it only knew the advantage of passing its nights at home; for here No birds that haunt my valley free To slaughter I condemn ; Walton Hall. CHARLES WATERTON.* THE HUNTING LEOPARD.-This animal, notwithstanding its natural ferocity, is not unfrequently tamed, and rendered, in the hands of an Indian, subject to his interest. When properly trained for the chase of antelopes, he is hoodwinked until the approach of the herd, and when set at liberty, he winds slowly and cautiously along the ground, crouching and concealing himself until he secures an advantage. Then he darts upon the unsuspecting animals with astonishing agility, and seldom fails to secure his prey after a few bounds; but if his first effort be unsuccessful, he relinquishes all further pursuit. The accompanying engraving represents the harnessed antelope, at the moment of being surprised by a hunting leopard. There are a great variety of antelopes; this one is called the harnessed, from the resemblance borne by the stripes which adorn it, to harness. The eccentric traveller, sportsman, and naturalist, whose fight with the cayman is so well known. DE COURTENAYE, BY R. SHELTON MACKENZIE, L.L.D. Constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny, and youth is vain. "What clouds thy brow, Sir Leoline, at this our marriage feast? Can ought of ill have vexed it here, O! ever honour'd guest? Thou of the high and dauntless heart, whose snowy gonfalone* The meteor of the battle-field in many a fight hath shone! “Awake from such a mɔod of gloom, thou gallant Courtenaye. For brilliant eyes are flashing scorn at thy sad disarray. And, gazing on thy face, inquire- Can this be he whom song Hath named the gayest of the gay, were youth and beauty throng?' "The liquid ruby of the bowl is sparkling by thee nowIts Lethe power can chase cold care from thy beclouded brow, Where many a bright eyed bonnibellet with rapturous smile would greet Sir Leoline de Courtenaye a suitor at her feet! "Even at thy bridal board, Sir Childe, the goblet I pass by, Nor upon beauty's smiling charms I turn my saddened eye. I may not teach this heart to sue, however fair the shrineHer whom I love my coldness left in other lands to pine. "Twere vain to sty how fair she was who won me to her bower The glorious sun hath never shone on a more peerless flower; She is, or was, the pride of France-its first and loveliest may.t Fair are the dames I see around-she was as fair as they. The small flag at the end of the lance. + Bonne et belle. 1 Maiden.-Burns has, " And all to pluck a poesy for my own dear May." "I wooed and won her, then forsook, and hurried me away, Deeming her all too lowly born to wed with Courtenaye. But ever in my sight is still her meek, upbraiding glance, For, day and night, my conscience sees that fair, loin flower of France ! "With hooded falcon on my hand, I tried if sport could win My memory from the bitter thoughts which pierced my heart within; My tiercelet struck the quarry down-but still remembrance fell Upon the face, so sadly sweet, of her who loved too well. "I drained the wine-cup till my brain grew dizzy from its power, Yet even then, my thoughts were with that fair, forsaken flower; I plunged into the tide of war, I won the fight-but still, Amid the victor's pride, my heart was with that bonnibelle. "I left my country, friends, and home, to claim her for my own: I hurried o'er the seas once more, and came to proud Bay-. onne, I sought her in her wonted bower-alas! I sought in vain ; These tearless eyes may never see my bosom love again. "Could she but know how in this heart remorse is sternly set, And changeless love, which still deplores, but never can forget, Then might her gentle bosom all my headstrong faults forgive, And I for aye might clasp to mine my own dear Genevieve." When the fair dames had heard this tale, full many a bright eye wept But lo! from out that brilliant crowd a veiled damsel stept, Down the long hall she slowly paced, and paused by Le line, Raising, before his wondering eyes, a cross- Salvation's sign. * Tiercelet, or tiercelia, a species of hawk. And there upon that cross she placed a severed ring of gold, Withdrew the veil from her fair cheek, and said, Sir knight, behold! Long since upon this cross thy faith was vowed in fair Bayonne, This golden ring, thou said'st would bind me ever as thine own. "Take back thy ring, thou recreant knight! I free thee from thy vow, Thou brokest thy faith, I break its pledge, yet-I forgive thee now. Seek out some high-born dame as mate-oh, do not her deceive ! But memory's self must die ere thou forgettest Genevieve. Clad as a page, I followed thee through many a storm and breeze, As winged thy barque her arrowy flight-an eagle of the seas! Through many a fight I followed thee-no other fault is mine, But that I have too dearly lov'd thee, faithless Leoline. He bent a lowly knee to earth; he took her hand in his : She sank upon his breast; he gave one deep impassioned kiss; Then with a warrior's lordly look, he placed her by his side, "Sir Childe, I pray you look upon my Genevieve, my bride." And then uprose the gallant knights, and pledged them in the bowl, And many a lay of fadeless faith did the old minstrels trol, * Forget Me Not, 1836. This very pleasing ballad, by our old and valued correspondent, is taken from this, the "first of all the annuals." The volume altogether fully maintains the high character it has ever held. |