Sir William neither wept nor smil'd, But grac'd the father for the child, And sent, to join the funeral shows, Bearing scutcheons, bearing woes, The palfrey; and full well he goes; Oh! merrily well the palfrey goes;

Grief, great as any there, he knows, Yet merrily ever the palfrey goes.

THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.

KING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and lov'd a royal sport,

And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the

court;

The nobles fill'd the benches, and the ladies in their

pride,

And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sigh'd:

And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning

show,

Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing

jaws;

They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws;

With wallowing might and stifled roar they roll'd on one another,

Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous

smother;

The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through

the air;

Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there."

De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous lively dame

With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which alway seem'd the same;

She thought, the Count my lover is brave as brave

can be;

He surely would do wondrous things to show his love

of me;

King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is

divine;

I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine.

She dropp'd her glove, to prove his love, then look'd at him and smil'd;

He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions

wild:

The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regain'd

his place,

Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the

lady's face.

"By Heav'n!" said Francis, "rightly done!" and he

rose from where he sat :

"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that."*

"Lions' Street took its name from the building and courts wherein were kept the King's great and small lions. One day, whilst Francis the First amused himself with looking at a combat between his lions, a lady having let her glove drop, said to De Lorges, 'If you would have me believe that you love me as much as you swear you do, go and recover my glove.' De Lorges went down, took up the glove in the midst of these furious animals, returned, and threw it in the lady's face; and notwithstanding all the advances she made, and all the arts she used, would never see her afterwards."

Historical Essays upon Paris, translated from the French of M. de Saint Foix. (Lond. 1767.) Vol. i. p. 149. St. Foix quotes from Brantôme.

ABOU BEN ADHEM.

ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of

peace,

And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:-
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou ?"-The vision rais'd its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answer'd, "The names of those who love the Lord.”
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee then,
"Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanish'd. The next night It came again with a great wakening light,

And show'd the names whom love of God had bless'd, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.