THE GIPSY ANGLERS.

That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.
"O thus," quoth Dighton, "lay the gentle babes,"—
"Thus, thus," quoth Forrest, "girdling one another
"Within their alabaster innocent arms:

"Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,

"Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.

"A book of prayers on their pillow lay,

"Which once," quoth Forrest, " almost chang'd my mind;

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When Dighton thus told on :-" We smother'd

"The most replenished sweet work of nature,
"That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd."
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse;
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

KING RICHARD III., Act iv., Scene 3.

THE GIPSY ANGLERS.

How still the scene around! No rippling wave
Disturbs the surface of the glassy pool.
The youthful comrades of the roving tribe
Confess the soothing influence of eve,
And speechless sit upon the rocky bank,-
He, with an angler's patience, all intent
Upon his finny prey, the maiden but too glad
To share her brother's pastime, whom she lov'd
More dearly that she had none else to love.
A touching spectacle! Of goodly form
And bold of eye, with graceful motion, such

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THE PICTORIAL WORLD.

As well becomes those who have ever breath'd

The pure and unpolluted air of heav'n,

Nor pined, restrain'd, in hot and crowded rooms,
The youthful pair, alone in the wide world,
Present a pleasing picture.

THE GIPSY-GIRL.

A sunburnt swarthy race!
From Nubian realms their tawny line they bring,
And their brown chieftain vaunts the name of king.
With loitering steps from town to town they pass,
Their lazy dames rock'd on the pannier'd ass ;
From pilfer'd roots, or nauseous carrion fed;
By hedgerows green they strew their leafy bed,
While scarce the cloak of tawdry red conceals
The fine-turn'd limbs which every breeze reveals.
Their bright black eyes through silken lashes shine;
Around their necks the raven tresses twine;
But chilling damp and dews of night impair
Its soft sleek gloss, and tan the bosom bare.
Adroit the lines of palmistry to trace,

Or read the maiden's wishes in her face,

Her hoarded silver store they charm away,

A pleasing debt, for promis'd wealth to pay.-LEyden.

END OF VOL. II.

J. Rickerby, Printer, Sherbourn Lane, London.