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all mankind under the influence of such a “ Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, moment, and, by some delightful magic, His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large, charm them thus for ever, what a world
Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his would this be to live in ! We shall now dismiss the needle and
Be stopp'd in vials, or transfix'd with pins; pin, and with them both poetical and
Or plung'd in lakes of bitter washes lie,
Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's prose pictures of fair sempstresses. We might linger yet on the history of bod It may also be just to notice the prowess kins, but shall content ourselves with of Mrs. Cheshire, in O'Keefe's Agreeable merely quoting Pope, to shew for what Surprise, who is said by the servants to purpose he threatened to apply them to have defended herself, with only “ a bare neglectful sylphs who held “ the import- || bodkin,” from the attacks of lawless love. ant charge, the petticoat” of Belinda : We must beg to intrude another paper
to conclude the wardrobe of England.
HELENA, OF SAXE ALTENBURG,
Is THREE PARTS.- PART I.
In the year 1673, Leopold, Prince of sued to possess, to sigh at the feet of a Saxe Naurmburg, had long been a volun- nameless foreigner whom victory had made tary exile from his country. His name a captiye to his arms. His attachment to had stood foremost in the lists of glory the Swedish lady, who had been beduring the thirty years' war that con queathed by her dying father to his provulsed the states of Germany, and he had | tection, was boundless; and he left his enjoyed the favour of several successive palace, at Dresden, to enjoy, in the soliElectors. His renown, as a warrior, had tary vale of Saxe Naurmburg, his illicit been attested by the world; and his po- passion. No sooner had the tale reached pularity was such, that he looked down the ears of his wife, than she undertook a with secret contempt on more than one secret journey to Saxe Naurmburg, leaving crowned head, whose actual power was her son, an infant in the cradle, to the care far less than his own. Yet he, the pride of a trusty domestic. Fatally determined and glory of Saxony, he who had been the on her scheme of vengeance, she sought foremost in the cabinet and in the field, || the lovers in their retreat; but heaven, in was fighting as a volunteer in the cause of mercy, or in anger, spared her the actual Christendom under the banners of John || perpetration of the crime she meditated. Sobieski, and adding lustre, by his ex She sought a living rival, and found her ploits, to a foreign crown. It was said | husband weeping in agony over the that the jealousy of his wife, a haughty | breathless corse of the unfortunate Anas. and beautiful Princess, to whom he had, | tasia Carlsheim. On the birth of her firstearly in life, united his destiny, was the born son, that lady had, on her knees, cause of his self-expatriation. The mar implored Leopold to make her his wife. riage had been a match of interest on the || He clasped the lovely suppliant in his Prince's part, and one of passionate regard | arms, and, in a paroxysm of remorse, im-, on that of the beautiful Helena Saxe Al- || plored forgiveness for the fraud, and contenburg, on whose charms Kings had fessed that he was the husband of another. gazed with admiration—whose beauty | The deep sobs that had convulsed the had been the theme of many an inspired bosom of his victim were suddenly hushed lay. The bridal wreath was yet fresh-her heart no longer throbbed against upon the brow of the fair and haughty | his—she sank lifeless in his arms. He Princess, when the man on whom she had hastily removed the bright golden ringlets, bestowed her hand, and lavished the fond | that shaded her face. The rigidity of her idolatry of her affection, slighted the trea- | features—the marble paleness spread oversure which so many Princes had in vain her cheeks—the closed eyes, in whose dark * No. 37.-Vol. VII.
lashes the tears still lingered—and the in- || situation. Father Augustine lavished on animate expression of her pensive coun him the most tender affection; and he tenance, too soon convinced him that, in was almost worshipped by the vassals, the blight of hope, her spirit had for ever who in secret regarded him as their future fled !--T6 heighten his misery, the wife | master. He enjoyed liberty without the whom he had injured stood before him, I restraint which exalted rank would have full of reproaches—full of bitter mockery || imposed, while he received homage which for the past.
a higher station could alone have claimed. “ Leave me, woman!” he exclaimed ; || For some years, Weber never formed a
your jealousy has made me the wretch wish beyond the limits of the beautiful that I am—from this moment, we part for valley over which the castle towered in
rude magnificence; but, as manhood adShe left him, invoking the most dread- || vanced, a thousand ambitious hopes and ful vengeance on his head. Her indigna- || speculations took possession of his mind. tion was raised to madness, when, on re These were strengthened by an insatiable turning to Dresden, she found that her | desire to become acquainted with his own son had mysteriously disappeared ; and history, over which an impenetrable veil that the Prince, by whose orders this new appeared to rest. He applied to Father outrage had been committed, had left no || Augustine, but the only answer he reclue to discover his retreat. Her death | ceived was “My lips are sealed—wait was soon afterwards reported to Leopold ; || patiently, my son, and God, in his own and his enemies did not scruple to affirm | good time, will overturn the machinations that she had not filled a bloodless grave. of wicked men, and restore you to your
The death of the Princess Helena had || lawful inheritance." no sooner been announced, than her son This speech only increased his anxiety. was produced. The Prince immediately His quiet mind forsook him, and he beleft Saxony, accompanied by the child, on came restless, dejected and unhappy. whom he lavished the most passionate || Loathing his life of inactivity and ease, he affection. Many, who remembered his | secretly envied the high reputation which hatred to the mother, were not a little the young Prince Conraddin was earning surprised at his attachment to her son ; under the banner of Leopold—the Prince and they, whose vocation it was to mar r- whose noble qualifications were generally vel, and to wonder, pondered over these the theme of his father's letters to the things till they found themselves bewilder monk. ed amidst their own conjectures.
In despite of the remonstrances of The unfortunate Anastasia had scarcely | Father Augustine, he wrote a letter to the been consigned to the grave, when, at the Prince Saxe Naurmburg, entreating his castle of Saxe Naurmburg, the suspicions permission to join him in the Polish camp. of the Prince's vassals were increased by || His suit, however, was peremptorily dethe arrival of his confessor and confiden- || clined ; and the youth saw no prospect of tial friend, Father Augustine Ebenstein, 1 mingling in that world in whose busy accompanied by one domestic, and a male scenes he panted to be an actor. infant. This child he represented to be From these melancholy reflections he the son of a Saxon officer, named Von was at length aroused by a trivial inciWeber, who had lost his life while en dent, which diverted his thoughts into a deavouring to save that of the Prince. different channel. One violent passion
For a time, this tale gained credence ; || yielded to another, and love reconciled but as the boy grew up into the man, the him to his present lot. strong personal resemblance which he One lovely spring evening, fatigued with bore to Leopold opened the eyes of the the chase, he gave his steed to an atold vassals, who whispered amongst them- || tendant, and wandered on at random, selves that the young Weber was the son down the wild and broken glen, to enjoy of Anastasia Carlsheim.
the refreshing breeze that wafted on its During the gay and joyous season of viewless wings the perfume of a thousand youth, Ernest Von Weber felt not the flowers. A magnificent sunset glowed like slightest anxiety respecting his dependent i molten gold, and the waters sparkled with
the gorgeous hues of reflected brightness. | my suit, and I am overwhelmed with The forest was filled with the soft warb- || despair.” Frederica pressed his hand tenling of birds ; and the blithesome song of derly between her own :-“Be of good the shepherds, tending their flocks on the cheer, my Ernest; I have not rejected plains, rose and died away upon the whis- thee.” · Ernest clasped her in his arms, pering wind that scarcely stirred the and his tears fell fast on the lovely cheek foliage of the old willow, at the foot of that rested on his bosom.—“ Frederica,” whose hoary trunk the youth had thrown he said, in a broken voice, “ a dark cloud himself down to enjoy the beauty of the is on my spirit-a presentiment of apscene.—The lulling sound of the waters | proaching ill presses on my heart-a horhad soothed him into a state of waking | rible picture of futurity is before me ; and forgetfulness, when his thoughts were re I struggle in vain against its influence. called from the regions of romance by a Didst thou ever feel what I describe ?" wild and piercing scream, followed by a “ Yes; but, believe me, Ernest, these heavy plunge into the river.
dark forebodings are self-created spectres Ernest sprang to his feet—his soft that we conjure up in solitude to destroy dream vanished—and his eye regained all our peace.” its eagle-like fire, as, leaping into the “Oh! they are not imaginary, Frestream, he succeeded in rescuing from derica! Their agency, though invisible, death a young and beautiful woman, who, !| is true. Why should I feel this sudden by its beetling verge receding from her chill-this fearful-looking forward—but feet, had been precipitated into the river. i from some potent cause? The warning The exquisite loveliness of the being voice within me lies not.” whom he had thus providentially saved “If you value my peace, Ernest, let made a deep impression on his heart.- | not these dreadful thoughts rest upon Few men could have looked on Frederica | your spirit. I have often seen you sadArnheim without admiration — no one but never did your melancholy take a form could know her without loving her.--She like this. Fortune has yet a thousand was the only child of an old officer who || gifts in store for you.—Hark !--let the had retired from the service to end his sound of these merry, joyous bells, dismiss days in the tranquil bosom of his native the ghastly phantoms !” yale. He received his beloved daughter At this moment, the bells from every from the hands of her youthful preserver | steeple in Saxe Naurmburg burst forth with tears of gratitude ; and, from that into a jocund peal, and the air was filled hour, the quiet home of Frederica became with the tumultuous shouts of a gathering a paradise beyond whose hallowed bounds multitude. The castle gates were thrown Ernest felt no wish to stray. It was open, and the retainers of Saxe Naurmtheir's to love with all the fond idolatry of burg advanced towards the astonished a first passion, alive to the raptures of the pair, bearing wreaths of laurel, while the present, but reckless of the future. deepening crowd rent the welkin with their
But Emest's dream of happiness was exulting cries“ Long "live Leopold of rudely dispelled by the authoritative in- || Saxe Naurmburg !Long live Ernest, his terference of Father Augustine, and by princely heir !"-And, before Weber could Colonel Arnheim's refusal to bestow his | demand an explanation of the extraordionly child on a nameless stranger. nary scene, he was surrounded, and car
Early one morning, in a state bordering ried off in the arms of his father's vassals. upon phrenzy, Ernest sought the dwell At the entrance of the castle Ernest ing of Frederica. She was seated within was saluted by Father Augustine, who the vine-covered porch, singing a plain- | came forward to meet him with a sealed tive ditty, to her lute. She started at her packet. · His cheek was deadly pale—the lover's agitated countenance—then hastily || expression of his face startled his pupil. rose to meet him.
“ Your father has at length done you “ You are ill, Ernest?-Sit down by justice, my noble boy. The youthful me, and I will sing a joyous air to dissi- || hero, who has so long supplanted you, fell pate your melancholy.”—“ Frederica, 1 || at the bloody battle of Chockzim, in the am sick at heart: your father has rejected || moment of victory."
“Oh, how I envy that gallant Conrad “ Your Highness !” said one of the old din his glorious death! But how, and in || domestics, advancing and looking upon what manner, does the loss of this young | the face of the dead, which the Prince warrior make me Prince Leopold's heir ?" || supported in speechless anguish on his
“ I would tell thee all, my son, but a bosom, “ that livid countenance tells a higher power fetters my tongue,” ex strange tale—the monk has died by claimed the monk, growing yet paler, and poison !" sinking into the arms of the astonished The joy which had been kindled so Prince.—“ Take my dying advice, Er- || lately in Ernest's breast yielded to an acnest; question not the motives which ac cumulated weight of misery. tuated
your father's conduct, but rest con God! for what am I reserved ?" he extented that you are his heir !"
claimed, clasping his hands, and raising “ This will not satisfy me,” returned his tearless eyes to heaven in unutterable the youth vehemently,.“I must know all!" | anguish. “Accursed be that exaltation
He spoke in vain—the lips that could which has murdered my friend !" have satisfied his doubts were silenced
S. S. for ever!
one morning passing by St. 11 director. But neither these ideas, nor any George's church: many persons other, came into my mind, as, almost unassembled, gazing upon a long line of consciously, I entered St. George's church. carriages decorated with bridal favours.-- || I believe the crowd about the doors imaThere is nothing I like better than a wed- gined me to be one of the wedding guests; ding :—the bride's pretty be wilderment, and the wedding party themselves were the bridegroom's smiles, the happy faces all so deeply occupied with their own feel. of the party—for there are always happy || ings, that I walked up the aisle, and stood faces at a wedding. A younger sister, almost close to the altar, unperceived. perhaps, grown up to womanhood, with The bride, poor thing, was young, and the wild, bright graces of the girl, still very fair. She was not beautiful-even blooming on her cheek, pent up' in the in the glow of health, I think she could nursery, and enduring—hardly enduring—not have been termed beautiful; and now the
ctures of the governess, and talked there was the paleness of disease upon her of as a child because her sister has not check. Yet there was much of intellecyet got off. Would not she look happy on tual loveliness about her-much of the that sister's wedding-day ? — Then, a mo mild, sad, gentleness of woman. Her ther, who had long lived a loving and be blue eyes were fixed upon the earth; and, loved wife would not her's be a bright save that she trembled, she was motionface at her daughter's bridal ? to see her less as death. Her cheeks—her very lips child entering into that state which to -were colourless as those of a corpse ; herself had been so blissful, and to see and her bridal splendour contrasted herself in future years surrounded by that strangely with her cold, lifeless face. She daughter's children? Then there are was richly attired; yet I am certain, she fathers who look happy on their daugh was utterly unconscious of the finery that ter's wedding-day, because they are get= || had been heaped upon her. The brideting off a girl-and girls are always bores, groom was a tall, military-looking man: and require portions, and can't push their there was aristocracy in the proud sparkle own fortunes.
of his eye, and in the fine form of his head; But I go too far now: I speak of what but there was nothing in that noble coun. girls were, not of what they are ; for girls tenance which the heart loved to look of the present day, even while the down upon : its expression was cold, and dark; of childhood is yet upon their cheek, can and though he seemed proud of his young speculate on chances as well as any bank bride, his glance never softened when it
fell on her. The bride's-maids were fair, || D, and his firm, bold, vigorous chabright-eyed things, seemingly made for racters formed a striking contrast with merriment and laughter; but they were the signature of his pale bride. sad and troubled now, and often gazed I have often thought about that wed anxiously upon the bride. A youth was ding-I know not if I have thought there, too, whose arms were folded, and aright; but I have thought that the pale, his eyes cast down; their long black dark youth was the tutor of Jane Trelashes resting upon cheeks paler than mayne's little blue-eyed brother ,—that marble. Yet, sometimes, when the bride's || Jane had loved him with the love of a low, lifeless, responses reached his ear, he fond, unchanging woman ;—and that he started, and his face reddened even to his too had loved, but that they had cherished brow, and he clenched his teeth, till I al- | their passion in secresy and in despair. I most fancied I could see the blood rushing | am sure that the rank of her titled lover from his nostrils. He never looked to- || did not influence Jane Tremayne—of that wards the bride, and I thought he did not I am very sure ; neither did she seem of dare to trust his eyes in that direction. A that timid nature that would weakly cherub, fair-haired boy, standing at the yield up a beloved object. No—such a young man's side, often glanced up in his character Jane did not look; for, though face kindly and inquiringly, and with there was much gentleness in her demore of sensibility than is generally to be || meanour, there was a calmness that deseen in children.
noted strength of mind. She wore the When the ceremony was over, the bride- || appearance of one who was supported by groom drew the bride's arm within his the consciousness of fulfilling a duty. own; and she suffered him to do so, with That it was a painful duty, her pale face that calmness which chills one. They || evidently betrayed; but there were no went together into the vestry-room, ac tears, no outward show of agitation. No! companied by the rest of the wedding ||.No! I am convinced that there was some party-all, except the young man, who | imperative necessity for giving up her had rushed wildly from the church, and lover-some cause, far beyond worldly the fair boy who stood looking after him || feeling, which demanded their separation. with a sad wonder in his sweet eyes. I knew it not then, nor do I know it now;
When the party had driven off, I went but I have thought that Jane Tremayne's into the vestry: the clerk was there, and | father wore the haggard and care-worn he shewed me the name of Jane Tre- || aspect of a gambler : there was the hollow mayne—that name which the bride had | eye, and the furrowed cheek, and the consigned for the last time. There was much tracted brow. It is only fancy, but the nervous tremour visible in the writing ; | thought haunts me still, that the fair Jane but still it was evidently of that delicate Tremayne had offered herself up a sacriand elegant description which is so femi- || fice to save a guilty father. nine and lady-like. The bridegroom I
MARY C discovered to be George, Marquess of
NATURE WILL PREVAIL.
From the Spanish of Don Alonso del Castillo.
During the reign of Casimir, King of military service of the King, who was Poland, a Prince as much feared by his often in hostility with the neighbouring enemies as he was beloved by his subjects, | princes. Enrique, an illustrious Spanish nobleman, The King being one day out hunting left his country, for some unknown reason, with his courtiers, after bringing two wild and came to the Polish court. There he boars to the ground, resolved to rest a soon won the royal favour by his devoted short time on the borders of a sparkling ness to the person, and his exploits in the fountain, and partake of a choice colla