GITHA OF THE FOREST.

TIM scene of this historical romance is laid in England and Norway, during one of the darkest parts of the Anglo-Saxon annals, when the country was exposed to the devastation of the Danes ; the celebrated massacre of the monks at Croyland, and the subsequent defeat of the Danes at Reading, forming principal historical incidents in the story. History, however, in the sense of a strict adherence to accuracy in per- sons or events, is not the object of the authoress; who has rather aimed at exhibiting its general spirit, in the misery brought upon the country iv the cruelty and devastation of the Danes and the vices and weakness of many of the Saxons. In like manner, she has endeavoured to display the manners, crimes, and superstitions of both peoples, and to contrast the spirit of Christianity with the bloody religion of Thor and Odin. To accomplish this is not an easy task, and to which great know- ledge and considerable ability are by themselves unequal. However the character or idiosyncracies of peoples may differ, it is probable that the acts of barbarians or semibarbarians are pretty much alike. The Malay, the Indian, Red or Black, the Persian, the Tartar, are alike in- different to human misery in war, and not very scrupulous about it in peace. The slaughter of the able-bodied man whose vengeance they may fear, and of the old from whom they can hope no profit—the slavery of women and children—the plunder of all which they can and the destruc- tion of all which they cannot carry off—are pretty much the same with these existing peoples as with the ancient Northmen. The mode in which such miseries are borne or resisted, the greater or less degrees of ferocity with which they are executed, and that form of doing or saying things which we understand by the word manners, differ with different races, as well as the predominance of particular qualities—spirit, frankness, gene. rosity, or their reverse. But the narratives of all travellers teach us that the human mind adapts itself to the circumstances to which it is born : public misery and social uncertainty, that a civilized person cannot contemplate without pity, horror, or indignation, seem to those who are native to them as part of the system of life, lamented by particular per- sons upon whom they fall, as happier nations lament the inevitable evils of humanity, but not in their absence considered things to interfere with the enjoyments or business of existence. On the contrary, the uncer- tainty of enjoyment serves rather to heighten the zest; and, with some few ascetic exceptions, the whole nation seems animated by the Epicu- rean maxim of "carpe diem."

Hence, whoever undertakes a fiction or poem descriptive of a barbarian time, labours under difficulties from which a writer who selects a more modern period is free ; since, however our modes of life may differ from those of the age of chivalry, our feelings and sentiments are akin. From want of knowledge and deficient imagination, writers on the latter sub- ject may and do very often fail most egregiously ; but they do not run so certain a risk as the writer who ventures on remoter periods. He must first of all depict the national manners of the people he introduces into his story. " Colchtu3, an Assyrins ; Thebis nntritus, an Argis."

He must mark the general traits of barbarism we have before alluded to, without shocking the reader by mere physical horrors, or disgusting him by the apparent insensibility of the persons for whom sympathy is to be excited; and he must animate the whole by a spirit of elevation and romance without the intrusion of modern sentiments. In all these points the authoress of Githa of the Forest has failed. The facts of the Danish and Saxon times may be there, with additional horrors that seem specially drawn from the Red Indians of North America; but we have no lifelike picture of the age ; and the better persons of the story are too good and too gentle—too much animated by the spirit of the amiables of the circulating library—to be at all adapted to the scenes in which they are placed.

Considered as a mere romance, so far as it is possible to abstract a story from the national character of the persons by whom it is carried on, the present fiction is inferior to its predecessor, Lord Deere of Gils- land. There may be as much of intellectual cleverness in looking upon the history of the times and contriving scenes and incidents to eke out the requisite space ' • but they appear still more hard and artificial film those of the age of Elizabeth, where the manners are so much closer to our own age, and the details of those manners so much filled up, which supplies the writer's want of imagination. In short, the Anglo-Saxon sera develops the weaknesses of the authoress, and strains such ability as she has.

The story is so complex and ill-compacted, that it is difficult to convey an account of it. However, this general idea may suffice. The father of Githa has been a very wicked man, who has treacherously entrapped a Danish chief and starved him to death ; for which, and other mis- doings, he retires into solitude. The wife, mother, and daughter of this unfortunate Dane, are means of vengeance ; the daughter, Imma, having been placed as an attendant upon Githa in the forest retreat, whither her father has betaken himself. The distress—through a Danish army, with Imam at their head, getting possession of Githa, her father, and Edmund, the lover of Githa, with their escapes and recaptures—may be imagined; but there is also a Saxon distress, from the licentious love of Berred, a heptarch sort of king, who contrives to get hold of Githa when she is Out of the Danish clutch.

As regards execution, the authoress fails most in planning her inci- dents and conducting her dialogues. Her chief power is in description ; but she is pretty good in narrative, bating the beginning or introduction of the event to be told. She can also manage a melodramatic scene occasionally. Here is one where Imma wishes to sacrifice Githa to Odin ; but is baffled by the love-smitten chieftain Olaf, whose prisoner the heroine is, and by Sidroc, a Dane, who has struck up a friendship with Edmund, more convenient than probable. Asketyl, the Danish generalissimo, is very angry at not having got so much booty as he expected ; and at a council he wishes to learn the reason why.

Shall the priest of Odin tell the Vikingr why he has lost the treasures of Croyland ? ' said the Drotte, rising and fixing his subtle and malignant eyes on the countenance of the Danish leader.

"'Let the priest of Odin speak,' answered Osketyl.

"Odin, then, is angry,' returned the priest, with a savage accent. 'Blood has indeed been spilt, blood enough; but how much of it fell upon the altar of Odin? How long is it since the victim, [Edmund,] who was already in our tents and bound for the sacrifice, by some strange means effected his escape? Did his own gods assist him?' continued the cunning barbarian, glancing sternly from face to face among the chieftains, in hopes by some slight blenching to detect the person who had assisted in Edmund's escape; for whatever tone it pleased him to assume, the bloodthirsty Drotte was in his own mind well convinced that Edmund owed his rescue to mere mortal means. His searching glance was, however, ineffective, for Sidroc met his gaze with the calm dignity which was usual to him; and the eager anxious looks of the other chiefs sufficiently proved that they had been little better satisfied with the escape of Edmund than was the Drotte himself. Thirst- ing, however, for blood to be spilled by his own hand, the priest went on. Odin demands his victim ! let some other prisoner of the Saxons be bound upon his altar, so shall the next expedition of Osketyl meet favour from the god; so shall his ships be laden with a great booty ! How many prisoners of the Saxons taken in this place yet remain?

"No reply was made to this inquiry; for as far as Osketyl's knowledge ex- tended, every Saxon who was found in the abbey had been already sacrificed.

" 'My father,' he replied at length, ' the souls of those slain in the battle are an offering for Odin which the god has never despised. Save be who is the prise of the gracious Hirida, [Imma,] I know not that a Saxon is yet living within these walls.'

"'Yes, Vikingr, there is another,' answered the Drotte, first turning his eyes on Osketyl, and then fixing them with a glare of rage and malice upon the counte- nance of Olaf, who sat next to the i young Sidroc, and a little below Osketyl. Yes, Vikingr,' pursued the priest; 'there s in these walls a young maiden of the Saxons, whom it hath pleased the Yarl Olaf to preserve from the carnage: but the mighty Odin appeared last night in the dreams of his servant, and the blood of that maid must flow on his altar tomorrow.'

"'And it pleases the Yarl Olaf still to preserve that maid,' replied the chief- tain himself, in a voice of thunder, and starting from his seat. That maid is mine,' he said; the prize of my good sword: go to insatiate priest, there are other damsels of the Saxons whom thou mayest sacrifice on thine altar.' "'May the wrath of Odin fall only on his head who provokes it !' replied the artful Drotte; but the great (Nicetyl knows how bard was the hap that betel us after the escape of the Saxon youth; let him beware how the altar of the god is a second time defrauded. And if there were any among the Northmen so infirm of soul as to have aided the Saxon youth to flee, let him beware, for the voice of the offended Odin has been already heard, and the evil one Lok is waiting to re- ceive him. And I say also, let the Ytui Olaf beware, for by the priest of Odin has the maiden been claimed!'

"'And I would not yield her to Odin's self, insolent priest,' replied Olaf, with a furious air.

" ' And I Osketyl ! I say that she shall be bound upon the altar of Odin to- morrow,' cried the Vikingr, violently striking the table with the hilt of his dagger. 'For the welfare of the No'rthmen, let the Yarl yield up his captive!' "'And who is this Osketyl, who demands so much ? ' cried the Van; 'where is it that his name is more renowned than that of Olaf? Valorous Vikingr he continued, in a scornful tone, terrible Osketyl, whose triumphs can be assured only by the blood of a poor maiden ! let the Northmen be collected tomorrow; Olaf would not bring the anger of the gods on the heads of those who fear it: then let Osketyl say how much he fears, and let his men separate from those of the Yarl !'

"The excess of his rage had alone kept Osketyl silent while Olaf spoke; and now, uttering a wild shout, he was about to spring with an uplifted dagger upon the Yarl, when he was restrained by the voice and the hand of Imma. "Let the priest of Odin, let my father Osketyl, let the Irarl Olaf, be eon she cried; 'let the Yarl release the maiden, nor let the priest dream of offering up her blood, for that maid is already devoted!' "'Since when is it,' cried Olaf, furiously, that one chieftain has obtained the right to claim the captives of another? All honour to the beautiful Rinds, the daughter of the mighty Eric, but what interest has she in the fate of the Saxon maid?' "That thou shalt soon learn, proud Yarl ! ' replied Imma: then, as she signed to an attendant, the unfortunate ilDisbright and his daughter were dragged into the circle of their foes.

"Now !' cried Imma, what sayest thou, mighty Yarl ! that maid is the daughter of Odilwald; who will assert that thy claim over her can match with mine?'

"I say it replied Olaf; 'and let who will gainsay my right, I will not yield this maiden, Rinda, to thy revenge: as soon would I resign her to the fierce priest of Odin himself!' "Then springing forwards, sword in band, he waved aside the soldier, who from the moment of her entrance had kept a slight hold of the Saxon damsel, and seizing her in a firm grasp, he cried, defy thee, haughty Rinda! no right hadst thou even to intrude on my captive: if I passed over that assumption, it was be- cause I was willing in all reason to yield observance to the daughter of the great Eric: but thy authority has a limit, princess, and I will not submit my lawful captive to thy revenge!'

1, Many varying emotions had agitated the features of Imma while Olaf spoke, --shame, mortification, disappointment, but all overwhelmed in a torrent of rage, as, stamping her foot, she screamed, turning to Osketyl, Is this the revenge you promised me, Vikingr, that I, the daughter of Eric, should be browbeat by this audacious Yarl ? But since Osketyl has no glory among the Northmen, since he suffers this Yarl to steep him to the lips in shame, Rinda will try the influence of her father's name. Up, all who are true Northmen ! up, all who would share the glory of Eric, and help his daughter to her vowed revenge!'

"Deep murmurs had been rising among the Danish chiefs from the moment even that Olaf and the Drotte had disputed for the possession of Githa, and these murmurs were increased when Imma claimed the damsel as her captive. It needed not the bitter sneers of Imma to exasperate the rage of Osketyl, who was very sufficiently disposed to separate his forces from those of the Yarl. Now, however, the murmurs rose into loud expressions of indignation; the voices of Osketyl and Olaf were heard calling on the Danes to choose their leader; weapons were raised, and the parties almost equally divided, for Olaf was popular among the Northmen. "As for the cause of the tumult, the unfortunate Githa herself, overwhelmed by the horrors around her, she had sunk into a deep swoon when first seized by Olaf; while her still more wretched father, lost in one of those fits of insanity which were so frequent with him, gazed with a vacant but terrified air upon the fierce countenances of the Danes.

"The weapons had already met; the blood of the Danes spilt by each other had already mixed on the pavement with that of the slain monks; and the fierce Drotte, brandishing a long knife, sprung forwards with the intent to sheath it in the bosom of Githa, when just as it was upraised to inflict the fatal blow, an ar- row shot by some skilful archer passed through the band of the priest: he uttered a horrible yell, and dropped the weapon; and at the same moment the stern voice of Sidroc was heard exclaiming,

" Madmen, cease this brawl—the Saxons are upon us!"

Some verses are scattered through the volumes, partly translations from the Anglo-Saxon, partly the writer's own : the latter are well enough, though not very antique in tone and colouring.