ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

66

column, half breathless with fear, she crept, to conceal herself there; that instant the moon o'er a dark cloud shone clear, and she saw in the moonlight two ruffians appear, and between them a corpse did they bear. Then Mary could feel her heart's-blood curdle cold! Again the rough wind hurried by--it blew off the hat of the one, and behold! even close to the feet of poor Mary it rolled; she fell-and expected to die! Stay!--the hat!" he exclaims,- --"Nay, come on, and fast hide the dead body," his comrade replies. She beholds them in safety pass on by her side-she seizes the hat-fear her courage supplied, and fast through the Abbey she flies. She ran with wild speed, she rushed in at the door, she cast her eyes horribly round; her limbs could support their faint burden no more, but exhausted and breathless she sank on the floor, unable to utter a sound. Ere yet her pale lips could the story impart, for a moment the hat met her view; her eyes from that object convulsively start, for, alas! what cold horror thrilled through her heart, when the name of her Richard she knew!

Where the old Abbey stands, on the common hard by, his gibbet is now to be seen; not far from the road it engages the eye: the traveller beholds it, and thinks, with a sigh, of poor Mary, the Maid of the Inn.

LXXXII.

THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED.-Mrs. Southey. TREAD Softly-bow the head-in reverent silence bow;--no passing bell doth toll, yet an immortal soul is passing now. Stranger! however great, with lowly reverence bow: there's one in that poor shed -one by that paltry bed-greater than thou. Beneath that beggar's roof, lo! Death doth keep his state! Enter--no crowds attend; enter-no guards defend this palace gate. That pavement, damp and cold, no smiling courtiers tread; one silent woman stands, lifting, with meagre hands, a dying head. No mingling voices sound--an infant wail alone; a sob suppressed--again that short deep gasp, and then the parting groan! Oh! change--oh, wondrous change! burst are the prison bars. This moment there, so low, so agonized ;—and now beyond the stars! Oh! change--stupendous change! there lies the soulless clod; the sun eternal breaks-the new immortal wakes_ wakes with his God!

LXXXIII. ODE TO ELOQUENCE.-Carey.

HEARD ye those loud-contending waves, that shook Cecropia's pillared state? Saw ye the mighty from their graves look up, and tremble at her fate? Who shall calm the angry storm? who the mighty task perform, and bid the raging tumult cease?-See, the son of Hermes rise, with syren tongue and speaking eyes, hush the noise, and soothe to peace! See the olive-branches waving o'er Illissus' winding stream; their lovely limbs the Naiads laving-the Muses smiling by, supreme! See the nymphs and swains advancing, to harmonious measures dancing: grateful Io Paans rise to thee, O Power! who canst inspire soothing words--or words of fire, and shook'st thy plumes in Attic skies!

Lo! from the regions of the north, the reddening storm of battle pours-rolls along the trembling earth-fastens on the Olynthian towers. "Where rests the sword? where sleep the brave? Awake!

Cecropia's ally save from the fury of the blast: burst the storm on Phocis' walls! Rise! or Greece for ever falls; up, or Freedom breathes her last!"-The jarring states, obsequious now, view the Patriot's hand on high; thunder gathering on his brow, lightning flashing from his eye! Borne by the tide of words along, one voice, one mind, inspire the throng!" To arms! to arms! to arms!" they cry; "grasp the shield, and draw the sword; lead us to Philippi's lord, let us conquer him, or die!"

Ah, Eloquence! thou wast undone, wast from thy native country driven, when Tyranny eclipsed the sun, and blotted out the stars of heaven! When Liberty from Greece withdrew, and o'er the Adriatic flew to where the Tiber pours his urn--she struck the rude Tarpeian rock; sparks were kindled by the shock--again thy fires began to burn! Now, shining forth, thou mad'st compliant the Conscript Fathers to thy charms; roused the world-bestriding giant, sinking fast in Slavery's arms! I see thee stand by Freedom's fane, pouring the persuasive strain, giving vast conceptions birth: hark! I hear thy thunder's sound shake the Forum round and round-shake the pillars of the earth!

First-born of Liberty divine! put on Religion's bright array; speak! and the starless grave shall shine the portal of eternal day! Rise! kindling with the orient beam, let Calvary's hill inspire the theme; unfold the garments rolled in blood! Oh, touch the soultouch all her chords with all the omnipotence of words, and point the way to heaven-to God!

LXXXIV. GINEVRA.-Rogers.

SHE was an only child-her name Ginevra, the joy, the pride of an indulgent sire; and in her fifteenth year became a bride, marrying an only son, Francesco Doria, her playmate from her birth, and her first love. She was all gentleness, all gayety, her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue. But now the day was come, the day. the hour; now, frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time, the nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum; and, in the lustre of her youth, she gave her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco. Great was the joy; but, at the nuptial feast, when all sat down, the bride was wanting there, nor was she to be found! Her father cried, "Tis but to make a trial of our love!" and filled his glass to all; but his hand shook, and soon from guest to guest the panic spread. "Twas but that instant she had left Francesco, laughing, and looking back, and flying still-her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger. But now, alas! she was not to be found; nor from that hour could any thing be guessed, but that she was not!

66

Weary of his life, Francesco flew to Venice, and forthwith flung it away in battle with the Turk. Orsini lived; and long mightst thou have seen an old man wandering as in quest of something, something he could not find he knew not what. When he was gone, the house remained awhile silent and tenantless-then went to strangers.

Full fifty years were past, and all forgot; when, on an idle day,a day of search 'mid the old lumber in the gallery, -that mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said by one as young as thoughtless as Ginevra, "Why not remove it from its lurking-place?" "Twas done as soon as said; but, on the way, it burst, it fell; and lo! a skeleton, with here and there a pearl, an emerald-stone, a golden clasp, clasp

ing a shred of gold! All else had perished-save a nuptial ring, and a small seal, her mother's legacy, engraven with a name, the name of both "Ginevra.". -There then had she found a grave! Within that chest had she concealed herself, fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; when a spring-lock. that lay in ambush there, fastened her down for ever!

LXXXV. THE MASSACRE OF GLENCOE.-Sir Walter Scott.

"OH! tell me, harper, wherefore flow thy wayward notes of wail and woe, far down the desert of Glencoe, where none may list their melody? Say, harp'st thou to the mists that fly, or to the dun deer glancing by, or to the eagle that from high screams chorus to thy minstrelsy?"

"No, not to these, for these have rest; the mist-wreath hath the mountain crest, the stag his lair, the erne her nest, abode of lone security; but those for whom I pour the lay, not wild-wood deep, nor mountain gray, not this deep dell that shrouds from day, could screen from treacherous cruelty. Their flag was furled, and mute their drum; the very household dogs were dumb, unwont to bay at guests that come in guise of hospitality. His blithest notes the piper plied, her gayest snood the maiden tied, the dame her distaff flung aside to tend her kindly housewifery. The hand that mingled in the meal, at midnight drew the felon steel, and gave the host's kind breast to feel meed for his hospitality! The friendly heart which warmed that hand, at midnight armed it with the brand; which bade destruction's flames expand their red and fearful blazonry. Then woman's shriek was heard in vain; nor infancy's unpitied plain, more than the warrior's groan, could gain respite from ruthless butchery. The winter-wind that whistled shrill, the snows that night that choked the hill, though wild and pitiless, had still far more than Saxon clemency!--Long have my harp's best notes been gone, few are its strings and faint their tone; they can but sound in desert lone their gray-haired master's misery. Were each gray hair a minstrel-string, each chord should imprecations fling, till startled Scotland loud should ring-- Revenge for blood and treachery!'

LXXXVI.-O'CONNOR'S CHILD.-Campbell.

AT bleating of the wild watch-fold, thus sang my love-"Oh, come with me: our bark is on the lake; behold, our steeds are fastened to the tree. Come far from Castle-Connor's clans: come with thy belted forester, and I, beside the lake of swans, shall hunt for thee the fallow-deer; and build thy hut, and bring thee home the wildfowl and the honey-comb; and berries from the wood provide, and play my clarshech by thy side. Then come, my love!"-How could I stay? our nimble stag-hounds tracked the way, and I pursued, by moonless skies, the light of Connocht Moran's eyes.

And fast and far, before the star of day-spring, rushed we through the glade, and saw, at dawn, the lofty bawn of Castle-Connor fade. Sweet was to us the hermitage of this unploughed, untrodden shore; like birds all joyous from the cage, for man's neglect we loved it more. And well he knew, my huntsman dear, to search the game with hawk and spear; while I, his evening food to dress, would sing to him in

happiness. But, oh! that midnight of despair, when I was doomed to rend my hair: the night, to me, of shrieking sorrow! the night, to him, that had no morrow!

When all was hushed at even-tide, I heard the baying of their beagle: "Be hushed!" my Connocht Moran cried, "'tis but the screaming of the eagle." Alas! 'twas not the eyry's sound; their bloody bands had tracked us out; up-listening starts our couchant hound—and, hark! again, that nearer shout brings faster on the murderers! Spare--spare him!-Brazil!-Desmond fierce!-In vain -no voice the adder charms; their weapons crossed my sheltering arms: another's sword has laid him low-another's and another's; and every hand that dealt the blow-ah me! it was a brother's; yes, when his moanings died away, their iron hands had dug the clay, and o'er his burial-turf they trod, and I beheld-O God!-O God! his life-blood oozing through the sod.

Dragged to their hated mansion back, how long in thraldom's grasp I lay I knew not, for my soul was black, and knew no change of night or day. But Heaven, at last, my soul's eclipse did with a vision bright inspire: I woke, and felt upon my lips a prophetess's fire. The standard of O'Connor's sway was in the turret where I lay; that standard, with so dire a look, as ghastly shone the moon and pale, I gave, that every bosom shook beneath its iron mail. "And go!" I cried, "the combat seek, ye hearts, that, unappalled, bore the anguish of a Sister's shriek, go!—and return no more! for sooner Guilt the ordeal-brand shall grasp unhurt, than ye shall hold the banner with victorious hand, beneath a Sister's Curse unrolled !-O stranger! by my country's loss! and by my love! and by the Cross! I swear I never could have spoke the curse that severed nature's yoke; but that a spirit o'er me stood, and fired me with the wrathful mood; and frenzy to my heart was given, to speak the malison of heaven!" They would have crossed themselves, all mute; they would have prayed to burst the spell; but, at the stamping of my foot, each hand down powerless fell! And go to Athunree," I cried, "high lift the banner of your pride! but know, that, where its sheet unrolls, the weight of blood is on your souls! Go, where the havoc of your kern shall float as high as mountain-fern! Men shall no more your mansion know; the nettles on your hearth shall grow! Dead, as the green oblivious flood that mantles by your walls, shall be the glory of O'Connor's blood! Away! away to Athunree! where, downward when the sun shall fall, the raven's wing shall be your pall! and not a vassal shall unlace the vizor from your dying face!"

[ocr errors]

A bolt that overhung our dome, suspended till my curse was given, soon as it passed these lips of foam, pealed in the blood-red heaven. Dire was the look, that o'er their backs the angry parting brothers threw but now, behold! like cataracts, come down the hills in view O'Connor's plumèd partisans--thrice ten Kilnagorvian clans were marching to their doom: a sudden storm their plumage tossed, a flash of lightning o'er them crossed.--and all again was gloom!

:

LXXXVII. CELADON AND AMELIA.-Thomson.

"TIs listening fear and dumb amazement all, when, to the startled eye, the sudden glance appears far south, eruptive through the cloud; and following slower, in explosion vast, the thunder raises his tre

mendous voice. At first, heard solemn, o'er the verge of heaven the tempest growls; but as it nearer comes, and rolls its awful burden on the wind, the lightnings flash a larger curve, and more the noise astounds; till, over-head, a sheet of livid flame discloses wide; then shuts, and opens wider; shuts and opens still, expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze: follows the loosened aggravated roar, enlarging, deepening, mingling; peal on peal crushed horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. Guilt hears appalled, with deeply-troubled thought. And yet not always on the guilty head descends the fatal flash.

Young Celadon and his Amelia were a matchless pair; with equal virtue formed, and equal grace; the same, distinguished by their sex alone: hers the mild lustre of the blooming morn, and his the radiance of the risen day. They loved; but such their guileless passion was, as in the dawn of time informed the heart of innocence and undissembling truth. 'Twas friendship, heightened by the mutual wish; the enchanting hope and sympathetic glow beamed from the mutual eye. Devoting all to love, each was to each a dearer self; supremely happy in the awakened power of giving joy. Alone amid the shades, still in harmonious intercourse, they lived the rural day and talked the flowing heart, or sighed, and looked unutterable things.

So passed their life, a clear united stream, by care unruffled; till, in evil hour, the tempest caught them on the tender walk, heedless how far or where its mazes strayed, while, with each other blest, creative love still bade eternal Eden smile around. Presaging instant fate, her bosom heaved unwonted sighs; and, stealing oft a look towards the big gloom, on Celadon her eye fell tearful, wetting her disordered cheek. In vain, assuring love and confidence in Heaven repressed her fear; it grew, and shook her frame near dissolution. He perceived the unequal conflict, and, as angels look on dying saints, his eyes compassion shed, with love illumined high. Fear not," he said, "sweet innocence! thou stranger to offence and inward storm! He, who yon skies involves in frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee with kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft, that wastes at midnight or the undreaded hour of noon, flies harmless; and that very voice which thunders terror through the guilty heart, with tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. 'Tis safety to be near thee, sure, and thus to clasp perfection!"

[ocr errors]

From his void embrace, (mysterious Heaven!) that moment to the ground, a blackened corse, was struck the beauteous maid! But who can paint the lover, as he stood, pierced by severe amazement, hating life, speechless, and fixed in all the death of woe?--So, faint resemblance! on the marble tomb the well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, for ever silent, and for ever sad.

LXXXVIII.-THE LEGEND OF LOCHBUY.-Thomas Nimmo.

THE matins in Lochbuy's halls are said: Maclean, the doughty chief, with haughty mien his henchman calls, and gives command in language brief. "Go, let the pibroch of the clan, the Gathering,' both loud and clear, be sounded from the bartizan: Maclean to-day will hunt the deer. My child, Lochbuy's dear son and heir, my wife, the Lady Isobel, will, with myself, be present there: hence! quickly gothy message tell."

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »