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PUBLISHED BY NAFIS & CORNISH,
NO. 278 PEARL, STREET.
PREFACE
THE Publisher, in presenting the public with
another Annual, deems it unnecessary to make
any apology for its appearance, so long as the
hope can be reasonably entertained, that his ef-
forts to please will not be wholly unsuccessful.
But should he be asked why he has added ano-
ther to the long list of annuals which have been
published under the titles of " Gem," " Souve-
nier," " Memorial," or " Forget me not," his
ready reply must be, that the unprecedented pa-
tronage which has been extended to those and
similar publications, not only in this country but
in all, or nearly all ihe Metropolitan cities of Eu-
rope, encourages the hope that this work will
also find a sufficient patronage to remunerate him
for his labour and expense, or at least to prompt
him to another trial.
" The Lily" is his first attempt, and although
he cannot claim for it that merit which would en-
IT PREFACE.
title it to the meed of praise, he is ready to award
to its contemporaries, yet, should a liberal pub-
lic look upon it with a favorable eye, he will
endeavour to add some new attraction to the
Lily in each successive publication, till if shall
vie with those which have already secured to
themselves so high a place in the estimation of
the public.
The time, labour, and expense of preparing
even a miniature work of this description is so
great, and the success of the experiment so un-
certain, that were it not for the hope of being able
to continue it, from year to year, the Publisher
would hardly have ventured to " cast his Book
upon the waters," with even the cheering pros-
pect that
" The world would find it after many days."
It is now, however, before the public, and
though all unfit to sustain itself, and like the
Rose, to force its way through the world by the
strength of its thorny tendrils, yet the hope is in-
dulged, that it will be cherished and admired, aa
the tender and drooping Lilv.
CONTENTS.
Preface, ::::::::: iii
The Young Tyrolese, :::::: 7
Hymn, (by Mrs. Opie,) :::::: 25
The Young Rebel, :::::: 26
The Town Child and Country Child. : : : 38
The Blue Bell, ::::::: 42
Lines written under a Butterfly painted in an Album, 44
The Storm, :::::::: 46
The Country Girl, :::::: 49
On Two Sisters, ::::::: 51
Lucy and her Bird, :::::: 52
The Old Gentleman, :::::: 57
The Mountain Daisy, : : : : : 89
A walk in the Temple Gardens in the summer of 1827, 103
The Rose of Castle Howard, : : : : : 111
Filial Piety, : : : : : : : 113
The Soldier's Wife, : : : : : : 116
Innocence, : : : : : : : 124
The origin of " Darby and Joan," : : : : 126
Little Moses, ::::::: 131
Isabel, the Lacemaker, :::::: 145
Little Goody Two Shoes, : : : : 162
The Deadly Nightshade, : : : : : 164
The Birds and the Beggar of Bagdat, : : 169
vi CONTENTS.
P
The House Sparrow, :::::: 177
The Restless Boy, :::::: 180
The School Boys, :::::: 192
Lines written at Sea, :::::: 201
To the Harebell, :::.:;: 204
The King and the Minstrel of Ely, : : : 205
Lanes over a Covered Seat, : : : : : 212
Stanzas by Lord F. L. Gower, : t : : 214
THE YOUNG TYROLESE.
BY MISS C. STRICKLAND.
AMONG the gallant band of patriots that rallied
so bravely round the standard of Andrew Hofer,
there was not a more devoted champion of free-
dom than Gustavus Rosen. Placed by birth
and fortune beyond the cares incidental to pover-
ty, and blessed in the society of a beloved wife
and two amiable children, Rosen had passed the
meridian of his days in tranquil happiness ; mis-
fortune had been a stranger to his dwelling, till
the invasion of the French army poured the red
tide of war with remorseless fury into the once
peaceful valleys of the Tyrol. All that was dear
and lovely lay crushed beneath the steps of the
conqueror ; the voice of woe and wailing was
heard throughout the land mothers mourned
for then- children, children for their parents.
The sound of busy, cheerful labour ceased on
the plains ; the joyous voice of childhood was
hushed. The note of the shepherd's pipe was
8 THE YOUNG TYROLESE.
heard no more as he led his fleecy care from the
fold. The chime of sabbath bells no longer
swelled with hallowed melody upon the breeze,
summoning the inhabitants of the land to meet
together in the house of prayer, to mingle in one
general chorus of oraise and grateful thanksgiv-
ing to Him from whose hand all blessings flow.
, Those bells were now only heard pealing forth
the alarum that woke terror and dismay in the
hearts of the feeble and the helpless, mingling in
jangling and discordant sounds with the rolling
of drums, the shrill blast of the bugle, or loud
trumpet, and the deep roar of the artillery. The
tumult of war had hushed all other sounds.
Panic stricken, the Tyrolese at first made no
effectual effort for resisting the invading army ;
they looked to Austria for succour, but she was
unable to afford them any assistance, and the
hapless Tyrol fell a victim to the policy of its
princes.
In the hour of terror and despair, when all had
forsaken her, Hofer, the village innkeeper, alone
stood forward as the champion of his country.
Fired with patriotic zeal, he planted the standard
of freedom once more on his native mountains,
exhorting his countrymen to rally round it in de-
fence of their country's rights.
THE YOUNG TYROLESE. 9
The fire of patriotism was kindled, and like
the electric shock it flew from man to man. The
thrilling cry of " Hofer and Liberty !" was re-
peated by every tongue. " We will conquer or
die in the cause of freedom !" and a thousand
answering echoes from the hills returned, " We
will die !"
Even women and children seemed inspired
with the same patriotic zeal, and vowed to die in
the defence of their country. Mothers were
seen leading their sons, yet striplings in years,
to the camp, with their own hands arming them
in the cause of liberty. " It is better to die than
to live the slaves of France," they said.
The standard of the Tyrolese army was com-
mitted by Hofer's own hand, to the care of the
young son of Gustavus Rosen, a gallant boy of
sixteen, with a solemn charge to defend it with
his life.
" I will defend it," replied the youth, as he un-
folded it to the breeze, " and where this banner
falls, there shall the son of Gustavus Rosen be
found beside it. Death only shall part us."
Three times did the brave Tyrolese, led on
by Hofer, beat back the invader to the frontier,
and victory seemed to crown them with success ;
but the crafty Bavarian now poured his thousands
into the Tyrol, overpowering by the force of
10 THE YOUNG TYROLESE.
numbers, the few brave men who were left to de-
fend their country, and effecting that which the
armies of France had been unable to do alone.
At this juncture Austria made peace with
France, and the Tyrol was ceded to Buonaparte,
who demanded it as one of the conditions of the
treaty. Unable to defend the province, the Em-
peror yielded up the Tyrol without reserve.
Hopeless, dejected, and overpowered by num-
bers, the unfortunate Tyrolese were obliged to
relinquish the unequal strife : burning with in-
dignation they withdrew among the inaccessible
glens and fastnesses of their native mountains,
resolving to perish rather than yield to the usur-
per's power.
The bravest and best of that devoted band
had fallen, or were carried captives across the
Alps :
" Scattered and sunk, the mountain band
Fling the loved rifle from their hand,
The soul of fight is done."
During the heat of the war, Gustavus Rosen
had conveyed his wife and his infant daughter to
a safe retreat among the mountains, where under
the care of an old and faithful friend, who for
many years had followed the adventurous life of
an Alpine hunter, he knew they would be safe
THE YOUNG TYROLESE. 11
from the horrors of the war, which spared not in
its fury either the infant or the ancient of days.
" Here, my beloved Gertrude," he said, ad-
dressing his weeping partner, " you and our Te-
resa will find safety and repose ; and though old
Albrecht's cot be rude and homely, it is far bet-
ter than our camps and leaguered walls."
" There is no safety where you are not," ex-
claimed the wife of Rosen, throwing herself into
his arms " if there be safety in this wild retreat,
stay and share it with us."
The eye of the patriot soldier flashed fire ; he
turned and pointed sternly to the wreaths of dun
smoke that rolled in heavy volumes across the
distant plain. " A thousand helpless mothers,
with their orphan children, cry for vengeance
against the spoiler on yonder smoking plain !
And shall their appeal be unheard !" he cried ve-
hemently, grasping his sword. " See, Gertrude,
even now heaven blushes with the fiery glare of
yon flaming hamlet, and shall I slumber here in
inglorious ease, while my country demands my
aid 1"
Then softening the impetuosity of his manner,
he strove to soothe his weeping spouse ; the pa-
triot's sternness yielded to the tenderness of the
husband and father, he fondly folded the beloved
objects of his solicitude to his heart. Suddenly
12 THE YOUNG TTROLESE.
a rifle was fired. " Hark, 'tis the signal gun,'
he cried. " Gertrude, that shot was fired by oui
gallant boy." " My child ! my Henrick !" ex-
claimed the distracted mother. " Stay, my hus-
band !" but before the sound of that rifle had
ceased to reverberate among the rocks, Rosen
was gone : with desperate haste he pursued his
perilous way, leaping from crag to crag, now
trusting his weight to the weak sapling that over-
hung his path, or stemming with nervous arm the
force of the mountain torrent that would have
barred his path.
Old Albrecht watched his fearful progress with
silent awe ; then turned to soothe the grief of the
disconsolate Gertrude and her daughter ; cheer-
ing them with the hope that Rosen would soon
return, at the same time bidding them welcome
to his lowly roof and mountain fare. " You will
be as safe, dear lady," he said, " as the eagle on
his eyrie on the rocks above you."
The first intelligence that reached the wife ot
Rosen was, that her husband had fallen in the
Passeyre valley, in a desperate skirmish with the
French ; it was the last effort made by the brave
Tyrolese in defence of their country. The
brave Henrick too was no more ; he was found
stretched on the banks of the little stream at the
gorge of the valley, wrapped in the banner which
THE YOUNG TYROLESE. 13
he had sworn to defend with his last drop of
blood. He had faithfully fulfilled his word, and
the standard of freedom had become the winding
sheet of the young hero.
" We knew young Henrick Rosen," said the
soldier who brought the sad news to the cottage
of Albrecht, " by his fair face, and by the stand-
ard which he still grasped in his hand, though
that hand was stiffened by the dullness of death."
This heavy news overpowered the weak frame
of Madame Rosen ; she never again looked up,
and before the close of the autumn, Teresa wept
over the green sod that covered the grave of her
mother.
She had not attained her fifteenth year when
she found herself an orphan, alone in the world,
cut off from every kindred tie : yet in the excess
of her grief, she acknowledged the mercy of Him
who had not left her entirely destitute.
The old hunter and his wife, folding the sor-
rowing orphan by turns in their arms, promised
to fulfil to her the part of parents. " You shall
be our child," they said, " shall eat of our own
bread, and drink of our own cup, and be to us as
a daughter."
With pious words they strove to quiet the grief
of their adopted child, directing her to look to
that source whence only true comfort flows : and
; r
14 THE YOUNG TYROLESB.
humbly to submit to the chastening of that aH-
, merciful God, who wounds but to heal, and fills
our hearts with sorrow that true joy may abound.
The distressing events which, as a soldier's
daughter, Teresa had necessarily witnessed, and
the untimely fate of her parents, had cast a shade
of melancholy over the mind of the young or-
phan, and given a loftier tone to her feelings than
was usual in one so young.
Seated on the hearth at the feet of old Al-
brecht, she loved to listen to his mountain le-
gends ; by turns to weep or exult over the for-
tunes of the Swiss patriot Tell, a theme on which
the old hunter never tired. During the long
winter evenings, while the wind roared round
their lowly dwelling, or the snow whirling in ed-
dies choked the paths, and beat upon their roof,
old Albrecht would beguile the tedious hours, by
relating the feats of his youthful days, charming
the attentive ears of his old Minna and of Teresa,
by the exploits of the chamois hunter, or tales of
other days. But the young Teresa loved best to
talk of her parents of the patriots who fell in
defence of their country of her heroic brother,
who had fallen in the flower of his youth, so
young, so brave though her tears always min-
gled with the lofty feelings which these proud,
yet sad recollections inspired.
THE YOUNG TYROI.ESE. 15
The long weary winter at length wore away ;
the warm breath of spring unloosed the mountain
torrents from their icy chain ; the rocky glens
echoed once more " with the joy of waves."
The snow wreaths melted before the influence of
the sunbeams ; and the earth, though tardily, put
off her snowy vest, and came forth like a bride
decked with fresh flowers.
In early youth there is a buoyancy in the mind
which grief cannot entirely subdue, and which
inclines us to seize with eagerness every glimpse
of joy that presents itself in our path. Teresa
hailed the approach of Spring with delight ; she
loved to ramble among the lonely glens, or climb
the mountain paths ; to watch the stealthy labors
of the marmot, hollowing its subterranean dwell-
ing in the rocks ; to follow with admiring eyo. the
soaring flight of the eagle, winging his way
through the pathless fields of air ; to listen to the
short shrill cry of the swift-footed chamois, as
startled at her approach, he bounded away to his
inaccessible home among the rocks : the murmur
of the stream ; the sighing of the wind as it lifted
the branches above her ; or the cheerful whistle
of the herdsmen as they tended then- flocks on
the adjacent hills, were music to the ear of Tere-
ea, and sounds which spoke of childish joys.
la one of her mountain rambles, Teresa had
16 THE TOUNG TflTROLESE.
afforded some assistance to a poor shepherd in
distress, and, in return for her kindness, he had
presented her with a young lamb, one of the
firstlings of his flock. Delighted with the gift,
Teresa carried home her lamb, and shewed it
with innocent pride to her adopted parents.
From that time Minna, (for so she called it out
of affection to her adopted mother,) became the
constant companion of her walks.
Unweariedly the little creature followed the
footsteps of her mistress, or gambolling before
her, only quitted her side to crop the flowers, or
tender grass that grew in her path. Sometimes
her gentle mistress would reproach her favorite
for wantonly destroying the garland she was
weaving to adorn her hat of straw, or to wreathe
among her own fair locks.
Her dress was such as was usually worn by
the Tyrolese and Swiss girls. A bodice of dark
colored cloth, laced tight to her bosom, which
was shaded by a handkerchief or tucker of white
muslin, a short petticoat of striped stuff, and a
white linen apron ; these, with a large straw hat,
formed the general habiliments of the young Te-
resa, whose native grace and loveliness needed
not the adventitious adornments of dress to ren-
der her more pleasing.
One of Teresa's favorite haunts was a narrow
THE YOUNG TTROLESE. 17
dell, not far from the dwelling of old Albrecht ;
the only entrance to this secluded spot was by a
rude descent of rocky fragments, which had been
worn into the appearance of steps by the foot of
the hunter. The mountain daisy, the pale ra-
nunculus, and deep-blue violet, bloomed here in
native beauty among the rocks, or diversified the
sloping turf beneath the lirne and chesnut tree ;
while the dark pine afforded a support to the va-
rious parasitical plants which wreathed their
slender stems in fantastic garlands round its
rugged bark.
It was at the close of a beautiful calm day, in
the month of August, that wearied with playing
her knitting pins by the side of old Minna at the
cottage door, Teresa sought her favorite retreat,
and seated on the grassy mound at the foot of a
tall lime tree, fell into a train of sorrowful reflec-
tions.
In her way to the dell she had passed by the
grave of her mother, on which with duteous care,
according to the custom of her country, she had
strewn fresh gathered flowers ; unconsciously
her tears had fallen while offering this tribute of
affection to the memory of her beloved parent,
and the remembrance of all her tender love, and
maternal care, recurred to her mind, to sadden
the heart of the young orphan.
2*
18 THE YOUNG TTROLESE.
In vain her little pet strove with anxious soli-
citude to attract her notice : Teresa, engrossed
by her own sad thoughts, appeared unconscious
of her presence, till bleating reproachfully, the
neglected favorite licked her hands, and rubbed
her head against her mistress's- knee.
" Ah, pretty Minna !" she said, stooping to
caress the lamb, " I fear I have grieved you by
my neglect." Just then a rustling among the
bushes caused her to turn her head, when she
beheld from between the parting masses of fo-
liage, two strangers, who were intently regarding
her.
A vague, indistinct idea crossed the mind of
the bewildered girl, as she gazed for an instant
on the war-worn features of the elder stranger ;
her heart beat tumultuously ; was it a dream,
the coinage of her own imagination, or did she
indeed behold her father 1 Yes, it was indeed
Gustavus Rosen ! The humble garb of the
herdsman that enveloped his noble form, the
deep scars which had marred his lofty brow, and
the pallid hue which sickness and sorrow had
spread over his countenance, could not disguise
the parent from the eye of filial affection.
" My Father !" burst involuntarily from the
lips of Teresa: the arms of the war-worn sol-
dier were extended to enfold his daughter, as she
THE YOUNG TYROLESE. 19
sprang forward and flung herself weeping on his
bosom.
" My child ! my dear, my beloved child !"
murmured the agitated father, pressing her to
his heart with fervent gratitude.
Who shall enter into the feelings of that parent
and his child, thus unexpectedly re-united 1 or
speak the anguish of Rosen's heart, when Tere-
sa led him in silence to the grave which covered
the mouldering ashes of her beloved mother 1
" It is the hand of the Almighty," he said, at
length rising from the grassy mound where the
first burst of grief had subsided. " And shall I
dare, ungrateful as I am, to arraign the justice of
that Being, who in his mercy summoned the o'er
wearied spirit to its home of rest ?"
Then turning to his daughter, he said, " Tere-
sa, you must welcome this young stranger as the
preserver of your father's life. Come hither,
Lewis," he continued, taking the hand of his
companion ; " this is the beloved child of whom
you have so often heard me speak during my
captivity."
The dark eye of the young stranger brightened
as he took the extended hand of Teresa, who
thanked him with artless warmth for the services
rendered to her father.
20 THE YOUNG TYROLESE.
To old Albrecht and his. wife, Rosen seemed
like one returned from the grave ; and to
their anxieus inquiries how he whom they had
numbered with the dead, thus again appeared
among them, he replied that in the skirmish
which had taken place in the Passeyre valley, he
had indeed been wounded, but no't mortally, and
was taken prisoner, and conveyed with many of
his gallant countrymen to the Porta Molina of
Mantua, where he was confined in the barracks,
which at that time formed the depot for prisoners
of war.
" During my illness, which was long and pain-
ful," said Rosen, " my chief attendant was this
youth, the son of one of the centinels who used
to guard my prison to his unremitting tender-
ness and care I first owed my life, and subse-
quently my liberty.
" I remained in a doubtful state, lingering as it
were between life and death, from the beginning
of November till the month of January ; health
at length appeared returning, when one morning
I was surprised by an unexpected visit from the
governor, who approaching the table near which
I was seated, laid a written paper before me ; my
eye glanced over its contents. They were too
plainly defined. It was my own death-warrant,
duly signed and sealed.
THE YOUNG TYROLESE. 21
" It was not the fear of death, for I had faced
him too often in the field to dread his power, but
it was the thought of my wife.and of you, my Te-
resa, that for a moment bowed the stern spirit of
the soldier, and forced tears from eyes which
never wept before:
" * There are those that make it hard for you
to die, Gustavus Rosen,' said the governor. I
acknowledged it. He paused for a minute and
hesitated then turning to me said, ' There is a
Way by which you might not only avert the dis-
pleasure of the Emperor, but convert it into ever-
lasting friendship.' I was silent, and he con-
tinued, taking my hand, ' You were the friend of
Andrew Hofer discover his retreat to me, and
your pardon is instantly sealed.'
" ' Tell your base Emperor,' I cried, dashing
from me the hand of the governor, ' that Gusta-
vus Rosen scorns life and liberty on such vile
terms !'
" But, alas ! my firm rejection of these infa-
mous terms availed not ; the gallant Hofer had
been betrayed, basely betrayed into the hands of
his enemies, and was that very day led through
the streets of Mantua as a prisoner. This was
he death-blow to the hopes of freedom and the
Tyrol. They had captured, but had not con-
quered that brave spirit ; the soul of the patriot
22 THE YOUNG TYROLESE.
was still as free as when first he reared the
standard of liberty on his native mountain.
"Ask me not now to dwell on his death-scene ;
the remembrance of that name is yet too fresh in
the minds of his friends suffice jt to say, he died
as he lived the hero, the patriot, the pride, the
glory of his country ! The name of Hofer will
ever be cherished by the sons of liberty ; and his
memory, and that of his followers who died in
the cause of Freedom, will be hallowed by the
tears of their country, and their deathless fame
recorded in the page of history, and immor-
talized by the song of the patriot bard.
" Time," continued Rosen, " passed on : agi-
tation of mind brought on a return of my illness,
and for many weary weeks I remained a prey to
fever and disease : during that period my sen-
tence wa& repealed ; the death of our gallant
leader had satisfied the vengeance of our ene-
inies.
"With returning health came an insatiable
longing for liberty, and the desire of once again
beholding my wife and my child. Louis, who
had been my faithful attendant during all my
sickness, marked my restlessness, and having
won from me the cause, formed a plan for my
escape. His father being lately dead, he had no
tie to bind him to the spot, and he insisted on
THE YOUNG TYROLESE. 23
sharing himself the chances of our expedition
my escape which we carried into effect as soon
as circumstances favored our design. Success
attended us beyond our most sanguine expecta-
tions, nor can I be too grateful to the generous
friend who has been the means of restoring me
once more in freedom to the arms of my beloved
child."
" Is yourig Louis a native of France, or is he
a Mantuan V asked Albrecht, who had for some
time regarded the young 'stranger with more than
common interest.
' My father was a French soldier," replied
Louis; " my mother a native of Bregentz, a town
bordering, as I believe, on Tyrol and Switzerland,
fehe was the daughter of an Alpine hunter, and
left her parents to follow the fortunes of the
carnp, with my father."
" Is she yet living 1" asked old Albrecht, in a
deep voice.
" My mother has been dead nearly five years."
" And your father ?"
" He also is dead : he died in the hospital at
Mantua, a few weeks ago."
" What was your mother's maiden name 1"