hat
he was treacherously slain at Caerwent, for his love to the lady of that
castle; that since his death his subjects had respected his dying
injunctions, and reserved the crown for a son, whose arrival they still
expected with much anxiety. On hearing this story the lady cried aloud
to Ywonec, "Fair son, thou hast heard how Providence hath conducted us
hither. Here lies thy father whom this old man slew with felony. I now
put into thy hands the sword of thy sire; I have kept it long enough."
She then proceeded to tell him the sad adventure of his birth, and,
having with much difficulty concluded the recital, fell dead on the tomb
of her husband. Ywonec, almost frantic with grief and horror, instantly
sacrificed his hoary stepfather to the manes of his parents, and having
caused his mother to be interred with suitable honours, accepted from
his subjects the crown they had reserved for the representative of a
long line of royal ancestors.

FOOTNOTES:

[77] The subject of this romance appears to have been taken
from the ecclesiastical history of Normandy. There is still remaining,
near Rouen, the priory of the Lovers, which tradition reports to have
been founded by the father on the very same spot where they perished,
and on the tomb which contained them. M. de la Mere's Dissertation.

No. 8.--LAUSTIC.

The author tells us, this lay is called, in the Breton tongue,
Laustic,[78] and in "right English," the Nihtegale (Nightingale). It is
very well written, and contains many picturesque descriptions; in the
district of St. Malos is the town of Bon, which derives its name from
the goodness of two knights who formerly dwelt in it. One was married;
the other was in love with his neighbour's wife, who returned his
affection. The houses were so near, being only separated by a wall, that
they could easily, from the windows of their respective bed chambers,
interchange glances, talk without being overheard, and toss to each
other little presents and symbols of attachment. For the purpose of
enjoying this amusement, the lady, during the warm nights of spring and
summer, used to rise, and throwing a mantle over her, repair to the
window, and stay there till near the dawn of day. Her husband, much
annoyed by this practice, roughly asked what was the object which so
constantly allured her from her bed, and was told that it was the sweet
voice of the Nightingale. Having heard this he set all his servants to
work, spread on eve