A NOVEL.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON:

THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER,
72, MORTIMER ST., CAVENDISH SQ.

1848

LADY GRANARD'S NIECES.

CHAPTER I.

Hence away, vindictive thought!
Thy pictures are of pain;

The visions through thy dark eye caught,
They with no gentle charms are fraught,
So pr'ythee back again.

I would not weep,

I wish to sleep,

Then why, thou busy foe, with me thy vigils keep?

Go thou, and bide with him who guides

His barque through lonely seas;

And as reclining on his helm,

Sadly he marks the starry realm,

To him thou may'st bring ease;

But thou to me,

Art misery;

So pr'ythee, plume thy wings, and from my pillow

flee.

KIRKE WHITE.

VOL. III.

B

One struggle more and I am free,

From pangs that rend my heart in twain,
One last long sigh to love and thee,

Then back to busy life again.

In vain my lyre would lightly breathe!
The smile that sorrow fain would wear,
But mocks the woe that lurks beneath,
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.

LORD BYRON.

"It's a very disagreeable thing altogether, Sue," said Colonel Lennox, to his sister, one evening as they were sitting together in the hotel where they had taken up their lodgings, after their sudden departure from Crofton Lodge. "It's a very disagreeable affair, and the best thing we can do is to take a trip to the Continent-for it will not be pleasant for Charles to meet the Haroldes soon again. I have been thinking of it for a lorg time, Sue; don't you think it is a good plan ?"