"My heart ceased to beat, when another knight with a scornful smile, said, 'Let him writhe as long as he has feeling; but these people must begone. Confounded wretches! this sighing and crying makes me mad! No pity must be shown here; and she here, who so increases the howling! who is she? what does the woman want? away with her !' "I now recognised the voice of the queen. It was Agnes, in the dress and armour of a knight. I remarked immediately that it was a woman's voice, and I was certain that it was Agnes. "It is Wart's wife!' I heard a third knight say. 'Last night, when the sentence was executed, we took her with us to Kyburg. She escaped from us; and I must find her here, then! We thought that in her despair she had leaped into the moat of the castle. We have been seeking her since this morning early. Heavens! what faithful love! Let her alone; nothing can be done with her.' "I here recognised the mild-tempered youth, Von Landenberg. How well did he now speak for me! I could have fallen at his feet. "Well, Gertrude!' cried a fourth tone, will you not yet take rational advice? do not kill yourself! save yourself for the world! you will not repent of it.' "Who was this, Margaretha? I trembled; it was she who wanted to persuade me, at Brugh, to leave the criminal Wart to his fate, and pass days of joy with her. Then I too could almost have exclaimed, 'This is too much! cease!' "Agnes made a sign to an esquire to raise me up, and bring me away from the scaffold. He approached me, but I threw my arm round it, and implored my own and my husband's death. But in vain! two men dragged me away. I besought assistance from Heaven; it was granted me. "Von Landenberg (otherwise a faithful servant of Austria) once more ventured to speak for me. 'Cease to humble her; such fidelity is not found on earth; angels in heaven must rejoice at it; but it would be good if the people were driven away.' 64 They let me loose again; the horsemen departed; tears flowed from Lamprecht's eyes; he had acted strictly according to his duty, and executed the will of the queen: he could now listen to the voice of nature and weep with me. 'I can hold out no longer, noble lady! I am vanquished! your name shall be mentioned with glory among the saints in heaven, for this world will forget it. Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life,' said he gave me his hand and departed. 66 Everybody now left the place except the executioner and the guard : evening came on, and at length silent night; a stormy wind arose, and its howling joined with the loud and unceasing prayers which I put up to the Almighty. "One of the guard now brought me a cloak to protect me against the wind, because it was night; but I got upon the wheel and spread it upon the naked and broken limbs of my husband; the wind whistled through his hair, his lips were dry. I fetched him some water in my shoe, which was a refreshment to us both. I know not, my dearest Margaretha, how it was possi ble for me to live through such heartbreaking and cruel hours! "But I lay, as if guarded and wonderfully strengthened by angels and the saints, continually praying near the wheel on which my whole world reposed. "During this time my thoughts were with God. As often as a sigh broke from the breast of my Rudolph, it was a dagger in my heart. But I remembered the Holy Virgin, how she too had suffered under the cross of her son, and consoled myself with the hope that after a short time of suffering, the eternal joys of heaven would be my portion, and this gave me courage to suffer; I knew, too, for whom I suffered, and this gave me strength in the combat, so that I endured to the very last moment. "Though Wart had at first so earnestly begged of me not to increase his agonies by my presence, yet he now thanked me as much for not having left him; in my prayers he found consolation and refreshment, and it was a comfort to his soul when I prayed. "How the last dreadful morning and noon were spent, permit me to pass over in silence. A few hours before evening, Rudolph moved his head for the last time; Iraised myself up to him. He murmured very faintly, but with smiling love upon his lips, these words: Gertrude, this is fidelity till death,' and expired. On my knees I thanked God for the grace which he had given me to remain faithful to the end." LONELINESS. of woes with one another the drying of tears from the face of the comfortless-and the scattering of little benefits in the way of those who have none to pity. There is something in the most hard-hearted man, that will melt into softness at the kind hand of pity and attention, in the hour of sickness; and I would set that man down as hopeless, who would be unkind to the wife of his youth, and she in the hour of sickness has watched over him with untiring, unremitting assiduity, which woman does ever manifest, if he do not in that tender reflecting hour, resolve he will repair his misdeed by uniform kindness, and "Oh, who could inhabit this bleak fulfil that resolution so long as life world alone." THOUGH Society is composed of a heterogeneous mass of wrecks of the fall -though there is wormwood and gall mixed even in the cup of the purest friendship earth can produce-though the tear of affection must often be returned by contumely and scorn; yet who would be debarred the luxury of shedding that tear? who would coil himself in his own shell for ever, lest he might meet an adder in his path? He who has much converse with the world and is constantly coming in contact with the dark side of nature's sad leaf, is in great danger of becoming sullen, suspicious, and even irritable and unyielding. But, "who would inhabit this bleak world alone?" Who would be blessed with the luxury of a warm, kind heart, in a world of woe, like this, and find no eyes with whom he could weep? Who would feel the dark waves of sorrow rolling fast and thick over his head, and find himself alone-hear no kind voice of pity and affection, saying "I feel for thee?" "It is not good for man to be alone" was spoken by Him who well knew what was in man and what must be his pathway through this vale of tears-what would be his need of reciprocal feeling, and assist him to carry life's heavy burden along the dreary road. There is a little mercy for fallen man, even in this wilderness of blasted delights; and there are some of the drops which kindly fall upon us. The mingling be spared. There is a power of kindness, which is next to omnipotent. It is like the resistless waters that overflow all within its reach-that asks not how it will be received; but content with the privilege of bestowing, finds its own reward in the exercise. Then who would be satisfied to grope his passage through life like the sloth, which never moves unless impelled by hunger, and meet no object made happier by his existence? NOTES OF A READER. THE great Duke of Marlborough passing the gate of the Tower was accosted by an ill-looking fellow with"How do you do, my lord duke? I believe your grace and I have now been in every jail in the kingdom.”— "I believe, friend," replied the duke, with surprise, "this is the only jail I ever visited."-" Very likely," rejoined the other; "but I have been in all the rest.” LOVE. THERE is something soothing and delightful in the recollection of a pureminded woman's affection; it is the oasis in the desert of a worldly man's life, to which his feelings turn for refreshment, when wearied with the unhallowed passions of this work-o'day world. As he thus soliloquized, a light appeared, the casement opened, and a white hand beckoned the serenader to approach. In one moment the ardent youth sprang through the window, and clasped his mistress in his arms. "Nina!" he cried, "Nina, cold and coy, hast thou relented? Wilt thou now confess thou lovest me?" The warm-hearted girl suffered her admirer to wind his arm about her waist, as she replied, softly and tenderly: A LOVELY moon gleamed over the terraces, the battlements, the belfries, and the bay of Naples on a summer evening in the early part of the seventeenth century. Beneath the low window of a little house, which was covered with trailing vines, and surrounded by myrtle trees in full bloom, near the witching hour of midnight, in the shadow of the building, stood a youth of eighteen, attired in the wild and fanciful garb of Naples, with his velvet cap thrown back from his fore--I love thee!' head, and a guitar in his hand, with which he accompanied a mellow voice in the stanzas of a serenade. When the music died away, the youthful singer paused, and looked anxiously towards the low window before which he was standing. "No token yet!" he said, in tones of disappointment. "Never hath fair dame before caused me such anxiety. Could I but catch the wave of a handkerchief, I should be content." VOL. I. (15.) "I love thee, caro mio. I love thee "And this ring"-asked the youth, withdrawing one from the fair hand of Nina, "shall I wear it as the pledge of thy affection?" "It is thine!" murmured the impassioned girl. 66 "It is enough!" said the youth, drawing himself up to his proudest height. Yet, even in the moment of my triumph I must leave thee !" "Leave me?" 66 Ay, maiden. The world is before me-I have fame yet to win!" As he said this, his dark eyes sparkled with mysterious fire, and the night wind waved the glossy raven tresses that hung upon his shoulders. "Fame!" repeated the agitated and bewildered girl. "Have you not had enough fame? You sought the reputation of a skilful singer and musician-all Naples owns you such." Ay, I can pipe well enough to babbling age and silly woman-and men add that I am a rare poet, too." "And a painter, likewise." "Hold! I am no painter, Nina, and I feel it, I have studied the noble art in cold and lifeless schools. My powers have been trammelled by harsh rules, that custom alone has rendered venerable. I go to seek a sterner and a better school-to woo Nature in her wildness." "And canst thou not find nature's fairest scenes near home? What can be finer than our bay of Naples ?" "Tush! my spirit sickens on its peaceful waters. I had rather hear the roar of Vesuvius in its volcanic wrath than listen to the moonlight music of the Baian Gulf. I had rather paint the storms of ocean than the bay's repose. I had rather paint the wrath of hell than the peace of heaven." "Salvator Rosa! you are a mad "One kiss, Nina!" Their lips met. The young painter held his mistress to his heart, and then reluctantly tore himself away. In a light bound he descended from the window to the garden, and then, turning round, he waved his cap in mute adieu. "Farewell, Salvator!" cried the weeping Nina. "Tell me, when shall we meet again?" "Perhaps never!" answered Salvator Rosa, in a voice so solemn and impressive that the words sank into the heart of Nina. A handful of fierce bandits was scattered in concealment among some rocks upon the stern heights of the Abruzzi, lying in wait for unwary or unfortunate travellers. No gleam of sword nor flash of musket-barrel betrayed their treacherous ambuscade. They had not lurked in their concealment long, before a young man appeared upon the rocky footpath, ascending the mountain with a vigorous step. Ere he had attained a very lofty elevation, his progress was interrupted by a stalwart mountaineer, who sprang from his rocky lair, and levelling a musquetoon, presented himself full in the front of the young traveller. "Halt!" cried he of the musquetoon. "Halt! Who art thou?" "I have the better right to ask that question," replied the youth, who at the instant of the interruption had thrown his cloak around his left arm, and drawn his rapier. The bandit made no answer, in fact each paused to survey the other in undisguised admiration. The painter gazed with pleasure on the bronzed brow, stern features, the picturesque arms and attire of his foe, while the latter acknowledged silently the manly beauty of form, the splendid luxuriance of hair, and the regularity of features possessed by the undaunted traveller. At length he spoke, "By St. Antony! youth-thou art not unworthy of joining our free company. I know thee for a gentleman by the fashion of holding thy sword and posture of defence. But, diavolo ! there's some disparity of weapons. What is thy Toledo rapier against my musquetoon?" "Thy aim may err," replied the fiery youth. "And then, as thou hast no backers, this good sword shall stretch thee at my feet; and yet I were loath to harm thee, for thou art as fine a study as ever an artist looked upon." "So, ho! thou art a painter! Ay! and a good one, I warrant me. And if thou likest bandits for studies, thou shalt have a score of them. What ho! Knaves! show yourselves!" And at that wild call, they crowded up from their concealment, those dwellers in the mountains, like swart demons ascending from the region of the damned at the summons of the Prince of Air. Dark eyes gleamed from under scowling brows, impatient hands grasped glittering weapons, and a confused murmur rang throughout the lawless throng. All of a sudden twenty gleaming gun-barrels were levelled at the painter. Twenty fingers touched as many triggers, ready at a signal from their captain to deal destruction on the traveller. But he, their intended victim, crossed his arms upon his breast, and standing proudly before the glittering array, scowled defiance on the demons. "Recover arms!" cried the captain to his band. "This firmness, Signor Painter, has saved thee. By heaven! if one of my knaves dares but lift a finger against thee, his life shall be the forfeit. Still, I detain thee prisoner at least until thou hast accomplished my portrait. After that thou art at liberty to say addio, if thou choosest to be our guest no longer." "Agreed," replied the painter. "Well, caro mio, at least tell me what your name is." "I am called," replied the painter, carelessly—"I am called Salvator Rosa." Rome was in the madness of the carnival-the madness of the carnival in an age when the carnival was the maddest amusement in the world. The streets were filled with lords, ladies, commoners, and horses, the air was glittering with sportive shavers. Plumes were dancing, jewels gleaming, cloaks flaunting, and the joyous laugh of youth and gaiety ringing from street to street, till the ruins of the Coliseum seemed to tremble at the noises which the Palatine and Aventine, with their sister summits, echoed back. The same streets which the old Romans trod in their triumphal return from victory, echoed to the tread of their degenerate descendants, who thought it no disgrace to run periodically mad in the pursuit of pleasure. Through the midst of the motley throng a fool, or jester, elbowed his way, showering his gibes and sarcasms upon the revellers, and causing roars of laughter by his biting wit. "Who art thou?" asked a stately personage, with a chanting voice, a black mask, and a robe. "One who is wise enough to be a fool," replied the jester. As he said this he contrived to attach a flaunting piece of ribbon to the back of the masker's domino. At sight of this well executed manoeuvre, the crowd began to laugh, whereupon the stately masker said to the jester, "Ha! they are laughing at you fool." "No, signor," replied the jester, "they are laughing at another foolyourself!" He came nearer to the masker, and said, "Your Eminence may think yourself sufficiently disguised, but there are eyes as keen as mine which can penetrate a thicker veil! Go-ere his holiness hear of your contempt of the canons of the church." The stately masker disappeared with a precipitancy which was anything but clerical. The jester assembled a throng about him. "My children," said he, in a tone of mock solemnity-"my children, (for ye are all the children of folly,) listen to my grave advice. I am pleased to see ye follow me-it is not the first time, masked or unmasked, that ye have followed a fool. If any foreigners, envious, doubtless, of your high privileges, your enlightened and liberal rulers, and of your holy religion, tell you that you have lost the spirit of your ancestors, show them the sports of this saturnalia. Show them how bravely you can insult a manwhen your faces and persons are hidden by mask and domino. If they say that you are unfit for war-show them how bravely you can face a volley of sugar-plums-or even march up to the cannons of St. Angelo,-when you know they are unloaded. And when the carnival is over, you are the same patriotic, noble beings. They say you are not men, you Italians of the present day—but you prove yourselves men by deceiving unprotected women!" Who was it that thus dared dispense his bitter truths to the degenerate Romans? The crowd that followed knew him not, but ere the carnival was ended, at the conclusion of one of his singular harangues, he raised his mask-it was Salvator Rosa! |