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Nor spinning by the fountain-side,
(Some story of the days of old,
Barbe Bleue or Chaperon Rouge half-told
To him who would not be denied ;)
Not now, to while an hour away,
Gone to the falls in Valombrè,
Where 't is night at noon of day;
Nor wandering up and down the wood,
To all but her a solitude,
Where once a wild deer, wild no more,
Her chaplet on his antlers woré,
And at her bidding stood.

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II.
The day was in the golden west;
And, curtain d close by leaf and flower,
The doves had cooed themselves to rest
In Jacqueline's deserted bower ;
The doves-that still would at her casement peck,
And in her walks had ever flutter'd round
With purple feet and shining neck,
Truc as the echo to the sound.
That casement, underneath the trees,
Half open to the western breeze,
Look'd down, enchanting Garonnelle,
Thy wild and mulberry-shaded dell,
Round which the Alps of Piedmont rose,
The blush of sunset on their shows:
While, blithe as lark on summer-morn,
When

green and yellow waves the corn,
When harebells blow in every grove,
And thrushes sing - I love! I love !!!
Within (so soon the carly rain
Scatters, and 't is fair again ;
Though many a drop may yet be seen
To tell us where a cloud has been)
Within lay Frederic, o'er and o'er
Building castles on the floor,
And feigning, as they grew in size,
New troubles and new dangers;
With dimpled cheeks and laughing eyes,
As he and Fear were strangers.

St Pierre sat by, nor saw nor smiled.
His eyes were on his loved Montaigne;
But
every

leaf was turn'd in vain.
Then in that hour remorse he felt,
And his heart told him he had dealt
Unkindly with lis child.
A father may awhile refuse;
But who can for another chuse?
When her young blushes had reveal'a
The secret from herself conceald,
Why promise what her tears denied,
That she should be De Courcy's bride?

- Wouldst thou, presumptuous as thou art,
Oer Nature play the tyrant's part,
And with the hand compel the heart?
Oh rather, rather hope to bind
The ocean wave, the mountain-wind;
Or fix thy foot upon the ground
To stop the planet rolling round.

The light was on his face; and there
You might have seen the passions driven-
Resentment, Pily, Hope, Despair-
Like clouds across the face of Heaven.

Now he sigh’a heavily; and now,
His hand withdrawing from his brow,
He shut the volume with a frown,
To walk his troubled spirit down :
- When (faithful as that dog of yore !
Who wago'd his tail and could no more)
Manchon, who long had snuff'd the ground,
And sought and sought, but never found,
Leapt up and to the casement flew,
And look'd and bark'd and vanish'd through,
« 'T is Jacqueline? 'T is Jacqueline!,
Her little brother laughing cried.
• I know her by her kirtle green,
She comes along the mountain-side;
Now turning by the traveller's seat,-
Now resting in the hermit's cave, -
Now kneeling, where the pathways meet,
To the cross on the stranger's grave.
And, by the soldier's cloak, I know
(There, there along the ridge they go)
D'Arcy, so gentle and so brave!
Look up-wly will you not?, le crics,
His
rosy hands before his

eyes;
For on that incense-breathing cve
The sun shone out, as luth to leave.
. See to the rugged rock she clings!
She calls, she faints, and D'Arcy springs;
D'Arcy so dear to us, to all ;
Who, for

you

told me on your knea,
When in the fight he saw you fall,
Saved you for Jacqueline and me!.

And true it was! And true the tale!
When did she sue and not prevail ?
Five years before it was the night
That on the village-green they parted,
The lilied banners streaming bright
O'er maids and mothers broken-hearted;
The drum-it drown'd the last adieu,
When D'Arcy from the crowd she drew.
* One charge I have, and one alone,
Nor that refuse to take,
My father-if not for his owu,
Oh for his daughter's sake!.
Inly he vow'd-,'t was all he could !,
And went and seal'd it with his blood.

Nor can ye wonder. When a child,
And in her playfulness she smiled,
Up many a ladder-path? he guided
Where meteor-like the chamois glided,
Through many a misty grove.
They loved—but under Friendship's name;
And Reason, Virtue fann'd the tlame,
Till in their houses Discord came,
And 't was a crime to love.
Then what was Jacqueline to do?
Her father's angry hours she knew,
And when to soothe, and when persuade;
But now her path De Courcy cross d,
Led by liis falcon through the glade-
lle turn'd, beheld, admired the maid;
And all her little arts were lost!
De Courcy, lord of Argentiere!
Thy poverty, thy pride, St Pierre,

Thy thirst for vengeance sought the snare.
Argus.
* Called in the language of the country pas de l'Echele.

1

Cantando lo aino! lo amo! -T Asso.

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The day was named, the guests invited ;
The bride-groom, at the gate, alighted;
When up the windings of the dell
A pastoral pipe was heard to swell,
And lo, an humble Piedmontese,
Whose music might a lady please,
This message through the latice bore,
(She listen'd, and her trembling frame
Told her at once from whom it came)

Oh let us fly—to part no more!,

IJI.

That morn ('t was in Ste Julienne's cell,
As at Ste Julienne's sacred well
Their dream of love began),
That morn, ere many a star was set,
Their hands had on the altar met
Before the holy man.

- And now the village gleams at last;
The woods, the golden meadows pass'd,
Where, when Toulouse, thy splendour shone,
The Troubadour would journey on
Transported-or, from grove to grove,
Framing some roundelay of love,
Wander till the day was gone.

All will be well, my Jacqueline!
Oh tremble not-but trust in me.
The good are better made by ill,
As odours crush'd are sweeter still;
And gloomy as thy past has been,
Bright shall thy future be!,
So saying, through the fragrant shade
Gently along he led the maid,
While Manchon round and round her play'd:
And, as that silent glen they leave,
Where by the spring the pitchers stand,
Where glow-worms light their lamps at eve,
And fairies dance-in fairy-land,
(When Lubin calls, and Blanche steals round,
Her finger on her lip, to see;
And many an acorn-cup is found
Under the greenwood tree)
From

every cot above, below,
They gather as they go-
Sabot, and coif, and collerette,
The housewife's prayer, the grandam's blessing !
Girls that adjust their locks of jet,
And look and look and linger yet,
The lovely bride caressing;
Babes that had learnt to lisp her name,
And beroes he had led to fame.

But what felt D'Arcy, when at length
ller father's gate was open flung?
Ah, then he found a giant's strength ;
For round him, as for life, she clung!
And when, her fil of weeping o'er,
Onward they moved a little space,
And saw an old man sitting at the door,
Saw his wan cheek, and sunken eye
That scem'd to gaze on vacancy,
Then, at the sight of that beloved face,
At once to fall upon his neck she flew;
Bul--not encouraged-back she drew,
And trembling stood in dread suspense,
Her tears her only eloquence!

All, all-the while-an awful distance keeping;
Save D'Arcy, who nor speaks nor stirs ;
And
one,

his little hand in hers, Who weeps to see his sister weeping.

Then Jacqueline the silence broke.
She clasp'a her father's knees and spoke,
Her brother kneeling too;
While D'Arcy as before look'd on,
Though from his manly cheek was gone
Its natural hue.
« Flis praises from your lips I heard,
Till my fond heart was won;
And, if in aught his Sire has err'd,
Oh turn not from the Son ! -
She, whom in joy, in grief you nursed ;
Who climb'd and call'd you father first,
By that dear name conjures-
On her you thought-but to be kind!
When look'd

you up, but you inclined ?
These things, for ever in her mind,
Oh are they gone from yours?
Two kneeling at your feet behold ;
One-one how

young;-nor yet the other old. Oh

spurn them not-nor look so cold
If Jacqueline be cast away,
Her bridal be her dying day.
Well, well might she believe in you! -
She listen'd, and she found it true..

He shook his aged locks of snow;
And twice he turn'd, and rose to go.
She bung; and was St Pierre to blame,
Jf tears and smiles together came?
Oh no-begone! I 'll hear no more.»
But as he spoke, his voice relented.
• That very look thy mother wore
When she implored, and old Le Roc consented.
True, I have done as well as suffer'd wrong.
Yet once I loved him as my own!

- Nor can'st thou, D'Arcy, feel resentment long;
For she herself shall plead, and I atone.
Henceforth,- he paused awhile, unmann'd,
For D'Arcy's tears bedew'd his hand;

Let each meet each as friend to friend,
All things by all forgot, forgiven.
And that dear Saint-may she once more descend
To make our home a heaven!
But now, in my hands, your's with her's unite.
A father's blessing on your heads alight!
---Nor let the least be sent away.
All hearts shall sing 'Adieu to sorrow!'
St Pierre has found his child to-day;
*And old and young

shall dance to-morrow..

Had Louis' then before the gate dismounted,
Lost in the chase at set of sun;
Like Henry, when he heard recounted ?
Thc

generous deeds himself had done, (That night the miller's maid Colette Sung, while he supp'd, her chansonnctte) Then-when St Pierre address'd his village-train, Then had the monarch with a sigh confess'd A joy by him unsought and unpossessid, -Without it what are all the rest !-To love and to be loved again. Louis the Fourteenth. * Allading to a popular story related of Henry the Fourth of France; similar to ours of - The King and Miller of Mansfield..

The Uoyage of Columbus.

Chi se' tu, che vieni!
Da me stesso non vegno.

DAXTE.
I have seen the day,
That I have worn a visor, and could tell
A tale

SHAKSPEARE

PREFACE.

Yet here, in consecrated dust,
Here would I sleep, if sleep I must.

From Genoa when Columbus came,
Tue following Poem (or to speak more properly, what

(At once her glory and her shame) remains of it') has here and there a lyrical turn of

"T was here he caught the holy flame. thought and expression. It is sudden in its transitions,

"T was here the generous vow he made; and full of historical allusions; leaving much to be

His banners on the altar laid.imagined by the reader.

One hallow'd morn, methought, I felt The subject is a voyage the most memorable in the

As if a soul within me dwelt! annals of mankind. Columbus was a person of ex

But who arose and gave to me traordinary virtue and piety, acting under the sense of

The sacred trust I keep for thee, a divinc impulse; and his achievement the discovery of

And in his cell at even-tide a New World, the inhabitants of which were shut out

Knelt before the cross and diedfrom the light of Revelation, and given up, as they

Inquire not now. His name no more believed, to the dominion of malignant spirits.

Glimmers on the chancel-floor, Many of the incidents will not be thought extravagant;

Near the lights that ever slıine yet they were once perhaps received with something more

Before St Mary's blessed shrine. than indulgence. It was an age of miracles; and who can

To me one little hour devote, say that among the venerable legends in the library of

And lay thy staff and scrip beside thee; the Escurial, or the more authentic records which fill

Read in the temper that he wrote, the great chamber in the Archivo of Simancas, and

And may his gentle spirit guide thee! which relate entirely to the deep tragedy of America,

My leaves forsake me, one by one; there are no volumes that mention the marvellous things

The book-worm through and through has gone, here described ? Indeed the story, as already told

Oh haste--unclasp me, and unfold; throughout Europe, admits of no heightening. Such

The tale within was never told! was the religious enthusiasm of the early writers, that the Author had only to transfuse it into his verse; and he appears to have done little more; though some of the

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. circumstances which he alludes to as well known, have long ceased to be so. By using the language of that day, he has called up Columbus « in his habit as he lived;" Teere is a spirit in the old Spanish Chroniclers of the and the authorities, such as exist, are carefully given by sixteenth century that may be compared to the freslithe Translator.

ness of water at the fountain-head. Their simplicity,

their sensibility to the strange and the wonderful, their INSCRIBED ON THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT. very weaknesses give an infinite value, by giving a life UNCLASP me, Stranger; and unfold,

and a character to every thing they touch; and their

religion, which bursts out every where, addresses itself With trembling care, my leaves of gold

to the imagination in the highest degree. If they err, Rich in gothic portraiture-

their errors are not their own. They think and feel If yet, alas, a leaf endure,

after the fashion of the time; and their narratives are In RABIDA's monastic fane

so many moving pictures of the actions, manners, and I cannot ask, and ask in vain.

thoughts of their contemporaries. The language of Castile I speak; 'Mid many an Arab, many a Greek,

What they had to communicate, might well make Old in the days of Charlemain;

them eloquent; but, inasmuch as relates to Columbus, When minstrel-music wander'd round,

the Inspiration went no farther, No National Poem And Science, waking, bless'd the sound.

appeared on the subject; no Camoëns did honour to his No carthly thought has liere a place,

Genius and his Virtues. Yet the materials, that have The cowl let down on every face;

descended to us, are surely not unpoetical ; and a de

sire to avail myself of them, to convey in some instances • The Original in the Castilian language, according to the Inscrip- as far as I could, in others as far as I dared, their warnith tion that follows, was found among other NSS. in an old religions of colouring and wildness of imagery, led me to conhouse near Palos, situated on an island formed by the river Tinto, ceive the idea of a Poem written not long after his death, and dedicated to our Lady of Rabida. The Writer describes himself as baving, sailed with Columbus; but his style and mauper are evi- when the great consequences of the Discovery were bedently of an after-time.

ginning to unfold themselves, but while the minds of

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men were still clinging to the superstitions of their | Him, by the Paynim bard descried of yore, (1) fathers.

And ere his coming sung on either shore, The Event here described may be thought too recent Him could not I exalt-by Heaven design'd for the Machinery; but I found them together.' A To lift the veil that cover'd half mankind! belief in the agency of Evil Spirits prevailed over both Yet, ere I die, I would fulfil my vow; hemispheres; and even yet seems almost necessary to Praise cannot wound his generous spirit now. enable us to clear up the Darkness, and, in this instance at least,

'T was night. The Moon, o'er the wide wave, disclosed
To justify the ways of God to Men.

Her awful face; and Nature's self reposed;
When, slowly rising in the azure sky,

Three white sails shone-but to no mortal eye,
TIIE ARGUMENT.

Entering a boundless sea. Jn slumber cast,
The very ship-boy, on the dizzy mast,

Half breathed his orisons! Alone unchanged,
Columbus, having wandered from kingdom to king- Calmly, beneath, the great Commander (2) ranged,
dom, at length obtains three ships and sets sail on the Thoughtful not sad; and, as the planet grew,
Atlantic. The compass alters from its apcient direction; His noble form, wrapt in his mantle blue,
the wind becomes constant and unremitting ; night and Athwart the deck a deepening shadow threw.
day he advances, till he is suddenly stopped in his

• Thec hath it pleasedThy will be done!, he said, (3) course by a mass of vegetation, ending as far as the Then sought his cabin; and, their capas' spread, eye can reach, and assuming the appearance of a coun- Around him lay the sleeping as the dead, try overwhelmed by the sea. Alarm and despondence When, by his la...p, to that mysterious Guide, on board. He resigns himself to the care of Heaven, On whose still counsels all his hopes relied, and proceeds on his voyage; while columns of water That Oracle to man in mercy given, move along in his path before him.

Whiose voice is truth, whose wisdom is from heaven, (4) Meanwhile the deities of America assemble in coun

Who over sands and seas directs the stray, cil; and one of the Zemi, the gods of the islanders, an- And, as with God's own finger, points the way, nounces his approach. - In vain,» says he, « have we le turn'd; but what strange thoughts perplex'd liis soul, guarded the Atlantic for ages. A mortal has baftled When, lo, no more attracted to the Pole, our power; nor will our votaries arm against him. The Compass, faithless as the circling vane, Yours are a sterner race. llence; and, while we have Flutter'd and fix’d, Olutter'd and fix'd again! recourse to stratagem, do you array the nations round

At length, as by some unseen hand imprest, your altars, and prepare for an exterminating war..

It sought with trembling energy the West !2 They disperse while he is yet speaking; and, in the shape

Ah no!, he cried, and calm d his anxious brow, of a condor, he directs his flight to the fleet. His journey

III, vor the signs of ill, 't is thine to show, described. He arrives there. A panic. A mutiny. Co Thine but to lead me where I wish'd to go!» lumbus restores order; continues on his voyage; and

Columbus err'd not.(5) In that awful hour, lands in a New World. Ceremonies of the first inter- Sent forth to save, and girt with God-like

power, view. Rites of hospitality. The ghost of Cazziva.

And glorious as the regent of the sun, Two months pass away, and an Angel, appearing in

An Angel came! He spoke, and it was done! a dream to Columbus, thus addresses him : * Return to

He spoke, and, at his call, a mighty Wind,(6) Europe; though your Adversaries, such is the will of Not like the fitful blast, with fury blind, Ileaven, shall let loose the hurricane against you. A But deep, majestie, in its destined course, little while shall they triumph; insinuating themselves into the hearts of your followers, and making the World, From the bright East. Tides duly ebb’d and flow'd;

Sprung with unerring, unrelenting fofce, which you came to bless, a scene of blood and slaugh- Stars rose and set; and new horizons glow'd; Yet is there cause for rejoicing. Your work is

Yet still it blew! As with primeval sway done. The cross of Christ is planted here; and, in due still did its ample spirit, night and day, time, all things shall be made perfect!,

Move on the waters ! - All, resign'd to Fate,
Folded their arms and sal;(7) and seemd to wait

Some sudden change; and sought, in chill snspense,
CANTO I.

New spheres of being, and new modes of sense;

As men departing, though not doom'd to die,
Night-Columbus on the Atlantic-the Variation of the

And midway on their passage to eternity.
Compass, etc.
Who the great secret of the Deep possess'd

CANTO II.
And, issuing through the portals of the West,
Fearless, resolved, with every sail unfurl'd
Planted his standard on the Unknown World?

The Voyage continued.

« Wrat vast foundations in the Abyss are there, (8) " Perhaps even a contemporary subject shvald not be rejected as sucb, however wild and extravagant it may be, if the manners be As of a former world ? Is it not where foreign and the placo distanı-major è longinquo revereotia. L'é- Atlantic kings their barbarous pomp display'd ;(9) loignement des pays,” says Racino, - répare en quelque sorte la trop Sunk into darkness with the realms they sway'd, grande proximité des temps ; car le peuple ne met guère de diffireuce entre ce qui est, si j'ose ainsi parler, á mille ans de lui, et ce

The capa is the Spanish cloak. qui eu est à mille lieues.

? Ilerrera, dec. I, lib. I, c. 9.

ter.

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When towers and temples, through the closing wave, Mid pillars of Basalt, the work of fire,
A glimmering ray of ancient splendour gave-

That, giant-like, to upper day aspire ; And we shall rest with them.-Or are we thrown 'T was there that now, as wont in heaven to shine. (Each gazed on each, and all exclaim'd as one)

Forms of angelic mould, and grace divine, « Where things familiar cease and strange begin, Assembled. All, exiled the realms of rest, All progress barr'd to those without, within?

In vain the sadness of their souls suppress'd;
-Soon is the doubt resolved. Arise, behold--

Yet of their glory many a scatter'd ray
We stop to stir no morc-nor will the tale be told.» Shot through the gathering shadows of decay.

The pilot smote his breast; the watch-man cried Each moved a God; and all, as Gods possess'd « Land!» and his voice in faltering accents died. (10) One half the globe; from pole to pole confess'd? (17) At once the fury of the prow was quell'd ;

Oh could i now-but how in mortal verseAnd (whence or wliy from many an age withleld) (1) Their numbers, their heroic deeds rehearse! Shrieks, not of men, were mingling in the blast; These in dim shrines and barbarous symbols reign, And arm'd shapes of god-like stature pass'd !

Where Plata and Maragnon meet the main. (18) Slowly along the evening-sky they went,

Those the wild hunter worships as he roves, As on the edge of some vast battlement;

in the green shade of Chili's fragrant groves; Helmet and shield, and spear and gonfalon

Or warrior-tribes with rites of blood implore, Streaming a baleful light that was not of the sun! Whose night-fires gleam along the sullen shore

Long from the stern the great Adventurer fazed Of Huron or Ontario, inland șeas, (19) With awe not fear; then high his hands he raised. What time the song of death is in the breeze! « Thou All-supreme-in goodness as in power,

"T was now in dismal pomp and order due, Who, from his birth to this eventful hour,

While the vast concave flash'd with lightnings blue, llast led thy servant(12) over land and sea,

On shining pavements of metallic ore, Confessing Thee in all, and all in Thee,

That many an age the fusing sulphur bore, Oh still»—IIe spoke, and lo, the charm accurst They held higli council. All was silence round, Fled whence it came, and the broad barrier burst! When, witli a voice most sweet yet most profound, A vain illusion! (such as mocks the cyes

A sovereign Spirit burst the gates of night, Of fearful men, whien mountains round them rise And from liis wings of gold shook drops of liquid light! From less than nothing) nothing now beheld,

Merion, commission'd with his host to sweep But scatter'd scdye-repelling, and rupeild !

From age to are the melancholy deep! And once again that valiant company

Chief of the Zemi, whom the Isles obey'd,
Right onward came, ploughing the Unknown Sea.

By Ocean sever'd from a world of shade. (20)
Already borne beyond the range of thought,
With Light divine, with Truih immortal fraught,

I.
From world to world their steady course they keep, (13)

• Prepare, again prepare, Swift as the winds along the waters sweep,

Thus o'er the soul the thrilling accents came, 'Mid the mute nations of the purple deep.

« Thrones to resign for lakes of living flame, - And now the sound of harpy-wings they hear;

And triumph for despair. Now less and less, as vanishing in fear!

lle, on whose call afflicting thunders wait, And, see, the heavens bow down, the waters rise,

Has will'd it; and his will is fate! And, rising, shoot in columns to the skies, (14)

In vain the legions, emulous to save, That stand-and still, when they proceed, retire,

lung in the tempest o'er the troubled main;(21) As in the Desert burn'd the sacred fire;

Turn'd each presumptuous prow that broke the wave, Moving in silent majesty, till Night

And dash'd it on its shores again. Descends, and shuts the vision from their sight. All is fulld! Behold, in close array,

What mighty banners stream in the bright track of day! CANTO III.

JJ.

No voice, as erst, shall in the desert rise; (22)
An Assembly of Evil Spirits.

Nor ancient, dread solemnities
Though changed my cloth of gold for amice grey-(15) | With scorn of death the trembling tribes inspire.
In my spring-time, when every month was May, Wreaths for the Conqueror's brow the victims bind!
With hawk and hound I coursed away the hour, Yet, though we fled yon firmament of fire,
Or sung my roundelay in lady's bower.

Still shall we fly, all hope of rule resign'd ?
And though my world be now a narrow cell,
(Renounced for ever all I loved so well)
Though now my head be bali, my feet be bare,

He spoke; and all was silence, all was night! (23)
And scarce ny knees sustain my book of prayer, Each had already wing'd his formidable flight.
Oh I was there, one of that gallant crew,
And saw-and wonder'd whence his Power He drew,
Yet little thought, though by his side I stood,

CANTO IV.
Of his great Foes in earth and air and flood,
Then uninstructed.—But my sand is run,
And the Night coming-and my Task not done!-

The Voyage continued. 'T was in the deep, immeasurable cave

« Au, wly look back, though all is left behind ? Of Andes, (16) echoing to the Southern wave,

No sounds of life are stirring in the wind.

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