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Her pranks the favourite theme of every And here and there a pearl, an emeraldtongue.
But now the day was come, the day, the A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold.
And in the lustre of her youth, she gave
Her hand, with her heart in it, to Fran
All else had perished-save a nuptial ring, And a small seal, her mother's legacy, Engraven with a name, the name of bothGINEVRA."-There, then, had she found a grave!
Great was the joy; but at the bridal Within that chest had she concealed herfeast,
When all sat down, the bride was wanting Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the there
Nor was she to be found! Her father When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush cried,
64 "Tis but to make a trial of our love!"
Fastened her down for ever!
HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE, IN THE VALLEY OF CHAMOUNI.
HAST thou a charm to stay the morning star | And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad! In his steep course? So long he seems to Who called you forth from night and utter pause death,
On thy bald, awful head, O sovereign From dark and icy caverns called you
The Arvé and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form,
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee, and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it As with a wedge. But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
Thy habitation from eternity.
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks,
For ever shattered, and the same for ever?
Unceasing thunder, and eternal foam? And who commanded, and the silence came,
"Here let the billows stiffen and have rest?"
O dread and silent mount! I gazed upon Ye ice falls! ye that from the mountain's thee
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer
I worshipped the Invisible alone.
Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy;
Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy! Awake, Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart,
awake! Green vales and icy cliffs! all join my hymn.
Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale!
Oh, struggling with the darkness all the night,
And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink,
Companion of the morning star at dawn, Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn
Adown enormous ravines slope amainTorrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?
GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Answer! and let the ice plains echo, GOD! GOD! sing, ye meadow streams, with gladsome voice!
Ye pine groves, with your soft and soullike sounds!
And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, GOD!
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost! [nest!
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm!
Co-herald, wake, O wake, and utter praise! Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the
Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! Utter forth GOD, and fill the hills with praise! COLERIDGE.
Slow rose the shaft :-it trembled-hung. 'My only boy!" gasped on his tongue: He could not aim!
Ha!" cried the tyrant, doth he quail? He shakes! his haughty brow is pale!" "Shoot!" cried a low voice; canst thou fail?
Shoot, in Heaven's name!"
Be firm, my boy!" was all he said:
And cleft it was-and Tell was free.
Bold fool! when slaves like thee are Quick the brave boy was at his knee,
It is MY WILL;
But that thine eye may keener be,
Give him a bow and arrow there-
One moment swept the Switzer's face;
"I take thy terms," he murmured low;
Chose out an arrow keen and long,
Deep stillness fell on all around;
With flushing cheek;
But ere the sire his child embraced,
An arrow in thy belt is placed--
To smite thee, tyrant, to the heart!
They chained the Switzer, arm and
They racked him till his eyes grew dim,
Nor groan, nor pain-wrung prayer gave
But smiled beneath his belt to see
Through that dense crowd was heard no And that one arrow found its goal,
THE MOORS IN SPAIN.
WE pursued our way over a rolling, mountainous country, until, arriving at the crest of an eminence, the snowy summit of the Sierra Nevada, which we had beheld on our voyage from Tunis to Gibraltar, rose before us in all its majesty—a sign that the object of our pilgrimage could not be very far distant. From the top of a range of dreary sand-hills blazing in the sun, the dark green carpet of the Vega of Granada suddenly expanded at our feet. It is a vast inland plain, everywhere surrounded by mountains, elevated some thousand feet above the level of the sea, with a climate comparatively cool and bracing, and a soil of the most exuberant fertility, watered by the melting snows of the Sierra, which towers above it like a defensive wall. On the slope of one of the inferior heights appeared the white city, buried in groves; and on a hill above it, the red towers of the Moorish fortress of the Alhambra.
At this sight, we all felt like pilgrims in sight of a long-desired bourne; and, heedless of the burning sun, galloped across the green Vega until we had attained the suburbs of Granada. We cannot easily describe the feelings with which we found ourselves close to this capital of the Arabians in Spain, and actually within sight of the most elegant monument of their architecture. What manner of people those Moors were, how surprising their civilization, and how melancholy their fate, must be described by abler pens than mine, and the reader will thank me for placing before him one of the most beautiful passages of Washington Irving, which sums up, in a few eloquent words, the prominent points in the history of this gallant but ill-fated race:—
"I fell into a course of musing upon the singular fortunes of the Arabian or Moresco-Spaniards, whose whole existence is as a tale that is told, and certainly forms one of the most anomalous yet splendid episodes in history. Potent and durable as was their dominion, we scarcely know how to call them. They were a 19
nation without a legitimate country or a name.
A remote wave of the great Arabian inundation cast upon the shores of Europe, they seemed to have all the impetus of the first rush of the torrent. Their career of conquest, from the rock of Gibraltar to the cliffs of the Pyrenees, was as rapid and brilliant as the Moslem victories of Syria and Egypt; nay, had they not been checked on the plains of Tours, all France, all Europe, might have been overrun with the same facility as the empires of the East, and the Crescent might at this day have glittered on the fanes of Paris and of London.
"Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed hordes of Asia and Africa that formed this great eruption gave up the Moslem principle of conquest, and sought to establish in Spain a peaceful and permanent dominion. As conquerors, their heroism was only equalled by their moderation; and in both, for a time, they excelled the nations with whom they contended. Severed from their native homes, they loved the land given them, as they supposed, by Allah, and strove to embellish it with everything that could administer to the happiness of man. Laying the foundations of their power in a system of wise and equitable laws, diligently cultivating the arts and sciences, and promoting agriculture, manufactures, and commerce, they gradually formed an empire unrivalled for its prosperity by any of the empires of Christendom; and diligently drawing round them the graces and refinements that marked the Arabian empire in the East, at the time of its greatest civilization, they diffused the light of oriental knowledge through the western regions of benighted Europe.....
"If the Moslem monuments in Spain, if the Mosque of Cordova, the Alcazar of Seville, and the Alhambra of Granada still bear inscriptions fondly boasting of the power and permanency of their dominion, can the boast be derided as arrogant and vain? Generation after generation, century after century had passed away, and still they maintained possession of the land. A period had elapsed longer than that which has passed since England was subjugated by the Norman Conqueror, and the descendants of Musa and Taric might as little anticipate being driven into exile