As lights in some cathedral aisle "The soil is barren,-the farm is old," His heart within him was at strife For he knew whose passions gave her life, But the voice of nature was too weak; Then pale as death grew the maiden's cheek, The Slaver led her from the door, He led her by the hand, To be his slave and paramour THE WARNING. BEWARE! the Israelite of old, who tore Upon the pillars of the temple laid His desperate hands, and in its overthrow Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of steel, Till the vast temple of our liberties A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies. THE SPANISH STUDENT. ACT I. SCENE I.-The COUNT of LARA's chambers. Night. The CoUNT in his dressing-gown, smoking and conversing with DON CARLOS. LARA. You were not at the play to-night, Don Carlos; How happened it? DON CARLOS. I had engagements elsewhere. Pray, who was there? LARA. Why, all the town and court. DON CARLOS. What was the play? LARA. It was a dull affair; One of those comedies in which you see, As Lope says, the history of the world Brought down from Genesis to the Day of Judgment. There were three duels fought in the first act, Three gentlemen receiving deadly wounds, Laying their hands upon their hearts, and saying, "Oh, I am dead!" a lover in a closet, An old hidalgo, and a gay Don Juan, Followed at twilight by an unknown lover, DON CARLOS. Of course, the Preciosa danced to-night? LARA. And never better. Every footstep fell DON CARLOS. Almost beyond the privilege of woman! Her step was royal, queen-like,—and her face LARA. May not a saint fall from her Paradise. DON CARLOS. Why do you ask? LARA. Because I have heard it said this angel fell, DON CARLOS. You do her wrong; indeed, you do her wrong! LARA. How credulous you are! Why look you, friend, |