pair to repent at leisure their precipitate intrusion; scarce, however, had they time to determine what plan they should pursue, when a gleam of light flashed suddenly along the horizon, and the beauteous being whom they first beheld in the air, stood before them; he waved his snow-white wand, and pointing to the wood, which now appeared sparkling with a thousand fires, moved gently on. Henry and his amiable companion felt an irresistible impulse which compelled them to follow, and having penetrated the wood, they perceived many bright rays of light, which darting like the beams of the sun through every part of it, most beautifully illumined the, shafts of the trees. As they advanced forward, the radiance became more intense, and converged towards a centre, and the fairy being turning quickly round, commanded them to kneel down, and having squeezed the juice of an herb into their eyes, bade them now proceed, but that no mortal eye, unless its powers of vision were adapted to the scene, could endure the glory that would shortly burst upon them. Scarcely had he uttered these words when they entered an amphitheatre; in its centre was a throne of

ivory inlaid with sapphires, on which sate a female form of exquisite beauty, a plain coronet of gold obliquely crossed her flowing hair, and her robe of white satin hung negligent in ample folds. Around her stood five and twenty nymphs clothed in white and gold, and holding lighted tapers; beyond these were fifty of the aerial beings, their wings of downy silver stretched for flight, and each a burning taper in his hand; and lastly, on the circumference of the amphitheatre shone one hundred knights in mail of tempered steel, in one hand they shook aloft a targe of massy diamond, and in the other flashed a taper. So excessive was the reflection, that the targes had the lustre of an hundred suns, and, when shaken, sent forth streams of vivid lightning: from the gold, the silver, and the sapphires rushed a flood of tinted light, that mingling threw upon the eye a series of revolving hues.

Henry and Adeline, impressed with awe, with wonder and delight, fell prostrate on the ground, whilst the fairy spirit advancing, knelt and presented to the queen a crystal vase. She rose, she waved her hand, and smiling, bade

"she

them to approach. "Gentle strangers, exclaimed, "let not fear appal your hearts, for to them whom courage, truth, and piety have distinguished, our friendship and our love are given. Spirits of the blest we are, our sweet employment to befriend the wretched and the weary, to lull the torture of anguish, and the horror of despair. Ah! never shall the tear of innocence, or the

plaint of sorrow, the

pang of injured merit, or the sigh of hopeless love, implore our aid in vain. Upon the moon-beam do we float, and light as air, pervade the habitations of men, and hearken, O favoured mortals! I tell you spirits pure from vice, are present to your inmost thoughts; when terror, and when madness, when spectres and when death surrounded you, our influence put to flight the ministers of darkness; we placed you in the moon-light vale, and now upon your heads we pour the planetary dew: go, happy pair! from Hecate's dread agents we have freed you, from wildering fear and gloomy superstition."—

She ended, and the lovers, impatient to express their gratitude, were about to speak,

when suddenly the light turned pale, and died away, the spirits fled, and music, soft and sweet, was heard remotely in the air. They started, and, in place of the refulgent scene of magic, beheld a public road, Fitzowen's horse cropping the grass which grew upon its edge, and a village at a little distance, on whose spire the rising sun had shed his earliest beams.

NUMBER XII.

Tale tuum carmen nobis, divine poeta,

Quale sopor fessis in gramine—quale per æstum Dulcis aquæ saliente sitim restinguere rivo.

Virgil.

This beautiful, but too much neglected poem, had ere this attracted the admiration it so justly merits, had not the stern critique of Dr. Johnson intervened to blast its rising fame. A juster relish of the excellencies of poetry, and a more candid style of criticism, may be considered as characteristic of several of the first literary men of the present day, and but for the harsh censure of the author of the Rambler, the pages of Dyer would now, perhaps, have been familiar to every lover and judge of nervous and highly finished description. As it is, however, they are seldom consulted, from an idea, that little worthy of applause, would gratify the enquirer. To remove, therefore,