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of her fellow-creatures, I committed a positive

AVELINE. and a cruel injury towards her. I was affianced to her hy my own consent, by the desire of her

(A Dramatic Sketch.) father, and by the dying wishes of my own; her conduct towards me was tender, trusting, and

BY W. G. J. BARKER, ESQ. generous ; and yet, with scarcely an effort to i resist the infatuation, I gave my heart to another; and not contented with my secret inconstancy,

SCENE-A Chamber. actually disclosed the state of my affections to the new object of them. When I think of the

AVELINE AND HER MOTHER, dazzling Claudine and the gentle Anna as I first beheld them; when I think that had I acted with

AVELINE. consistency and self-control, they might still have been attached to each other, beloved by Come near me, mother-nearer : sit beside their friends, and ornaments to the society in My couch, I pray you : lay your hand in mine. which they moved, I seem to feel myself an

Why, dearest mother, fall these frequent tears swerable for the death of both of them, as well Are they for you, or me? If for yourself


You would conceal, though I behold them all? as for the fearful crime which cut short the Remember you have yet a daughter left, thread of life in one. "Tis true Claudine was

Who will become a blessing to your age; vindictive, treacherous, cruel; but who first of And if for me they gush, repine no more ; all caused these evil passions to blaze forth in My lot seem'd hard to bear, but to my soul her heart? You will tell me the Spirit of Evil, Content has come : I am resigned to die ! and you will tell me right; but he had an instrument on earth. Oh! Walwyn, do I judge myself

MOTHER. too severely in saying I was that instrument ?”

Walwyn attempted to speak comfort to him, Oh, hush, dear girl! My darling Aveline, but D'Arcy's feelings of deep penitence and I cannot spare thee yet !' And those calm words self-reproach had been nurtured for twenty years Distract me sorely. No, thou must not die ! in his bosom, and were not likely to yield to the So good-so young! Thy life has scarce com

menced : kind sophistries of even an esteemed and valued friend,

But mine is drawing fast to its decline ; “ Do not attempt to alter my opinion,” he My weary eyes, and lay in earth these hairs

And I have always hoped thy hand would close said, or to influence me to change my present which time has tinged with grey. plan of life. I am happier than I deserve to be: the events of my past days have rendered me a

AVELINE. wiser although a sadder man. I retrace them with deep and solemn feelings; and I cannot

Yes, mother, yes ; but think that they possess a striking and a two- Such dreams were also mine. "I looked to tend fold moral. My own example testifies the fatal Your honour'd age, and as increase of years effects of inconstancy of the affections ; had I Brought added weakness, guide your failing steps. set a due regard on the door of my heart and of But long before that hour arrives, my form my lips, these dreadful and trying afflictions will be reduc'd to dust, and these dark lockswould never have fallen on myself, or on those My early pride-must moulder quite away! connected with me. The exposure of Claudine's For me no Spring, no Summer! Storms may burst crime proves that even when we imagine our- Above my bed, and July thunders roll selves, most securely fenced against detection, Unheeded as unheard. "The woodland birds

our sin will find us out.' It is true that crime May channt their gleesome carols o'er my clayis rarely betrayed by so wonderful and preter- Remain unconscious of the once-lov'd song.

Lays that I priz'd so, but my deafen'd sense natural an intervention as that which I have My friends, I know, will think of me with tears, related to you, but minute and trifling incidents Remembering only my first happiness, will often furnish the keystone to discovery; an Ignorant of all that o'er my way of life unguarded word, an overheard conversation, a Cast the dark shadow I have walked in long. phrase uttered in sleep or in sickness, will Let them continue thus. I could not check awaken in the minds of others that suspicion Their weeping, lest such kindly sorrow chang'd which will never slumber; and the words of To anger against him whom I forgive. Job will be awfully exemplified, “There is no darkness nor shadow of death where the workers

MOTHER. of iniquity may hide themselves.'

Alas! my child, unworthy as he is,
Perjur'd and faithless-


Dearest mother, nay!
I do not blame: I pity-love him still.
He lor'd me dearly once, too-gave his heart
As I gave mine. It was a glorious dream
Of heaven on earth! So happy in ourselves,

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Forget him, Aveline. Had he but lov'd with half that earnestness He said, protested, swore ; nor years, nor chance, Nor mighty alteration could have been Triumphant o'er him. What! to woo you first With such anxiety-or so it seem'dAnd having gained, after three little months, The bridal morning nam'd, thus coldly write“I grieve that we must part !”—Assign no cause, No motive for his baseness! Dearest child, Remember him no more!


That cannot be ! I know few days are left me, and I fain Would wean my thoughts from every earthly toy, To be prepared for my approaching change. The sunlight looks so sickly, and the air Has such strange odours, to myself I seem Already standing in the gate of death! But mast'ring all, around my heart there cling Fond recollections of the happy past. His image is before me, and he smiles Just as he did when I believ'd his truth Pure as bigh beaven's !-I hear his voice again, Low-ton'd and musical, as it was wont To blend with murmurs from the breeze and stream, When in our walks each seem'd to whisper-love !

Mother, they wake, indeed, to grace my bier,
And furnish garlands meetest for my grave !
I shall not live to gather them, or watch
Their beauties op'ning to the April morn.
I pray you, dearest mother, scatter flowers-
The earliest-where I slumber : choose the spot
Where green old trees may fence off noon's broad

But let the evening sunlight freely in,
And the fresh radiance of the autumn moon.
Place there no monument to tell whose dust
Moulders below-only a simple mound,
Grass-cover'd, and besprent with short-liv'd blooms,
My fitting emblems. When the spring returns,
Visit it mother, not with tears, but joy-
A hopeful joy. Methinks I hear a voice,
Soft as day-breezes of the summer-tide,
Whisp'ring in low wild music,

“Come away!" I am obedient. Henry! to my heart Thou-despite change and falsehood - still art dear! Therefore I pray that the avenging Power Who visiteth in wrath the perjured soul, May pardon thee as I do. One request Remains yet, mother. Do you see this rose, Once sweet and blooming-scentless now, and dry ? The evening when this faded flower was cullid How fresh it dwells within my memory! Henry declared the love which I return'd.' 'Twas in a bower where snowy roses hung In pendant garlands, silver'd by the moon. He gather'd one, and softly smiling, gave, Drawing a parallel 'twixt it and me. I kept it like some relic, and with it Restore, before I die, his plighted faith. Give it; and add, the poor forsaken maid Whom he once loved bequeath'd him all she hadForgiveness and her blessing!

Banks of the Yore.


Dear child, such tantalizing memories
Were better banish'd: yet you do not weep!
When you recall those quickly-fleeted times,
My dimn eyes overflow with scalding tears ;
But yours are dry.


Mother, I have no tears. What now is life to me? - an ended dream, Beautiful truly in its memory, But sad withal-a day perplex'd with change, Although delicious in its early hours. The dream is finished, and the day is done : Death only comes, like a considerate friend Who wakes the troubled sleeper, and relieves The over-burthen'd from an irksome load! Shall I repine because my rest is near ? Or murmur that I once have tasted bliss ? Day gives me little pleasure ; night, array'd In starry glory, no tranquillity. My heart-pulse beats so changefully, I think I scarce am with you, though I breathe the air !



(FROM THE GREEK OF Plato.)— He who seeks happiness nust practise self-denial, and eschew selfgratification; he must strive beyond all not to deserve punishment-even from self.conviction.

The aim, the end, of a Good Life should be Justice— first to strangers, next to your neighbour, and lastly to yourself.

(From RABELAIS.)—Perform your appointed task but mediocrely well, never speak anything detrimental of your superiors, and let the lunatic world go as it will; for, depend on it, it will go its own way.GEORGE J. O, ALLMAN.

Illness, my love, has made you thus, and grief-
Mighty, if unacknowledged-weighs you down.
Dismiss these fancies, Aveline, and strive
To cherish Hope, that visits all who choose.
Lo! Winter is departing ; cheerful Spring
Comes winging hitherward his rosy tiigbt :

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“ Bride of the Summer! gentle, genial May !

I hail thy presence with a child's delight;

For all that poets love of soft and bright
Lives through the lapse of thy delicious day :
Glad earth drinks deep of thine ethereal ray;

Warm'd by thy breath, up spring luxuriant flowers ;

Stirr'd by thy voice, birds revel in the bowers,
And streams go forth rejoicing on their way;
Enraptur'd childhood rushes out to play,

Mid lights and music, colours and perfumes ;

By silent meadow-paths, through vernal glooms,
The enraptur'd feet of low-voic'd lovers stray :
In thee Love reigns with Beauty, whose control
Steals joyful homage from the poet's soul.”

J. C. Prince,

If April is constantly celebrated for alternate thy coming, with fervent zeal bidding thee glad smiles and tears, May is no less renowned as welcome, golden May! one of the loveliest months in Europe's year. Now indeed Nature assumes a resplendent Poets and sages, philosophers and orators

, have appearance, and whilst

rejoicing in the freshness with one consent united in declaring its praises; imparted by her annual birth, abundantly are ber and their encomiums have found an echo on glorious treasures displayed. The store-house nearly every other lip. From the time when the is set open. That vast repository-earth's ca ancients offered sacrifices to their goddess Maia pacious bosom-sends forth prolífic riches, to on the first day of this month, down to our own increase from this vernal hour till gathered back most iron era of steam and railways, it has been in full autumn perfection. studiously set apart to the service of Youth and Winter's storms are wholly obliterated in the Love. In the consecration of song, pre-eminent valley meadows: green grows the luscious above all others; in the pure heart, united with a herbage, and luxuriant are the odorous blooms; thousand dear 'associations ; bright of beauty, and even upon high hills-giant-like sentinels of because uncontaminated-cheerfully do we greet a rock-girt land-few traces remain; except it

The marks of

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be in some of those recesses, seldom if ever

POETRY. seen; dreary, invisible solitudes, whose stony barriers almost exclude the foot of man; spots like that described by WORDSWORTH, where

A thing of love and kindness ! shedding sweets .“ the rainbow comes, the cloud,

Where the harsh world doth coldly, darkly frown; And mists that spread the flying shroud,

That, like a faithful friend, still kindlier greets And sunbeams; and the sounding blast.”'

When the worn heart bath deepest anguish known,

Breathing soft echoes to the plaintive moan; Yet is life astir on the mountains, life and

Yet, e'en amid the sad and wailing strain,

Wak’ning a chord of higher, loftier tone, beauty, grace and grandeur, and the music-voice of mirth—for the golden plovers are on the Such solace as may best the weary soul sustain.

And wreathing, midst the sadder notes of pain, wing, and the brown moorbirds are not silent, calling to each other without ceasing. All these -A thing of life and beauty! bearing on have a speech and a language unsyllabled, which, Creative pow'r its glories to renew. nevertheless, he who seeks constantly may un- Ages to earth's wide realm have come and gone, derstand. Neither is there any sameness among A Future to the Past may yet accrue ; the lofty wildernesses; for flowers, delicate in And, stainless as the gem of morning dew, tints and pencilling, adorn smooth sunny slopes, That on the op'ning flower in crystal glows, or cling about the many-hued cliffs, or stream

The gushing stream of Poesy anew, from grey crags like army banners in the playful

In pristine strength fresh glory shall disclose, wind.

Bright to its utmost course as when at first it rose. At this bright season it seems truly a crying sin against Heaven to abstain from visiting

- A thing all flow'rs and sunshine! that the heart scenes of such wild majesty, where we may ad

Clings to in child-like fondness, and would aye

Amid the hours of Life's engrossing smart miringly view the mighty works of our Divine

Keep pure and holy, as in Childhood's day; Creator's omnipotent hand, contemplate the vast- Nor suffer Mammon's vile and selfish sway ness of his beneficence towards us, and silently Its dark and baleful influence to throw worship him in the very temples He has raised. O'er this sweet cheerer of our rugged way, How delightful it is to wander amid such rarely That to our happy hours can still bestow trodden expanses, knee-deep among fresh fra- A brighter, dearer ray, soft as a starbeam’s glow. grant heather, and to search with curious eyes for the living wonders that are around us

-A thing of might and grandeur ! trumpet-ton's, wonders which wordlings scornfully pass un

Stirring the heart as breezes stir the sea ! noticed, albeit more marvellous than warmest

Through the broad realm of earth the many.zon'd fancy could devise; then, when the shortened

It peals its rolling echoes, bold and free; shadows declare mid-day, to seek out some

Rousing the slumb’rer from his lethargy, flashing cataract--whose untiring voice proclaims

Pointing the way to pure and high desire,

Bidding all low and selfish aims to flee, it afar off, though all the moorland seems

Uniting in one voice a mighty choir, equally level, and seating ourselves on the Speaking its errand forth as with a tongue of fire. time-splintered crags, watch a never-ending strife of waters hurrying onwards incessantly;

Oh! ye whose favour'd hands at times have known and listen to their wild melody, which has not To wake the echoes of the sounding strings, ceased since the deep sea, at God's bidding, Mar not the music of its thrilling tone receded to its appointed place, to return again By aught that from unworthy subject springs no more.

Let not the lighter strains that Fancy sings Aye, May is sweet on the plains, and dear to Usurp the place of nobler, grander theme ; the lowland youth and village damsel; but it is But soar aloft upon expansive wings, still more delicious in the hill country, and still

Nor waste thy glorious gift in pleasing dream, dearer to the stout mountaineer and his bright- How sweet soe’er to thee the soft indulgence seem. eyed maid. They who have once seen it smiling along the banks of the sparkling Yore, or of

'Tis yours amid the world's vast host to raise

The glowing banner of high poesy ! the winding Wharfe, would scarcely wish to ex

Honour thy mission ! freight thy simplest lays change the glorious prospects presented by those

With healthful purpose, that they still may be districts for the subdued beauties of better cul

Borne proudly onward through Futurity, tivated, and therefore richer regions; and they As glorious watchwords, deeply grav'd upon who--though now “in populous cities pent, Each noble heart in diamond tracery ; surrounded by the busy hum of congregated That, when in Nature's course from earth thou'rt toiling men--were born among the highlands, gone, and inhaled their infant breath where the A double portion of thy spirit rest thereon ! bracken grows greenest, and the harebell and

Bath, Dec. 31, 1848. purple heath wave beneath each breeze, will gladly fly in thought to their native rocks and streams when the calendar and the flower-girls' baskets announce the return of May.

Banks of the Yore.



(In a Letter to a Friend.)

My Dear Friend,

Florence. We were in an unfavourable situation for Do not be afraid of my date; I am not going ascertaining the state of Italian feeling, having to be classical; no, nor political, nor sentimental; located ourselves in a German hotel; but in the only matter of fact, and as such I hold it that course of sight-seeing we had many evidences you must be almost as interested as myself in of the truth. In a confused sort of lumberthe present state of Italy. But you can only room of antiquities, in the vast building of the learn from the papers, you cannot feel as I do Brera, we got, after some difficulty, a sight of the trembling of excitement through the whole Canova’s magnificent statue of Napoleon: it is land. One cannot help distrusting the duration of colossal size, in bronze-naked, like a Greek of any sentiment in so impulsive a nation; but warrior, with the mantle falling at his back : in for the present, to me as a mere looker-on, the one hand he holds a sceptre, in the other a fervour seems quite universal. It is a good time winged victory poised upon a globe. The figure to be here, a time of awakening; it alters en is simple and majestic, almost warranting Byron's tirely the tone of one's impressions. Instead of extravagant eulogiummourning, with Childe Harold, over the ruins of past glory, your heart beats responsive to the

“ Such as the great of yore, Canova is to-day." ardour which now flushes the long-pallid cheek It is not generally shown; it lies neglected in of Italy. You stand by the gloomy tower of this dark lumber-room, and gave me a painful the Guelphs, and see the citizens in the volun- sense of incompleteness, in the contrast between tary exercise of municipal watchfulness, and the its intended destination (the beautiful arch of proud palace of the Medici resounds with the the Simplon) and its dreary, dingy tomb. We rapturous chorus of “ Viva Pio Nono.” Once asked the cicerone if it had never been proposed more the national flag of Italy waves over the to place it in any of the public squares, as its people's heads, and at its colours fluttering in beauty so richly merits. the sunshine the whole air is one deafening “What can you expect ?” said he, in an accent shout. This may be but a temporary effer- of ineffable scorn from “quei Tedeschi? They vescence; but to me, who have almost an Italian not know what to do with it!” And his sneering excitability, it gives an unexpected vitality to my tone had a world of meaning.

outhern wanderings; I came full of old asso- At Pavia, so near the frontier of the Austrians, ciations, and I am constantly reminded of new the voice of the grumblers grew louder; yet still wishes and new hopes—I might add new hates was it under breath, for the grim old palace of --for one is not long permitted to forget the the Viscontis has not ceased to be the habitation present animosity against the Austrians; silence of despots. had been ordained in Milan while we were there, “ Look at quella Brutta quete!” was the reand the attempts at disturbance, which accom- mark of an Italian tradesman; "they are never panied the installation of the liberal archbishop, sent here unless mischief is intended; they are had been put down by the strong arm of autho- as barbarous as their own wilds !” rity; but the feeling was still there : it found a He pointed as he spoke to a body of Croatian harmless vent in prints of the Pope and the cavalry, with rough beards and bristling red aforesaid archbishop on all sorts of surfaces, moustache, who were slowly defiling through coloured in all sorts of colours. I particularly the town. In my eyes they bore a different noticed these victims of popularity faring on aspect ; it was a drizzling day, and each man crimson and blue cotton pocket-handkerchiefs, wore over his uniform an ample cloak of white exactly as I remember in London seeing Mr. duffle, that trailed in long folds behind him on and Mrs. Caudle. This may be considered the his horse. Silent, impassive, gloomy, they made last and lowest step in the downward roll of me think of a band of armed monks bound on celebrity Fame can do no more; she has some stern religious warfare. Their white garfathomed the bottom of the gulf when she is ments reminded me of the Carthusian friars, applied to the nose of the canaille in a cotton whom I had seen at the Certosa, or rather outside pocket handkerchief.

of it, for it is sacred from the levity of female feet

, * In presenting the first of a series of letters from should like to give you a sketch of the good

Were it not an unpardonable digression, one of our most valued contributors, we need hardly monk who did the honours of that splendid allude to the stirring cvents which have taken place even while they were on their way to England. If edifice. He was as completely a lady's man as political changes affect them at all, it must surely be if bred in a drawing-room instead of a cloister; to lend an additional interest to the

outpourings of a and if love and marriage were forbidden to him, discriminating mind on the eve of the irruption. he made the utmost of “les petits soins." He ED, N. M, B. A.

was full of compassion for me, very naïvely er.

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