It was o’er, the bell ceased swaying; and the maiden stepped once more

Firmly on the damp old ladder, where, for hundred years before,

Human foot had not been planted; and what she this night had done

Should be told long ages after. As the rays of setting sun

Light the sky with mellow beauty, aged sires, with heads of white,

Tell the children why the curfew did not ring that one sad night.

O’er the distant hills came Cromwell. Bessie saw him; and her brow,

Lately white with sickening horror, glows with sudden beauty now.

At his feet she told her story, showed her hands, all bruised and torn;

And her sweet young face, so haggard, with a look so sad and worn,

Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light.

“Go! your lover lives,” cried Cromwell. “Curfew shall not ring to-night!”

[Pg 18]

[Pg 18]

 The Glove and the Lions.

The Glove and the Lions.

KING FRANCIS was a hearty king and loved a royal sport,

And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court.

The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride,

And ’mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed.

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