Rowena's Fiery Furnace.

Now all this while Rowena struggled still,
Bound fast by fever's chain.
There seemed no hope!
No leech nor nurse could ease her tortured brain,
Or help her frail and sinking frame to cope
With all the fiery imps that sported there at will.

She sank at last in stupor so profound
They deemed her dead indeed,
And forthwith sent
A messenger to Ragnor's Tower with speed.
But as the heavens no light propitious lent,
The morn beheld the rider horseless on the ground.

Him bleeding sore, the smuggler found; his steed
Was grazing close at hand.
His master groaned,
And begged with tears, as one by fear unmanned
To die, for then his life will have atoned
For what may hap unless his note were sent with speed!

The Dungeon's Angel.

The smuggler promised, but when Eric read
The note, he knew Sir Guy
Was far away.
No need of guide, the horse did homewards fly
And at St. Hilda's gate alone made stay.
This was the night young Eric stood beside Rowena's bed.

Soon after midnight, life once more returned;
Her pulse beat full and fast.
The fever's power,
Some mystic spell had bound but not to last,
Save for one long more dead than living hour;
And now with force renewed, it once more raged and burned.

"Fly, Eric, fly," she cried, and pointed where
The morn's sweet dawning gleamed.
And as upright
She stood, the living counterpart she seemed
Of her whose presence made Hell's dungeons bright,
O God! his angel guide now raved in madness there!

Rediviva.

"Dear mistress mine," young Eric cried and rose;
Then took and kissed her hand,
As he had done,
That night he had received her last command--
To make her place of refuge known to none.
O blessed charm which brought her life and sweet repose!

When she awoke next morn she gazed on all
Around with look so calm
And smile so sweet,
As fell upon each soul like holy balm
Of healing. Yet their eyes could only greet
Her look of grateful love with tears unbidd'n to fall.

"That voice I heard last night," she weakly said,
"Whose tones familiar sent
A magic thrill
Through all my veins and fever's fetters rent,
Was Eric's, faithful youth, whom they would kill
In Ragnor's deadly vaults! O say he is not