or raspberries. Her delicate hands had Her delicate hands had contrived to weave the rushes, and necessity had taught her to make substitutes for such articles as were of indispensible use. One day, while she was engaged in one of her toilsome searches, she saw a hunter, who was seated a few hundred paces from her. His tired head was resting on his hand, and he seemed to be overwhelmed with sorrow. By his side were a spear and two faithful greyhounds. The knight got up, and the dogs by their caresses in some degree diverted his attention from his grief. Liba recognized him; it was her lover; it was Sir Schott of Grunstein. By an involuntary impulse she stretched out her arms, and strove to utter his name, but the sounds died away upon her lips. What thought she to herself, shall I involve him in our unhappy fate! He would insist upon our taking refuge in his castle, and he would be proscribed as we are; this would be a fresh source of anguish to me, which deserved reproaches would increase. No! let us endure the just punishment which my father has drawn down upon himself. I will endure it with him, in the hope that the powerful hand of avenging justice will one day cease to weigh so heavily on him. The generous Liba felt herself strengthened by this resolution; and greatly comforted she returned to the cavern. She there found her father less agitated than usual. Taking her hand, he said, "I know not how it happens that I find my heart so much lighter to-day; ah! if I could see the sky but for a moment! Liba, is it not very clear?" "Clear!" said Liba, "there is only a single black cloud, and that appears to be quickly passing over." "Cannot you lead me out into the 20 sunshine, that I may warm myself a little in his rays?" Liba looked on all sides. "The sun," said she, "cannot penetrate to any part of this hollow. But I have discovered a good path up the rock; shall I lead you thither?" She led him to the summit, where a mossy carpet covered the rock. The old man sat down, and leaned against the trunk of a withered oak. "Liba," exclaimed he, "I see the sky! I see the sun!" "You can see again, my dear father?” "Not with these eyes, which are dead for ever; they are dried up! But in my own mind I behold a sky-a sun!" Liba threw herself on her knees, clasped her hands, and sighing, prayed "Supreme Judge of the celestial regions, show that thou hast forgiven us!" Balther, too, joined his hands, and said, "Amen! At that instant the thunder burst-the lightning flashed.The old man and his daughter were no more. The body of Balther was reduced to ashes; but that of Liba was unchanged, and nothing in the appearance of it manifested the symptoms of a violent death. Her face still retained the bloom of life. It was the repose of slumber -the peace of innocence. Schott had heard the thunder, and seen the lightning strike the rock. Curiosity led him to the place to examine the traces which this phenomenon had left. He climbed up the rock. Alas! he saw there only the lifeless body of his beloved, and the ashes of Balther. What language can describe his grief! The chapel is a memorial of his just and lasting regret! He dedicated it to Our Lady of Sorrows. But the rock has received the name of Treuenfels, (the rock of fidelity) in remembrance of this noble instance of filial piety. THE DRACHENFELS. A Tradition of the Rhine. The castle of Drachenfels, says Lord Byron, stands on the highest summit of" The Seven Mountains," over the Rhine banks; it is in ruins, and connected with some singular traditions; it is the first in view on the road from Bonn, but on the opposite side of the river; on this bank, nearly facing it, are the remains of another, called the Jew's Castle, and a large cross commemorative of the murder of a chief by his brother; the number of castles and cities along the course of the Rhine, on both sides is very great, and their situations remarkably beautiful. THE Drachenfels is one of the Seven Mountains. The ruins which crown its summit look boldly down on all the country in the vicinity of the Rhine. In the olden time, says an ancient tradition, the cavern, which is still to be seen there, served as the retreat of a monstrous dragon, to which the neighbouring inhabitants paid divine homage, and sacrificed human victims. For this latter purpose were devoted the prisoners who had been taken in war. In the opinion of the people this was the most acceptable worship which could be offered to the horrible divinity. On one occasion, there was among the captives a young maiden, belonging to a noble family, and who had been brought up a Christian. She was of exquisite beauty, and two of the chiefs disputed for the possession of her. The elders, however, decided that she should be made an offering to the dragon, in order to prevent her charms from becoming an apple of discord among the youth. Dressed in white, and crowned with flowers, the lovely captive was conducted to the top of the mountain, where was the cave of the monster, and was tied to a tree, near which stood a large stone that was used as an altar. A numerous crowd was assembled within sight, to witness the frightful spectacle, but there were few hearts so insensible to pity as not to commiserate the fate of the unfortunate maiden. She, meanwhile, was calm, and fixed her pious looks on heaven. The sun now darted his first rays from behind the peaks of the eastern mountains, and these forerunners of a glorious day penetrated through the gloomy entrance of the cavern. Soon, with expanded wings, the monster issued from his den, and trailed his spiral fold towards the spot where he was ac customed to satisfy his sanguinary voracity. The young maiden remained undaunted. She drew from her bosom the image of the Saviour, in whom alone she trusted, and held forth the crucifix to arrest the progress of her formidable enemy. The affrighted dragon hastily receded, and with horrible hisses plunged into the abyss of the surrounding woods, and was never seen more. Astonished by the miraculous deliverance, the people hastened to unloose the bonds of the young Christian, and they looked with wonder on the little crucifix. But their captive instructed them with respect to the subject of her firm belief, and of the power of the God whom she adored. On hearing this they prostrated themselves at her feet, intreating her to return to her home, and to send to them a priest that they might be taught and baptized in the name of the Almighty. Thus did Drachenfels become the cradle of the faith in this country, and a chapel was built on the spot which was originally occupied by the altar stone of the vanquished dragon. the cause, and transported their vassals to Palestine, for the establishment of the Christian cross. Among the rest, Caradoc the Brave, a powerful chieftain of Radnor, the Lord of Llanbedder Castle, was not fae least forward; but his beard was grey in the service of his country; himself was too old for the war, and the command of his vassals devolved to his only son Adelfred, whom he had by a Saxon princess; a youth of noble virtues, universally esteemed by the troops for his valour and accomplishments. The following remarkable inscription, carved in rude characters upon a monumental stone, was, a few years since, discovered buried in the ruins of Llanbedder Castle, in Rad. norshire, and appears to have some connection with the legend: Theire is butte oune Godde, and he is universaile. Godde is Godde, howeverre you worshippe himme; and he is a true worshipperre who auctethe kindlie in the eie ol the Lordde, who reignethe bove the skie. SLOWLY were the last rays of the burning sun withdrawn from the transparent lakes-cool were the zephyrs that played about the mountain's light —and salubrious were the airs, which the herdsman inhaled, which made the waters ripple, and which revived the drooping flower, parched with the boisterous heat of the parent of fecundity. Sweet were the breathings of the shepherd's pipe to him who had not pressed the turf of Albion for seven long weary years. Sweet was the jocund whistle of the labourer returning to his home, who, with pikle cross his shoulder, trilled the merry song; and sweet the recollection of the day of infancy to him, who, after an absence of seven years, returned to press with transport his parent soil. It was evening, and upon the river Wye, which, with bold grace, branches from the mouth of the Severn, was seen a double coracle, bearing a pilgrim, as he should seem by his garb, from the holy land, attended by one, whose golden complexion declared him to be a worshipper of the sun, or of the faith of Alla. Joy was visible on the pilgrim's cheek, mingled with a kind of anxiety; he threw back the thin wave briskly with his paddles; the vessel in haste skimmed over the yielding billow's brow, and the objects flew on either shore from their sight, as the slender vessel sailed with the rapid tide. Anchoring in a small inland creek, the strangers leaped upon the shore; and the pilgrim, falling prostrate upon the ground, kissed the turf with transport. + 66 Forgive me, thou God of my country," cried the infidel, upon his knees, with clasped hands, and bowing with worship to the sun, half hidden in the ocean, "thou Great Adorable; who livest in the hearts of thy children, illumined by thy mild influence, forgive thy votary. Thou, who dost extend, in thy charity, thy munificence to the misguided worshippers of another God, forgive thy servant, who has sought their lands, but who owns in his heart no other God but thee." Welcome, welcome, happy Albion !" cried the other, "thrice welcome, thou dear place of my nativity! With what transport did I behold thy white cliffs increasing in size as I approached thy coasts, borne upon the circling wave. And do I once more breathe thy healthful air? Do I once more behold thy fertile fields clothed in luxuriant plenty? And shall I once more press to my arms a father? Oh, Ali Sheing," he added, turning to the infidel, "how do the incidents of my youth recur to my imagination, on returning to my native country! After a tedious absence of seven long years, what pleasures do I anticipate, in once more minging with the dear partners of my heart, whose love for me is equal to my own. But, come, come," he continued, with a voice expressive of much impatience," let us onward; for high above yon threatening mountain appear the turrets of Llanbedder, in whose bosom dwells every thing on earth I hold most dear; a father, whose tears for me, during my captivity, have been doubt less often shed: a cousin, too, in bonds of love and friendship never to expire: and still one other object, Ali, for whom alone I live, a female of the most bewitching excellence, whose heart is wholly mine!" Ali smiled. distant ocean. Rugged and uneven was the path which they pursued; and fast the sun sought his oozy bed in the bosom of the The first thin gauze of twilight was thrown across the earth, which deeply shadowed every object that had so late been decked with the glory of the resplendent monarch of the eastern sky. The rose drew together its blushing head; and the violet waved lightly to and fro, wafted by the timed breeze. The pilgrim often stopped to gaze upon some well-known object, delighted with thoughts that crowded upon his brain; and frequently pointing to what reminded him of former days, would recount to his companion adventures and anecdotes that had filled his youth. At length, they approached a tall stately elm, whose spreading branches extended across the narrow valley they had entered, situate between two hills; around the trunk of the tree, beneath its shady foliage, a small bench was reared; at its foot, a thin transparent rivulet ran purling along, through a clean bed, that wound round the mountain's base. The pilgrim, ravished with pleasing recollection, threw himself upon the beach, and, clasping his hands together, sighed in ecstacy. Ali, endeavouring to awake him from his transports, affectionately bade him arise, and continue his route. that she sighed, "Oh, Adelfred, I am your's; I live but for you." God of Heaven! was not Elfrida like to those superior beings that surround thy regal seat? Did she not diffuse the rays of prosperity that smiled on her, to those who then groaned under a malignant fate? Was it not here her charity was extended towards a poor peasant, who was like to become a victim of disease of want-who, but for her, would have angered unpardonably with his Creator? Was it not her charitable hand that rescued him from despair? Oh, yes: she preserved a father, and a helpless family from a lingering death, who, in the fulness of their hearts manifested a gratitude that time never could obliterate. Old Ruthwold—”, "Who calls on Ruthwold," cried a voice from behind the elm,-" on the unhappy Ruthwold ?” The pilgrim started up in surprise, and, looking round, beheld an aged man, extended upon the ground. Grey were his venerable locks, and thinly were they scattered they scattered upon his wrinkled brow; he lifted up his head-the white tear oozed at his eyes, and pale was his furrowed cheek. "Whoart thou, venerable mourner?" cried the pilgrim; "Speak, I conjure you! Why is that eye filled with the scalding tear? Pause awhile thy grief, and speak to me?" The sufferer brushed with his hand aside the trembling drop, and with a voice of mingled doubt and surprise, exclaimed: Merciful God! it cannot be. Yet, sure-no, no, my eyes deceive me-Lord Adelfred!" The pilgrim drew nearer. "Ruthwold!" he involuntary utter "Oh, Ali!" returned the youth, "most dear to me is this spot; it re-ed, and flew into his embrace. minds me of those days when I so often exchanged vows of eternal love with the peerless Elfrida. Here, at eve, would we sit, and here imprint on each other's burning lip, the glowing kiss. It was here I swore to Elfrida, I was her's and her's alone. And here was it, while I lay reclined upon her spotless bosom, The heart of Ali Sheing melted into a flood of tears-tears of pleasure; he beheld the transports of their meeting with delight-participating in their emo tions. After a few moments consigned to congratulations, questions multiplying upon the tongue of Adelfred, he eager |