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August 1, 1832.

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Illustrated article.

radiant circle sat the cynosure" of all

eyes, the charming Anne Boleyn, surTWO NIGHTS IN BEAUCHAMP passing all around her by the playful TOWER ; OR,

grace of her smiles, and the sparkling THE CORONATION AND THE SCAFFOLD. wit of her discourse; her beauty was A Tale of the Times of Anne Boleyn. of that warm enjoue character which is

so peculiarly fascinating: the large dark loving eyes,

“half languor and Forget not yet thine own approved. The which so long hath thee so loved,

half fire ;' the ripe, rich, delicate lips; Whose stedsa st faith yet never moved

the slight and swan-like neck, shadowForget not this!

ed only by the long and clustering “Go weigh against a grain of sand

SIR T. WYATT. ringlets of dark brown glossy hair ; the The glories of a throne!”

clear brunette complexion (heightened

by the rich roses of her cheek), and the was the night before the first of nymph-like grace of her form, all June 15–, and the gallantest lords and united to render her the most bewitchloveliest ladies of England (each vying ing woman of her times. Triumph and with the other in the splendour of their gratified ambition gave brighter" lustre habiliments, and the courteous mystery to her eloquent eyes, and the smile on of their devices,) were assembled in her lips repaid the homage of her surBeauchamp Tower. In the midst of the rounding courtiers. Her attire was


Vol. IX.


splendid: satin and silver and purple There's a step heard on the forest leaves,

As if a fawn were there, and ermine, arranged with a taste pe

Aod white hands shed aside the boughs, culiar to herself, and displaying the And singlets soft and fair graces of her figure with rather more

Are shaken from a brow of snow, latitude than the rigid costume of the

As if they fear'd to hide ladies of her court, She appeared half The timid light of thy blue eyes, occupied in examining the profusion of My young and gentle bride. jewellery on a table near her, and half

I own their sweet and touching charm, listening to the polished wit of Sir My beautiful Marie, Thomas Wyatt, who stood behind her

ibe flash of summer lightning

In the Falcon's glance for me! chair.

“How like you the crown, daughter?" It was the night before her coronasaid the Countess of Wiltshire, placing tion, and Anne Boleyn held a revel in one of exquisite workmanship, com- Beauchamp Tower, herself leading the posed almost entirely of the richest masque, and presiding at the banquet gems, before her.

in all the pride of her beauty, her "I thank Heaven well, lady mother,” power, and her triumphant ambition. answered Anne ; and turning to Wyatt One alone in that gay assembly won she added, gaily, “Ilow like you the not the smiles and ready words of the crown, Sir Poet ?

animated Queen. The lover of her “ So well, lady, of all hearts youth, the forsaken Percy, whose heart That may the Falcon* never rue

she had sacrificed for a Crown, sat The gallant height she won unto!” apart, gazing on the fair idol of the

“ How now! an evil prophecy on hour, his thoughts wandering to the the eve of our coronation ? That is not sweet time when, as the Page and the well from our Knight and Minstrel!” Maid of Honour, they were the happiest and taking a lute froin the hands of an and the gayest in the stately court of attendant lady, she held it forth to Sir the now exiled Catharine. Thomas. “Here, Sir Poet, we

“ All earthly things have their mand thee on thy allegiance instantly change," murmured Percy to himto supplicate the Muses, and do homage self, “since thy heart could forget its on Parnassus for thy fault.”

early vows !—But that thy joyous smile Wyatt knelt with graceful ease, and may ne'er be darkened, or thy delicate receiving the lute, murmured some brow withered by the crown thou hast words, which brought a blush to her chosen, is the true prayer of him thou cheek and a casting down of her long hast deserted!” fringed eyelids, as if to hide the language of her smiling eyes, as the poet, Stowe, the gorgeous chronicler of rising, accompanied his rich and power. England's glories, has, in his own ful voice with the lute, and poured quaint style, pictured the splendour of forth

Queen Anne Boleyn's coronation, and

the radiant triumph in which she moved THE LAY OF THE FALCON.

from the Tower to Westminster - the There are crests in merry England On their banners fair and free,

proudest Peers of England bare-headed But the proudest and the gallantest

at her bridle rein; the 6 marvellous Is the one that's dear to me!

rich and goodly” pageant of the heavenIt is the first in battle-field,

ly Rose and the crowned Falcon at The first in lordly ball,

Leadenhall; the Tower of the Virtues And shines out like a silver star,

at Ludgate ; the “heavenly noyse” of The brightest of them all!

the singing men at Temple-bar; and, It ever bore a stainless name In ancient chivalry;

above all, of the many conduits " run"Tis the gentlest and the courtliest- ning continually wine, both white and Oh the Falcon crest for me!

claret,”-till the very imagination is There's a bird sings sweet at sunset,

fatigued with the overpowering magniAnd its music

ficence which was the prevailing chaSeems whispering of the balmy south,

racteristic of the Court of Henry. Of a And the silvery almond Aower.

verity, if all is true which is there deThe soft low voice of fountains, In its own bright summer clime,

scribed of the costly dress of the peers Seems murmuring in the melody

and peeresses of those days, the goldIt pours at even time.

smiths must have possessed the secret 'Tis in the bower of Beauty,

of the philosopher's stone to furnish the 'Mid smiles and revelry

profusion of wrought gold and 'powderBat the bold and fearless Falcon In the cloudless sky for me!

ings of diamonds and balass rubies,'

which so lavishly mingle in his de* The appropriale advice of Anne Boleyn. scription of the splendour of Anne Bo

that hour


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leyn's coronation. History has largely sprang wildly up, and casting back the dilated on the circumstances attending long ringlets of her chesnut hair from her short career, and on the glorious her pale face, glistening with tears, she reform of which she was the principal gazed upon the intruder, who, at the instrument. The suddenness of her same time throwing away his disguise, fall, and the bitter indignities which discovered her once loved and still were cast upon her by the vicious faithful Northumberland! çourtiers of the time, have long held Ah!” half sbrieked Anne, 1 forth its lesson to posterity. Attired thought I hoped - it was”with the royal magnificence in which Lady of my heart,” said the still she had presided for the last time at kneeling Percy, " he to whom thy the court pageant of May Day, at Green- thoughts glanced holds dalliance in a wich, she was hurried away in a soli- palace-he for whom the truest lover tary barge, and treated with contumely was forsaken has forgotten thee-has and disdain by those who had the same doomed thee. Oh, mistress of my soul, morning bowed the knee and bared can that delicate beauty be abandoned the brow before her. The passionate to so harsh a fate ?-Can the faithless avowals of her innocence, which she tyrant”protested on her knees, were disre- Rise, my Lord of Northumberland. garded; and of all who were the actors To whom do you hold this language ?in this first part of her sad tragedy, to the wife of your King ?-to your Sir Thomas Audley was the only one crowned Queen ? How know you of whose attentions and respect showed the royal Henry's thoughts, or of my her she was still a woman and a Queen. fancied doom ?--how or why came you On entering the Tower, she turned to hither?”! And as she spoke, Anne Kingston, the governor, and exclaimed, gathered her queenly robe around her

"Come, sir, lead me to my dungeon!" slight and graceful form, and stood “Not so, inadam," he replied, “I forth as proudly as when her smiles lead you to the same lodging in Beau- were a world's guerdon. champ Tower which you had before

“ How I came boots not now," said your coronation."

Percy, rising, and I have but a few And, opening the door as he spoke, short moments to plead to that heart Anne was left alone in the silent cham- which should have been my own.ber. Alas! how many different thoughts Anne, my beloved Anne! I can save rushed wildly to her heart! The last thee from death-I can bear thee far time she had been beneath that roof, away to a happier clime! Speak but' how bright and glorious were all her the word, and thou art free! Gold can dreams of days to come!-Lovely and

even unbar the prison of a Queen, and beloved, she left it a Queen, to meet the love can” admiring gaze of thousands--to have Hold, hold, my Lord Percy, I am the proudest peers of England for her not now that Anne Boleyn whose girlish servitors, and to feel the crown of St. heart listened to your fond love tales Edward on her delicate brow, she came in Havering Bower ! -I am the wife of again to Beauchamp Tower' neglected your King ! the mother of a Princess of and despised-insulted and abased England !--I hold no parley for flight to leave it for a scaffold, and to ex

or fear-Henry, the royal Henry, does change the jewels of a crown for the this but to try my faith.* I rest secure, cold glitter of the headsman's steel. even were the axe before me, that this

Oh, Beauchamp Tower !” said the is but an ordeal of the true constancy weeping beauty, “could I but wear

of his anointed Queen! Speak not, now the light heart with which I left Percy-I can call help, and”'thee! Oh, that bright day of triumph!

" I have dared death for these words ! oh, this sad night of worse than despair! Anne, my worshipped Anne ! to-morCatharine! Catharine! thou art in- row they will condemn thee, and I deed avenged !” and she buried her must look on and see thee perish!face in her small clasped hands, as if Let it not be thus-let the agony of thy to shut out the record traced by memory

lover" and conscience deeply on her heart.

Mary Talbot would not thank thee She had wept long and unrestrained, for this," said the Queen, sinking on for none were near to soothe or court her chair, as Percy grasped her robe, the fallen, when a portion of the ta- and, kneeling, wet with the truest tears pestry was cautiously removed, and a

the hand she suffered him to retain. stranger, wrapped closely in a mantle, was in an instant at her feet. Anne prisonment,

* Anne Boleyn's own words during her im



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For the Olio.

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What can their terrors thus excite?

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Percy looked up; there was reproach

THE SHIPWRECK. in the glance, and her heart felt it deeply; her pride and her ambition seemed to fade away, and the sweet

Oh! listen how the tempest blow 8dream of love in Havering Bower, when

The thunder's deep and awful roar!

Tu livid sheets the lightning glows; Percy knelt before her, and in the same What crowds are thronging to the shore ! voice of music wooed her for his bride, Why leave their homes on such a night! rose like a pleasant thought, to fade before the image of his despair and her What danger lurks unseen? own broken vows! Percy was again Each visage pallid with affright,

And wild emotion's seer. the lover of her youth, and the sweet eyes of Anne Boleyn looked sadly Yon vessel, late the ocean's pride,

Now seeking England's shore again, through their tears on him she had de- In sight of land, from side to side, serted; when the approach of footsteps

Is rock'd upon the stormy main. roused her from that trance of a moment, The billows high as mountains rise, and trying to withdraw her hands from No ray of light illumes the skies

Save when the forked lightning's flash; his trembling clasp, she exclaimed

Death frowns in every dreadful form, “Fly, Percy, fly! let me not have Loud shrieks the demon of the storm, thy death to answer for. I know thy And awful is the tempest's crash! generous purpose I thank thee truly; And now with wild distracted ga ze, but I have no fears for the issue of to

The kindred of the hapless crew

To heaven their supplications raise, morrow. The Falcon has not yet flown

For those they never more shall view its flight. Thy Queen shall yet reward

And see-the gaily swelling sail, thy faith. Nay-nay, linger not if thou (Erewhile fair spreading to the gale) hast ever loved Anne Boleyn!"

In strips and tatters torn; If I ever loved thee !--My beauti. The vessel now asunder flies, ful! my lost ! I cannot save thee-but Ah! never shall its inmates' eyes

Unclose to bail the morn! never shall word of mine aid their de- See where the mother clasps her child, tested purpose.

Farewell ! farewell, And rushes frantic to the shore; my first and only love !-Oh, Anne She stands distracted- hopeless-wildBoleyn, would that thou hadst never en

The vessel sinks-to rise no more! tered Beauchamp Tower-would that” How deep-bow awful is the pause !

Voices were now heard so near, that But near a dreadful moment draws, Percy, moved by the agony of Anne, For high uplifted by the storm,

Which bids that solemn pause be o'er :who feared all things in the discovery Each billow hears soine lifeless forin, of his presence, with a desperate effort And casts it on the shore! released her hands, which he had al- And there a son, a brother here, ready covered with passionate kisses, A lover, or a busband lie; and disappeared behind the tapestry as

Their welcome-many a bitter tear,

Their greeting-sorrow's wailful cry! the Lady Edward Boleyn and the at

MRS. KENTISH. tendant maidens of the Queen entered the apartment.


POLICE. History has recorded that falal 15th

For the Olio. of May (the peculiar month of her destiny), when the doom of Anne Boleyn

No. 1. was pronounced ; and its records also I used frequently, on a summer's show that Northumberland, who had evening, some few years ago, after putgazed on the beautiful Queen (as she ting in my pocket a volume of a favourstood before her judges, calın in her ite author, to stroll away to the Tulinnocence,) till his heart seemed break- leries Gardens, intending to pass away ing with agony, suddenly rose and left an hour or two on one of the seats. It the hall, unable to hear the fatal verdict was that one on the Terrace, near the which doomed her to the block - Palace, where I could see the craft Years have gone by since the beautiful passing along the Seine, and the bustle martyr yielded her spirit (in the pure of the Quays from one side, and the faith of the reformed religion) to her crowd of loungers in the garden on the Creator ; but where can ambition find other; although I fully intended reada truer lesson on the vanity of this ing the work I had put in my pocket, world's hopes, than by remembering yet it rarely happened I did so, for the contrast of the first and last nights had contracted the acquaintanceship of spent by Anne Boleyn in Beauchamp a gentleman, whom I used frequently Tower.

E. S. CRAVEN. lo meet on the same bench. He was a

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