LOUISE, DUCHESS OF LA VALLIERE.

Louisa Frances de la Baume le Blanc, Duchess de la Vallière, favourite of Louis XIV., descended from the ancient noble family of De la Baume, was lady of honour to Henrietta of England, wife of the Duke of Orleans. For two years she cherished a secret affection for the King, who finally placed her in the possession of power, which she only exercised for benevolent objects, her conduct never contradicting her gentle disposition. Superseded in the affections of Louis by Madame de Montespan, she retired, at the age of twenty-eight years, into a Carmelite convent near Paris, where she assumed the name of "Sister Louisa de la Miséricorde," and died there in 1710. She is the author of " Reflexions sur la Miséricorde de Dieu.”—The Abbé Choisi applies to her figure this verse of Fontaine, "Grace that charm'd still more than beauty:"-Madame de Sevigne bestowed on her the appellation of " the humble violet :"-Madame de Genlis has founded a romance on the events of her life; and Lebrun executed a penitent Magdalen, the face of which is from her portrait.

The shadow darkens round me of my fate,

I hear the choir upon the midnight swelling;

There closes on me the eternal grate,

Where banished and where broken hearts are dwelling.

Ah! but for him, how glad I were to seek

The peace the holy convent cell possesses!

To draw the veil above my cold, pale cheek,

To shred from this bowed head the golden tresses!

LOUISE, DUCHESS OF LA VALLIÈRE.

In the pale Carmelite would be no trace

Of guilty beauty or of guilty splendour ; There might long years with many tears efface Love still too passionate and still too tender.

Perhaps this grief is merciful, and sent

To win me from a cold and changed affection,
In vain-though hope its sunny wealth hath spent,
Love needs it not-it lives on recollection.

I know that I deserve what I endure;

But harsh it is when such a blow is given
By him for whom I'd die, could that secure
One joy on earth, or win one hope from heaven.

Too utterly beloved! too much adored,

Since first beneath thy eagle glance I trembled ! What griefs have swelled my sorrow's silent hoard! How many secret tears have I dissembled !

Ah! never yet the heart of woman knew

Love more intense-life had but one emotion. My God! to thee had this scorned heart been true, Not so had been repaid its deep devotion.

I never could have left him, had I left

Within his soul the agony of parting ;

But I shall be the only one bereft―

Only within my eyes the tears are starting.

How have I hung upon a single look!

How has a single word disturbed my sleeping!
Each hour its colour from thy greeting took-
What days for thee have passed away in weeping!

And thou art changed to me-thou for whose sake
My soul has perilled all it should have cherished.

Ah! dare I to the quiet convent take

The human love, that should long since have perished?

God will forgive what man may well despise :
The mortal step may turn aside, and falter;

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But there is pity in the azure skies,

And there is hope on that eternal altar.

I will take with me prayers and tears—if love
Yet lingers in the heart I cannot harden;
It will but raise a suppliant look above,

That looks beyond the grave to ask for pardon.

Long penitence may set the worn one free-
Oh, my lost spirit! make this last endeavour;
Thanks for thy coldness, Louis, but for thee
I had not borne to say, Farewell for ever!

LOWTHER HALL.

The statesman, lawyer, merchant, man of trade,
Pants for the refuge of some rural shade,
Where all his long anxieties forgot,

He views the charms of some sequestered spot.

COWPER.

"Ir any place in England can be said in any respect to have similar features to the Imperial Park,* which I have seen this day, it is Lowther Hall, in Westmoreland, which, (when I knew it many years ago,) from the extent of prospect, the grand surrounding objects, the noble situation, the diversity of surface, the extensive woods, and command of water, I thought might be rendered, by a man of sense, spirit, and taste, the finest scene in the British dominions."

It is supposed that this eloquently expressed opinion, of an experienced and accomplished traveller, received that respect to which it was entitled; for, in the year 1802, only four years previous to Lord Macartney's decease, the owner of Lowther Park commenced the majestic building and its accompanying embellishments, which constitute the chief features of our illustration. In the centre of an extensive park, occupying an area of six hundred acres, and appearing to include within its limits the very mountain chain that surrounds it, there stood an ancient hall, the family seat of the Lowthers. An accidental conflagration, in 1702, so completely disfigured the fair proportions of this venerable pile, that just one hundred years from the date of the accident, the noble proprietor laid the foundation of a new and more lordly edifice, after a design by Sir Robert Smirke, suitable to the increased and princely income of his family. The whole is built of a pale freestone, the perennial freshness of its colour imparting an astonishing * Of Gehol, in Tartary :-Vide Lord Macartney's Narrative of his Embassy to China.