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With Henry here, of this and that.

Arnesto. The conversation of a friend,

Who is with wit and sense imbued,

Who teaches with his voice and looks Is worth a thousand printed books. Frederick. This solemn preface bodes no good! [aside. Henry. For Frederick's sake, I much desire [aside. To stop the old man's long discourse; To leave them is the proper course: Will you allow me to retire?

Arnesto. Is it because I came you go?
Frederick. Why partly yes, and partly no.
Yes, for I wished to go, I own,

Before your steps did hither wend —
And no, for parting with my friend

I do not leave him now alone.

Arnesto. Adieu.

Frederick.

I beg that you'll declare Whate'er you're anxious to confide ;Why do you look on every side?

Arnesto. I'm only looking for a chair.
For, being quite unused to walking,

I feel fatigued and somewhat heated;

I think we may as well be seated

[Exit.

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His coolness is beyond endurance!
Arnesto. How do you make the nights pass o'er?
Frederick. I sometimes at the court attend;

Whither I shall be proud to lend

My arm, and see you to your door.
Arnesto. "Tis rather early.
Frederick.

Powers that rule! [aside.
Must I then lose my life and love?
Arnesto. Do you play piquet?
Frederick.

Was ever anything so cool?
No, my good lord.
Arnesto.

Heavens above! [aside.

Being out of tune,

Depressed, I left my home to-day,
And feeling better, wish to stay,

Nor care for going home so soon.
Frederick. My lord, I feel disturbed, enraged,
At being compelled to go: to-night
I have, in truth, so much to write,
That all my time shall be engaged.

[He wishes to rise, but Arnesto prevents him. Arnesto. Let me assist you with your task, A good, fair, flowing hand I bring.

Frederick. I could not think of such a thing!
Arnesto. Nay, 'tis a favour that I ask!
Frederick. A very bad return 'twould be
For your great kindness and attention:
Besides, my lord, I have to mention
One reason why I wished to sce
Your lordship home,- it is that one
Of my best friends I'm bound to meet
To-night, quite near your lordship's street.
Arnesto. I will attend you-let's be gone.
My power to serve you is not great,
But what I can I'll do; I'll wait
Outside the door till break of dawn:

Or, trust me, Frederick, tell me, is it
An assignation you have made?
If so, come on, be not afraid

That aught shall interrupt your visit. Frederick. My lord, your courage well I know, But I must go alone; adicu.

[He rises from his chair. Arnesto. Do not deceive yourself-with you I go to-night where'er you go.

This decision on the part of Arnesto produces a sort of explanation. He proceeds to state that in his capacity of Governor of Parma, information has been given him of the receipt of a letter by Frederick, and of a contemplated meeting that night, which, of course, he cannot permit. Frederick, thinking that all was discovered, makes an appeal to the old man, and implores of him to present him with the hand of the person he expected to meet. Arnesto, still thinking of nothing but the duel, and delighted at the notion of being the means of affecting a reconciliation between the parties, promises him, in a very warm manner, to accede to his wishes, which produces a burst of gratitude from Frederick. Two or three words, however, undeceive him, and he again insists on leaving the house alone. Arnesto then calls in the guard, as he had been ordered, and Frederick is placed under arrest. After some time, however, by means of a second door, he is enabled to make his escape. Laura, in the mean while, is alone in the park, shaken by a thousand fears, and terrified by the continued delay of her lover, In this state of uncertainty, she sighs forth the following complaint :

Laura. Oh! thou cold, fatal shadow of the night,
The cradle and the sepulchre of light;
If all the crimes of love, from age to age,
Were written on thy dark and mourning page;
Then would as many tales be read on high,
As there are sapphire plancts in the sky.
There, too, perchance, my destiny is drawn,
To fade and vanish in the coming dawn.
There in thy shining annals may be read,
The fate of one like me, who thus doth tread
Blindly the jealous shadows of despair.
But thy impartial pages would declare
The cause, and thus to every eye discover
A tyrant father, and a hated lover;

A jealous mistress, too. But oh, dread fear!
My love, my life, my lord, my Frederick dear,
Why dost thou now delay, and leave me lonely here?
[Retires a little.

Flerida enters.

Flerida. Fabio told me that his master Bade him in the park await him; Which doth clearly prove his mistress

Dwelleth somewhere in the palace.

Laura went to rest so early,

That I had not time to order

Her attendance in the garden
And as I could trust none other,

I have been compelled to venture
Here alone, for fear Arnesto
May have failed in what I ordered.

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To descend and search the garden.

Flerida. What you tell me is in keeping
With my private information;
For your zeal I'm very grateful.
Did you in the park discover
Anything that seemed peculiar?

Laura. I saw nothing whatsoever
Of the person that I looked for.

But you can retire, senora,

Now that I am here; believe me

Nothing shall escape my searching.

Flerida. Be it so, but you remain here.
Laura. Certainly,
[Some one knocks.
Flerida.
What means this knocking?
Laura. Many times the wind deceives one.
[Knocking repeated.
Flerida. This is surely no deception:

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Flerida. What, then would you wish to tell me? Frederick. That Flerida's jealous anger

Sent to me your sire Arnesto,

Who, by force of arms, detained me

All the evening in my chamber,

So that till this moment, dearest,

I could not come here.-Why linger?

In the park our horses tarry.

From the Duke I carry letters,
Which will gain us full protection

In his royal court of Mantua.

Come with me-what, though the morning
Glimmers o'er the castern mountains-

Once with thee upon the journey

I shall fear no interruption.

Laura. If a word he could have added,

[aside.

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Frederick. Adieu! divinest Laura!

[Exit.

[Exit.

Her

Thus then was every doubt painfully removed from the mind of Flerida, and every hope from her heart. first feeling was that of indignation against Laura for the continued duplicity of her conduct; but the faithful and disinterested affection of Frederick, under such strong temptation, soon changed it into a more generous channel; and her whole study was, to secure his happiness, even at the sacrifice of her own. Her influence easily obtained the consent of all parties concerned, and Frederick and Laura are united. The love and constancy of Henry also obtained their reward; for, in a short time, the fair Flerida became the happy wife of the happiest duke that ever reigned over pleasant Mantua.

VER SACRUM.

(FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.)

BY WILLIAM LANDER, ESQ.

The Latins of Lavinium now no more

Their foeman's furious onset could withstand, And, crowding round the Lance of Mars, implore The sacred sign with prayerful eye and hand.

Then spake the priest who bore the shaft divine"Hear the offended god, who speaks through me. If omen ye expect, or favouring sign,

The SPRING to him must consecrated be!"

"A SACRED SPRING !" they shouted, loud and clear, "And all the springtime bringeth his shall be!" The fir-grove rustled, clashed the mystic Spear, And soon the Etruscan host before them flee.

And home they came victorious from the camp;

Beneath them seemed the meadows to wax green, Wild flowers blossomed 'neath the war-steed's tramp, And, 'stead of lances long, tall trees were seen.

And there the doors and sacred altars round

Were ranged in proud and jubilant array; The maids and matrons their fair foreheads crowned With wreathed flowers, the offspring of the day.

And now burst forth the joyous, welcome cry-
The priest upon the Mount of Mars low bowed
His head, and raised the sacred shaft on high,

And solemn spake before the listening crowd:

"Hail thou who changed our fears to victory! Our vows we now fulfil-I stretch my hand O'er field and city, and devote to thee

The SACRED SPRING-the first fruits of the land.

"The firstlings of our flocks to thee we vow,

The lamb and kid shall burn before thy fane,
No new-born steer be destined to the plough,
No steed be foaled to bear the bridal rein.

"All fruit that ripes in every garden fair,

All that grows green in fields of earth-sown seed,
No human hand to pluck or reap shall dare,
All shall be thine alone-thy sacred meed !"

And silent knelt the host on bended knee,
The votive Spring around they silent saw-
So lovely never springtime seemed to be-

And every breast was filled with fearful awe.

Then spake the priest again-" And do ye pause,
And think your vow fulfilled, your duties o'er?
And have ye then forgot your ancient laws?

And know ye not what means the oath ye swore?

"The budding flowers, the corn in sunny fields,

Beasts in whose veins to-day first life-blood ran, Are these the only offerings springtime yields?

Bethink ye! One thing yet is wanting-MAN !'

"More pleasing to the god than lambs or kine, Are lovely maidens in their beauty bright; More pleasing than young foals before his shrine Are youths in graceful vigour armed for fight. "Oh, not in vain, ye youths, ye felt the power

Of the strong War-god in your sore distress! Oh, not in vain, ye maids, are ye this hour

Gifted with such exceeding loveliness!

"Thou hast relieved, O Mars! a nation's fear, Doomed, but for thee, in slavery to pine; An offering thou wilt have a single year

Its fruits and offspring-take them! they are thine!"

Prostrate again that mighty host did fall,
But the devoted ones stood still apart,
Gloriously fair, though pale their lips were all,
And sacred awe hung heavy on each heart.

Still as the grave that multitude lay hushed,

Trembling they heard their awful helper's name. When, from the blue serene, red lightning rushed

To earth, and wrapped the sacred lance in flame.

Then raised the priest his head, while glory bright

Round his white hair and beard was seen to shine. Flashed his old eyes with more than human light, While thus he spake to them the will divine:

"The god will have a perfect sacrifice

But not to bleed beneath the fatal knife. No cold, dead gift finds favour in his eyes.

No! he demands a Spring of lusty life.

"Forth from these walls, the ramparts of our race,
An offset for the Battle-god shall go;
And from this Spring of youthful strength and grace
A glorious stock for future days shall grow.

"Let each youth choose him now a blooming brideSee, ready crowned with flowers each lovely head; Each maiden move her new-found mate beside,

And go where stars propitious influence shed.

"Of corn, that now waves green in many a field,
Take seed to sow the land to which you roam;
Of fruits, which those fair flowering branches yield,
Take graft and berry to your distant home.

"The youthful steer shall break your fallow land,

And in your fields the sportive lamb shall play ;
The wild colt, tamed obedient to your hand,

Shall bear you proud through many a battle day.

"For war and battle is your destiny

So wills the god who rules the fearful fight;
And in the midst of you that power shall be,

To guard and guide your princely race aright.
"His sacred symbol in your fanes shall rest;

Before it shall your conquering leaders pray,
When they, obedient to his high behest,

O'er earth and ocean spread their victor sway.

"Such his commands !-then hushed be doubt and fearGo hence while in your hearts my accents ring.

Ye are the precious seed of future years

Thus will the god accept the SACRED SPRING!"

THE BOLD MARINER.

FROM THE GERMAN OF PAPE.

BY D. F. M'CARTHY.

The waves foam round the northern lands,
And o'er the white rocks leap with glee;

Upon the deck the Master stands
"My shipmates, out to sea!

"To beauteous France our bark doth sail-
To wealthy England o'er the brine;
We'll drink the nut-brown English ale,
The sparkling, cool French wine!"

And as the wind blows loud and wild,
And as the sails swell proudly o'er,

Thus speaks to him his only child

Her farewell from the shore

"Thou couldst into the greenwood go,

Where clear, bright streams refresh the air;

But now the night winds coldly blow

Thy thin, white, silver hair!

"Thou couldst repose the dark night through
Within that small, warm room of thine;

But now you watch, and none but you,
Beneath the sad moonshine!"

Oh, maiden! peace!-by Helgoland,
By Helgoland, amid the deep,
Thy father and his sailor band

Beneath the blue waves sleep.

VOL. XXXII.-NO. CLXXXVII.

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