the bright spiritual creatures she was describing, said, hesitatingly, that he remembered a story of a Peri, which, if the Princess had no objection, he would venture to relate. “It is,” said he, with an appealing look to Fadladeen," in a lighter and humbler strain than the other;" then, striking a few careless but melancholy chords on his kitar,—he began to relate the story of PARADISE AND THE PERI.*

CASTLETON CAVERN.

At the extremity of this Cavern the visitor may, if he pleases, hear a blast (or small mine sprung), the effect of which is truly sublime.

THE gorge, the farewell glimpse of day, the stream,

The low-browed arch, and subterranean quire,

And many a vault that never knew the beam
Or breeze of heaven are left behind: the fire,

The mine are ready at this utmost bound
Of night and burial: to yon cove retire,

Ere ruin overwhelm thee. Hark! the sound
That deep and dreadful rolls in lengthened roar,
Shaking the caverns of the drear profound,
And echoed back from many a gulf and shore,
And world of unknown horror; warning eye
And footstep to profane th' abyss no more;
Lest the fiend rise to question who dare spy
His dark domain?—and at the sight we die.

*From Lalla Rookh.'

H.

THE MARINER'S GRAVE.

BY JOHN MALCOLM, ESQ.

I.

THE winds had ceased,-the moaning wave

Gave up its dead unto the shore, To sleep within a calmer grave, Where storms can reach no more. Unfelt by him, the summer day, And winter night may glide away; And suns and seasons vainly roll Above his dark and final goal.

II.

The stranger; of a land unknown;

His name, his place of birth, untold;

He rests where no recording stone

His story may unfold.

Where but the hollow-sounding surge
Howls to the wind his ceaseless dirge;
And sea fowl, o'er his grave that sail,

Shriek forth a wild, funereal wail.

III.

Perchance, a husband and a sire!

For him, his long-expectant mate
Hath fondly trimmed her evening fire,
And kept her vigils late ;—
And taught her babes, with pious care,
To bear upon their infant prayer,

At rise of dawn and fall of day,

Their absent father, far away.

IV.

Perchance, while ocean's wastes he ranged, And native shades, in dreams, were near, And love's rewarding hour,- he changed The bridal for the bier!

While she, the widowed and unwed,—

The pale betrothed of the dead!

Long watched his bark, that from the main

Ne'er reared her cloud of sail again.

V.

But where he sleeps, no mourners grieve,—
No tribute to his tomb is given,—

No sighs, except the sighs of eve,—
No tears, but those of heaven!
Yet, more sublime than grandeur's tomb,
That towers beneath a temple's dome,
Is his—the nameless stranger's grave,
Here, by the dirge-resounding wave.

GRASMERE.

THE gates and everlasting doors on high
Are opened, and the stars their courses hold
Rejoicing, while the moon along the sky

In brightness walks, and paints with umbered gold
The woodlands, rocks, and mountains that enfold
The vale where Grasmere's waters sleeping lie,

Or hushed in adoration; for, of old

They hear, and without answer give reply

To that oraculous canticle, where day

With day, and night with night accordant blend
Their warblings, till the universal lay
Up to the hierarchies of heaven ascend,
With them joint homage jubilant to pay
In strains that never rest, and never end.

H.

THE GROTTO OF AKTELEG.

An Hungarian Legend.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE MUMMY.'

NEAR the village of Azelas in Hungary, is an immense cavern, or rather, a vast succession of caverns, extending for many miles under ground, and known by the general name of the Grotto of Akteleg.' Nothing can be more romantic than its situation: fir and box trees cover the steep hills in its vicinity, and fields of Turkish maize fertilize the valleys; the bright yellow of the corn, as the tall stalks wave in the passing gale, and their heavy heads dash against each other, contrasting strikingly with the dark masses of the fir and the glossy verdure of the box.

This wild, solitary-looking spot, which is now almost inaccessible even to the foot of man, was once, according to tradition, a splendid city; indeed, traces are still pointed out, of the carriage wheels which once rolled through its streets; whilst the altar, pillars, and sculptures of its magnificent cathedral may also be discovered