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My Maleca, my betrothed,
Is the corse so pale and bloody,
Coldly lying at thy feet!
A treacherous hand, a burning brand,
Plunged within her glowing bosom,
And the flame of life extinguished !
Who will not behold with wonder
Fire extinguished thus by fire,
And the precious gem of life
By the sharp steel cleft asunder ?
You can every one bear witness
Of this sacrilegious outrage ;
Of this cruel wrong-this horror-
This most costly, bitter trial
Of fatality and love.
Be ye witnesses, henceforward,
Of my deep, undying vengeance,
The most dreadful, the most noble
That the world has ever entered
In her chronicles of jaspar
In her monuments of bronze.
Here, before this lifeless beauty-
This weak flower-this fragile rose-
Who at length doth die a wonder,
As a wonder she was born-
Here, with unavailing homage,
Bending at her feet, I vow
For her death eternal vengeance !
And since this Galera (truly
Well it meriteth the name!)*
Founders in this purple sea,
And, 'mid flames that rise around it,
Threatens to sink headlong downward
From this peak to yonder vales-
Since the Spaniards have departed,
So that the faint, distant beating
Of their drums now reach us not-
I shall follow in their footsteps,
Till I find, amid their army,
Him, the wretch, that slew my bride
At the least his life shall answer
My revenge, if not her death! -
That the fire that saw the murder-
That the world which knew 'twas done-
That the trembling wind that listened-
That the fortune that allowed it-
That the Heavens which this permitted-
Men, and beasts, and birds, and fishes-
Sun, and moon, and flowers, and stars-
Fire, and air, and earth, and water-
May learn, may know, may publish forth,
May see, observe, and comprehend,
That within a Moorish heart,
That within a Moorish bosom,
Love surviveth after death!

[He rushes out.

DON LOPE DI FIGUEROA, who had obtained it from a soldier, who had himself won it by gambling. Several soldiers enter, disputing about a diamond Cupid, which had also been taked st the gaming-table. TUZANI is requested to act as umpire between them. He inquires how the ornament came into their possession. They are about conducting him to the person from whom they received it, when GARCIA enters, defending himself from several soldiers. TUZAXI, seeing one man attacked by so many, places himself by his side, and attacks the soldiers in turn. They are all placed under arrest. TUZANI and GARCIA are conducted to the same prison, when the following scene takes place.]

TUZANI-GARCIA.
Gar.--Since, indeed, although a stranger,
Never serving thee in aught,
Thou hast still beside me fought,
And snatched me from the midst of danger-
Since thou'st been my life's salvation,
Soon I hope (let this elate thee)
By my aid to liberate thee-
'Tis my only consolation.

Tuz.—God preserve thee!
Gar.-

So, in fine,
Do not thou, Hidalgo, mind
Being here a while confined,
For the fault being only mine,
Sooner than their hands shall touch
A hair of thine, my life shall pay
The debt I have incurred to-day.

Tuz.-Indeed, I did expect as much ;
But know, I do not waste a thought
Upon my being captured here.
I grieve, because I've lost, I fear,
The only object that I sought.

Gar.-May, at least, the name repeat
Of him who saved my life?
Tuz.-

Oh! I
Am but a soldier, come to try
And find a man I seek to meet.

Gar.–Your friendly courage well deserves
That I should tell you where to go
What is his name?
Tuz.-

I do not know.
Gar.- What is the corps with which he

serves ?
Tuz.-I do not know it.
Gar.-

His appearance ?
Tuz.-I do not know.
Gar.-

To find him, then,
Among so many thousand men
Methinks will need some perseverance.

Tuz.-And yet, an hour ago, without
My knowing what's his size or naine,
Or the corps with which he came,
I had almost found him out.

Gar.—These enigmas are too great
For me to guess; but be not sad,
For his Highness will be glad
To serve and aid you, when I state
The service that to me you've rendered.
He owes me much, for, but for me
It ne'er had been his lot to see
Galera's bastioned walls surrendered.
This search between us we'll divide,
For, forced by gratitude's strong power,

THE REVENGE OF TUZANI. TUZANI having arrived at the camp of Don JOAN OF AUSTRIA, disguised as a Spanish soldier, commences his search for the murderer of MALECA. He is startled at seeing the collar of pearls which he had presented to his betrothed, round the neck of the Prince himself; it having been presented to him, a short time before the arrival of TUZANI, by

* GALERA, the name of the town where those events take place, also signifies á galley.

In good and evil, from this hour
My chosen place is at thy side.
Tuz.–And were you then, indeed, the

first
Within Galera's walls to go ?
Gar.-Ah! would to God it were not so!
Tuz.-Why does the memory seem ac-

curst? Gar.-Because from that unlucky hour That first I placed my foot therein, I know not for what deadly sin, Misfortune, with malignant power, Or Fate, or some stern star malign, Or Retribution's wrath, has shed Its baneful influence o'er my head, And all goes wrong with me and mine.

Tuz.- Why art thou thus so much dis

mayed?
Gar.-I know not, if 'twas not that day
On which it was my fate to slay
A young and beauteous Moorish maid.
Indeed, just heaven can do no less
Than strike me for a deed so base,
For heaven was copied in her face.

Tuz.-Was she so beautiful ?
Gar.-

Oh, yes.
Tuz.-Alas! unhappy spouse! (aside)

But say,
How did this chance ?
Gar.

'Twas in this way.
On a certain day being stationed
Sentinel within a forest,
'Neath the thick o'erhanging branches
Which diffused the gloom of midnight
Down along the sloping mountains,
There I seized a Moorish prisoner.
It were tedious to discover
How he managed to deceive me;
'Tis enough to say, he led me
Far away 'mid precipices,
Where his shouts soon called together
All the troops of Alpujarra.
Flying, then, I sought for shelter
In a deep and darksome grotto,
Where the fatal mine was opened
Through the hollow rock soon after-
Dreadful monster, which conceiveth
So much fire within its entrails!
It was I who first revealed it
To my lord, Don John of Austria ;
It was I who, through the night-time,
Guarded it from all surprises ;
It was I who held the entrance
Till my comrades took possession;
It was I, in fine, who entered
First amid the flaming city,
Like a human salamander.
Till, at length, I reached, by passing
Globes of fire, a strong-built mansion,
Which was, without doubt, the fortress
Of the place, for there the people
Were assembled in great numbers.
But, perchance, you have grown weary
Of my story, 'twill fatigue you
To pay any more attention.

Tuz.- I was somewhat absent, thinking Of my own affairs-continue.

Gar.-In effect, I hurried onward,

Full of anger, full of fury,
Till I reached the house of Malec,
Which, in fine, was all my trouble.
'Twas the time that round the palace,
Or the mansion, or the fortress,
Don Lope di Figueroa -
Light and honour of his country-
Had drawn up his valiant forces,
And the flames were bursting redly
From the walls, and the Alcaide
Was no more. And I, who ever
Seek for prizes as for plaudits
Though, indeed, rewards and honours
Seldom can be found together-
Daringly ambitious, onward
Through the halls and rooms I wandered,
Till I reached a little chamber,
Last retreat of the most lovely
Moorish maid my eyes e'er gazed on.
Ah! my words were vain to paint her,
Were it even the time for painting!
Confused, in fine, and sorely troubled,
When she saw me, she concealed her
Down behind her bed's white curtains,
As if they, indeed, that moment
Were the curtains of a rampart.
But what mean these tears that trickle
Down your face so pale and haggard ?

Tuz.-Those, indeed, are but mementoes Of a similar misfortune.

Gar. Do not heed the lost occasion,
What you wish to find, believe me,
You will meet without your seeking.

Tuz.-You speak truly. Pray continue.

Gar.-I pursued her; she was covered With so many sparkling jewels, With a dress so rich and splendid, That she seemed a bride expecting Her beloved--not a victim Waiting for the coming death-stroke. I, beholding so much beauty, Wished to save her life, provided She would give her heart as ransom. Scarcely had I dared to touch her Snow-white hand, when thus she prayed me: ** Christian, if you are desirous More of plunder than of glorySince a woman's blood doth ever Stain the sword man's blood doth brightenLet your thirst be satiated By these jewels that I carry; Leave untouched my faith, my honour; Touch not this poor breast that carries Many mysteries within it, Which itself doth comprehend not.” In my arms I seizedTuz.

Oh! torture!
Pause a moment !-stay!--detain thee!
But what words are these ? My fancy
Makes me use these exclamations.
Pray, continue your narration,
Though to me 'tis of no moment.
Ah! I feel even more his daring
Thus to touch her, than to kill her! [aside.

Gar.- Piercing cries aloud she uttered
In defence of life and honour.
I being now aware that others
Were approaching the apartment,

And that one of two rich conquests
Which I sought, must be abandoned,
Fearing that they both might fail me,
Or that one should be divided
With the soldiers who might enter,
Changing, in a little moment,
Thus my love to quicker vengeance
(Easily doth passion change from
One extreme unto another),
Hurried by some unknown fury,
Frenzied by some sudden madness,
Which impelled my arm-(I know not
Ilow to tell so base an action)-
I, removing first a necklace
Made of pearls, and many a diamond
Leaving after them a heaven
All of purest snow, rose-tinted-
I'lunged my sword within her bosom.
Tuz.- Was the stroke like this, assassin ?

[Draws out a dagger, and stabs him.

Gar.-Oh! heavens !
Tuz.-

Die, thou traitor!
Gar..Is it by your hand I perish?

Tuz.-Yes, for this poor murdered beauty,
This sweet rose whose leaves are scattered,
Soul of my life was she when living,
Life of my soul is she this moment.
You are he whom I was seeking!
This was the cause that drew me thither-
To revenge her outraged beauty!
Gar.--Ah! without my arms, to strike

me,
And with treason !

Tuz.--. Vengeance never
Stoppeth for such calculations.
'Tis her husband, Don Alvaro
Tuzani, whose hand has slain thee.

Gar.--Ah! why hast thou given me life
When 'twas thy fate to give me death!

[Dica.

THE REAPER'S SONG.
The sheaves are all gathered, the reaping is done,
O! who are so joyous, so happy as we?
The last stook away to the haggard is gone,
And the pipe calls us off for a dance on the lea.
Then come, dearest Kate, be my partner to-night,
Tho' the sun's golden glory be quenched in the sea,
The amber moon shines with a mellower light,
A ray that is dearer to thee, love, and me.
Lo! the flow'ret* that folded its petals all day,
Now opes, that the night lamp is hung in the sky,
Like it, put thy coyness and blushes away,
And rival night's queen by the light of thine eye;
For dim is the glory of moon and of star,
And sad is the music of tabor and song,
And weary the time while from thee, love, afar,
To whom every pulse of this heart doth belong.
The Arcadianst of old deem'd their goddess spell-bound,
By some wizard of earth, when eclipsed from their sight,
And with cymbal and drum, bade their valleys resound,
To dissolve the dark spell with their torches' red light.
Reversed is the magic, my goddess, with thee;
No shadow has e'er on thy fair brow been planted
No veil o'er those orbs, so bewitching to me,
For thou art the sorceress I the enchanted.
But come_if you will_weave new charms round this heart
For me, I now feel that retreat is in vain.
Enchantress! exert all the power of thine art,
But break not the spell- 'twere anguish and pain,
Then come, dearest Kate, be my partner to-night,
Tho' the sun's golden glory be quenched in the sea,
The amber moon shines with a mellower light,
A ray that is dearer to thee, love, and me.

J. 0. B. * The night-flowering cactus—it blows only when the moon is at the fall, for one night, and closes again before morning.

† The Arcadians worshipped the moon, and whenever an eclipse occurred, beliering her bewitched, bcat drums and cymbals, and lighted torches, to ease her labors: THE NUN AND THE CARDINAL.*

AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE TIMES OF THE ORLEANS REGENCY,

Is the last years of Louis XIV., when the hypocritical piety of Madame de Maintenon had rendered devotion fashionable, and had restored to the Tartuffes the influence of which they had been deprived by the satire of Moliere, there resided in a dilapidated chateau near Grenoble, a family named Guerin, which, in spite of straitened circumstances, maintained all its pretensions to gentility, and took the title of De Tencin, from the moderate es. tate on which they vegetated rather than lived. The family consisted of a widowed mother, two sons, and four daughters, two of whom were marriageable. The eldest son obtained a diplomatic situation ; the eldest daugh, ter married a rich financier ; the second son, called the Abbé de Tencin, was destined to enter the church; and the second daughter, Claudine de Tencin, was warned by her mother to procure a husband within twelve months, or else to prepare herself for a convent.

Claudine, though pretty, was poor, and dowries were as great objects of consideration in Grenoble as they were in Paris; moreover, she had a decided taste for contradiction and repartee, so as to be called Mademoiselle Nenni throughout the country, from her habit of always replying in the negative Her brother the abbé was notorious for assenting to everybody, and was, in consequence, admitted to every table where flattery would pass as cur. rent coin in payment for food. Not withstanding this difference of dispo. sition, the brother and sister were warmly attached to each other, and had vowed to share any benefits which fortune might have in store for them. Both had boundless ambition: the abbé aspired to the highest dignities of the church ; Claudine more vaguely fixed her hopes on acquiring political

influence, either as a wife or a mistress.

The alternative presented by the mother alarmed Claudine ; she represented its injustice, if she was to remain in the country, where no eligible partner was likely to appear. Madame yielded to the reasoning, and removed for a season to Grenoble, where Claudine was presented to fashionable society, in a robe made from her mother's well-preserved wedding-gown. At her first ball she captivated M. de Chandennier, a young man of good family and tolerable fortune. He was the cousin of the Marquis de Chandennier, of the ancient house of Rochechouart, whose obstinate resistance to Cardinal Mazarin, and voluntary exile from court, are now almost forgotten, though they were deemed the most extraordi. nary instance of personal independence under the despotic reign of Louis XIV. The marquis was the first captain of the household troops, and was highly respected for his valour, talents, and singular probity. These qualities did not suit Mazarin; he wished to have a more flexible officer, who would implicitly obey his commands, without inquiring too nicely into the morality or legality of his injunctions. Mazarin commanded Chandennier to sell his commission to M. de Nouilles, who, without waiting for the marquis's consent, assumed at once the functions of his post. Chandennier refused to send in his resignation, or to accept the purchase-money; he was arrested and imprisoned in the Castle of Loches, where, as he was known to be poor, it was hoped that he might be starved into submission. The marquis, however, lived contentedly on the prison allowance, receiving, however, occasional presents of better provisions from the inhabitants of Loches, who honoured bis spirit, and detested the

St. Simon's Memoirs have supplied the greater part of the incidents in this sketch, but we have also consulted Duclos, Villars, and the “Gallery of Female Portraits," by Paul de Musset. VOL. XXXII.--NO, CXCI.

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cardinal. Two years elapsed, during This unexpected repulse discouraged which the prisoner made no complaint, the lover, but he sought to gain the and offered no sign of submission. At favour of her brother, and he invited length the court, ashamed of its own the abbé to a supper, where the most violence, granted him his freedom, but fashionable young men of Grenoble at the same time banished him from were assembled. Paris. It was notified to him that the Among the guests was a young price of his commission was ready to financier, of more wealth than wit. be paid whenever he chose to accept Enraged at finding himself eclipsed it, and that, so soon as he signed a re in conversation by a poor abbé, he ceipt for the money, he would be re- began to mock the mean dress and stored to royal favour. Chandennier poverty of Tencin. The abbé de. was as obstinate in exile as he had fended himself with so much wit, that been in prison ; it was hoped that le- the rest of the company ranged them. niency would have a better effect than selves on his side; and when, with a severity, and he was permitted to re triumphant joke, he asked the finanturn to Paris. Still unsubdued, he cier to lend him five hundred pistoles went to reside in a small cottage near on his note of hand, all present inSainte Genevieve, and gave himself up sisted that the wealthy blockhead to devotion. This suggested the last should comply, under pain of personal attempt to overcome his obstipacy; chastisement. On the following morn. his confessor was induced to representing, Claudine received a letter from to him that, in justice to his creditors, her brother, enclosing half the sum he ought to accept the purchase-mo he had so strangely gained, declaring ney of his commission, and apply it to that with the rest he would go to the payment of his debts. Chandennier Paris in search of fortune, and advise so far yielded, as to have an interview ing her to lose no time in coming to with the younger Nouilles, who had an arrangement with her suitor. succeeded to the disputed post on the Claudine had already repented her death of his father, but no agreement refusal of her lover's proffered politecould be arrived at; to the last hour of ness; she had even gone the length of his life, the Marquis de Chandennier inviting him to pay her a visit, whenretained his titular rank as first cap- ever his taste led him to make a rural tain of the royal guards.

excursion. Five or six days after the M. de Chandennier, the hero of the ball, it was announced that a brilliant ball at Grenoble, was said to have in- band of cavaliers was approaching the herited his cousin's noble qualities, dilapidated castle of the Tencins; and the marquis, indeed, had nothing else all the preparations usually adopted to bequeath-he was preparing to visit by pride to hide poverty, were hastily Paris in search of fortune, when he made for their reception. A ploughboy, was caught by the fair form and lively in an old livery, enacted the part of wit of Claudine de Tencin. He at first porter ; the farm-servants, unprepared meditated nothing more than a little by previous drill, were suddenly transflirtation with the rustic beauty, whom formed into grooms, ushers, footmen, he hoped to dazzle and overawe by his and feudal retainers. Several amussuperior knowledge of the world, but ing blunders were made- the porter, he soon found that he was beaten with dazzled by the dresses of the guests, his own weapons ; long before the ball exhausted himself in mute salutations ; had concluded, Chandennier had aban- the groom was so charmed with M. doned all his plans of a wealthy mar- de Chandennier's horse, that he comriage, for love and a cottage with the pelled the gentleman to tell him the beauty of Grenoble. At the conclusion price of the animal before he assisted of the ball, as Claudine and her mother him to dismount; and the footmen, were about to return home in their instead of marshalling the way, ran modest carriage, the gallant lover of- against each other, and knocked their fered the services of his footmen to heads together, so that Chandennier light them with flambeaux to the gates in the end entered the saloon without of the city. Claudine yielded to her being previously announced. natural instinct, and without any re Claudine and her mother had too flection replied “No, sir, we thank much tact to notice the confusion you, our servant knows the way," which the polite Chandennier affected

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