lievo, the beatification of the blessed Virgin Mary; and round the walls of this sacred spot were placed carved representations of the twelve apostles.

To this peaceful and sequestered solitude did the lovely Rosanna frequently repair. It was in this sainted chapel that her fervent adoration was offered up to the throne of Mercy; and it was beneath this vaulted roof that her trembling notes would oft times breathe the matin and the evening hymn of praise. Sometimes her elevated voice, in full tones, swelled upon the breeze, while, at other moments, the trembling cadence died in sweetest melody upon the ear. Frequently, as Rosania passed the hallowed portal, fancy pictured to her imagination the mother she had lost in tenderest infancy; the thought would sooth her into melancholy, while a tear, that sprang from the soul of fervent sensibility, dropped to the memory of that parent whom fate had snatched from the bosom of the most virtuous of children.

Thus did the pious Rosanna Valenza pass her hours, nor ever yielded to a thought which would have stained the cheek of snowy chastity with the blush of keen compunction.

Some days after the introduction of the Marquis Stephano Alvaroni to the duca and his friend, at Rome, a messenger arrived post from Taranto, with dispatches for the Count Ozimo, (the friend alluded to) containing the melancholy tidings of the dangerous indisposition of his mother, and only remaining parent, whom he had left in apparent good health, on his departure with his friend the duca; but who had suddenly fallen a prey to an infectious fever, which seemed to baffle every endeavour of medicinal art.

Urged by the impulse of filial affection, the count found that his immediate departure from Rome was necessary; when the Duca Gonzari, mindful of the warmth of friendship which had actuated the count, determined on this occasion to testify his attachment to his friend, and he, in consequence, insisted on becoming the partner of his journey; but with this desire the count would by no means acquiesce. In addition to which, the representations of the cardinal to his nephew, tending to convince him that his presence could be of no avail, were

attended with success, and the Duca Gonzari was, in the end, prevailed upon to relinquish the intention of returning to Taranto; it being agreed, that he should accompany the count on his route as far as Naples, after which it was his intention to return to Rome.

Every necessary arrangement being made, which the urgency of the count's departure required, he set out from Rome, accompanied by the duca; who, in order not to impede the wishes of his friend, relinquished all idea of journeying with his regular suite of attendants, and was followed only by two domestics.

Having travelled expeditiously during that day and part of the night, they arrived towards the second evening at the city of Naples, from whence the count determined to set forward without delay. Bidding, therefore, a mournful adieu to the Duca Gonzari, with promise of return as speedily as possible, he remounted his horse, after having partaken of a slight repast, and bent his way from the gates of Naples towards the city of Salerno.

As it was now immaterial to the duca what route he pursued, he continued advancing towards Troja; and halted in the evening at a small village, about midway from Naples to that town. From thence he proceeded the following day to Troja, where he remained, however for that night only. Visiting Lucera the following day, from whence journeying on to Manfredonia, he inspected all the edifices of that city, erected by its noble founder, Manfred, who had collected on this spot the remaining inhabitants of ancient Sipontum, which formerly stood near the site whereon rose the walls of Manfredonia,

Having continued for some time at that city, it was the duca's intention to set forward, the ensuing morning, on his return to Rome, but the day proved so intensely hot as to prevent him from putting that plan into execution; in consequence of which he remained at Manfredonia till return of evening, and then quitted the gates of the city, fanned on his way by the refreshing breezes that were wafted from the bosom of the expansive ocean. Already had the blazing orb of day bent its course towards the western deep, and the still zephyrs of the evening scarcely agitated the umbra

geous foliage of the forest, under whose shade the duca slowly advanced, followed by his two attendants, when, suddenly, an approaching sound was heard ;* and, ere the lapse of a few seconds, the duca, turning, beheld his domestics engaged in defending themselves against

several assailants who had rushed from the surrounding thicket.

The noble Gonzari, fired at this inequality of numbers, instantly drew his sword. At that moment an arrow from a bow pierced through the flowing mantle of the duca, without injuring his person, and at the same time he beheld one of his attendants fall, groaning, from his horse; while the other, still struggling against his opponents, conjured his lord to seek for safety in immediate flight. The duca, unmindful of his personal danger, and feeling for the fate of his followers, was preparing to rush upon the assassins, when, instantaneously, four horsemen, masked with sable visors, appeared in view, making towards the duca at full speed, with an obvious intent of securing his person, if not taking his life. The force of reason, at this critieal juncture, predominated over the duca's mind, who, instantly setting spurs to his courser's sides, darted forward amidst the thickest mazes of the forest, still hearing the distant echo from the clattering hoofs of the steeds which bore the persons of his pursuers.

The panting courser of the duca at length halted; when the youthful Gonzari, springing from the saddle, advanced with precipitancy towards the portal of a chapel, which appeared at some httle distance.

The mellow radiance of the sinking sun tinged the wide expanse of the western horizon with the mingled hue of brightest gold and dye empyreal; all nature was serene, and her prolific bosom nought displayed but sweetest harmony.

As the precipitate steps of the duca led him over the threshold of the portal, a lovely female stranger, at that moment, arose from her prostrate position before the altar, and, alarmed at the intrusive sound, directed her regard towards the entrance of the chapel, where she beheld the youthful person of the noble duca; who, proceeding almost breathless up the aisle, gained, in a few seconds, the step

of the altar whereon the beautiful female stood rivetted, with a sensation of mingled fear and astonishment..

Onbeholding the angel formbefore him, the duca for a moment paused; then, starting back some paces, bowed to the pavement the unsheathed sword he held within his grasp, exclaiming :

"Immortal form! for such indeed thy appearance should bespeak thee, shield from the malice of pursuing ruffians a being that never fled from peril, had not nnequal numbers, dastard like, combined against this arm; or, if my presence here, thou most divine creature! gives thee cause of alarm, speak, and on the instant, borne upon the wings of speed, will I forth again and dare the murderous band; for I can never crouch submissively the knee to any but the Deity. No, lady, for the salvation of my life I would not meanly sue,"

The person of the Duca Gonzari was majestic, and upon his animated countenance was stamped every trait of proud nobility; a fiery expression shot from his fixed eyes, and every lineament displayed undaunted courage, truth, and hung loosely over his temples, which honour. A profusion of dark brown hair the brim of which, on one side, hung a were adorned with a fur-edged cap, over black and tufted plumage. From his shoulders was suspended an ample mantle; and, on his breast and limbs, he wore purple velvet vestments embroidered over with gold. Suspended by a rich chain, hung the broad scabbard of his trusty sword; and within the girdle encircling his waist appeared a glittering podiard. Such was the general contour of the duca's figure, on presenting him self before the unknown female, whose radiant charms seemed to dispel from his mind the recollection of the late transaction, and the danger that might every instant await him.

The female stranger continued for some moments irresolute, and unable to reply to the noble and spirited address of the duca, which so perfectly coincined with the dauntless, open appearance of his demeanour.

A secret emotion of the soul sudden

ly dictated the reply; for the bold and energetic language of the duca was arcompanied with a certain inexpressible

fervor in his manner that belied baseness or deceit, and attested the veracity of his asseveration; in addition to which, the plea of mercy powerfully wrought upou the feeling mind of the beauteous stranger, who thus made answer to the duca's address:

"Whosoever thou art, thy words and manners alike bespeak thee a stranger to deceit. To screen the innocent from the machinations of base villany, is a sacred duty incumbent on every friend of virtue: I boast that glorious title; and, since the will of Providence hath placed you under my guidance, I will, to my utmost, guard the sacred deposit."

The female then descended the steps of the altar, and, while the Duca Gonzari continued to gaze upon her with mingled delight and admiration, she proceeded thus:

(To be continued.)

LOVE AND WINE;

AN IMITATION OF THE FRENCH "UN JOUR
L'ENFANT," &c.

One day, a truant from the Court,
The infant LOVE, prepared for sport,

A lab'rer's guise with cunning apes:
A basket on his shoulder placed,
He Bacchus thro' the vineyards traced,
And found him busy with his grapes.

But, "Bacchus, ever fair and young,"
Too knowing to be gull'd and flung,
His vintagers alarm'd, and quick-
"Seize him-I know what he'd be at,
And plunge him headlong in the vat,

"Twill teach the villain how to trick."

'Twas done-and O! the mirth was fine,
As out he came, all "dropping wine;"
But most imprudent was their haste,
For in the liquor, thus abused,

A treacherous spirit* LOVE infused,
Which in their hearts they feel who taste

Verses.

Nor much should we marvel were mountains

to move,

THE QUESTION.

Why, oh why, this perturbation-
Why this tumult in my breast?
Why this unknown, sweet sensation,
Charming, though it chaces rest?

Why this tender, soft confusion?
Why this downcast timid eye?
O'er my cheeks why this suffusion?
Why the unconscious, frequent sigh?

Why this trembling, fond emotion?

Why the pulse's madd'ning play? Thrilling bosom,-soft commotion,

Restless night, and listless day?

Who do crowds no longer please me? Why so dear the lonely grove?

her love.

Tell me, Anna-is this Love?

Upon its being reported, that Mr. ELLISTON was about to quit the Stage.

Do not for ever leave us,
Why make Thalia mourn?
You should not thus bereave us,
Of what we call our own.

For you were surely given
To charm our ears and eyes;
So kind a gift of Heav'n,
We can't too dearly prize.

* "Vapeur traîtresse."

We have not too much pleasure That you should act the thief; And steal away our treasure,

And plunge us all in grief.

Where shall we look for Rover,

That heart so warm and true; Whose mirth will all be over,

When he says, farewell to you?

That pleasant fellow, Ranger,
Must vanish from our sight;
And, like a weary stranger,
May Vapid end his flight,

The Singles and The Liar,
May rest for evermore;
Extinct will be their fire,-

Their frolics will be o'er.

'Tis sweet to sit upon the sea-worn beach, And mark the rolling surges-to descry The distant ruffles far as eye can reach, And trace them, swelling proud as they draw nigh:

Rising and falling with incessant roar, They dash their glory on the sloping shore,

I love to see them mark with narrow line, The bound'ries of their wand'ring, zig-zag tide

They say, in all the rivalry of pride, "Thus far I urg'd this milk-white steed of mine."

I look-the record's gone-a prouder spray Has wash'd the hist'ry of its pomp away. And then I think that man, in all his 'glare, Is but a passing wave that sweeps the sea,

* Mr. ELLISTON is certainly the Light of Comedy. The Ranger, Rover, and Archer of our Drama, must disappear with him, who was evidently born to personify and set before our eyes, in the strongest colours, all that is most brilliant, spirited, and graceful on the Scene. Thalia may put on her mourning robes, when Mr. Elliston leaves the Stage, for she will lose her most favourite and enthusiastic child. May our gratitude and thanks go with him, for the pleasure he has given us,

I thought of the days, when to pleasure alone, My heart ever granted a wish or a sigh; When the saddest emotion my bosom had known,

Was pity for those who were wiser than I!

I felt how the pure intellectual fire
In luxury loses its heavenly ray;
How soon, in the lavishing cup of desire,
The pearl of the soul may be melted away!

And I pray'd of that Spirit who lighted the flame,

That pleasure no more might its purity dim;

And that, sullied but little, or brightly the

same,

I might give back the gem I had borrowed from HIM!

The thought was extatic! I felt as if Heaven

Had already the wreath of eternity shewn; As if, passion all chasten'd, and error forgiven,

My heart had began to be purely its own!

I look'd to the west, and the beautiful sky, Which morning had clouded, was clouded no more;

"Oh! thus," l'exclaim'd, " can a heavenly eye

"Shed light on the soul that was darken'd before!"

SEPTEMBER.---WORDSWORTH,

The sylvan slopes with corn clad fields
Are hung as if with golden shields,
Bright trophies of the sun!
Like a fair sister of the sky,
Unruffled doth the blue lake lie,
The Mountains looking on.

And dearest love;

And, sooth to say, yon vocal Grove,
Albeit uninspired by love,
By love untaught to ring,
May well afford to mortal ear
An impulse more profoundly dear
Than music of the Spring,

For that ftom turbulence and heat
Proceeds, from some uneasy seat
In Nature's struggling frame,
Some region of impatient life;
And jealousy, and quivering strife,
Therein a portion claim.

This, this is holy;-while I hear
These vespers of another year,
This hymn of thanks and praise,
My spirit seems to mount above
The anxieties of human love,
And earth's precarious days.

But list!-though Winter's storms be nigh,
Uncheck'd is that soft harmony:
There lives Who can provide
For all his creatures; and in Him,
Even like the radiant Seraphim,
These Choristers confide.

But were it not that Time their troubler is, All that in this delightful garden grows

Should happy be, and have immortal bliss: For here all plenty and all pleasure flowes, And sweet love gentle fits emongst them throws

Without fell rancour, or fond jealousie; Frankly each paramour his leman knows, Each bird his mate; ne any does envie Their goodly merriment, and gay felicitie.

Right in the middest of that Paradise There stood a stately mount, on whose round top

A gloomy grove of myrtle-trees did rise, Whose shadie bough sharp steel did never lop,

Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop : But, like a girlond, compassed the hight, And from their fruitfull sides sweet gumes did drop,

That all the ground with precious dew bedight,

Threw forth most dainty odours, and most

sweet delight!

And, in the thickest covert in that shade, There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,

But of the trees' own inclination made, Which knitting their ranke branches part to part,

With wanton ivie-twine entail'd athwart, And eglantine and caprisfole emong, Fashion'd above within her inmost part, That neither Phoebus' beams could through them throng,

Nor Eolus' sharp blast could work them any

Foolish Nascisse, that likes the wat'ry shore; Sad Aramanthus, made a flowre but late; Sad Aramanthus, in whose purple gore

Meseemes I see Amintas' wretched fate, To whom sweet poets verse hath given endless date.

AVARICE.

And greedy Avarice did by him ride, Apon a camel loaden all with gold;"

Two iron coffers hung on either side, With precious metall full as they might hold, And in his lap a heap of coin he told:

For of his wicked pelf his god he made, And unto hell himself for money sold: Accursed usury was all his trade,

And right and wrong ylike in equall balance waide.

At last he came into a gloomy glade, Cover'dwith boughs and shrubs from heaven's light,

Whereas he sitting found, in secret shade, An uncouth, savage, and uncivill wight, Of griesly hew, and foul ill favour'd sight; His face with smoake was tann'd, and eyes

were blear'd;

.

His head and beard with soot were ill bedight; His coale black hands did seem to have been sear'd

In smithe's fire-speting forge, and nails like claws appear'd.

His iron coat, all overgrown with rust,
Was underneath envelop'd with gold,
Whose glistring gloss, darken'd with filthy
dust,

Well it appeared to have been of old
A work of rich entaile, and curious mould,
Woven with anticks, and wild imagery;
And in his lap a mass of coine he told,

And turn'd upside down, to feed his eye, And covetous desire, with his huge treasury,

And round about him lay, on every side, Great heaps of gold, that never could be spent ;

Of which some were ore not purifide, Of Mulciber's devouring element; Some others were new driven, and distent

Into great ingots, and to wedges square; Some in round plates withouten monument, But most were stampt, and in their metall

bare

The antick shapes of kings and Cæsars strange and rare.