She stared and laugh'd aloud like one whose | Leoni-(for this tale had ne'er been to
But never more along her favorite vale,
Or by the village-paths or hurrying river,
Or on the beach, when clouds are seen to sail
Across the setting sun, while waters quiver
And breezes rise to bid the day farewell—
No more in any bower she once loved well,
Whose sound or silence to the ear could tell
Aught of the passionate past, the pale girl
trod:
Yet Love himself, like an invisible god, Haunted each spot, and with his own rich breath
Filled the wide air with music sweet and soft, Such as might calm or conquer Death, (if
Could e'er be conquered) and from aloft
Sad airs, like those she heard in infancy,
Fell on her soul and filled her eyes with
tears;
And recollections came of happier years
Thronging from all the cells of memory.
All her heart's follies she remember'd then;
How coy and rash-how scornful she had
been,
And then how tender, and how coy again, And ever shifting of the burning scene That sorrow stamps upon the helpless brain.
By her who knew alone her brother's
Leoni, timorous lest the blood he spit
Should rise in vengeance from its secretis
And come abroad and claim a sepulcr
Or, haplier, fancying that the lie he «
That Guido sailed and would return nos
Was disbelieved and not forgot by her.
Or that she had discovered where he i
Before his limbs had withered quite as
Or-but whate'er it was that moved hinten
He dug and found the heart, anperish
For she, to keep it unlike the commen
Had wound it round with many a water
And bathed it with a curious medicine
He found it where, like a dark spell.
And cursed and cast it to the waves av
That day the green tree wither'd and she i The solace of her mind was stol'n and g And then she felt that she was quite i In the wide world; so to the distant w And caverned haunts, and where the tain-floods
Thunder unto the silent air, she flew.
She flew away, and left the world behel
And all that man doth worship, in herf.
AH that around the beating heart is tw
Yet, as she looked farewell to human i
One quivering drop arose and dimm'd
sight,
The last that frenzy gave to poor distres
And then into the dreary wilderness
She went alone, a craz'd, heart-broken th
And in the solitude she found a cave
Half hidden by the wild-brier blossom
Whereby a black and solitary pine,
Struck by the fiery thunder, stood, and 5
Of pow'r and death a token and a sigu
And there she lived for months. She-
not heed
The seasons or their change, and she
on roots and berries, as the creatures Which had in woods been born and nouris
is a spirit stands by me:
es by night, it comes by day, hen the glittering lightnings play, k is pale and sad to see. e-to whom my brother gave - unconsecrated grave.
him when the breezes moan, when the rattling thunders talk, • him muttering by me walk, ell me I am quite alone. the dæmon of the dead,
ll that's good hath upwards fled.
a dæmon which the wave
cast abroad to scare my soul;
vherefore did the waters roll
ly o'er his hasty grave?
the sad prayer I uttered then
ard,—or is it due again?
not enough that I am here, struck and cold and famished, an remove above the dead,must my soul be wild with fear orrow, now that hope is gone I am lost and left alone?
told me, when my days were young, I was fair and born to reign, hands and hearts were my domain, witchery dwelt upon my tongue : now-but what is this to me k on the rock of memory?
yet at times I dream-aye yet, anish'd scenes and golden hours, music heard in orange-bowers, madness cannot quite forget) love, breathed once to me alone, Fighs, and many a melting tone.
Then curious thoughts, and floating things
Saved from the deluge of the brain,
Pass with perplexity and pain ;
Then darkness, deaths, and murderings,—
And then unto my den I hie,
And vainly, vainly pray to die.
At last she wandered home. She came by
The pale moon shot a sad and troubled light
Amidst the mighty clouds that moved along.
The moaning winds of Autumn sang their
song,
And shook the red leaves from the forest-trees;
And subterranean voices spoke. The seas
Did rise and fall, and then that fearful swell
Came silently which seamen know so well;
And all was like an Omen. Isabel
Passed to the room where, in old times, she
lay,
And there they found her at the break of day;
Her look was smiling, but she never spoke
Or motioned, even to say-her heart was
broke:
Yet, in the quiet of her shining eye
Lay death, and something we are wont to deem
(When we discourse of some such mournful
theme)
Beyond the look of mere mortality.
She died—yet scarcely can we call it Death
When Heaven so softly draws the parting
breath;
She was translated to a finer sphere,
For what could match ormake herhappy here?
She died, and with her gentle death there came
Sorrow and ruin, and Leoni fell
A victim to that unconsuming flame,
That burns and revels on the heart of man:
Remorse. This is the tale of Isabel,
And of her love the young Italian.
octave rhyme (Ital. ottava rima) ■ delightful measure made of ease -n'd up with epigram, and, tho' it seem a se that a man may scribble when he please, omewhat difficult: indeed, I deem a za like Spenser's will be found to teaze s, or heroic couplet; there, the pen
But, for the octave measure—it should slip
Like running water o'er its pebbled bed,
Making sweet music, (here I own I dip
In Shakspeare for a simile) and be fed
Freely, and then the poet must not nip
The line, nor square the sentence, nor be
led
By old, approved, poetic canons; no, touch and polish and touch up again. | But give his words the slip, and let 'em go.
And drink the music of her words, an (When sleep shall bring at last a
I mean to give in this same pleasant rhyme | And I will lie pillow'd upon her bes
Some short account of Don Diego de
Montilla, quite an hero in his time,
Who conquer'd captain Cupid, as you'll see:
My tale is sad in part, in part sublime,
With here and there a smack of pleasantry:
As to the moral, why-'tis under cover;
I leave it for the reader to discover.
rest) Haply of many a high immortal And, in the lightning of her beauty My soul may catch perhaps one thrüm From her dark eyes-but, ah! yourg day
Ye nymphs and deities now hath pased
Young-brave-(at least he'd eve
been frights
He play'd on the guitar, could
Well-bred, and gentle, as a knight sh
write, and
Had seen some parts of Spain, and
the sea.
That sort of man one hopes to meet
And the most amorous gentleman ins
And now, great lyrist, fain would I behold
Thee in thy glory-Lord and Life of day!
Sun-bright Apollo! with thy locks of gold,
As thou art wont to tread heav'n's starry way, There was a languor in his Spanish
Not marbled and reduced to human mould,
As thou didst stand, one of a rich array,
(Yet even there distinct and first of all)
In the vast palace of the conquered Gaul.
But, if thy radiant forehead be too bright
For me to look upon with earthly eye,
Ah! send some little nymph of air or light,
Whom love has touch'd and taken to the sky,
And bid her, till the inspiration quite
O'erwhelms, shower kisses on my lip, and
sigh
Such songs (and I will list to her for hours)
As once were sung in amaranthine bowers.
That almost touched on softness;
been Instead of a man a woman, by the His languish had done honour to a For there was in it that regality Something in former days, whatever Of look, which says the owner must ha And his hair curl'd (or was curl'd)
The Don Diego (mind this, Don Dieg
Pronounce it rightly) fell in love.
The daughter of a widow from To
Whose husband fell with honour: ich
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