be there, GIANETTA; and may the Friend of the Friendless give me strength in that hour! Even now my heart fails me; but, come what will, while I have a loaf to share, you and your Mother shall never want. I will beg through the world for you.' The day arrives, and the court assembles. The claim is stated, and the evidence given. And now the defence is called for-but none is made; not a syllable is uttered; and, after a pause and a consultation of some minutes, the Judges are proceeding to give judgment, silence having been proclaimed in the court, when LORENZO rises and thus addresses them. Reverend Signors. Young as I am, may I venture to speak before you? I would speak in behalf of one who has none else to help her; and I will not keep you long. Much has been said; much on the sacred nature of the obligation-and we acknowledge it in its full force. Let it be fulfilled, and to the last letter. It is what we solicit, what we require. But to whom is the bag of gold to be delivered? What says the bond? Not to one-not to two-but to the three. Let the three stand forth and claim it.' From that day, (for who can doubt the issue?) none were sought, none employed, but the subtle, the eloquent LORENZO. Wealth followed Fame; nor need I say how soon he sat at his marriagefeast, or who sat beside him. A CHARACTER. ONE of two things MONTRIOLI may have, At noon the king. Then comes the council-board; Not when at home; at home a miscreant-crew, The steward, his stories longer than his rent-roll, He clanks his fetters to disturb my peace. His freedom, and the hours that fly so fast, A burden or a curse when misemployed, Above the clouds, above the firmament, That Seraph sitting in the heaven of heavens. What men most covet, wealth, distinction, power, Is in the race we run, not in the prize; These dangerous gifts placed in their idle hands, THEY stand between the mountains and the sea; Temples of Gods! and on their ample steps Trodden under foot and mingled, dust with dust. How many centuries did the sun go round From MOUNT ALBURNUS to the TYRRHENE sea, While, by some spell rendered invisible, Or, if approached, approached by him alone Who saw as though he saw not, they remained As in the darkness of a sepulchre, Waiting the appointed time! All, all within Proclaims that Nature had resumed her right, And taken to herself what man renounced; No cornice, triglyph, or worn abacus, But with thick ivy hung or branching fern; Their iron-brown o'erspread with brightest verdure! From my youth upward have I longed to tread This classic ground—And am I here at last? Wandering at will through the long porticoes, And catching, as through some majestic grove, Now the blue ocean, and now, chaos-like, Mountains and mountain-gulfs, and, half-way up, Towns like the living rock from which they grew? |