LOVE. Ill 



Swabia, and round the neck a row of bells. The latter has his 

 horse trapped with the arms of Bavaria, which he also bears in 

 relief on his shoulder-shield. The manefare, or covering for the 

 horse's mane, is highly curious, being of open work, and is 

 attached to a demi-chanfron. But the most interesting circum- 

 stance occurs in the mentoniere of the helmet, I mean the little 

 door, the sudden opening of which occasioned the death of 

 Henry II. of France, by permitting the lance of Captain Mont- 

 gomery to pass through his eye and enter his brain at a tourna- 

 ment, which he gave on the marriage of his son with Mary 

 Queen of Scots. Three figures stand in front of the first- 

 mentioned, apparently waiting their turn to run a course, in the 

 armour of Edward IV. and Richard III., and two before the 

 latter of Richard III. and Elizabeth. The lances of these 

 knights are furnished with vamplates of different kinds, and are 

 tipped with the etui de fer, the etui de fer rebated, the cronel, 

 the morne, and the mornette. Among the armour are seen the 

 grand guard, the guard-de-bras, the volant piece, &c. ; and on 

 the walls hang other curious specimens used in this kind of sport. 

 As the tournament was a practice for war, the armour was 

 generally double to protect the wearer from the dreadful effects 

 of so dangerous an exercise. This weight of armour was accom- 

 panied by heavier weapons, that being accustomed to them the 

 knights might feel the greater ease when in the field of battle. 

 At the back are the guard, with long pikes, dressed in a costume 

 of the time of Henry VIII., and two trumpeters, with beautiful 

 banners to their trumpets, in the act of sounding the charge. 

 The whole is grouped in a very picturesque manner, and the 

 general effect very imposing. I learnt that the public were 

 permitted to see the house every day but Sundays. 



VIATOR. 

 August 6th, 1834. 



LOVE. 



There is a love which meets the eye, 

 And breathes in every tone ; — 



That does the very thoughts supply 

 With sweetness all its own. 



And there is love that cannot brook 



The garish eye of day ; 

 But at a sound — a breath — a look, 



Sinks in the heart away. 



One, brightly sparkles on the brow, 

 Or plays around the heart ; 



The other breathes its pent-up vow 

 In loneliness apart. 



That, yields a soft and sweet control 

 Thro' life's long summer day ; 



But this, — eternal with the soul — 

 Can never pass away 1 



