Oh! 'tis a strange unearthly sound, 



When loud the raging wind rides round 



This ruined home of other days ; 



The warrior's hoast, the minstrel's praise ! 



For now the stately pile is low, 



And rank the grass and nettles grow, 



Where princes sat in regal state, 



And bold retainers past the gate. 



The strong old gate, all broken now, 



Twin'd with the ivy's matted bough. M. R. 



SUCH is Winfield castle; and its noble oak, the old 

 oak which bears its name, stands within sight of the 

 long suite of rooms where Mary Stuart passed nine 

 years of her sad captivity ; for even nine years, however 

 passed, teaches many a heavy lesson. Much of grief 

 and sorrow, and those strange reverses which only 

 the great may feel in all their fulness and their bit- 

 terness, had been comprised in the short life of this un- 

 happy princess, once the Queen of France, then of 

 Scotland, but at length a prisoner, when she passed 

 beneath the portcullis of Winfield castle. Other tales 



D 5 



