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But none to them, a pleasure, a delight,
To ply their utmost skill, and send me forth
As best became this service. Their last words,
'Fare thee well, Carlo. We shall count the hours !'
Will not go from me." -"Health and strength be thine
In thy long travel! May no sunbeam strike;
No vapor cling and wither! May'st thou be,
Sleeping or waking, sacred and secure;
And when again thou com’st, thy labor done,
Joy be among ye! In that happy hour
All will pour forth to bid thee welcome, Carlo;
And there is one, or I am much deceived,
One thou hast named, who will not be the last."
“O, she is true as Truth itself can be !
But, ah! thou know'st her not. Would that thou couldst!
My steps I quicken when I think of her;
For, though they take me further from her door,
I shall return the sooner.”

AN INTERVIEW.

PLEASURE that comes unlooked-for is thrice welcome;
And, if it stir the heart, if aught be there
That may hereafter in a thoughtful hour
Wake but a sigh, 't is treasured up among
The things most precious ! and the day it came
Is noted as a white day in our lives.

The sun was wheeling westward, and the cliffs
And nodding woods, that everlastingly
(Such the dominion of thy mighty voice, 2018
Thy voice, VELINO, uttered in the mist)

(His charge relinquished with a sigh, a tear) Wings his flight upward — with a look he won My favor; and, the spell of silence broke, I could not but continue. — “Whence," I asked, “Whence art thou?" ----“From Mont'alto,” he replied, “My native village in the Apennines.” “And whither journeying?– “To the holy shrine Of Saint Antonio in the city of PADUA. Perhaps, if thou hast ever gone so far, Thou wilt direct my course.” — “Most willingly; But thou hast much to do, much to endure, Ere thou hast entered where the silver lamps Burn ever. Tell me . . . I would not transgress, Yet ask I must ... what could have brought thee forth, Nothing in act or thought to be atoned for?” – “It was a vow I made in my

distress. We were so blest, none were so blest as we, Till sickness came. First, as death-struck, I fell ; Then my beloved sister ; and ere long, Worn with continual watchings, night and day, Our saint-like mother. Worse and worse she grew; And in my anguish, my despair, I vowed, That if she lived, if Heaven restored her to us, I would forthwith, and in a pilgrim's weeds, Visit that holy shrine. My vow was heard; And therefore am I come.” — “Blest be thy steps ; And may those weeds, so reverenced of old, Guard thee in danger!” -—“They are nothing worth. But they are worn in humble confidence ; Nor would I for the richest robe resign them, Wrought, as they were, by those I love so well, Lauretta and my sister; theirs the task,

But none to them, a pleasure, a delight,
To ply their utmost skill, and send me forth
As best became this service. Their last words,
Fare thee well, Carlo. We shall count the hours !'
Will not go from me.”—“Health and strength be thine
In thy long travel! May no sunbeam strike;
No vapor cling and wither! May'st thou be,
Sleeping or waking, sacred and secure;
And when again thou com’st, thy labor done,
Joy be among ye! In that happy hour
All will pour forth to bid thee welcome, Carlo;
And there is one, or I am much deceived,
One thou hast named, who will not be the last." —
“O, she is true as Truth itself can be !
But, ah! thou know'st her not. Would that thou couldst!
My steps I quicken when I think of her;
For, though they take me further from her door,
I shall return the sooner."

AN INTERVIEW.

PLEASURE that comes unlooked-for is thrice welcome;
And, if it stir the heart, if aught be there
That may hereafter in a thoughtful hour
Wake but a sigh, 't is treasured up among
The things most precious ! and the day it came
Is noted as a white day in our lives.

The sun was wheeling westward, and the cliffs
And nodding woods, that everlastingly
(Such the dominion of thy mighty voice, 28
Thy voice, VELINO, uttered in the mist)

209

Hear thee and answer thee, were left at length
For others still as noon; and on we strayed
From wild to wilder, nothing hospitable
Seen up or down, no bush or green or dry,"
That ancient symbol at the cottage-door,
Offering refreshment - when LUIGI cried,
“Well, of a thousand tracks we chose the best !”
And, turning round an oak, oracular once,
Now lightning-struck, a cave, a thoroughfare
For all that came, each entrance a broad arch,
Whence many a deer, rustling his velvet coat,
Had issued, many a gypsy and her brood
Peered forth, then housed again — the floor yet gray
With ashes, and the sides, where roughest, hung
Loosely with locks of hair — I looked and saw
What, seen in such an hour by Sancho Panza,
Had given his honest countenance a breadth,
His cheeks a blush of pleasure and surprise,
Unknown before, had chained him to the spot,
And thou, Sir Knight, hadst traversed hill and dale,
Squire-less. Below and winding far away,
A narrow glade unfolded, such as Spring
Broiders with flowers, and, when the moon is high,
The hare delights to race in, scattering round
The silvery dews.210 Cedar and cypress threw
Singly their depth of shadow, checkering
The greensward, and, what grew in frequent tufts,
An underwood of myrtle, that by fits
Sent up a gale of fragrance. Through the midst,
Reflecting, as it ran, purple and gold,
A rainbow's splendor (somewhere in the east
Rain-drops were falling fast), a rivulet

Sported as loth to go; and on the bank
Stood (in the eyes of one, if not of both,
Worth all the rest and more) a sumpter-mule
Well laden, while two menials as in haste
Drew from his ample panniers, ranging round
Viands and fruits on many a shining salver,
And plunging in the cool translucent wave
Flasks of delicious wine. — Anon a horn
Blew, through the champaign bidding to the feast,
Its jocund note to other ears addressed,
Not ours; and, slowly coming by a path,
That, ere it issued from an ilex-grove,
Was seen far inward, though along the glade
Distinguished only by a fresher verdure,
Peasants approached, one leading in a leash
Beagles yet panting, one with various game
In rich confusion slung, before, behind,
Leveret and quail and pheasant. All announced
The chase as over; and ere long appeared,
Their horses full of fire, champing the curb,
For the white foam was dry upon the flank,
Two in close converse, each in each delighting,
Their plumage waving as instinct with life;
A lady young and graceful, and a youth,
Yet younger, bearing on a falconer's glove,
As in the golden, the romantic time,
His falcon hooded. Like some spirit of air,
Or fairy-vision, such as feigned of old,
The lady, while her courser pawed the ground,
Alighted; and her beauty, as she trod
The enamelled bank, bruising nor herb nor flower,
That place illumined. Ah! who should she be,

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