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She touched her lute--never again
Then freed the white dove prisoned there :
Then spread its glad wings to the air. She drank the breath, as it were health,
That sighed from every scented blossom ; And, taking from each one a leaf,
Hid them, like spells, upon her bosom. Then sought the secret path again
She once before had traced, when lay
And gave him gold, and taught the way
He had braved slavery and death,
Made sweet and sacred by her breath. She reached the grove of cypresses,
Another step is by the side : Another moment, and the bark'
Bears the fair Moor across the tide!
'Twas beautiful, by the pale moonlight,
Another evening came, but dark;
Ill-omened brightness, sent by Death
Beat close and closer yet to his ! They burst upon the ship !- the sea
Has closed upon their dream of bliss !
Surely their's is a pleasant sleep,
Beneath that ancient cedar tree, Whose solitary stem has stood
For years alone beside the sea ! The last of a most noble race, That once had there their dwelling-place, Long past away! Beneath its shade, A soft green couch the turf had made :And glad the morning sun is shining On those beneath the boughs reclining. Nearer the fisher drew. He saw
The dark hair of the Moorish maid, Like a veil, floating o'er the breast,
Where tenderly her head was laid ;And yet her lover's arm was placed Clasping around the graceful waist ! But then he marked the youth's black curls
Were dripping wet with foam and blood; And that the maiden's tresses dark
Were heavy with the briny flood !
It long had been a sacred spot.
By many who had not forgot ;
yet lived in those dreams of truth, The Eden birds of early youth, That make the loveliness of love : And called the place “ THE MAIDEN’s Cove, That she who perished in the sea Might thus be kept in memory. From many a lip came sounds of praise,
Like music from sweet voices ringing ; For many a boat had gathered round,
To list the song I had been singing.' There are some moments in our fate
That stamp the colour of our days ;
As, till then, life had not been felt,
And mine was sealed in the slight gaze
More nobly than the youth who now,
Was leaning on a galley's prow.
His heart was all too full for praise ;
Which sank beneath their burning gaze.
Heard nothing, save one low-breathed sigh.
In music, but unconsciously :
Crimsoned my cheek; I felt warm tears
Conciousness, without hopes or fears,
Like light before the morn's full breaking. 50 ATHENEUM VOL. 2. 2d series.
I left the boat the crowd: my mood
my soul pant for solitude.
Loosely I flung my long black hair;
To drink the quiet evening air.
I touched my lute,- it would not waken,
Of hope betrayed--of hearts forsaken:
IT 'T is evident, from the many instan- flourished several hundred years ago,
ces that have presented themselves and who wrote an elaborate treatise on to the world of feminine excellence, hunting, hawking, and fishing, which that the female mind is capable of pro- may be found in the libraries of bibliofiting as much by cultivation and study maniacs. Also Lettice Bigby, Baroas that of the other sex. We have had ness Offaley, who, during the tumults poetesses, philosophers, scholars, poli- in Ireland in 1642, most valiantly deticians, and moral writers, whose names fended her casile at Geashill against will be handed down to future genera all assailants. tions, who will rejoice in the truths It would be difficult to mention the diffused by their pens.
sphere of life where females have not From the mixed society that a determined to be celebrated that they young man is thrown into at his en have been so the varied works of trance into life, it is probable by the Madame de Stael, and the epistles of time he commences author he may not Madame de Sevigné, may be cited as be fully convinced that something instances almost worthy of being termmore is expected of those who can pro- ed wonderful of female talent. The duce anything worth the perusal, great powers of reasoning of the forthan that they should merely amuse. mer, and the wit and discernment of It is directly the reverse with the fe- every intrigue that was carrying on male; they are early taught, that to be in the magnificent but dissolute court esteemed they must be useful, and the of Louis XIV. which is displayed in same argument each wisely applies to the letters of the latter, may be cited her own heart. While the man is de- as illustrative of this remark. That lighting in those displays which should they should excel as poetesses and novhave been the objects of regular culti- elists is not very wonderful; there is vation, the female is wisely laying up an imaginativeness and innate delicacy those stores of knowledge which is to in the female mind admirably adapted make her useful “ in her day and gen- to the composition of works of fiction ; eration.” We think no one will deem yet to what noble purposes have not this chimerical. Who can take up any some of this hitherto despised class of of Miss · Hamilton's works, and say literature been rendered subservient to they are not the result of great study? women.
The works of that great or who can peruse the varied effusions moralist Edgeworth, and the beautiful of Miss More, and not perceive, in and religious novels of the late Mrs. every line, the manifestations of a per- Brunton, are eminent examples of the severing intellect.
justice of this conclusion. It is not There have been several instances irrelevant here to state, that we do not on record of females who have arrived conceive it difficult to assign satisfying at great proficiency in the dead lan- reasons for the contempt so lavishly guages, of which Mrs. Carter, Miss bestowed on this genius of composiEliza Śmith, and the celebrated French tion. Formerly every miserable wight, critic Madame Dacier, are extraordi- who could string a few sentences tonary examples; and now and then gether, wrote novels, and we had prothat sportive goddess, Nature, by way ductions in comparison with which the of showing the “lords of the creation” “ renowned History of Daddy Two what she could do, has created one or Shoes, on Three Legs," might fairly two spirits somewhat amazonian. Of be termed sublime and beautiful; but this small and select class was a lady this day has fled for ever, and amiable of the name of Juliana Barnes, who suicides, and love-sick robbers can de