LANUS, there were other kings ruling in the Island contemporary with those mentioned; so that one record may be speaking of one monarch while the other is mentioning another.

Were the appeal from Cassibelanus to the Trojan feelings of Cæsar, as related by Gent, sufficiently authenticated, no farther evidence would be needed to corroborate at least the substance of our national annals. I have searched in vain however among Roman historians for any mention of the circumstance; and if it were fact, I can only account for their silence by supposing, that the pride of Cæsar forbade him to record, (what he might consider presumption in a barbarian,) that he had thus claimed. affinity with them.

Having built up what many will consider a firm superstructure, it may appear needless to search into its foundations, and attempt to undermine them. Yet my purpose is not to weave a connected narrative consistent with itself: but to separate the TRUTH from that mass of error with which it is mingled, and by which it is almost hidden. I must, therefore, in some future papers endeavour to discover how much of the substance of these two first will bear the test of opposite traditions, of searching investigation, and of comparison with the known manners and customs of the people, at the time of Cæsar's invasion.

T. R.

SONNETS COMPOSED IN TRAVEL.

BY THE REV. HENRY ALFORD.

No. II.

AT STRATFORD UPON AVON.

WE stood upon the tomb of him whose praise
Time, nor oblivious thrift, nor envy chill,
Nor war, nor ocean with his severing space,
Shall hinder from the peopled world to fill;
And thus, in fulness of our hearts, we cried-
'God's works are wonderful-the arching sky,
The rivers that with noiseless footing glide,
Man's firm-built strength, and woman's liquid eye;
But the high spirit that sleepeth here below
More than all beautiful and stately things
Glory to God the mighty Maker brings:

To whom alone was given the bounds to know
Of human action, and the secret springs
Whence the deep streams of joy and sorrow flow.
January, 1837.

ROSE GLASTON'S BRIDAL.

BY THOMAS FEATHERSTONE.

It was a soft and sunny eve,
The air was full of balm,
The summer sky without a cloud,
The Severn smooth and calm,
Extended silvery and clear

From sedgy shore to shore,
Unruffled with a single breeze,
Unrippled by an oar.

A little boat with snowy sail

Lay dreaming on the deep;
Whence music's voice was often heard
Across the water's sweep.

The towers of Glaston, tall and grey,
In crimson sunlight dyed,
O'erlooking Clifton's rocky heights,
Were mirror'd in the tide.

And oue bright solitary star,
Unclosed its golden eye

On ruddy seas of ripening grain,

That stretch'd beneath the sky, Whence.came the homeward peasant's song,

The blackbird's merry lay,

The cuckoo's oft-repeated note

From woodlands far away.

The firmament grew bright with stars,

And in the East, anon,

A soft increasing sapphire glow

Proclaimed the rising moon;

The clouds that throng'd her starry path
Began to light and gleam

Each moment brighter than before,

With the approaching beam,

And straight the lovely prospect round,
Hill, wood, and turret grey,

The spreading meads and rustling corn

Shone dewy in the ray.

Lo! where from yonder turret high,

A kerchief, snowy white,

Is flutter'd by a tiny hand

That dims the lunar light!

A watchful eye observes the sign,
And in the waters-hark!
Light dips an oar-the vessel glides
Beneath a rampart dark.

A stripling gazes through the gloom
On that bright star above,

And whispers ""Tis the time for flight,
Prepare thee, dearest love!"

A peasant's garb invests his limbs,
But love has lynx-like eyes,
And lady Rose beholds her swain

Through all his mean disguise.
His cap becomes a cap of steel,
His vest a cuirass bright,
Her eye beholds no lowly thrall,

She views her own true knight.
Now haste thee, haste thee, lady fair,
Or soon the tell-tale moon

Will glitter on thy mossy tower,
And chase the friendly gloom.

Lo! through the dark and dewy leaves Which fringe the dizzy height, Descends into her lover's arms

The gentle lady bright.

"Plash" fall the oars, the vessel glides

Athwart the rippling bars

Of mirror'd light, which breaks beneath Into a thousand stars.

Away she sped with winged speed,

Propell'd with wind and oar, And landed her victorious freight

In safety on the shore.

The morn arose on Glaston's towers,
A bright and merry morn,
'Twas usher'd in with pealing bells
And chime of hound and horn;
Bright armour glitter'd in the sun,
And troops of ladies gay,

Assembling fast in bower and hall,
Proclaim'd a festal day.

But where is lady Rose the while?
The baron's hope and pride?
The bridal train is all complete
And only waits the bride.

She comes, she comes-a sylph array'd
In robes that mock the snow,
With roses in her silken hair,
And veil'd from crown to toe.

Youth with its rich and mantling tide
Careering through its veins,
Ill brooks the shivering clasp of age
That's palsied with its pains.
Greybeards! the moral ponder well-
Love's malison awaits

On toothless dogs who seek to wed
With uncongenial mates!

THE DYING STUDENT TO HIS MOTHER.

WEEP not, dear mother, I am free from pain,
And sinking calmly, peacefully away,

I've no desire, no wish, on earth to stay,
And would not pray for health restored again,

Except to dry thy tears, for thou hast been

An ever-kind and loving friend to me,

And on this wide world there is none but thee

To soothe my sorrows with a smile serene.

Oh fame and honour! in the smiling day
Of man's prosperity, ye seem above
The quiet treasure of a mother's love,
But sickness clears the illusive dream away.

Lured by ambition, I have longed to tread

"The steep where fame's proud temple shines from far;" But ah! how hollow fame and glory are

To him who sees them from a dying bed.

One smile to cheer, one tear of unfeigned sorrow,
One word of consolation, is more dear
Than all the world contains of bright and fair
To him whose eyes may never see the morrow.

W. GALLOWAY.