The Nun.

"E seek my rhyme

Amongst the far off wrecks of time.”

Scott.

PART FIRST.

"The golden censers toss'd with graceful hand,
Whose fragrant breath Arabian odour shed;

Of meek-eyed novices, the youthful band,
With blooming chaplets circling each fair head."

AROUND yon pile of ruins grey,

JAGO.

Rise memories of a former day;

For garlands of wild flowers have bound it, And whispering ivy clings around it,

And hoary moss is gathering o'er

The damp green wall, and mouldering floor;
And sculptured stones are lying there,
In curious patterns rich and rare:-
The musing wanderer who sees,
The long grass waving to the breeze,
May ponder there, when silence dwells,
In the lone aisles and dungeon cells,