William rejoiced, as he laid down the petition, that she had asked a favor he could bestow, and hoped by his protection of the son to redress in some degree the wrongs he had done the mother. He instantly sent for the messenger into his apartment, and impatiently asked if he had seen the boy and given proper directions for his care.

"I have given directions, sir, for his funeral."

"How!" cried William.

'He pined away ever since his mother was confined, and died two days after her execution."

Robbed by this news of his only gleam of consolation, in the consciousness of having done a mortal injury for which he never now by any means could atone, he saw all his honors, all his riches, all his proud selfish triumphs,

EDMON is considered the earliest of the English poets. He was a man sprung from the people, and at one time in his life was a mere cowherd. He was, however, addressed one night by a stranger, as he thought, in his sleep, and asked to sing a song. He replied that he could not, when the stranger urged that he could, and that he could sing the "Creation." Cadmon then, wondering at himself, began to sing most beautiful verses. He soon afterward awoke, and went immediately to the reeve of Whitby, who, wise and good man that he was, took him to the abbey and told the wondrous story to the abbess Hilda. He recounted the last night's adventure and repeated the verses, which at once obtained the admiration of the persons present. They then explained to him other parts of Holy Scripture, whereupon he went home and produced a beautiful poem. At the request of the abbess he became a monk, and continued to write poems founded on sacred history.

There is a striking resemblance between Cadmon's account of "The Fall of Man," etc., and portions of Milton's "Paradise Lost." Conybeare, in his Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry, says: "The pride, rebellion and punishment of Satan and his princes have a resemblance to Milton so remarkable that most of this portion might be almost literally translated by a cento

of lines from the great poet." The time of Cadmon's death is uncertain-probably about 680.

SA

S. O. BEETON.

SATAN'S SPEECH.

ATAN harangued,
Sorrowing spake,

He who hell henceforth
Should rule,

Govern the abyss.

He was erst God's angel,
Fair in heaven,

Until him his mind urged
And his pride
Most of all,

That he would not
The Lord of hosts'
Word revere.

Boiled within him

His thought about his heart, Hot was without him His dire punishment, Then spake he the words: "This narrow place is most unlike That other that we ere knew, High in heaven's kingdom, Which my Master bestowed on me, Though we it, for the All-powerful, May not possess,

Must cede our realm.

Yet hath he not done rightly,
That he hath struck us down
To the fiery abyss
Of the hot hell,

My strong

Seat possess;

Be to him in delight

And we endure this torment

Misery in this hell.

Oh, had I

power of my hands,

And might one season
Be without,

Be one winter's space,

Then with this host I—
But around me lie
Iron bonds;

Presseth this cord of chain:
I am powerless!
Me have so hard
The clasps of hell,
So firmly grasped !
Here is a vast fire
Above and underneath.
Never did I see

A loathier landskip;

The flame abateth not;

Hot over hell.

Me hath the clasping of these rings,
This hard-polished band,
Impeded in my course,
Debarred me from my way;

My feet are bound,

My hands manacled;

Of these hell-doors are
The ways obstructed,

So that with aught I cannot

From these limb-bonds escape;

About me lie

Of hard iron
Forged with heat,
Huge gratings,

With which me God

Hath fastened by the neck.

Thus perceive I that he knoweth my mind, And that knew also

The Lord of hosts

That should us, through Adam,
Evil befall

About the realm of heaven,

Where I had power of my hands.

But we now suffer chastisement in hell,
Which is darkness and heat-
Grim, bottomless;

God hath us himself

Swept into these swart mists,

Thus he cannot us accuse of any sin
That we against him in the land framed evil;
Yet hath he deprived us of the light,
Cast us into the greatest of all torments:
We may not for this execute vengeance,
Reward him with aught of hostility,
Because he hath bereft us of the light.
He hath now devised a world
Where he hath wrought man
After his own likeness,
With whom he will repeople
The kingdom of heaven with pure
Therefore must we strive zealously
That we on Adam, if we ever may,
And likewise on his offspring, our wrongs

repair,

Corrupt him there in his will,

If we may it in any way devise.

souls;

Now I have no confidence farther in this

bright state,

That which he seems long destined to enjoy, That bliss with his angel's power.