32

THE HONEST BIRD.

ONCE on a time, a little bird

Within a wicker cage was heard

In mournful tones these words to sing :"In vain I stretch my useless wing;

Still round and round I vainly fly,

And strive in vain for liberty

Dear liberty, how sweet thou art!".

The prisoner sings, with breaking heart :-
"All other things I'd give for thee,

Nor ask one joy but liberty."
He sang so sweet, a little mouse,
Who often ran about the house,
Came to his cage; her list'ning ear
She turned, the mournful bird to hear.

Soon as he ceased, "Suppose," said she,
"I could contrive to set you free;
Would you those pretty wings give me?"
The cage was in the window-seat,
The sky was blue, the air was sweet.
The bird with eagerness replied,-
"O, yes! my wings, and sec, beside,
These seeds and apples, sugar, too,

All, pretty mouse, I'll give to you,

If you will only set me free;

For, O, I paut for liberty!"

The mouse soon gnawed a hole; the bird,

In ecstacy, forgot his word;

Swift as an arrow, look, he flies,

Far up, far up, towards the skies;

But see, he stops, now he descends,

Towards the cage his course he bends.

"Kind mouse," said he, "behold me now,

Returned to keep my foolish vow;

I only longed for freedom then,

Nor thought to want my wings again.

Better with life itself to part,

Than, living, have a faithless heart.
Do with me, therefore, as you will,

An honest bird I will be still."

His heart seemed full, no more he said:
He drooped his wings and hung his head.
The mouse, though very pert and smart,
Had yet a very tender heart;

She minced a little, twirled about,
Then thus her sentiments threw out:-
"I don't care much about your wings,-
Apples and cakes are better things;
You love the clouds, I choose the house;
Wings would look queer upon a mouse.
My nice long tail is better far,

So keep your wings just where they are."

She munched some apple, gave a smack,
And ran into her little crack.

The bird spread out his wings and flew,
And vanished in the sky's deep blue;
Far up his joyful song he poured,
And sang of freedom as he soared.

A PICTURE.

THE farmer sat in his easy chair,
Smoking his pipe of clay,
While bis hale old wife, with busy care,
Was clearing the dinner away.
A sweet little girl, with fine blue eyes,
On her grandpa's knee was catching flies.
The old man placed his hand on her head,
With a tear on his wrinkled face;
He thought how often her mother, dead,
Had sat in the self-same place.

As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye,

Don't smoke," said the child, "how it makes you cry."

The house-dog lay stretched out on the floor,
Where the sun after noon used to steal,
The thrifty old wife by the open door,
usily turned the spinning wheel.
And the old brass clock on the mantle tree,
Had plodded along to almost three.
Still the farmer sat in his easy chair,
While close to his heaving breast,
The moistened brow and the head so fair,
Of his sweet grandchild were prest:
His head bent down-on her soft hair lay-
Fast asleep were they both on that summer day.

A CRADLE SONG.
COME, white angels, to baby and me;
Touch his blue eyes with the image of sleep,
In his surprise he will cease to weep:
Hush, child, the angels are coming to me!-
Come, white doves, to baby and me;

Softly whirr in the silent air,
Flutter about his golden hair:
Hark, child, the doves are cooing to thee!
Come, white lilies, to baby and me:

Drowsily nod before his eyes,

So full of wonder, so round and wise: Hist, child, the lily-bells tinkle for thee! Come, white moon, to baby and me;

Gently glide o'er the ocean of sleep, Silver the waves of its shadowy deep: Sleep, child, and the whitest of dreams to thee,

CHILDREN'S WISHES.
I WISH I was a little bird
Among the leaves to dwell;
To scale the sky in gladness,
Or seek the lonely dell.
My matin song should celebrate
The glory of the earth;

And my vesper hymn ring gladly
With the thrill of careless mirth.

I wish I were a floweret

To blossom in the grove,
I'd spread my open leaflets
Among the plants I love.
No hand should roughly cull me
And bid my odours fly,
I silently would ope to life
And quietly would die.
I wish I were a gold-fish
To seek the sunny wave,
To part the gentle ripple,

And amid its coolness lavc.
I'd glide through day delighted
Beneath the azure sky,

And when night came on in softness
Seek the starlight's milder eye.
Hush, hush! romantic prattlers,
You know not what you say;
When soul, the crown of mortals,
You would lightly throw away.
What is the songster's warble,
And the floweret's blush refined,
To the noble thoughts of Deity

Within your open mind?

3

VOL. I.-No. 3.

SONG. THE FAIRIES.

COME, follow, follow me,

Ye fairy elves that be,

Light tripping o'er the green;
Come follow Mab, your queen.
Hand in hand we'll dance around,
For this place is fairy ground.

When mortals are at rest,
And snoring in their nest,
Unheard and unespied

Through key-holes we do glide:
Over tables, stools, and shelves,
We trip it with our fairy elves.

And if the house be foul
With platter, dish, or bowl,
Upstairs we nimbly creep,
And find the sluts asleep;
Then we pinch their arms and thighs;
None us hears, and none us spies.

But if the house be swept,
And from uncleanness kept,
We praise the household maid,
And duly she is paid:
Every night before we go,
We drop a tester in her shoe.

Then o'er a mushroom's head
Our table-cloth we spread;
A grain of rye or wheat,
The diet that we eat;
Pearly drops of dew we drink
In acorn cups fill'd to the brink.

The brains of nightingales,
With unctuous fat of snails,
Between two cockles stew'd,
Is meat that's easily chew'd;
Tails of worms, and marrow of mice,
Do make a dish that's wondrous nice.

The grasshopper, gnat, and fly, Serve for our minstrelsy; Grace said, we dance a while, And so the time beguile : And if the moon doth hide her head, The glow-worm lights us home to bed.

O'er tops of dewy grass,

So nimbly we do pass, The young and tender stalk Ne'er bends where we do walk; Yet in the morning may be seen Where we the night before have been.

QUEEN RADEGONDA.

PRICE ONE PENNY.

A CHAPTER FROM THE EARLY HISTORY OF FRANCE.

N the year 529 Chlother, King of Neustria, with his followers, joined his brother Theoderik, who was marching against the Thorings, or Thuringians, a people of the Saxon Confederacy, and both neighbours and enemies of the Austrasian Franks.

The Thuringians lost several battles: the bravest of their warriors were slain on the banks of the Unstrudt; their country, ravaged with fire and sword, became tributary to the victorious kings, who made equal division of booty and prisoners. There fell to the lot of the King of Neustria two children of royal race, the son and daughter of Berther, the last king but one of the Thuringians. The young girl, Radegonda, was hardly eight years old, but her grace and precocious beauty made such an impression on the Frankish prince that he resolved to have her educated so that she might one day become one of his wives.

Radegonda was carefully guarded in one of the royal palaces of Neustria, on the estate of Aties, on the Somme. There, from a praiseworthy fancy of her master and future husband, she received, not the simple education of girls of the Germanic race, who learnt little besides spinning and hunting, but the refined education of rich Gallic women. To all the elegant occupations of a civilised woman were added the study of Roman literature, and an acquaintance with the profane poets and the ecclesiastical writers.

Either her mind was naturally sensitive to all delicate impressions, or else the ruin of her country and family, and the scenes of barbaric life which she had witnessed, had saddened and disgusted her, for she loved the ideal world which books opened to her better than that by which she was surrounded. When she read the Scriptures, and the lives of the saints, she wept and longed for martyrdom; and probably, also, less dismal dreams, dreams of peace and of liberty, accompanied her other readings. But religious enthusiasm, which then absorbed all that was noble and elevated in human faculties, soon predominated in her, and this young barbarian, in attaching herself to the ideas and customs of civilisation, embraced them in their purest form-a Christian life.

With her thoughts turned more and more from the men and things of this century of violence and brutality, she arrived at a marriageable age, and the terrible moment approached when she must become wife to the king whose captive she was.

When the order was issued to send her to the royal residence for the celebration of the nuptials, impelled by an instinct of invincible repugnance to the king, she took flight; but she was caught, brought back, and, against her will, was married at Soissons, and became queen, or rather one of the queens, of the Neustrian Franks; for Chlother, faithful to the customs of ancient Germany, was not contented with one wife.

Inexpressible disgust, which, in a mind like Radegonda's, the attractions of power and riches could not diminish, followed this forced

union between the barbarian king and the woman who was estranged from him by the very moral perfections which he had rejoiced to find in her, and which he himself had caused to be cultivated.

In order to withdraw herself, partially at least, from the duties of her position, which weighed upon her like a chain, Radegonda imposed on herself others apparently more rigorous; she devoted all her leisure to works of charity or of Christian austerity: she devoted herself personally to the service of the sick and poor. The royal house of Aties, where she had been brought up, and which she had received as a wedding gift, became a hospital for poor women. One of the queen's favourite occupations consisted in going, not merely to visit it, but to fulfil the office of nurse in all its most revolting details. The pleasures of the court of Neustria, the riotous banquets, the perilous field sports, the reviews and warlike tilts, the society of vassals, with their loud voices and uncultivated minds, wearied and saddened her. But if any bishop, or refined and well-informed clerk, a man of peace and mild conversation, arrived, she instantly abandoned all for his society; she remained with him for hours, and when the time came for his departure, she loaded him with presents as tokens of remembrance, wished him a thousand times adieu, and then relapsed into her former melancholy.

She was never ready, either purposely or from forgetfulness, at the hours of meals, which she took with her husband, being always absorbed in instructive reading or pious exercises. It was necessary to call her several times, and the king, tired of waiting, quarrelled with her violently, without succeeding in making her more punctual. At night, under some pretext or other, she got up from her bed, and went to sleep on the ficor on a simple mat or hair-cloth, only returning to the nuptial couch when she was benumbed with cold; thus associating, in a curious manner, Christian mortification with the sentiment of insurmountable aversion with which her husband inspired her.

All these signs of disgust did not, however, weary the love of the King of Neustria. Radegonda's reluctance irritated him without causing him any real discomfort, and amid his conjugal annoyances he contented himself with saying, "It is a nun, and not a queen, that I have got.'

And, in truth, there was but one refuge, a conventual life, for this soul, wounded in all the ties which bound it to the world. Radegonda's every wish aspired to it; but the obstacles were great, and six years passed over her head before she ventured to brave them. At last a family misfortune gave her courage to do so.

Her brother, who had grown up at the court of Neustria as a hostage of the Thuringian nation, was put to death by the king's orders, on account either of patriotic regrets or inconsiderate menaces. As soon as the queen learnt this horrible news her resolution was taken, but she concealed it. Feigning only to seek religious consolation, but in reality seeking a man capable of becoming her deliverer, she went to Noyon, to the Bishop Medardus, the son of a Frank and a Roman, a personage, then celebrated throughout Gaul for his reputation of sanctity.

Chlother had not the least suspicion of this pious errand, and not only made no opposition but even ordered everything himself for the queen's departure, for her tears annoyed him, and he was anxious to see her more calm and in a less melancholy humour.

Radegonda found the Bishop of Noyon in his church, officiating at the altar. Upon coming into his presence the feelings which agitated her, and which she had until then repressed, burst forth; and her first words were a cry of distress: "Most holy priest, I wish to leave this world, and to change my costume! I entreat thee, most holy father, to consecrate me to the Lord!"

Notwithstanding the intrepidity of his faith and proselyting fervour, the bishop, surprised at this sudden request, hesitated, and begged for time to reflect. It was a perilous determination, that of breaking a royal marriage contracted according to the Salic law and the Germanic customs-customs which the Church, though it abhorred them, still tolerated for fear of alienating the minds of the barbarians.

Moreover, a contention of another kind also arose for St. Medardus, besides the internal struggle between prudence and zeal. The Frankish nobles and warriors who had followed the queen surrounded her, and cried to him with menacing gestures: "Dare not to give the veil to a woman who has united herself to the king! Priest, beware of depriving the prince of a solemnly-espoused queen!" The most violent, laying hands on him, dragged him by force from the steps of the altar into the nave of the church, whilst the queen, frightened at the tumult, sought a refuge with her women in the vestry.

But there, collecting her thoughts, instead of abandoning herself to despair, she conceived an expedient in which there was as much feminine address as firmness of purpose. To give it the best chance of success, and to put the religious zeal of the bishop to the strongest

proof, she threw the dress of a nun over her royal apparel, and in this disguise proceeded towards the sanctuary, where sat St. Medardus, sad, pensive, and irresolute. "If thou delayest to consecrate me," said she, in a firm voice, "and fearest man more than God, thou wilt have to render an account, and the Shepherd will demand of thee the soul of his lamb."

This unexpected apparition, and these mystical words, struck the imagination of the old bishop, and suddenly revived his expiring zeal. Elevating his conscience as a priest above human fears and politic cautions, he hesitated no longer, but of his own authority annulled the marriage of Radegonda, and ordained her a deaconess. The nobles and vassals also partook of the enthusiasm; they did not dare to bring back by force to the royal abode one who bore to them in future the doubly sacred character of a queen and a woman-devoted to the service of God.

The first thought of the new convert (for such was the name then given to express the renunciation of the world) was to strip herself of all the jewels and valuables she wore. She covered the altar with her head ornaments, her bracelets, her clasps of precious stones, and the fringes of her robes, woven of purple and golden threads; she broke her rich girdle of massive gold with her own hands, saying, "I give it to the poor;" and then thought of saving herself from danger by instantaneous flight.

Free to choose her road, she directed her steps towards the south, leaving the centre of Frankish domination from an instinct of safety, and perhaps, also, from an instinct of refinement, which attracted her towards those regions of Gaul in which barbarism had made fewest inroads. She arrived at the town of Orleans, and embarked on the Loire, which she descended as far as Tours. There she halted, to wait, under the protection of the numerous sanctuaries open near the Tomb of St. Martin, what the husband whom she had abandoned would determine respecting her.

She led thus for some time the disturbed and restless life of the outlaws who sought refuge in sanctuaries, trembling for fear of being surprised if she took one step beyond the protecting bounds, sending petitions to the king, sometimes haughty, sometimes suppliant, negotiating with him through the medium of the bishops, to induce him to resign himself to never seeing her again, and permitting her to accomplish her monastic vows.

Chlother at first showed himself deaf to prayers and entreaties; he claimed his right as a husband, attested the laws of his ancestors, and threatened to go himself to seize the fugitive, and bring her back. Terrified when public rumour or the letters of her friends brought her news of this kind, Radegonda then gave herself up to increased austerities-to fasts, vigils, and mortifications in hair-cloth-in hopes at the same time of obtaining assistance from above, and losing all the charms she possessed for the man who persecuted her with his love.

To increase the distance which separated them, she went from Tours to Poitiers, from the sanctuary of St. Martin to the no less revered sanctuary of St. Hilary. The king, however, was not to be discouraged, and he once came to Tours under the false pretext of devotion; but the energetic remonstrances of St. Germain, the illustrious Bishop of Paris, prevented his going any further. Controlled, so to speak, by that moral power before which the vehement will of the Barbarian kings was forced to give way, he, weary of the struggle, consented that the daughter of the Thuringian kings should found a monastery for women at Poitiers; following the example given in the town of Arles by a Gallo-Roman matron, Cæsaria, the sister of the Bishop Cæsarius, or St. Cesaire.

Everything which Radegonda had received from her husband, according to the Germanic custom, either as dowry or as morning gift, was devoted by her to the establishment of the congregation, which was to form her chosen family in the place of that which she had lost by the disasters of a conquest, and the suspicious tyranny of the conquerors of her country. She laid the foundations of the new monastery, which was to be an asylum open to all women who wished to escape, by retiring, from the seductions of the world or the invasions of the barbarians, in a piece of ground which she possessed at the gates of the city of Poitiers.

Notwithstanding the anxiety of the queen and the assistance of Pientius, Bishop of Poitiers, several years elapsed before the building was completed; it was a Roman villa, with all its appurtenances, gardens, porticos, baths, and a church. Either symbolically, or as a precaution for personal safety against the violence of the times, the architect gave a military aspect to the exterior of this peaceful convent. The walls were high and strong like ramparts, and several towers were erected at the principal entrance. These somewhat strange preparations made a strong impression on the general imagination, and the announcement of their progress spread abroad like news of great importance. "See," it was said in the mystical language of the time; see the ark which is building amongst us against the deluge of evil passions, and the storms of this world."

For three days and nights Haitim thus continued in the loathsome belly of the dragon, where he would have speedily died had it not been for a talismanic pearl which his wife, the bear's daughter, had fixed in his turban previous to his departure.

This pearl had a charm in it, by which its possessor became protected against the bad effects of fire and poison, and hence the venom of the dragon had no effect on Haitim.

In truth, the bounteous Creator had timely provided him with an antidote, for it was His will that Haitim should live.

Meanwhile the dragon, heartily wishing to be rid of Haitim, said to himself, "What troublesome stuff have I swallowed here? I can never digest it, for it still lives and moves about in my inside." It may be supposed that Haitim found little comfort within the dragon's belly; and as he was constantly endeavouring to stand up and walk about, the trampling of his feet upon the stomach of the monster so annoyed it, that it coiled and reared in all directions. At length, when it found that its food was really pernicious, and caused it much pain, the monster could bear it no longer; so, making a strong effort, it vomitted, and Haitim was once more thrown into the open air, whereupon the dragon left him and fled into the wilderness.

Haitim remained on the spot for some time till his clothes were dried by the sun, and then proceeded on his way, till, after traversing the sandy desert, he arrived, exhausted with hunger and thirst, at the banks of a river. Here he began to wash both himself and his clothes, when he observed a large fish floating near him.

Haitim was congratulating himself on this providential supply of food, when he perceived that the fish was one half of human form, of extreme beauty, being in fact a mermaid. It approached nearer, and, seizing him by the hand, instantly drew him into the river. Haitim struggled hard to free himself, but his strength was of no avail; the mermaid hurried him through the deep, and conveyed him into her dwelling-place beneath the waters. He next found himself in a splendid apartment, seated on a superb couch, and the mermaid endeavouring by every art to reconcile him to his captivity. For seven nights and days Haitim remained the dejected captive of this monster of the deep. At last, becoming desperate, he said, "I have travelled thus far on the most urgent business, leaving my home and kindred, why then dost thou urge me to become an inmate of this thy abode? My sadness will never allow me to be an agreeable companion. I pray thee, then, to conduct me to the place from whence I have been forcibly dragged."

To this the mermaid replied, "Oh, Haitim! stay with me three days longer, and I will consent to thy departure."

When the three days had elapsed Haitim reminded the mermaid of her promise, to which she replied, "Everything which tends to thy welfare shall be accomplished, yet remain a few days more." Haitim said, "Remember thy promise, for to stay a moment longer is to me impossible."

The mermaid, finding Haitim resolute, at last took him by the hand, and in an instant conveyed him to the spot from whence she had taken him, and as a last effort said, "Oh, Haitim! is it really your intention to part from me ?"

"My duty," said Haitim, "is imperative, and nothing shall make me shrink from it."

When Haitim gave this decisive answer, the mermaid vanished. He then finished the washing of his clothes, in which he had been previously interrupted, and, after drying them in the sun, he dressed himself and once more set forth on his journey.

After travelling several days he approached a mountain, the top of which was covered with beautiful groves of trees. Having ascended the mountain, he entered the groves, which were provided with elegant couches, and through which flowed rivulets of pure water. The cool zephyr wafting its fragrance through the trees, rendered the place refreshing to the soul. Haitim reclined on one of the couches, and soon fell asleep.

Meanwhile the proprietor of the place passing by, was surprised at beholding a youth of graceful mien sleeping there. He sat down beside him, and shortly after, Haitim, refreshed by slumber, rose up, and seeing a stranger seated by him, he saluted him respectfully. The other, in courteous terms, returned his salutation, and said, "Whence came you, and whither are you going? Pray tell me, what are your motives for traversing this dreary waste?"

Haitim replied, "I am on my way to the desert of Hawaida." The stranger, on hearing this, said, "How came you to adopt so mad a resolution?-have none of your friends been kind enough to oppose your journey?"

"Such," said Haitim, "is my sincere intention; and placing my reliance on God, I have undertaken this task, and have proceeded thus far on my way. A prince, by name Munir Shami, has fallen desperately in love with Husn Banu, the daughter of Burzak the merchant. This 1 dy has asked of the prince seven questions, the solution of which is be you mis power. Weeping in the agonies of des; air, he quitted

the haunts of men and turned his face to the mountains and deserts, where I chanced to meet him. I inquired into the cause of his distress, and learned from him his heart-melting tale. It came into my. mind, that to question the distressed as to his circumstances, and then not to make an effort to relieve him, would be conduct unworthy of a man. For this reason, sir, I have endeavoured to do my best in his cause."

The stranger then said, " Assuredly you must be Haitim himself; for beside Haitim there is not a man alive who would have acted in such a manner. Generous Haitim! God is beneficent, and to you will render the task easy; but remember, that hitherto no one has returned in safety from the desert of Hawaida, and the few who have retraced their steps from thence became distracted in mind and lost to the world; however, since you will go, give ear to my advice. The instant you approach the desert of Hawaida, you will be assailed with enchantments, against which your power and strength will be of no avail. Around you will gather damsels of surpassing beauty, and among them will be a heart-ravishing nymph, of graceful form, with waving tresses, resplendent as the full moon; the moment you behold her your heart will be beyond your control, but you must remain firm of mind and not give way. Should you then resolve to advance, you have merely to take this fair damsel by the hand, and in an instant you will find yourself in the desert of Hawaida. Now, Haitim, if you do not follow my advice, you will have cause to repent of it till your dying hour."

When he had done speaking a man with a table in his hands approached the couch on which they sat, and having placed it before them, he covered it with a cloth, and presented them with water to wash their hands. He then placed upon the table a large bowl full of milk and rice, and two flagons full of pure water, the most delicious that Haitim had ever tasted.

Having rested there during the night, Haitim next morning took leave of his host and departed.

After journeying for some days, he arrived on the shore of a lake surrounded with shady trees, and overflowing with clear water. Whilst he stood rapt in admiration of this scene, a nymph of more than mortal beauty, naked from head to foot, gracefully arose from the water. Haitim, dazzled with her beauty, covered his eyes, and the nymph seizing him by the hand, hurried him into the deep. Haitim found himself for some time sinking rapidly, till at length his feet rested on firm ground. He then opened his eyes, and, to his astonishment, beheld around him a most beautiful and extensive garden. Here the nymph of the lake quitted her hold of his hand, and vanished from his sight.

Haitim walked a considerable distance through the garden, when lo! thousands of beautiful women approached him from every direction, each of whom assailed him with her charms, and endeavoured to pierce his heart with the arrows of her amorous glances. To all these, however, Haitim paid not the least regard, for he kept in mind the advice of the stranger who had lately entertained him, and said to himself, "This is all enchantment and illusion."

The damsels then laid hold of Haitim, and conveyed him to a splendid palace, which was formed entirely of precious stones, and all sorts of jewels and pearls, and also decorated with numberless paintings. When Haitim was inside the palace, standing near a throne which he viewed with admiration, he thought within himself, "Now that I am in this palace, why should I not for once sit upon that throne ?"

He therefore advanced, and upon placing his foot on the throne, he heard a tremendous crash; he started back, thinking that the stone had broken under his weight. He once more examined it, and seeing no cause for what he had imagined, he mounted the throne and sat down.

He was no sooner upon the throne than the noise was repeated, and the beautiful damsel, whom the stranger on the mountain had mentioned to him as likely to take his heart captive, approached him with the most alluring smiles. She was arrayed in gold and glittering jewels, and, with a veil thrown over her face, she advanced and stood at the foot of the throne.

Haitim was completely bewildered, and felt the strongest inclination to remove the veil from her face; but then he remembered the advice he had received, and said in his own mind, "It is only by seizing the hand of this damsel that I can be delivered from this enchantment; however, ere I depart, I must see further into the illusions of this place."

For three nights and days Haitim remained seated on the throne. The darkness of the night was dispelled by magic lamps, which to him were invisible, and his ears were delighted with melodious sounds. Fantastic groups in endless variety danced amid the scene, but all the while the damsel of surpassing beauty stood by the throne, sweetly smiling in his face. He was presented with food and fruits of every description in golden dishes; but although Haitim ate most heartily, his hunger was not in the least appeased. Wondering