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tuon the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes
down; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the
breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope
of rest; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath. Oh! could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanish'd scene ; As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish thougu
they be, do milst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me
SCROPE BERDMORE DAVIES, ESQ.,
THE FOLLOWING POEM IS INSCRIBED,
27 OXB WHO HAS LONG ADMIRED IIS TALENTS AND VALUED AI
The following poem is grounded on a circumstance mentioned in Gibbon's “Antiquities of the House of Brunswick.” I am aware, that in modern times the delicacy or fastidiousness of the reader may deem such subjects unit for the purposes of poetry. The Greek dramatists, and some of the best of our old English writers, were of a different opinion: as Alfieri and Schiller have also been, more recently, upon the Continent. The following extract will explain the facon on which the story is founded. The name of Azo is substituted for Nicholas, as more metrical.
“ Under the reign of Nicholas III., Ferrara was polluted with a domestic tragedy. By the testimony of an attendant, and his own observation, the Marquis of Este discovered the incestuous loves of his wife Parisina, and Hugo his bastard son, a beautiful ana vayant youth. They were beheaded in the castle by the sentence of a father and husband, who published his shame, and survived their execution. He was unfortunate, if they were guilty; if they were innocent, he was still more unfortunate ; nor is there any possible situation in which I can sincerely approve the last act of the justice of a parent."-Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works, vol. ii. p. 470.
• The facts on which the procent poem was grounded are to be found 'Frizzi's "History of Ferrara."
The nightingale's high note is heard ;
Seem sweet in every whisper'd word ;
II, But it is not to list to the waterfall That Parisina leaves her hall, And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light, That the lady walks in the shadow of night; And if she sits in Este's bower, "Tis not for the sake of its full-blown flowerShe listens--but not for the nightingale Though her ear expects as soft a tale. Thero glides a step through the foliage thick, And her cheek grows palo—and her heart beats quicles There whispers a voice through the rustling leavaa, And her blush returns, and her bosom heaves : A moment more and they shall meet"Tis past her lover 's at her feet.
Of aught around, above, beneath.
They only for each other breathe :
Their very sighs are full of joy
So deep, that did it not decay,
The hearts which feel its fiery sway:
The spot of guilty gladness past;
As if that parting were the last.
The lip that there would cling for ever,
The Heaver she fears will not forgive bor,
To covet there another's bride ;
A husband's trusting heart beside.
And mutters she in her unrest
And clasps her lord unto the breast
And listen'd to each broken word :
As if the Archangel's voice he heard 3
When he sball wake to sleep no more,
And dashes on the pointed rock
So came upon his soul the shock.
But sheath'd it ere the point was baru...
He could not slay a thing so fair-
But gazed upon her with a glance,
Which, had she roused her from her trance,
many a tale from those around,
To save themselves, and would transfer
The guilt-the shametho doom--to 2:47 ?
Within the chamber of his state,
Upon his throne of judgment sats