The deer he sprang from his leafy bed, As he heard the piercing sounds, And the oak boughs crashed to his antlered head, As he flew from the phantom hounds. The rite of the holy monk was stayed, And he trembling dropped his beads, As he heard the tramp through the forest glades And the neigh of the goblin steeds. From the revellers hand the wine-cup fell, At the forester’s festive board; And a sudden charm came o’er the spell Of the minstrels tuneful chord. The old oak shook in its ancient hold, The abbey bell tolled to the blast; And the cloud and the tempest onward rolled, As the Wild Black Huntsman passed. * * * * * [Illustration: J. Hayter, W.H. Mote COQUETISH SEVENTEEN. Graham’s Magazine 1852] * * * * * THE TWO ISABELS; OR COQUETISH SEVENTEEN. [with a steel plate.] BY MRS. S. C. HALL. Oh love, love, love, love!—love is like a dizziness, It will not let a poor man go about his business. Old Song. And are those follies going, And is my proud heart growing Too cold, or wise, for woman’s eyes Again to set it glowing? Moore. The General put on his spectacles, and looked steadfastly at Isabel for at least two minutes. “Turn your head,” he said, at last—“there, to the left.” Isabel Montford, although an acknowledged beauty, was as amiable as she was admired; she had also a keen appreciation of character; and, though somewhat piqued, was amused by the oddity of her aunt’s old lover. The General was a fine example of the well-preserved person and manners of the past century; beauty always recognizes beauty as a distinguished relative; and Isabel turned her head, to render it as attractive as it could be. The General smiled, and after gazing for another minute with evident pleasure, he said—“Do me the favor to keep that attitude, and walk across the room.” Isabella did so with much dignity; she certainly was exceedingly handsome;—her step light, but firm; her figure, admirably poised; her head, well and gracefully placed; her features, finely formed; her eyes and smile, bright and confiding. She would have been more captivating had her dress been less studied; her taste was evidently Parisien rather than classic. The gentleman muttered something, in which the words, “charming,” and “to be regretted,” only met her ear; then he spoke distinctly: “You solicited my candor, young lady—you challenged comparison between you and your compeers, and the passing belles whom I have seen. Now, be so kind as to walk out of the room, re-enter, and curtsey.”