Listening she stands, as pale and mute
As when she fear'd Sir Evans' suit
Should with her sire prevail :
And now her terror who may tell?
For that same knight, known but too well,
Rides swift o'er down and dale.

And by his side his henchman bold,
Gaunt as a night-wolf of the wold,
And dreaded as his lord;
Whose fiery courser, strong and proud,
With arched neck, and neighing loud,
Comes trampling o'er the sward.

Nigh as they come, the maiden's form,
Like flower that folds before the storm,
With terror sinks-when lo!
From a dark thicket springs her hound,
With crouch, and whine, and joyous bound,
Disporting to and fro.

Meanwhile, the horseman hovering near,
Hold parle awhile, with eyes that sear
The modest maiden's gaze-

Who scarce their flushing looks has scann'd,
Ere from her locks a silken band
She to her hound displays.

Then, with a wild and thrilling cry
Of" Home!" she flings the pledge on high,
One moment views his speed-

The next is to Sir Evan press'd;
And o'er a scorched mountain's breast
He spurs his flying steed.

Onward they rush o'er mount and moor,
O'er holt and heath, till noon is o'er,
When, from a death-like trance,
The maid awakes with piercing scream,
Beholding, though as in a dream,
A chief in swift advance.

On! on! he comes! 'tis he-ber sire,
His teeth close-clench'd, his soul on fire,
His sheathless blade in hand;
Beneath whose first resistless blow,
The savage henchman, falling low,
Expires upon the sand.

And whilst the recreant's charger flies,
With falcon swoop he wrests the prize
From fell Sir Evan's grasp;
Holding at bay the furious knight,
Who, wild with rage, puts forth his might
To win her from his clasp.

Fruitless his toil: ne'er shall he set
That pearl upon his coronet;

For now o'er hill and plain,

The Malcom's gathering proudly swells,
And loud and high, at intervals

L. 36. 1.

Is heard the clansman's strain.

N 2

Near as they come, the blaze of strife
Less fiercely glows: Sir Evan's life
Sinks fast beneath the sword;
And his last grim and baleful glance
Beholds the chieftain's clan advance
To hail their victor lord!

THE REMARKABLE HISTORY OF SOPHIA
DOROTHEA, WIFE OF GEORGE I.

In the state of childhood, when no affection could be formed, or any just notions be conceived, of the nature and obligation of the connubial relation, was Sophia Dorothea obliged to enter into the most serious of all engagements with her first cousin, who was double her own age. Within a

year, however, the death of her spouse released her from this preposterous and unnatural tie; but it was only to consign her over to another, not less inconsistent and oppressive. A widow of ten years old, in one of the most enlightened parts of Europe, conveys an idea so ludicrous, as scarcely to deserve credit, were not the fact upon record. But, what will perhaps appear equally extravagant, is the circumstance, that on the death of the husband of this infant, her father and uncle came to an agreement to unite her in the bonds of marriage to her other cousin, Prince George Lewis of Hanover, then sixteen years of age. It is true the ceremony did not take place at Zell till the 28th of November, 1682, when the bride had completed her sixteenth, and the bridegroom his twenty-second year; but it is no less certain, that the engagement was made by all the parties, soon after the death of the Prince Augustus Frederick of Wolfenbuttel. In the meantime, Prince George travelled, and made some campaigns; while the bride completed her education, and prepared herself, as well as could be expected for one of her years, for the important duties of a wife and a mother. On the 30th October, 1683, the princess gave her husband a son, who was named George; and four years afterwards she brought him a daughter, named Sophia Dorothea, who became the wife of Frederick William of Prussia, and mother of Frederick the Great. To account for the distance of time