has With all an cunuch's melancholy spite, fillid;

They growl at you, because they cannot Nay, of the learn'd themselves but very write: few

A gloomy silence, what they feel impart, That lonely calm Elyfian path pursue, Or fome's hard fraction" thews their si oIn ancient days, when Science was con

zen hearts. fin'd,

" A fellow wanting food should husband Philosophers had little else to mind;

time, Then, every swain the fall of Ilion fung, “ His idleness is more than half a crime ; And Sappho Row'd from every school- “ Bards, in all ages, have been very poor, boy's tongue.

“ And some now living-beg from door But now the properties of putrid air--

to door; Sume pointer's itch--the genius of a “ The jingling tribe are justly rank'l as hare

fools, A rusty coin-a cocklc-hella mite- " Who never will abide by Reason's Provoke the fage to wonder, and to write. rulega

« And • There is a long Essay on this subject in the Gentleman's Magazine. + One would be glad to learn whac rational purpose can be answered by a bortus ficuus? - The plan of Lieutenant Bligh's voyage was suggested thirty years ago by Voltaire.

“ Whatever ism-is right,” POPE.--- Ergoon-theft, murder, &c. are right. The world is indebted to the Philosopher just mentioned for more than one antidote to this jar. gon.

# The honour of this discovery, rcal or pretended, has been lately claimed by a French. 9 This æra has been often ascertained by thcological maniacs,

gan.

436

.

ver.

Poetry. “ And why should any man in search of Tho' well the wand'ring maid can teach, bread,

To Athol all her woes are owing. u Afied to versify, or even to read?”

Those lips are now in filence closed,
Such are the crumbs of comfort they befe And cold and pale that lovely borom;

That form is to the worm exposed,
tow,
And such the kindness you to critics owe. Who feeds him on the fallen blossom.
But one erroneous accent let them spy,
Then exultation fparkies in each eye;

'Twas Athol's tongue convey'd the tale, And is an in for into nas len us'd,

Which broke that heart with love and of downright scorn of grammar you're

forrow, accus'd.

Which bid the blooming cheek be pale, Sailors, when Itarving, deal their beer and And cold upon the banks of Yarrow.

grog, And rogues have dy'd to help a brother 'Twas Athol, urged by jealous fear,

Who feigned too well che guiltlcfs story, rogue ;

Which filig that eye with many a tear, A porter with distress has shar'd his pay,

And lain'd thy faithful Connal's glory. And for the parish poor-poor actors play :

Little did wretched Athol think These niay, at least 'tis posible, do good, That Mary was so true a lover, For speculation has not do their And little knew on Yarrow brink blood;

How soon her senseless shade would hoBut would a sixpence free you from the

jail, To hazard that makes letter'd friendship The murmuring wave, the whispering fail!

air, On every fide difficulties conspire

That smites my guilty foul with horror, Be wifc-aud put your veries in the fire. The winds to Athol howl despair,

And bid him never see to-morrow.
B A L L AD,

Pale phantoms of the injur d dead,

And reckless winds that hear my an. WRITTEN IN 1786.

guith, OFT fell the dews on-Yarrow plain, "Twas here by love and forrow led,

;

'Twas here that Mary ceased to lan'The bird of nigrt renews her strain, guish : And o'er the wave pale fpirits hover,

Yc know that from this bleeding heart, Difaat the glittering moonbeam shone,

Which mourns the maiden loft for ever; When Athol ftray'd with steps of for. Her loved idea cannot part,

row i Ah, me! --what shadowy forms are yon

Nor long thall death our fortune fever. That wander on the banks of Yarrow! My tears have fell on Mary's grave;

My hands have deck'd the fud with Why screams the death-bird from the tree?

willow.;
Why bring the winds the voice of mourn. Then halte thee Athol to the wave,

And reft thee in the watery pillow.
The scream, the winds, proclaim to me,
That Athol fees no more the morning.

The wandering fream thy form fhall hide,

Let some fod tell the pailing rover Why sinks lo low my heart with fear,

Where once the wretëhed Achol died, And why so chill my blood with hor.

A faithful, though a guilty lover. Again the shadowy forms are near,

One look he cast on Mary's grave, In all the cloquence of sorrow.

High rose his heart with inward for

TOW, Is it ?-It is my Mary's shade,

His hafty footsteps fought the wave, And near her fits her hapless lover'; Low suuk the hapless youth in Yarrow, How shall I meet the injur'd maid, Or how my contritc heart discover ? In the fair blossom of his age,

He fell bereft of life and glory; No found that senseless ear can reach, O may his woe, his crimes affwage,

Nor sees that eye my fstrowo Powing? And muillefs tears bedew his story

ing?

ror ?

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