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“No, but his friend has," was the reply.
“Well, oh, very well,” said the Jew, rubbing his hands ; “ better and better this is. But call her down : Sal—here, Sal-old girl, come and see your Solomons, come—Ah! this is good – ha! ha! ha!”
Before he had finished speaking, a step was heard descending the stairs, and in a moment after a girl, older by some years than the one noticed before, made her appearance. “ So you are come ?" she observed to the Israelite.
Yes, Sal,—couldn't do without you. Oh, you are a clever girl.” “ Come, come, no flummery,” interrupted Sal; “you should have been here before.”
“ No, I said ten o'clock--didn't I? I said, when it was dark-didn't I now ?”
“I hav'nt seen him since," said the elder girl.
“So Ciss told me; how is that, Sal? There is nothing gone wrong-nothing wrong, is there?” enquired the Jew, with apparent
“Oh, no!" returned the girl ; “it will be all right bye-and-by. He is but a boy, and not used to it. I sent him a message to-night that will bring him here to morrow, I'll venture.”
“ And then--".
“ And then,” continued the girl, sharply, “ I've a scheme ready which will not fail, -only be you ready. And now, the sooner we part the better-s0, good night.”
“Good night-good night, Sal. Oh, 'tis a clever girl-a clever girl;" and the Jew chuckled as he stepped into the street and turned once more upon his heel.
Fitzherbert had opened a secret drawer of his writing-desk, and had taken from thence a lock of hair, so dark that it almost vied with the unrivalled jet. He gazed upon it a few moments, and then pressed it fondly to his lips.
“And she perhaps is thinking of me now," he said to himself, “ Poor Amy! oh, that for her sake I could alter my course, and become all that she would wish to see me. Alas! alas !
Mine is an unlucky fate, that forces me to become an actor, where it is even disgraceful to be a spectator. Poor Amy ! -But,” he continued, concealing the locket, “ here comes Parker."
The door opened, and that gentleman presented himself.
“ What a wet night !” he cried. “Well, it's all settled, and you'll be ready to-morrow !"
“ Yes,” sighed Fitzherbert, “ to-morrow" * * *
(To be continued.)
THE COMPLAINT OF HAROLD THE VALIANT
ON ELIZABETH, THE DAUGHTER OF JARISLAFF, KING OF RUSSIA.
No ships have sailed as mine have done,
So fleetly or so far;
To victory or war.
In youth I fought a stubborn fight,
With but one shield to ten :
And Drontheim's king was slain.
One day I sailed,-a storm arose,
With but sixteen the crew;
For all we were so few.
Eight arts I know,-to throw the lance,
To ride, to swim, to row;
To skate o'er ice and snow,
I jousted in a southern land,
And she was there to see;
This day they sing of me.
For all, I am of Norway's land,
And Norway's sons love home;
And sail the ocean's foam.
* See Mallet's Northern Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 236.
REGNER LODBROG'S DEATH-SONG.* We hacked the foe with the sword
We carved the food for the maws Of the wolf with the grizzled hide,
And the hawk with the golden claws. The whole huge ocean gushed,
Like one wide wound with gore,'Twas so we fought in our youth,
On the waves of the Eastern shore. We hacked the foe with the sword
When Helsing's helms were riven ; We sail'd with a swollen sail,
When Ifa's foam was driven. Our steel dropp'd ruddy dew,
It sang to the tune of the thunder, That louder and louder rung,
As the shields were cloven asunder. We hacked the foe with the sword
The blood-dew dropped like rain ; The death-darts whistled in air,
For cleaving the helms in twain. There is pride in the sound of the war,
There is joy in the bride's embrace,– Such were the joys of the fight,
When we felled Britannia's race.
We hacked the foe with the sword
On Humber's colder side;
And he that bore it died.
'Twas then that the steel bit proof,Such is the taste of the mead,
Beneath the widow's roof.
We hacked the foe with the sword
At last King Frier fell; Red and blue the swords
Shone on the golden mail. Blue for the steel, and red
For the blood, that the maidens lamented, 'Twas so on the Frisian shore,
That we fought, and return’d contented. We hacked the foe with the sword
'Twas then that Herthiof won ; 'Twas then that my best men fell,
And Rogvaldur my much-loved son. The spears, that he played with, smote,
His crest blushed red with blood, The corpse-birds shrieked the knell
Of the hero that made their food.
See Mallet's Northern Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 230.
We hacked the foe with the sword,
There was rain and rattle that day-
In the first red dawn of the fray.
As Egill's dart came near-
For he never had tasted fear.
To fall 'mid the hail of darts,
And the clang of the arrowy sleet-
To fly with a craven's feet,
Curse on the dastard's rest,
He bears no heart in his breast !
Fifty times and one,
Have I trusted myself alone.
Hail ye Halls of Death,
I laugh with my latest breath.
THE DEATH OF THE DOG.
A JOINER once of savage surly mood,
With inward hate and envy burned Against a bull-dog, bearing him ill blood.
The bull-dog took amiss ;
As best he might,
In short he bit him on the thigh,
Than you or I,)
Severe and full,
Died of a cloven skull.
The bull-dog's owner came
Barked in his stead.
I hold it shameful to repeat the rout
The bull-dog's owner made,
His bull-dog's broken head.
Whereat the plaintiff far too harsh and hot
In short, they went to law. The plaintiff said,
" Or done as I should do,
" At most
And here he wiped his eyes; whereat the judge,
Just in his cool official way,
Asked what the joiner had to say To justify the grudge;
And added, that he “should, instead, “ Have struck him with the handle of the axe, 6. And not the head." Why, so I should have done in case the cursed Blood-thirsty dog had charged me but-end first ; “But, as it was, the shaft was no avail “ He bit me with his teeth, and not his tail."