Thy God's, and Truth's; then if thou fallest, O Crom
Thou fallest a blessed martyr.
And,-Pry'thee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to Heaven, is all
I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
THROUGH shades and solitudes profound
The fainting traveller winds his way;
Bewildering meteors glare around,
And tempt his wandering feet astray.
Welcome, thrice welcome, to his eye,
The sudden moon's inspiring light,
When forth she sallies through the sky,
The guardian angel of the night.
Thus mortals, blind and weak, below
Pursue the phantom Bliss, in vain;
The world's a wilderness of woe,
And life a pilgrimage of pain,
Till mild RELIGION, from above,
Descends, a sweet engaging form→
The messenger of heavenly love,
The bow of promise in a storm.
Then guilty passions wing their flight,
Sorrow, remorse, affliction cease;
RELIGION'S yoke is soft and light,
And all her paths are paths of peace.
Ambition, pride, revenge depart,
And folly flies her chastening rod;
She makes the humble contrite heart
A temple of the living GOD.
Beyond the narrow vale of time,
Where bright celestial ages roll,
To scenes eternal, scenes sublime,
She points the way, and leads the soul.
At her approach the Grave appears
The Gate of Paradise restored;
Her voice the watching Cherub hears,
And drops his double-flaming sword.
Baptized with her renewing fire,
May we the crown of glory gain;
Rise when the Host of Heaven expire,
And reign with God, for ever reign!
Ir ever you should come to MODENA,
(Where among other relics you may see
TASSONI'S bucket-but 'tis not the true one)
Stop at a palace near the Reggio-gate,
Dwelt in of old by one of the ORSINI.
Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace,
And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses,
Will long detain you,-but, before you go,
Enter the house-forget it not, I pray you.
And look awhile upon a picture there.
'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth,
The last of that illustrious family;
Done by ZAMPIERI-but by whom I care not.
He who observes it, ere he passes on,
Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again,
That he may call it up, when far away.
She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
Her lips half open, and her finger up,
As though she said, "Beware!" her vest of gold, Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot, An emerald-stone in every golden clasp ;
And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,
So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
The overflowings of an innocent heart-
It haunts me still, though many a year has fled,
Like some wild melody!
Over a mouldering heir-loom, its companion,
An oaken-chest, half eaten by the worm,
But richly carved by Antony of Trent
With scripture stories from the Life of Christ.
A chest that came from VENICE, and had held
The ducal robes of some old ancestor-
That by the way-it may be true or false―
But don't forget the picture; and you will not,
When you have heard the tale they told me there.
She was an only child-her name GINEVRA,
The joy, the pride of an indulgent father;
And in her fifteenth year became a bride,
Marrying an only son, FRANCESCO DORIA,
Her playmate from her birth, and her first love.
Just as she looks there in her bridal dress,
She was all gentleness, all gaiety,
Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue. But now the day was come, the day, the hour; Now, frowning, smiling for the hundredth time, The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum ;
And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave
Her hand, with her heart in it, to FRANCESCO.
Great was the joy; but at the nuptial feast,
When all sat down, the bride herself was wanting.
Nor was she to be found! Her father cried,
""Tis but to make a trial of our love !"
And filled his glass to all; but his hand shook,
And soon from guest to guest the panic spread.
'Twas but that instant she had left FRANCESCO,
Laughing and looking back, and flying still,
Her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger.
But now, alas! she was not to be found;
Nor from that hour could any thing be guessed,
But that she was not!
Weary of his life,
FRANCESCO flew to VENICE, and, embarking,
Flung it away in battle with the Turks.
ORSINI lived-and long might you have seen
An old man wandering as in quest of something,
Something he could not find he knew not what.
When he was gone, the house remained awhile,
Silent and tenantless;-then went to strangers.
Full fifty years were passed, and all forgotten,
When on an idle day, a day of search
Mid the old lumber in the gallery,
That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as GINEVRA
Why not remove it from its lurking-place ?” 'Twas done as soon as said; but on the way
It burst, it fell; and lo, a skeleton,
With here and there a pearl, an emerald stone,
A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold.
All else had perished-save a wedding-ring,
And a small seal, her mother's legacy,
Engraven with a name, the name of both,
"GINEVRA."
There then had she found a grave!
Within that chest had she concealed herself,
Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy;
When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there,
Fastened her down for ever!
VAT YOU PLEASE.
SOME years ago when civil faction
Raged like a fury through the fields of Gaul; And children, in the general distraction,
Were taught to curse as soon as they could squall.
When common sense in common folks was dead,
And murder showed a love of nationality,
And France, determined not to have a head,
Decapitated all the higher class,
To put folks more on an equality;
When coronets were not worth half a crown,
And liberty in Bonnet-rouge might pass
For Mother Red-Cap up at Camden town;
Full many a Frenchman then took wing,
Bidding soup-maigre an abrupt farewell,
And hither came pell-mell,
Sans cash, sans clothes, and almost sans every thing!
Two Messieurs who about this time came over
Half-starved, but toujours gai,
(No weasels e'er were thinner,) Trudged up to town from Dover,
Their slender store exhausted in the way,
Extremely puzzled how to get a dinner.
From morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve,
Our Frenchmen wandered on their expedition
Great was their need, and sorely did they grieve,
Stomach and pocket in the same condition!
At length, by mutual consent they parted,
And different ways on the same errand started.
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