IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 ■^ tii 1122 ? '- IIIIM U ill 1.6 <% V] '^ ^a z;^ 7 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. L'Institut a microfilmd le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Certains ddfauts susceptibles de nuire d la quality de la reproduction sont notds ci-dessous. 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The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'exemplaire filmd fut reproduit grdce d la gdn6rosit6 de I'dtablissement prdteur suivant : La bibliothdque des Archives publiques du Canada Les cartes cu les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul cliche sont film6es d partir de Tangle supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 "^r-p GUIDO AND LITA A TALE OF THE RIVIERA ORLES. [F?vntigjriec GUIDO AND LITA ^ Mt of t\)t iiimii BY THE RIGHT HOx\. THE MARQUIS OF LORNE 117/7/ /LLfSTRAV/UXS. NEW YORK MAC MI LEAN AND CO. ^875 •^?A'' •- ;TNiV.T&£J . _^.-/v " Prom conntk'Sis terraceg/wliere olives ripe, Unchilled by nutumn's blast, or wintry skies.' [I'lige : GUIDO AND LITA ^ Wt of ik immi AIL, Bivi(>ra ! liail, tlie mountain range That guardH from northern winds, and seasons' change, Yon southern spurs, descending fast to be I he sun-ht capes akmg the tideless sea ; Whose waters, azure as the sky above Eeflect the glories of the scene they lo've ! Here every slope, and intervening dale Yields a sweet fragrance to the passing gale From the thick woods, where dark caroubas' twine Iheir massive verdure with the hardier pine And 'mid the rocks, or hid in hollowed cave^ The fern and iiis in profusion wave • 4 OUIDO AND TJTA: From conntloss terraces, wlioro olives rise, Undiilled by autumn's blast, or wiutry skies.. And round the stems, -witliin tliv; dusky shade. The red anemones their hopie have made ; From gardens, where its breath forever blows Through myrtle thickets, and their wreaths of rose. Like the proud lords wlio oft, with clash of mail. Would daunt the commerce that the trader's sail Hud sought to bring, enriching and to bless, The lands tliey 2)lagued with conflict and distress, Till none but robber chiefs and galley slaves Ruled the fair shores or rode the tranc^uil waves, — So stand their forts ujion the hills ; with towers Still frowning, sullen at the genial showers, That, brought on white-wingiMl clouds, have come to dower The arid soil with recreative power. No warrior's tread is echoed by their halls. No warder's challenge on the silence falls. Arouiul, the thrifty peasants ply their toil And ] (luck in orange groves the scented spoil From trees, that have for purple mountains made A vestment bright of green, and gold inlaid. The Avomen, baskets poised above their brows, In long array beneath the citron boughs Drive on the loaded mules with sound of bells, Turbla'8 trophy stamped ttic tyrant's will. [Pagu 4. -^ A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. Tliat, in the distanco, of tli(>lr presence tells, To springs that, Lid from the pursuing day, Love only Night ; who, loving them, doth stay In the deep waters, moss and reed o'ergrown, — Or cold in caverns of the chilly stone, — Sought of the steep-built towns, whose white walls gleam High 'midst the woods, or close by ocean's stream. Like flowering aloes, the fair belfries soar O'er houses clustered on the sandy shore ; From ancient battlements the eye surveys A hundred lofty peaks and curving bays. From whore, at morn and eve, the sun may paint The cliiffs of Corsica with colours faint ; To where the fleets of haughty Genoa plied The trade that humbled the Venetian's pride. And the l)luo wastes, where roamed the men who came To leaguer tower and town with sword and flame. For by that shore, the scene of soft repose When happy Peace her benison bestows. Have storms, more dire than Nature's, lashed the coasts, AMion met the tides of fierce contending hosts ; From the far days when first Liguria's hordes Stenmicd for a while the rush of Roman swords, Oidy to mark how, on their native hill, Turbia's trophy stamj)ed the tyrant's will ; To those bright hours that saw the Moslem reel Back from the conflict with the Christian steel. ^1 6 GUIBO AND LITA: These last were times when, emulous for creed, And for his soul to battle and to bleed. The warrior had no need of pilgrim's vow, At eastern shrines, to lay the Pa}Tiim low ; For through the west, the Saracen had spread The night that followed where his standards led. Not with the pomp or art Granada saw Keign in her lands, beneath the Prophet's law, Did the rude pirates here assert their sway : — No gilded talons seized the quivering prey ; Savage the hand, and pitiless the blow. That wrought the swift and oft-recurring woe. No boon, no merc}^ , could the captive ask ; If spared to live, his doom the deadly task To strain — a slave — each muscle at the oar That brought the rover to the kinsman's door, Or bore him, safe from the pursuit, away, The plunder stored, to Algiers' hated bay. With the dread terror that their raids instilled Sank every hope, by wliich the heart is filled Among the poor to labour and to hoard ; And e'en the merchant, for his gains adored. Dared not to venture, or to gather more, Where danger's form seemed, darkening all before. (') Only in narrow streets, where guarded wall. A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. And higli-raised watcli-toM'er gave tlie signal call When foes were near, to gatlier in defence, Did the scari^l people wake from impotence : — And yet, neglecting what conld give them power. In jealous feuds they spent the prosperous hour ; "While only adding to tlieir gi'ief's great load, Each baron kept within his strong abode. Careless of wars that yitilded little prize. They let the havoc spread beneath their eyes ; Content, if driven from their own estate, The baffled spoiler sought another's gate. Thus, through disunion, and their selfish greed. The Moor, unharmed performed his venturous deed. These Aljis, the fastnesses of high Savoy, Became his home ; these fertile plains his joy. E'en now the sounds of his barbaric speech In many a word, his hngei-ing influence teach ; For men will copy, 'neath a yoke al)hon-ed All, save the art to wield the conqueror's sword ! Whence then the strategy, or force, or guile. That bade foul Fortune turn at length, and smile Upon a region like a very heaven. But vexed by man with hatred's cankering leaven ? See, where the mountain stretches forth a limb, Down to the full sea's palj)itatLQg briin, 8 aUIDO AND LIT A. Dividing by tliat brawny arm the plain, Just wlicre a river SAviftly seeks tlie main ; Upon tlie topmost ridge of its clenched hand Appears a castle, strongest in the land. Prom the hard rock the grisly ramparts rise. Their front illumined by the morning skies : And, swec^piug from their broadening base away The line of wall, the burghers' liojie and stay, Encircles with Ioav towers the stony mass Wliere, densely packed, the dwellings heap the pass ; And girdling still the fast-descending steep, Crests the last ridge that overhangs the deep. Beneath the cliff the fishing vessels float With long-winged sails o'erarchiug oveiy boat, But where the river's mouth has made a port, Guarded to seaward by yon square-built fort, iViid near the rocks witliout the harbour bar, Bise taller masts, with many a stronger spar. On the broad decks that bear them mav be heard From time to time, the sharp conimanding word ; But oftener far the sounds tliat meet the ear Are the rough songs that tell the soldier's cheer, The laughter loud and long, the shouted jest. The tireless clamour of his time of rest. When Danger draws not nigh, with finger cold Enforcing i-^ilence on her followers bold. A TALE OF THE BIVIEBA Yet these are men who, if there come affi-ont, Seem ready iioav to bear her sternest brunt : For some are polishing their arms, tliat shine In fitful flashes o'er the s^^fU'kling brine • And some have landed, and in order move Past the dai'k belts of yonder ilex grove ; Or, stationed singly, drill and fence with 'care, And how with sword and axe the glancing air. Now, on the road that leads from out the town, Appear two knights, who slowly wend them down, TiU reached the ground, where still the men-at-arms Eepeat the mimicry of war's alarms. But when among them wave the chief's gay plumes Each, in the ordered hne, his place assumes ; And waits, with steadied gaze, and lowered brand, TiH every weapon in each rank is scanned. The elder knight, whose fi(u'co and haughty mien In his firm stride, and on his brow was seen. Was grizzled, swarthy, and his forehead worn By scars of fight and time, not lightly borne • For the dimmed eye that gazed, deep-sunk, beneath, Showed that the spirit's blade had worn its sheath ; And that full soon the years must have an end lu which, on friend or foe, that glance should l)end. ihe younger man, who followed at his side 9 10 QUIDO AND LIT A: Boro the same impress of a lofty pride. But all liis bearing lacked the rigid mould That in the elder of tough metal told ; Thus as the sire, with patient care, suiTeys How every movement practised skill displays ; The son would saunter heedlessly along, His lips just murnniring as they shajDed a song. His large grey eye was restless as the thought That fixed no purpose in the mind it sought. One jewelled hand was on his dagger laid, With pointed beard the other often played. Or swept from neck and shoulder curls that, flung In studied negligence, upon them hung. Yet though he seemed irresolute and weak, A flush of pride would rise upon his cheek. When his sire chid him, "as a stripling vain, — Almost unworthy of this gallant train," And told him, if he cared not for such state. To "go, play ball within the castle gate !" Then backward falling for a little space, A pain was pictured on his handsome face : The dark brows met, the shapely lips were pressed, The nostril curved, as if for breath distressed. But, as a glistening wave that quickly flies From the cloud-shadow where its brightness dies, To travel, laughing, onward as before. With not a sign of any change it bore ; A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. Did the light temper of the comely knight Forget in loyoiisness the father's slight ; And smiling, answered, "Nay, my lord, you ne'er Let me see use, in all tliis jiagoant fair ; For, save upon the field of their parade. These gallant soldiers never bare a blade." "Enough," the father answered, "that they keep Our home from outward harm or treason deep, And that you only hear, and have not seen, Aught of what they in other days have been, Before I made the town and yonder rock Proof to the miseries you would liglitly mock." Thus speaking, M-itli a few of their armed band The two passed slowly to the yellow sand, Listening the while to wants of those who came To offer homage, or prefer a claim. When free, as onward on their path they went, The elder told how all his days were spent " Throughout his youth, and e'en to manhood's prime, In broils, the passion of his troubled time ; How, at the last, through many a year of toil. Through the dread discord sown upon the soil, He reaped the profit of his stubborn will. And gathered power ; until he won his fill Of all for which a man of spirit strives ;— Kiches and strength to save or take, men's lives. 11 ',\ 12 OUIDO AND LITA. 'Twas true, all this might yet be still increased ; But age had come, and his auihitiou ceased. He would not care himself to waste more blood By hunting those who ne'er against him stood. They said the Saracen should l)e destroyed ; Then let them do it. If they died, ho joyed. Yet for himself he would not aid, for they Had never dared to meet him in affray. They knew the length of his good arm too well. No, for his part, he felt no shame to tell. His work liad only been with those who dwell Around and near 'him, thus his son had gained Such place and power as none before attained. He could not tell him how to use it, when New times must change so much both things and men. One maxim only he must bear in mind. Aye to the followers of his house be kind. For if tlie tree would stretch its branches round, The roots must clasp and win the nearest gi'ound." The otiier, as such speech continuous flowed; But little interest in his bearing showed. His gentle nurture had not made him feel Either the fear or love of brandished steel ; And he but lazily would dream of deeds Such as, with other youths, rapt fancy feeds, Until the thought to glorious action leads. A TALE OF THE mVIEUA. 13 Tims little liud ho carod for anglit bosido The early objects of a boyish pride : His sports, his horse, his dogs ; and now fidl-growii, Less -svorthy loves seemed in his nature sown, And less a man than when he was a boy, A trivial foppery became his joy : His velvet stnffs, the fashion of his sleeve, His hat and plume, were what coidd please or grieve. While thus he listened not, but gazed or sung, His eye had wandered to where now there hung Along the far horizon, a low cloud That mounted steadily on high, while loud The wind piped, like a rustic at his toil. Furrowed the sea in ridges like the soil. And scattered raindrops, as he strode along. Then rose the storm, in awful fury strong. Gleams of a wondrous light a moment stood On pallid sea and on wind-stricken wood, And dazzling, where they shone the vision's sense, They fled ; and, chased by shadow-s as intense, Passed wdth the SA\dftnoss of the blast, and leaped From gulf to cliff, — then to the crags, that heaped In grandeur 'gainst the flj'ing skies, appeared Like to white ashes that the fire has seared. And then the mists rolled over them, as black Grow heaven's vault with darkest thunder WTack ; From under which, increasing in fierce sound, 14 QUIDO AND LIT A: A harsh and hissing noise spread fast around, And a low moaning, hke a voice of dread, AVellcd, as if coming from tlie deep sea's hod. The rain ran down, and, as the lightning flashed. In bounding torrents o'er the ground was dashed. From the dry hills the new-born fountains sprung. The narrow tracks with swelling waters rung. And, 'mid the turmoil could be faintly heard The heavy fall of distant land-slip, stirred To headlong ravage, burying as it flowed, Man and his works beneath a hideous load ! Down the broad bed of shingle and of stone That the shrunk river seemed ashamed to own When, in the heat of the life-parching day, A feeble streamlet, scarce it found a way ; Now dashed a brimming tide, whose eddies surged Till o'er the banks, the muddy foam was urged, And louder still the notes of terror fp.'ew, Ere past the hills the roaring tempest flew, And on lashed sea, and gi-oaning shore was spent The rage of nature, and her frown unbent ! Meanwhile the old man would have held his way, Unhurried, back to where the castle lay, Now hidden long by headlands of the bay ; But that they told hire, "he must seek some rest ; A fisher's hut was naar, his shelter best." — A TALE OF THE RlVlEliA. ir, And to tho joy of tho ^ay pliiiiiM^cd kiiiglit Wlio followcnl, Hornnving at tlieir tlrag^lcul plight, Tlioy tnriiocl aside ; and, 'ncath the slackening rain, Soon found a cottage in a wooded plain ; And passing tlirougli the open door, were met By tlie poor owner, who, with garm-'uts wet. Stood, dripping like a merman, standing nigh The pine-wood fire, that sent its flame on high : While the good wife, her distaff laid aside. Still fed its glow with many a branch well-dried, Chattering as o'er her task she bent intent. And from the blaze a storm of sparks Avas sent. A bright-lined sash tho fisher's jerkin bound. His scanty locks a crimson bonnet crowned. H(i turned upon the guests a face that spoke A ready welcome, ere he silence broke. Then, with bared head and smile of joy, he said, "All ! knight of Orlcs, what chance has hither led Thee and the Signor Guido ? — Enter here : Praise be to God, and to the Virgin dear ; May She from tempests every ill avert. Send gladness as to me, instead of hurt ! — Pray, glorious sirs, to honour my abode, And with deep gratitude my heart to load By wishing well to me and this my roof : Now of such kindliness to give me proof, 16 OUTDO AND TATA, I pray you take your seats, and break your fast. 'Tis your first visit here, I fc^ar the last, For humble folk got not such favors oft :" And here his dame broke in — "Hist! Carlo, soft, Th(>ir ])resence now gives jo}-, and they may take Some fish, and fruit, and wine. Our girl Avill bakc^ A little fiour upon the emlx^'s soon : Como hither, Lita — Lita. Here's a boon, A pleasure rare for thee. Thy bread shall be llc^freshment to these lords of high degree. O Signors, 'tis indcnnl a poor repast, But on its winning has our toil been cast. Come, Lita — Avherefore lingers she ? " Tlien came Into the ruddy light of lier h(>arth's fiame. So that it blazoned her young beauty forth, And seemed to love with all its charms to play, The fisher's daughter, pride of cape and bay ! Whose loveliness, not such as in the nortli Bluslu^s like sunshine through the morning mist, — AVas that of soutliern eve, quick darkening, kissed By crimsoned ughtniiigs of her burning day. A maid whose arcliing brow, and glancing eyes, Told of a passing, timorous surprise ; Wliose tresses half concealed a neck tliat raised A head that (dassic art might well have praised. Framed with the hair, in glossy masses thrown A TALE OF THE RIVIEHA From foroliond wliiter than Carrara's stono, H(>r face's linoainciits, clear cut, aud strai^'lit, Mio-Ut show that steriinoss lived her nature's mate, Did not the smile that over them would steal Another mood, as favourite, reveal ; Else had not dimples on the sunburned cheek Helped the eye's morrinu^nt so oft to speak. O'er beauteous mouth and rounded chin th(u-e strayed The sign of power that ardtnit will betrajcxl ; l^ut broken by a gentleness of soul That through her steadfast gaze in softness stole. Her form was strong and lithe. She came and made A slight obeisance, as though half afraid ; Then stood,— a coarse robe flowing to her feet, Each limb round shadowed in the fitful heat. And, like the glow tliai liglited her, there spi>d Through Guido's frann^ a pulse that quicklv fk;d, But left his breathless gaze to feed upon Th(^ figure that, to him, like angel's shone. Till the repast prepared, his father quaffed A horn of wine ; and turning, as lu^ laughed, Said to the wife, "A b(-auteous maid in truth You give to serve us. I'hat young man, forsooth. Has, as you see, no eyes for food, because They worsliip elsewhere with a mute applause. Nay ! is she gone ? I ^poke with little grace. Else had not scared her from her 'customed I'lace." 17 i 1 ^-^TiaMiai r^} 18 QUIDO AND LIT A: Then said the wife, "Oh, sir, we do not heed If her fair looks to admiration lead With such great folks as yon, who cannot care For fisher maidens, with your ladies rare ; But oftentimes, when neighbours come about, They find my welcome marred by anxious doubt." And Guido smiled, but could not laugh away The spell of silence that upon him lay. When, turning from old Carlo's poor abode, The knights again together homeward strode. So s{ range the feeling that within found birth, It seemed to him he scarcely walked the earth. One thoufrht could only claim his wondering mind, Alone once more that humble hearth to find. Alone once more that radiant face to scan. And prove the charm, as when it first began. Ah ! who can tell, when thus the will is swayed. And to emotion's dangerous train is laid. The torch, that love or passion each can fire. What hidden issue waits the heart's desire ? What little grains the balance may control, E'en though it shape the fortune of the soul, That, by its fervid longings all possessed, Yeprns for the secrets of another's breast ; m\ A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. Would live or die, but iu tlie sight of one Wlio to its being, seems tlie central sun, ■Without whose presence every scene is drear— The world a. desert, haunted but with fear! Who from the scroll of Fate may knowledge wring Of the first birth of Life's mysterious spring, What is the nature that so soon has grown °' A potent tide, on Avhich our bark is thrown? Ah ! who can tell if noblest impulse lies Within the magic of the meeting eyes, Or, if the ruin of a life be where The light falls softest on some golden hair? The knights of Orles regained the lofty keep. When, sinking slowly on the purj^led deep. The sun still lingered on the bannered tow'ei-. Though evening on the shore now showed her power And bathed it deeply in the twihght hour. 19 J 20 GUmO AND LIT A, HOUGH tlie dark watches of tlie silent niglit Must awe the soul that marks their solemn ilight, AVheu myriad worlds, through boundless ethei rolled Their steadfast orbs, or trembling stars unfold ; And yon bright Mystery that in waning, proves Her sway more potent, than the floods she moves, Streaks with quick fire the rebel billows' foam, When 'neatli the rule of rival storms they roam ; Or looks serenely down, when calms display Her image, multiplied in long array, And o'er the waters, manacled in sleep, Casts her white arm, as mistress of the deep ; — Yet are these hours the little space our mind Regards as lulling into rest mankind : They seem the pauses in our endless strife. The only hours allowing peace, and life ; Oblivion comes to dull the subtlest brain That schemes for honour, or has plotted pain, Within these hours, that seem alone to beat With no fierce pulses and no fevered heat. A TALE OF THE lilVIERA. And tliougli this be not ; and tlie night conceives Tilings that the wondering inor:x accepts, believes : Yet is her time less awful than the glow Of eastern skies, that in their brightening show The coming of the day, for weal, or woe. Though still the air, and chill,— behold, behold The hues of saffron deej^ening into gold ; Save Avhere a sapi3liire band on ocean's bed Along the far horizon lies outspread. The heaving surface takes the tints on high, And wakes its pallor to a kindred dje ; A moment more, and from the dusky hill The vapours fall, the lower glens to till ; Then fade from thence in many ;, hanging shape. To clasp the feet of every jutting cape ; Till the tall cliii^' descent into the sea Is merged in mist, that makes them seem to be Raised like the prows of galleys, that of yore Stretched their proud beaks above the surges' roar. Another instant, and each doubtful shade Melts and then vanishes, as though afraid Of the great blaze, unbearable, the sun Sends o'er the world, proclaiming Day begun. His reign is come, to last from morn till eve, Within whose limits many live to weave 21 ■B 22 GUIDO AND LITA: The fateful actions few can e'er retrieve : His span of light, in which they can pursue The petty plans that fill their narrow view ; That yet have scope enough, through love or hate, To make their working to their felhnvs great, And in God's scales to place another weight ! Let the light shine on those, above whose graves The deathless laurel of fond memory waves, Wlio, though their age has passed away so long Live in the glories of their country's song. Let us then know the scenes, where varying fate With partial hand, apportioned their estate. But ere we reach the castle, note how well The steep approach a foe's attack could quell. 'Twr.-^ not alone the battlemented wall, With frequent tower, from whence the shot might fall ; But every dwelling, in each close-built street. Seemed half designed such venture to defeat. High-storied, oft they over-arched the way That, lost beneath them, scarce could see the day For many a gloomy stretch ; and when at last It seemed the devious labyrinth was passed, 'Twas only for a moment that the sky Might look upon its course of mystery ; (Save where before an ancient church there played, i li|i: A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. 23 In a broad space, a fountain's bright cascade ;) For, quickly buried, it was hid until, Be^'ond the town, it climbed again the hill. Through the thick maze, a busy hive, close-pent, Wound narrow tracks, that seemed where'er they went With women, children, men, and mules, alive : Some would pass quickly onward, but to dive Beneath the vaulted arches ; wives would spin Chattering in doorways ; while, around, the din Of little urchins rose, high shrilled, and clear, Redoubled at the sight of muleteer. But hushed as knights and guards came trampling near. Close to the summit of the peopled ridge The road led suddenly to where a bridge Across a deep ravine, was lightly set. Thin-arched and high, and void of parapet, It spanned the chasm to the rough rock throne, From which the castle's mighty limbs had grown. No barbican o'erlooked the natural moat : The way leaped straight into the fortress' throat. The entrance through a square-built pile was bored, Where, on each flank, a rounded bastion soared. Their massive face of masonry but showed A casement, here and there, toward the road. But, circHng inner courts, wide galleries ran, i 24 OUIDO AND LITA: "Wliore tlirougli the open -windows one might scan The halls and stairways of the inner plan. Throughout the spaces near the 2X)nderous gate Old halberdiers and armoured followers wait : They guard the passages and line the hall For stately trial or high festival ; Wlien to give sentence, or to pass decree, The knight was seated 'neath the canopy Betokening feudal sway, that only saAV Justice in him who made, and dealt the law. Wliat is possession of high place, or state, To him who, mocked by a pursuing fate, E'en in his genius finds a dangerous bar To turn his steps from Fortune's trembling star ; The finer temper that should make him rise To be the leader in some great emprise ; To point the path, though mountains interpose, To days of glory that no night may close ; May w^arp to tame fastidiousness, and wake Loathing of tools, he might have used to make His phantom fancy change to sober truth. The easy nature, born of affluent youth. To be content with all around, lest change Shall bring upon him things unloved and strange, May wake no passion for the prompt redress Of wrongs he only hears have "wi'ought distress ; " Till the tall cliffs' degceiit into the sea Is mersed in mist, that makes them seem to be Raised like the prows of paileys, thiit ol yore Stretched their carved beaks above the surges' roar " [Page 24. * I I A TALE OF THE lilVIEIiA. Altliou^^li if aid by clamorous grief bo sought Hor piteous cry may wake to work and tliouglit. No cliance had spurred young Guido to forget The selfish aims to whieh his wishes set. His father's rule, like some uncouth machine, Creaked at its task, but worked in dull routine. He hardly shared its burdens, for the chaso Gave him in sport at least a better place, And often would his spear, haft-driven, quell The rage of boar or wolf on mountain f(;ll. Yet lonely now, his part he would not bear In scenes of pl(!asure, or in days of care. Old friends, old joys, could give his life no zest, Though to such charge his words had ne'er confessed. In restlessness and yearning vain he spent A time, when feigned hilarity was blent With hours of brooding, on his thoughts intent. How could he meet her, so that all unseen His glance could rest upon her face and mien ; That none should watch, or rally with a jest, The sense tliat gladdened him, and yet oppressed ? He had not even heard her speak, then why Dream that the voice would flow in harmony, Nor give the ideal of his heart the lie, Betraying aught to break its sympathy ? 25 ' >1 m 26 QUIDO AND LITA: What folli(5a, treason, idle doubts, wore tlioso ! Whato'cr the tone — how could Hho spoak but please ? From the fair lips that curved like Cupid's bow, Love's lightning darts through all she said must flow. What, though the eyes no look responsive gave ? 'Twas all he asked again their light to crave. So, stealing furtively away, once more Ho passed to where along the gleaming shore The waves, like vassals of an eastern king, In lengthened lines, continuous, came to fling Their load of diamond and of opal down. And as he quickly strode to clutch the cro^vn Of his heart's hope, it was as if for lord The Avhole creation knew him, and adored. So wild the tumult of his throbbing brain ; It seemed the waters of that mastering main But chanted songs that urged him to aspire Until their motions owned but his desire ; Whate'er his wishes' course, an answering God Would smooth it level as the sands he trod. Thus did his thoughts run riot till, afloat Within three bowshots of the beach, a boat With only one within it, could be seen. ■■> " w; yj* Mpn Bi T »r. ' ! A TALE OF THE PdVIERA. Then inland moving, till lio reached a screen Of tumbled rock and wof)d, he saw below A row of fishers, who, with labour slow, Dragf,^cd heavily their nets' sea-ladeu length. And, drawing nearer, he could see their strength Was guided by the single boatman's call, Who cried to them to slacken or to haul.' And further off, along the bay, api)eared Another group like theirs, that slowly neared, As at the net's still great, but narrrowing, curve They pulled with rival force and weary nerve. 'Twas Carlo's voice commanded them ; and soon In the fuU brightness of the blazing noon, Guido saw Lita standing on the shore. Upon her head and o'er her brow she wore A kerchief, pure and whit had not thought to meet her thus among Her kin and neighhours, and his sense was stung By a commingling of delight and doubt. He could not dwt>ll upon hev ways without A shade of jealousy ; for though the voice Kang in his ears, and bade his soul rejoice. He had but pictured her in quiet home, Not as one loving hero and there to roam ; Taking her part in harsher task, and made A joy to many, but too oft displayed. And yet what modesty of manner glowed Through the quick nature tliat her gesture showixl ; What honest impulse 'mid the girlish grace Lived in her word and shone within her face ; E'en from her lips, when merriest laughter broke, WImt innate dignity her bearing spoke ! She was not born to live her life away In circuit bounded by her native bay ; That beauty was not made to be the joy A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. Of common licrdsman or of fislicr-boy ; Surely from such companiousliip to win Her sweet affection, w(?ro no mortal sin ? Let liim then pass into tlio woods, and wait Until she came to seal his wavering fate. Alone he panscnl where, throngh the olive grove, He saw the dwelling he had learned to love ; The door that opened to the lower space, Where first he looked npon her witching fact^ ; The outward stair that gained, still n(\ar the sod, The upper chamber thnt her feet had trod ; The tinted plaster and the narrow roof, Where heavy tiles to wind and rain were proof; The gnarled and twisted trees tliat round it rose, As if to guard its shelter and repose ; The dusky foliage where they thickly grew, And chequered shade upon its brightni^ss threw. 29 And soon along the pathway he could mark Her form approaching 'n(\ith the shadows dark ; And w^aiting by its margin, he could see She slackened her ipiick step reluctantly : Then made as though to pass him, and haste on To w^here her Innne witli friendly Avelcomo shone. When, doffing his plumed hat with courteous grace And joyous look, he met her face to face. ^i -*- sag 30 OUIDO AND LIT A. Vain as he was, lie felt at first unmanned By the calm glance that all his motions scanned , But when she slowly answered his good cheer With morning greeting, he forgot his fear, And questioned, "Whither went she?" "To prepare For those who thro' the day have laboured where Yon path does lead." — "Come they then soon to thee?" "Yea, if they get enough from out the sea." " Thou canst then give them all for which they care ? " "Nay, Sir, you know how humble is our fare." "To me it seemed a feast ^for any prince." " Our pride, indeed, has risen higher, since Your gracious father said that he was pleased." "And wilt thou not believe that I was seized With gratitude to her, who, like the sun Shone, when the storm dominion would have won ? " " Oh, Sir, 3'ou flatter me," she said, and then, " But I must onward, or my father's men Will find nought ready. Sir, I must begone." — "Nay, have my words so little favour won, Thou wilt not offer me again some food ? " — "If you desire it. 'Twould indeed be rude, .And 'gainst my father's wish to close our door." — "It is but for a moment, and the store Of thy sweet grace, is all I now implore." — She laughed, and then, with grave and silent mien. Led on, ho following, o'er the herbage green. A TALE OF THE BIVIERA. 31 And tlms lie entered, witli a heart tliat beat, The house wherein agam her busy feet Moved, as it seemed to him, in music sweet. And as he sat, and watched how order grew Beneath her fingers, as they deftly drew Her tasks to end ; her every look and word His passion deepened, and his wonder stirred. How could such blossom grow on salted soil, Such bloom and beauty from a race of toil. Such grace and colour near the deadening spray ? In childish days he heard the sailors say That wondrous flowers were fostered by the ray That burned on Afric's coast, and glowing leaves Burst from the pricklj^ j)lants in dazzling sheaves, Clo.:5e to pale breakers of a fearful sea. Such virion rose within his mind as he Noted her actions ; — told her how his thought Had, since he saw her, his lone spirit brought To be a sojourner, as now, beneath Her roof ; marked how a fleeting blush would breaths An instant's brighter colour on her cheek ; But pride or coyness would not let her speak Reproof or pleasure. Then he drank to her Of wine she offered, that he might aver Her happiness was now his life's desire. His hope to please her lived, — a boa m fire. 32 GUIBO AND LITA: Then finding answer none, lie sought to know How simple ways could sucli distinction sliow. He hearkened, half amused, as she would paint In artless phrases how some favourite saint "Upon the day named after him, had blessed With draught of fish, miraculous (confessed As such by e'en the very Priest himself), The household nets ; — and thus, though for such pelf, All knew the Father cared not, he had ta'en Some coin and half the fish, lest luck were vain, To buy a picture of the circumstance, Wrought by a youth whose f?me he would advance ; — The Yirgin-Mother watching from a cloud The happy fishermen and clamorous crowd ; — To hang upon the chapel's wall. And more : At the last feast the candles borne before The holy Father came from this, their wenltli ; Besides, what more went to the Church's health." "But 'tis not from your nets," he said, "alone You get your living, for you surely own These trees that far around the sunlight break ? " "No, no," she answered, "'tis but ours to shake Tlieir laden 1 ranches with the tapering cane And cause the olives' fall of fruitful rain ; To gather them in baskets till they fill The dusty flooring of the busy mill. A TALE OF THE BIVIEEA. 33 But in a little garden, all mine own, Some beauteous palms, beloved of God, have grown, And of tlieir drooping fringes I may keep Some liere, to graee the day of those who sleep In martyrs' graves beyond the echoing deep : Some for their jjlace of martyrdom, I sell To those, they say, who near their ashes dwell." He, asking where this Eden garden lay ? Watched her fair figure outlined 'gainst the day That, through the open window near him, shone ; And let her eager speech, unchecked, flow on, As with her lifted hand, she pointed where A palm-tree shot aloft to woo the glare : Then showed each spot in narrow circidt round, Where traces of her simple life were found. But breaking through the tale of her content, His stifled longing to her ear now sent Its tones of praise, with ftjnd entreaty blent : And reaching out his arm that he might hold Her hand, or only of h(^r dress a fold She shrank away from him, — if not with fear. Yet with a start, as timid as the deer Who first has seen the long-accustomed food Offered by strangers, and in doubtful mood Retires, distrustful for a space, to gaze If it spy danger in their novel ways. 3 34 GUIDO AND LIT A, So in surprise, but feeling no dismay, She stood and listened, for on many a day, Her ears Lad lieard the youths around her say All that they thought would flatter or would please. Till she ne'er wondered at such praise from these. But he had startled her, and would have chased Away the harsh remembrance of his haste By soothing words ; but as she silent stood. They heard the fishers coming through the wood, "With noise confused within its solitude : And whispering he would see her soon, he sped Through tracks again that to the castle led. Thus first did Guido drink of what ho sought. Yet was he lili;e a thirsty wanderer, brought To some rich fountain, rising in delight, A rainbowed pillar to the raptured sight, That falls again in such a gentle s]3ray Within a basm broadening to the day, That scarce a ripple comes to SAveep away The face reflected on its surface, where Unto the eager lips, the hands would bear The copious treasure, of the guest aware. He looked upon her beauty, and admired : He drank therein of joy as he desired ; But while he stooped, his wishes to fulfil. Himself he saw, and Self was master still. A TALE OF TUE lUVlEBA. His pride untutored, and by time unbent. Saw in lier silence only lier consent ; Ecad in lier blushes' consciousness alone Tlie sign of feelings, lie niiglit make Lis own ; Believed, (and half of what he thought was truth,) That victory waited on his brilliant youth ; And with no shame there passed before his view That poorest triumph man can o'er pursue : The careless conquest of affections true That woman gives, not knoAving she may rue ! Already, almost to herself unknown, An interest in her breast for him had grown ; And with surprise she sometimes found her thought Muse on the morning that his presence brought. And sought to check the question that would rise How next to meet the searching of his eyes ; Denying he would come, and if he came, By silence she would prove her will the same. And for a while it thus to him appeared, As often now that olive grove he neared To intercept her on her homeward way. And no persuasion could her footstep stay. Yet had his manners, that with ease combined, A pride by grace and gentleness refined, Shown her the roughness of her fisher-folk, PIP 36 OUIDO AND LIT A: Coiitrastecl with the world to which she woke ; And his society had in time snppHcd A lofty standard by which all were tried. What wonder then, that she could not deny That pleasure came with knowledge ho Avas nigh ? No words of hers were uttered to persuade That lingering partings should be yet delayed ; Perhaps because she saw such conduct made The moments lengthen as he, dallying, stayed ! Still he, in blindness, could not comprehend Whence came the firmness that to her could lend Such strength of character, until the flame That still consumed him, though it seemed the same, Changed^ with the light by admiration given. To wear the radiance honour takes from heaven ! And with the homage that his bearing spoke. In time her shy reserve was loosed, and broke. Frank had she ever been, in all beside Tlie feelings sacred to a maiden's pride. Open and true, e'en these were not concealed, When safety whispered, they might stand revealed. But the calm will, though shaken on its throne, Still held the empire of her mind alone, R And gave sad answers to the doubts that pressed, A TALE OF THE BIVIEUA. AirI with mitimely grief lier life clistressocl. How could it profit liiin that she should love One placed by fortune such regard above ? "Would it not hurt him, rather, thus to bend And to her level, from his own, descend ? Woidd his afiection, now so fervent, last ; Contempt not come when novelty had passed ; If from his eyes the scales at length were cast ? Thus tortured by misgiving;-? that but gi'CAV Stronger, the nearer to his love she drew. Faithful to that she deemed would serve him most, She sought no more the pathway to the coast ; But would have hid herself, lest she might fill And mar his life with some imagined ill. 'Twas therefore long before he could succeed Again his cause with earnest tones to plead : When to his sorrow, coldness seemed to reign AVitliin the breast where tender love had lain. And crushed beneath the unexpected pain, Tears, and upbraiding, and re^jroauh, had sprung, From the full heart, with pain and passion wrung. 37 HI V % Then roughly tried, there fled, dispelled at length, The false illusion of her borrowed strength. To see him thus was more than she could bear. "Think not," she cried, "my words betray no care ; 38 OUIDO AND LIT A: But what wild folly were it, did I daro Thy lordly home, thy mighty name, to share ? The Mcorn of kindred, and the strangers' smile, Would mark the action thou must soon revile. God placed me here because He knows I may Lighten with joy my parents' waning day. HoAv could I be an honour to thy race, A lowly weed transplanted from its place ? Nay, hear me. Knight, for though my words are weak 'Tis only for th}' good I dare to speak ; And when a j-ear has run its destined round, A change, perchance, will in th}^ thoughts be found. Oh, leave me — go ! — nor let the memory live Of one unworthy of the love you give." "You trust me not," he answered, "Lita, mine, — For mine I call t^ .eo, — since no force divine I know, would ever part us ; and if Hell Rise in dark legions, my pure love to quell, AVliat banded might shall overthrow the pride This year shall give mo, wdicn I call thee bride. Be my request but this : 'Tis not to hide. Nor move from hence, if thus my troth be tried." "'Tis best," she faltered, "that thou come not here." — "No power shall keep me from a place so dear," He said ; and ere a week was passed, his eye Looked on the scene, in wonder, to descry A TALE OF THE lilVIEEA. 39 Groups of tlio peasants scattered 'neatli the trees ; And crowds that stood around tlio door, and these Seemed scared ; for, wafted on the breezy air Rose the shrill plaint, and murmur of despair. Some carrif'd household goods, and women's tears Flowed on, unheeding e'en the children's fears. Others, from where a vessel, anchored, lay. Landed in haste, and hurrying made their way, Some to the woods, and some along the shore, As though in peril safety to implore. Then, stopping one who seemed in sore distress, Guido demanded, "Wherefore do ye press Onward, as though a foe were on your track? " The man, in silent horror, pointed back To distant headlands, where arose a black And spreading vapour he could well discern : Then cried, " O sec'st thou not our houses burn ? The murdering fiends — O may their names be cursed ! Upon our sleeping towns at night have burst. And all are massacred who could not fly ! " "Take courage," said the knight, "our force is nigh." "Yea," said the fugitive, "we know our lives Here, at the least, are safe from murderous knives ; But'We, pursued by sorrow and by fear Have lost the joys that made them once so dear. , -*p I 40 OUIDO AND LITA. Would that a wider space than this domain, Wi'ii! guarded bj the men none daro di.s* ' 'Tis k)ng indeed, we know, since Orles ha .seen The fires of pilhige light her nights serene." Returning with the people, who now sought Friendshiji, and shelter, in their state distraught. He heard from many of their hard escape, Whom Death had menaced in his direst shape. 'Twas from the UKmntains that the heathen horde Upon the smiling lliviera poured. Within a district, where deceitful Peace Had blunted arms, as though their use ^ ^ c cease. But for the darkness all had been undone : Their ship had saved them ere the place was won, And the bright flames, ascending, had begun To guide the hunters, like a midnight sun. Soon round the walls, and hospitably fed, The victims told full oft their tale of dread ; Or, harboured by the townsmen, scarce believed Their safety certain, or their lives reprieved. And ever ministering to those in need, Lita wrought daily many a holy deed. But loud and fierce among the exiles rose iD The cry for vengeance, on their cruel foes, A TALE OF THE ItlVIERA. As ever greater grew tlio ravage made In distant liomestt^'ids, wlun'o tlie rol)bers' raid Drew gold <>r Mood, at will, from men dismayed, And e'en to fight in tluur d(^fence afraid : Surely the knight of Orles will rjiise his hand And be the saviour of a grateful land ? Yet soon they found their hope had woke in vain : "These people were not his ; not his their pain ; They must not cumber his industrious folk. They might remain a httle. Then the yoke Of Saracen or Pirate by the stroke Of their own hands nnist perish. AYhy should he Arm for the men who knew but how to flee ; Who for themselves should learn that woes but yield, When swords, not tongues are loosed, to win the field." And Guido did not urge their suit, his own Was in his thoughts ; and these were fed alone By envious musings, how he might prevail That Lita should not hearken to the wail Of these poor wretches, through tlie livelong day. He hated them that they should turn away Her mind from him. And thus a month was passed In idling leisure, till the Moors at last Were said to be no longer in the land And few remained of all the ruined band Who sought in Orles for safety or for aid. 41 * IP 42 GUIDO AND LTTA But amongst tliesc, a youth tho crowd outstayed, "Wlio oft liad clieorcd tliom as lie bravely played To rhyming song the strings of his guitar. He told of love, of cliivalry in war. Of feats that made world-famous oft of yore The name Provence through lustrous ages bore ; And noting with contemjit and fierce disdain The knights' indifference to their want and pain, Now 'neath the casemate of their proud abode, fie poured the verso that told his sorrow's load ; And boldly thus, though helpless, robbed, and poor, EiUiig thy reproach, thou gallant troubadour ! I. Noble names, if nobly borne, Live Avithin a nation's heart : If of such thou bearer be. Never let that name for thee Point the scorn ! n. Shrined within its narrow bound Other liojocs than thine have part ; For it once in life was theirs. Who from weight of earthly cares Peace have found I A TALE OF THE JilVIEEA. in. Tlioy who wore it, free from blamo, Het on Honour's .splendid lieiglit, Watch, as spirits, if its place Love the night, or daylight's face,— Shame, or Fame. 43 IV. 'Tis a preeions heritage : Next io love of God, a niiglit That shonld i,lant thy foot, where stood Of thy race the great and good, All thine age I V. Yet remember ! 'tis a crown That can hardly be thine o^vn, Till thou win it by some deed That with glory fresh shall food Thcii- renown I VI. Piido of lineage, pomp of power, Heap disjionour on tlie drone. Ho sliall lo.:. his strength, who never Uses it for fan- endeavour : Brief his hour I 44: Gl'lDO AND LITA. F those gr( ' attributes we call divine, The changeless Strength, — the Space, none dare define, How few the types, O mortal globe, are thine ! If Thou hast but two pre-eminent, that bear To our dim vision of these things a share, The mountain and the sea ; — and of these twain With one alone, does changelessness remain. The heights seem made for ever, and abide, Though glowing lava streak heir trembling side, And bursting craters shake to founts of fire, Where, shaped in rugged dome, or massy spire, They raise their forms into the azure air ; What thing of grandeur may with them compare ? Man may not measure by his thought of time, The boundless ages since their birth sublime : All else decays, v/hate'er his tongue can name. But they remain, their m.ajesty the same. The fabling Greek would tell that winged hours i| te A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. 45 Kept guard for ever "w^liere Olympus towers Above the rock-built chains, and ocean's foam, And deemed his gods had claimed it for their home. The Hebrew multitiides saw clouds enshroud The God of Truth, with darkness, as He bowed Himself o'er Sinai, and the hill became His hall of audience, filled with sound and flame. Sacred they seem, most sacred when their might Is robed in raiment of untainted white ; Wlien the keen airs that from their summits blow Descend from freshened fields of virj^in snow. Then to the wearied wanderer's frame they give A sense exultant of the joy to live ; A strength undreamed of, yea, not e'en by those Whose boasted magic would relieve our woes, And, by the essence of life-giving power. Hold us, for ever, to Youth's fleeting hour. With them lives Beauty undefdod and pure, As in the life that shall for aye endure ; As radiant seems their promise, as unknoAMi The tracts between us, and each dazzling throne. There must the pilgrim in his passage meet Gaunt Peril waiting to arrest his feet. Above the vapours o'er the valleys furled, His mounting step reveals another world. No lofty cypresses like sentries stand I: i;'^ 46 GUTDO AND LIT A: O'e c fruitful woods, tlie proof of generous land ; The barren pines, in sombre masses, climb The slopes that echo to the torrent's chime. From soaring peaks that to the stars convey The secrets gathered from their wide survey, — That .seem the haunts of silent calm, until The thunder commune with the answering hill, — His gaze, descending to blue rifts, beholds The glacier crawling in its glistening folds. An icy menace ! as though cruel eyes Shone, keen and watchful, where iu crouching lies Beneath the fi'ozen cliifs' advancing feet. From caverns where the prisoned waters meet, The bursting floods in gladness to be free, Sing from their hollows, as they downward flee ; Yet bear from cold captivity the stain Those glittering vaults but seek to hide in vain. On every side, at hand, or far away, The naked barriers of the Alps display Their varied outlines, while, half-veiled in haze, A silver streak the distant sea betrays. A fir-clad mound amid the savage wild, Bears on its brow a village, walled, and isled In lone seclusion round its ancient tower. A TALE OF THE RIVIERA 47 Here had tlio elements begun to lour, That on the hapless coast would quickly shower The horrors of a war of faith and hate. It was a post of Saracens, whose fate Made them the masters for long years of lands Remote, and scattered o'er a hondred strands. Within a journey compassed in a day From Orles, a portion of their forces lay. Towns had they by the sea, with ships and wealth ; Some won by force, and some by treacherous stealth. Rude captains on their frontier held their own. Their lawless deeds scarce to each other known j But those of Sirad had been noted well. As oft performed with all the art of Hell, To spread the rule of Islam far and wide. A grisly bigot he, who had denied Himself no vices that his creed allowed, At morn and eve liis knee to Mecca bowed. With prayer to Allah, that his servant's sword Might purge the land for Mahomet and the Lord. In Spain, he saw his haughty race deride The pompous chivalry of Christian pride, And burned to see the Crescent soar above The darkened Image on the Cross of love. Where'er he moved he kindled battle's fires. And in its flames, he fashioned his desu-es. mm 48 OUTDO AND LITA: C5J 'Twas lie, on plunder and on slaughter bent, Who led the raid, that into Orles had sent The clamorous fugitives, whoi:5e piteous throng. Demanded vengeance, fearful as their wrong. Wild Eumour's whisper scarcely had averred The aged lord had pledged to them his word, To give them clothing in such nakedness, And by reprisal cover their distress, Before the infidel had vowed to dare And beard their champion, in his chosen laii\ Through every settlement his couriers sped, And quickly to his eyvy backward led A motley host of men, to war inured, 'Who deemed that death but Paradise assured ; The ocean pirates joined their strength, and planned Enfolding Ik »rror for the sleeping land. Before he entrance of his narrow gate. Behold El Sirad for his followers wait. Down from his shoulders falls a robe of green ; In yellow swathed, his limbs below are seen. A tunic, barred across the chest, is bound By a broad belt, in glistening circle W(mnd O'er a long dirk and shorter poniard blade, And slung a sword, shai-p-curved, with hilt inlaid. From 'neath his turban of the Prophet's hue, A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. His black eje briglitciis, as witliin its view, Rise distant forms, the foremost of the crew, Tlie hastening bands, tliat herald as they speed A SAvarm of villains, urged by bloodshed's greed. Theii* column's van now fills the valley deep, Now, struggling, breasts the last and nearest steep ; And as the rest in quick succession come. Awaking with their sliou1;s the desert dumb. In broadening front, around, and at his side. Their greeting sounds as wolves' to Avolf alKed ; They fill the S2)ace before him ; armour shines Between dark pillars of the mourning pines ; And hills, all silent in their shroud of snow, Seem as though sorrowing o'er the scene below. How varied this, in changing hues and shapes The gaudy raiment that each warrior drapes, The Hashing of the scimitars and s^^ears. The swarthy features and barbaric cheers. Bring to this spot, that Summer loves the least, ^ The warmth, the sjDarkle, of the glowmg East. Thronged on the ground before him, at his liand'o Uplifted signal, every soldior stands ; The swaying crowds are hushed from front to rear, Ajid forward bend, their chieftain's words to hear. 4Q Hi mm mmt 60 OUIDO AND LIT A. " Bretliren, true comrades, wlio tins day liave shown The prompt obedience Allah loves to own, By list'ning to his servant's warning w^ord ; Hark to my tidings, from sure sources heard : The knight of Orles, too l(3ng in safety left, Of his known prudence suddeidy bereft, Dares, as though arbiter of our disputes. To turn our victories, and to spoil their fruits. His power was left him, and he has 'the Avill Our cup with dregs of bitterness to fill, And mar the march of conquests that have sped Untamed by numbers, and unknown of dread. 'Tis a just punishment, by Heaven given, For in past years ye should with him lia^'e striven, Then had his power ne'er gathered, till in peace It swelled to menace wdth its dull increase. r His new presumption ye must now chastise, But do not yet his fore-doomed might despise. Though of my summons he is unaware. And we, by rash attack, might downward bear The first resistance, we might thus but lieaj:) The well-trained masses o'er our heads, and ke(>p Their host united, and prepared to fall With tenfold weight, should fair occasion call. Sudden our blow should be,^ — but 'tis our pride That counselling Wisdom walks at Valour's side : A TALE OF THE lilVIEBA. Our unity shall noAv Lis strengtli divide. To aid in thin, we look to you, ye brave, Whose steed of battle is tlie A^•llite-nlaned wave : Ye from these odds shall Allah's standard save. Yours be the part, in opening our campaign, To lure our foe upon the treacherous main. ' This is my scheme :— together we invade In rapid onslaught— nought must be delayed— The lands around the castle ; but your oars Must flash in hundreds off the neighbouring shores All prisoners captured, and all goods we seize. We here may lead, and guard them at our ease ; But, to ai3pearance, they must be conveyed Across the seas by you : let sail be made ; A captive freed, to whom this tale displayed. That, carried to far colonies as slaves, The whids shall mock their madness as it raves. Then Orles shall man his fleet, and sailing, leave But slender garrison ; Avliile you will cleave With your sharp prows the waters till the eve; Then turning under shelter of the night, AVheel back, and join us for decisive fight, While they at sea, shall make pursuit a flight." He paused : a deep, excited murmur ran. With looks of savage glee, from man to man ; And then resuming : "Do you join," he asked, " In these my projects ? Is your zeal o'ertasked ? " 51 M 52 OUIDO AND LITA: "Nay! nay!" a tliousand tliroats, as one, replied. "Then swear -with nie," El Sirad loudly cried : "Swear by the Prophet's head, by Koran's writ, By this our bond, with holy fervour knit ; Swear as though prostrate in your mosques, and let These mountains serve as dome and minaret, To rest not, pause not, till the land be freed From Christian dogs, from their accursed breed." "We swear ! " The words like thunder, rose, and rung. Each cliff attesting, with mysterious tongue That oath, in wrath, to listening heaven flung. As flowers are gay beneath a threatening sky, So seemed it joy could never tire or die Around the home, where, e'en if grief had paid A fleeting visit, it had ne'er delayed ; But must have fled at one light word alone From her whoso doubting heart to none was shown. I! Like fairy vessel, born of childhood's dream, Lita, to those she loved, would often seem, A bark, descended from the heaven above With shining load of hope divine and love. That shed such gladness, that the night w^ould ope, As though unable with its light to cope : And only when it passed, had power to make A distant darkness close behind its wake. iTO .1 TALE OF THE lilVJERA. Still, tliougli a sorrow sought licr gentle breast, No j)imiig mood her father s hearth distressed. TJnsellish ever, as in other days, She made mirth minister in artless ways To lighten burdens, sprung from toil and age. Oft, when the time of Advent would engage The countryside, in fasting and in prayer, To deck the altars with some flowerets fair "Was for the maidens all, a cherished care ; And she would lead them to some pleasant glade Where heath and cistus glowed in tangled shade ; And all day long, with laughter, and with song. They wove frail blossoms into garlands strong. 53 A pleasure 'twas, a joy no man might ask, To watch them busied at their lovely task. Their youthful forms would bend with pliant ease To search among the time-unyielding trees, Where clustering leaves the conquered soil had won, For violets, sheltered from the scorching sun. If flower could prey on flower, 'twould here be said One host a kindred army captive led ; But 'tis not flatter}', nor true praise, that tries To give a name that humbler worth implies To what is best, and highest in our eyes. What plant, though fair and wondrous to our view, 54: OUWO AND LIT A: As if it drunk tlio very rainbow's liuo, And gave the odours of celestial dew ; Can sliow tlie tender glories, such as brood O'er those whom God leads on to womanhood ? What senseless life can vie with char.'>is tluit spring From minds, whom purity and gladness wing To soar too high, for sorrow's shade to cling ; Or imitate the motions that afford Frewh beauteous pictures which, in memory stored, Live, though they vanish from our vision's field, Heplaced by others for a while revealed ? Some of this young and bright invading band Had step as stately, as when first from land A lofty ship glides slowly from the port. The faint wind dallying with her sails in sport. And others seemed so wrapped in happy haste, 'Twould pain their feet an instant's rest to taste ; But flitting ever on, from place to place They strove, as if for life, to win the race, Who could the fastest the sweet blossoms jjull, Whose kerchief heaviest, with its burden full. Some pretty traitors v/ould their harvest waste In mimic warfare, as they swiftly chased, Or fled in turn, before their friend's assault ; Or, when a moment, for a foe at fault, A TALE OF THE BlVJEIiA. 55 Thoy turned on tlioso who gutlieriiig, busied, Iviiult, With blows of soft und sudden trojison, dealt In odorous showers, that spangled all the glade, Despite of peace proclaimed, and treaties made. A score of shapely arms at work were seen, Testing with I'apid touch, each tiny screen, If aught lay hidden 'neath its covering green : And faces, flushed with merriment, would turn The nearest rival's last success to learn ; When, as the load was all complete, the sound Of laughing triumph, told the feat ; and found The maiden rise, wdtli pjinting breast, to bound To where some, seated in a circle, twined The scented chaplets, for their saint enshrined. !1 And while the wreaths to greater volume grew, And the quick hands the thread around them drew, The voices of the weavers rose and fell, As each some rhyme would sing, or story tell. The birds themselves would from their hit refrain To list to tones of more harmonious strain, And to the happy groups draw nearer still. From woodland thicket, and from sunlit hill : The violet peeped above the snows First in Provence, when Christ arose ; Each year it comes that w'c may see A type of His nativity. 66 OUIDO AND LIT A: ' From near the season of His birth Until His death it gems the earth ; And to the lowly blossom clings, The purj^le, that is worn by Kings ! til w Thus sang the leader lastly, as the end Of their light labour came, and she would wend Homeward, environed by her Avhole array. But one still lingered, who loved far away Alone to muse, or, plucking flowers, to stray ; Why shriciking runs she to rejoin the rest, As if a vengeful fate too hotly pressed ? All wait, as breathless, and with starting eyes The flying girl comes near with fearful cries, "What is it then : what means this strange suri)rise?" She gasps, "0 fly! escape!" and terrifies Her wondering comrades, who but stand and stare ; Then, gaining sipeech, " The Saracens are there ! " They start, and turn, but instantly aware Of many men's approach, they turn to find Yet more advancing quickly from behind. Then clasped together, trembling in despair, Silent, so potrifiod they could not daro Even to cry, much less than to exert An efibrt vain their misery to avert ; They waited dumb, as though to terror tame ; A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. Wlien all around, from every side, there came, As from the ground, the foes whose awful name Formed the first dread their lisping childhood know, 57 And as their phantomed horror rose in view, Some sank to earth, and some despairing, eyed The coming bandits through the forest glide ; As nearer yet they came, and yet more near, Noiseless at first, and then with shout and jeer. And as the girls shrank back in deadly fear. Hough hands took hold and seized them fast, and bound Their yielding limbs ; and o'er their ankles wound Long cords, that tied them, so that tAVO abp^asi; Might walk together. Then with many a jest, They closed around, and bade them march along. The weak were dragged, and led the brave and strong Down to thv3 coast ; save three who, with a man Captured at mo^ ^ , wore hurried to the van. And freed, and watched, as on their way tlioy sped, To spread in Orlos the story false and dread. Feigned by the captors ; — that the prisoners ta'en Might o'er the seas be sought, though search were vain. Along the shore the fierce confederates ploughed The angry shallows, with their galleys' croAvd, They passed, repassed, with ostentation loud, As though their boats were bringing all away. 58 OUIDO AND LIT A: Anil waiting till the secret close of day, Till the dim shades of early evening crept T^rom the grey sea, and e'en the mountains slept, And all was hushed in silence for a time. As if fair i^^ature helped her children's crime ; The ships departed. Then the bands on shore Turned, and with haste the wretched women bore A long march inland, through a forest hoar. Heedless of tears, from eyes with weeping sore. • Then halting in the wood beside a brook, The thongs and fetters from their limbs they took. There Sirad marked again with fierce delight The beauty Lita could not hide from sight, And placed her on his mule, and at the head Of the armed train himself his captive led ; While she sat motionless without a groan. As though her form were eiinnged to senseless stone. Her face was bloodless, and her eyes now wore A strange, fixed look, that none had seen before ; She answered not a word, as he would seek To hear the accents of her terror speak ; A tribute slight indeed to prove his power, And yet desired, as though neglect to cower, Concealment of her trembling at his ways, Cou^ "" injure him. And then with sickening gaze He tried her vanished hopes again to raise A TALE OF THE BIVIEIiA. 59 By telling lior wliat treatment good lie gave To virtuous damsels, for he well could brave Danger, unasked, their pleasant lives to save. But Lita could not even loathing feel, 80 bruised and j)icrced was she hj misery's steel, That sense seemed lost of what was woe or weal ; She felt indeed her consciousness benumbed, As if sensation at the shock succumbed ; Yet knew a latent force still lived to fence, And God would aid at least her innocence. She could not count the time, but it was day Before she heard the miscreants round her say, A mountain village that before them lay Was the last goal, to which their steps were bent. Once more, by Sirad's order forward sent. An arch was passed, and next slie was aware That the mule halted at a broken stair. Told to alight, she found she was alone Among her foes. Wliere were her comrades ?— thrown Already in some dungeon, — who could tell ? The loss, when learned, in part could break the spell That held her passionless ; she cried aloud : "Where will 30 take mo ?" But they only vowed No harm should touch her ; and, to all her prayers That she might suffer with her friends ; — "Who dares |p-| 60 GUinO AND LITAi To question Sirad's will ? " tlicy laugliing said ; And brought lior up the stairway that soon passed Within a passage of thick walls, and last Into a chamber where Avere carpets spread. And left alone, she sank almost as dead Upon the floor, and sobbed till slumber deej) Closed the dull eyes that ached but could not weep. And hid from thought the future and the past Behind the veil by sweet ol)livion cast. Exliaustion proved itself a potent friend. And for a space her woes were at an end. Who knows what gift that Nature gives at birth, Weakness or strength the greatest Ijoon on earth ? Our 3'Outh may triumph in abounding might, Its loss be hateful in our longing sight ; But when misfortune comes, and in her train, Brings mental anguish or exhausting pain. The vigorous frame, whose spirit cannot yield. Prolongs the torture of the doubtful field ; Wliile feeble powers, that long from striving ceased, Ensure the peace, they seemed to promise least. Thus cc I Id this tender maid a wdiile forget The place that held her, dangers th^t beset ; And there could reach her, through a fence of stone, An influence that should share aer prison lone. I III A TAIE OF Tim mviERA. Passing tho ,vary g,ua„l, „„,„,„_ „„k„„„,j_ And sfal!i„g «-itli s«-eet rest her piteous moan. She slept, or ,vas it but a .Ircaclful swoon Ihat made her lie so still at first ?-but soon It It were such, it passed into a sbop With breathings low, and regular, and deep ; . And o er the features drawn by anxious pain A blessed contentment now began to rei^n The parted lips, and plaei.l face, expressed No s.gn that Trouble stayed within the breast, -Ihe outer clamour of the hurryin- feet That sounded loudly e'en in this retreat Ne er entered the carved chamber of he; ear, Whose tender curve lay, deHcate and clear Aganist the masses of the fallen hair • Lilce some rare shell that on the ocea'n's bed Lies, stdl and lovely, 'mid his voices dread. Lets l„s dread currents sweep where'er they list. Itself in silken tangle hid and kissed. Time .slowly passed ; another evening came. And stdl she lay, o'ereome by him they name Restorer. But, alas ! wh.at had he to restore lo one forsaken now for evermore • And ,vl,o laiewnone of whom .she imght implore To hve one hour of the loved life of yore ? 61 ■«p ttg 62 GUIDO AND LIT A. Joy could not follow from liis realm of dreams, From lands of unreality, from gleams Of fancied pleasure to tlie presence stern Of fiends whose purpose slie might just discern. Her weakness in its mercy freed a while The mind from knowledge of their wishes vilo, And let her roam again at will, and smile. As though tin? moment opened to her eyes The home hor love had made a paradise. Her thoughts' fair images still sealed her face, "When a veiled figure entered, and the place Grew light in evening's dusk, beneath the ray Of a small lamp that showed the vestments grey Wherewith the bearer, from her head to feet, Was closely draped. With movements soft and fleet She came, and paused, and held the lamp on high. As, though in searcl\ of one unseen, yet nigh ; Then bent and lowered her arm, when on the floor She saw an outstretched form, Avhose stillness bore A likeness to the lasting rest of death. But watching closely, she could mark the breath That made the bosom gently rise and fall. Could see the love-smile mantling over all, And stooped to touch her. Starting with a cry, A TALE OF THE RIVIERA The captive half arose, as if to fly ; Then, seeing but a woman by her -.dtle, The anxious voice upon her lips had died Before the visitor had knelt and made A warning sign, as if of speech afraid. 63 "Hush !" whispered she, "let no one hear us speak ; Command thy terror, — nay, 'twere best to seek To keep the smile Sleep brought upon thy cheek : For thine own sake, for this one night, pretend That thine alarm to thy content can bend. Thou look'st upon me as a creature sent To question, spy, persuade, or to torment : But see behind this veil ; though not as thou. Time has not drawn the marking on my brow ; — A heavier hand than his, a stronger power. Has poisoned life, and cursed each wretched hour. Thus may I claim some fellowship with thee, For youth and grief belong no less to me. I come as friend, to counsel and to free, I come as foe to him thou know'st as foe, — I come to work him evil, woe for woe. Hath he not given me enough to make His gi'ief my pleasure ? Never, for thy sake, "Would I perchance deceive him. For mine own I'll show that Fate obeys not him alone. Too long, O God, too long, have I obeyed h 64 OUWO AND LIT A. A forco, wlioso dictates could not bo gainsaid, Thougli my coniplianco on my conscience weighed. And tliou too, girl, liadst ne'er tlie task essayed To tliwart the humours of the tyrant's will. But though weak flesh may yield, the spirit still Recoils in hate ; and oft I know again The bitter pining that is now thy pain ; For I, like thee, b}^ Moslem pirates ta'en Was once a Christian ; and the chief shall find Delight may wither with his altering mind. He comes to thee this eve, — nay, courage, child. Thou shalt escape him ! He shall be beguiled To trust thee. Act the hypocrite a while : See if thou canst. Thou must not lose thy smile, But keep it, when thou seest him. I'll be there, Listiui, for 'tis this thou must prepare : AVlien he shall order me to go, as ho Will surely do, not wishing me Avith thee, Then giv(> him this, as if thou didst relent, When I say * Take it, — from his side I'm sent.' It is a cup of drink that I prepare, Kefreshing him when past day's toil and care. And h(^ will takci it from thee unjiware That in its freshest foam, a drug lies hid That, ere a moment passes o'er, will bid His eyelids fall in slumber, and his arm Shall be more powerless than thine own for harm." A TALE OF THE EIVIERA. And Rs slio spoke, came slaves, wlio for their lord, Set lights and wine and fruit upon the board ; And f^oon El Sirad strode into the room. Bedecked with gems, and tissues of the loom ; And greeted both the women, as they stood, But made the elder a quick sign anil rude. When she, in Lita's hand, Avitli signs of woe, Placed a full goblet, as she turned to go. 65 '; ■t w •Then Lita, scarcely knowing what she did, Stretched fin'th the cup to him, as she was bid ; That he, in his surprise, took not at first. Saying, "Beauteous damsel, pray l)elieve my thirst Was but to see thee reconciled." She came Yet nearer, choking back her shame (If shame she felt ; — her manner rather told Despair had nerved her in her btniring bold) ; And half instinctively she played the part On which was set the whole hope of her heart. She could not raise her eyes ; she could not smile : He looked at her in silence for a while, Tlu^n drank and said, "I thank thee, and I drink To happier times, and eyes that shall not sink. But greet me with their light, when next I come. Fair sorceress, relent, and be not dumb. Speak for I'm weary ! " And the maid who thought With horror that the drug no change had wrought, ^•^ 6() QUIDO AND LITA: And heard, all agoiiizocl -svltli hidden fear, The loathsome words ho spoke as if to cheer, Now saw him on the cushioned floor reclined. The thick lips powerless to portray the mind. The linf^o form lifeless 'neath the spell of sleep, The man she so detested, but a h(\^ip Of loosened limbs, his raiment glittering dread Beneath the light the lamps upon it shed. Again the woman's voice assailed her ear ; "Great God, he drank it ! Do not idle here. Leave him, he cannot follow thee. Now haste, Arouse thy people, that thy friends may taste The freedom I may give alone to thee !" She touched her arm and led her out, and she Stepj)ed forth in silence down the narrow stair, Breathed, as amazed, again the outer air, Aiid halted only, when, wdthout the wall. She heard the woman's words, "Thou hear'st the fall Of yonder torrent ? Pleadlong as its speed Must be thine own ; and it will safely lead Down to the woods : then let thy steps be bound By its lulled murmur, — thus shall Orles be found." And left alone, she gazed above, where frowned The black rocks darkly o'er the sombre pines ; A TALE OF THE JilVJERA, 87 And ovor tlicm the moon on rugged lines Of peak and glacier slionc, with sturlight cold. And all Avas quiet, save the stream that told Of restless hasto till homo, at last, were found. Then fled she onward, guided by its sound. All night she travelled wearily, and yet, Upon her purpose resolutely set, With bleeding feet she trod the stones ; — the morn Still saw the pain with steadfast bravery borne. But when before her eyes the towers arose That, in an hour, had yielded her repose ; And been the dreadful journey's happy close, Her step swayed, faltering, and her sight grew dim. Earth, trees, and toAvn appeared to rise, and swim On misty air, that weighed upon the breast. Upon her laboring heart a hand was pressed, As reeling on the bank beside the stream She fell, and hope seemed but a girlish dream ! 08 QUWO AND LIT A: EE, ill the heaven there glances, Piercing its northern night, Light, as of himinous hmces, Ehishing, and hurled in fight. With weird and wavering gleaming Bright ranks advance ever higher. As if through a battle's niist streaming, And storming the zenith with fire. \ku Arrajed like a rainbow, but Ideating The dark, with thousands of spears. Each thrown, as though armies were meeting, All glittering and red re-appears. At times in fair order, and crossing The heaven as with a span. Or disarrayed, striving, and tossing. Seem the hosts to the eyes of man. See how their lines are shaking. Surge on, and fast retire, — A TALE OF THE III VI ERA. How throngli tliom faster break Eiso otliers,— gleam,— expire. Are rival banners vying, And waved by armed hands, Or slieen of j^lanets flying From bright celestial brands ? mg But the silence reigns unbroken, They fight without a sound ; If indeed these lights betoken That wars the stars astound ! For whether they burn all gory. Or blanch the trcniblino- skv "NT J.1 J» iNo tlnuuler vaunts their glory As in the gloom they die. ^S Do they come as warning, tcllin Of death, or Avar, or shame, When their tremulous pulses, swelhn Can fill the world with flame. Do they tell of cities burninjr. Mid sack, and blood, and lust ; Of lighted arrows, turning Loved hearths to smoking dust ? Cf 69 I \ J' r 70 GUJDO AND LITA: For like to an awlal prosago Of lields of sLiiiglitorcHl dead, Just where tliey luild their paL..dgo A crimson cloud is spread. Ill y Or, boding no fell chastening, Are they bat paths, where shine Swif- feet, innnortal, liastening "V\ ith messages divine? Come thus the angels speeding With blighting wing, and rod ? Ah, none may know the reading Or follow the signs of God ! In silence He, the Maker, Bids kindle the fair fire ; In silence He, the Taker, Lets the red flame expire. And o'er the watcher's spirit, "With Fear, Desire is thrown : A longing deep doth stir it To know the yet Unknown. We seek, with usel(\ss yearning, To my at hidden things, A TALE OF THE ItlVIERA. Wlioro God, to mock our learning, His veil of mjsterj flings. Earth roars ns, and to love Lcr From birth our nature's bound : But slio, like the fires above hei May die without a sound. ler. Her seasons' varying story, The fate of tdl jier race, May, like tlie Aurora's glory, Change, in a moment's si)acc ! 71 None save the sentiy .valkrj()y<-d to see his ardour rise. Had !nade him captaiji of this last t^mprise. And soon he joined his son, content to guiih^ AVith words, since age Avould lau']) hitn from his side. lI[)on i\\o walls that to the seaward faccul, ^riie two, in earnest convcu'st^, slowly })ac(Hl; Whilci far above the streamers shot and paled, The scarlet ])inions flapped their plumes, or Hail(>d Through quivering night, that round i\\v\i\ slirunk ai:d quailed. Tlu' conf(^rence o'er, impaticmt of delay, Cluido sprang quickly down th(^ rocky Avay, TIrged his boat';-*, crew, as fast th(>ir blades thry plied, Sealed with a shout the largest g:dl(\y's side, *' Weigh, comrades, w(>igh ! we seek the ocean wide." A TALE OF TITE mviEEA. Hor cables oronk, und now tl.,. w.'lt(n^s, ^imviw([ Aiul liisluul !)>' „ii<.l,ty ojtrs, to fo;uu ,u-(, (,lin7-ii. mI • lliY ports a,v ,slmk(ni bj tluu'r dk^usiuv,! swoop, And gi-(Kui ]-osponsiv(> to tlio b.irdoiuMl (^-(>p. Vmi moviiig soon, ;,s H from slmi,]„>r woko, Slio stirs, slu^ starts ut (>voiy lubourin- str()k(s Aiul gafclioriiig sj^hmI, slio darts iiito tlio inain' A gi-im s(^a-m()iist(>r, })oarinnr stinrrs of pr,ii,, Tl.at myriad-limbod its lioirid food will gain. Hor consorts follow in lu^r wliit(Mi(>d wako, Till oacli, in turn, its dostiiK^l placo can tako. Tho liglits on slior(> grow dim, tho shadows floo l^hat t(>ll wlH^r(> l;md l,>a],s forth n])on tho soa. The slow hours luiirk th(^ uiuvmittiug toil; And still th(> sti-ickon waves around nnist l)oil Till morn ariso, tiio Avinds Avithin Ikm- hand To waft thorn fuvth<>r from that throatonod land. Moanwliil(>, do "iioiKh^nt oji tho towu o'or it Hope could happiness have thrown I Had he but st^jmnied the tide of otlun-s' woo, 7;j II ^.'! I 11 74 GUI DO AND LIT A. Ho r\iiov liiul tiist(Ml of its saLlc flow, L()V(! still rcmainod. — Groat God ! could it be vain ? Life still was Lis, her loverly life to gain : For her, for Ycaigoaiuio, wonld ho liv(>, and sato Neglected Justice through a nol)lo hate. To-morrow's sun should see the ])illows l)lood Round wrecks that bore the authors of this dtuHl : Yet how, alas, destruction's bolt to aim That partial ruin should n-ttend its ilanie, And save the captive froiii revenge and shaino ? Another hour the maddening doubt luight clear; Events might prove it but a causeless loar. And yet, how terrible the tor^ud ilight Of Time, — nccomplico of forgetful Night ! What meant the rush of those vast wings tliat spread A ghostly I'adianco 'neath the vault o'(a-head? O that they would but blaze upon the seas Hays that should mark the Paynim as he flees, And this ])liiid groping Avith fierce ligh! wore smote To lot him fast(!n on the dastard's tliroat! More light! more light! Would mornhig never come? Some evil witchery k(^i)t the broez(!S dumb ! No, tlun'o tlu^y sing, amid ^ho empty shroud^" , The stars arc quenched, and rise the rosy clouds ! "Sail, set all sail, we'll gain upon them fast!'^ m A TALE OF THE HIVIETiA. Tlio canvas ciirtsios to tlio crcaldjig mast ; A im'glitior power tlian Inimaii \\\]\ may wield Compols lioi- onward o'er the sapi)]iiro' field. Her hundred arms arc now no longer seen • Transfoi .nod and beauteous, like a sea-boru queen, With gallant grace she glides amid ihv. crowd. Where the hoarse tumult of rough waves is loud; And their ruch; clamour mellows as she speeds, For a wild wonder to tln-ir wr;ith succeeds. Lo, tlKur swift ranks are folhnving wIk^-c she h^ads, Th(,-ir curving cr(^sts tlieii offered homage i)leads, Till laughijig murmurs their delight rev(>al And eddjiug dances, round the lining \^caA. Changed too by love is Guido's strick(ni soid ; Through his tried spirit have begun to roll The glorious lights, the mighty gales, that spring Wli(«n waking Ccmscience stirs at last to fling Pollution from h(>]-, though it darkly cling. Like the fair wind that lills the arching sail. Love l)reatlies its strength ui)on his terrors pale ; And makes tlu-m serve to bear him straight and true, Till dangers lessen to his hopeful view ; And former hours seem things of double scorn, In sight of valour of devotion born. 75 i\ i''i 70 QUWO AND TATA: Ood speed liis convso ! but nil, will trouble bow To liigh r(>solve, though writ ou youthful brow? "Will suiiling victoiy his advauces greet, And following ages his renown repeat? 'Twaa not for him to qu(!stion or decide Where (^l)])ed tlu^ limits of his fortune's tide. By one; thought guided and by one possessed, The thought ihat racked him, and in racking blessed, He scanned the distant line where wave ou wave Sharp cruel teeth to bare horizon gave, And turned in bitterness away, as nought His straining yisicm to his senses brought, And through the watches of the morn, the light But mocked the ^'earning of the feverish night. The wind increases ; the flotilla strown Far o'er the seas is tossed apart, and thrown From swelling ridges whence the Avorld is seen, To h)n(^ly hollows walled w^ith waters green. Swift ragged clouds eclipse the sea and sky. And by the staggering ship pass slirieking by. That reels forsidceu, save by one sea mew : A creature hailed as comrade by the crew, And watched by Guido till his fancy gives Mysteri(jus meaning to the thing that lives Borne on the breast of tempests, as a child Is dandled in caress of mother mild ; A TALE OF TUB lUVIEItA And looking on it, as with scarce a beat Of .ts long wing., it follows Um tlnongl, h,..t Ono„nanclcoUofnig,,t,onpi„io..''f,e ; With uttoranco low liis restless tl.on.rl f c i A..Uro,.n tones .olistcni,:;^e!;2^::tr^''' 77 I. While tlu^ngh the roaring surf I saU lo track the coward rover, One ensign to mj mast I nail To float till life be over. m ■It n. And thou sharp-winged and milk-white bird Wlio f ollowest ever after Whose wild notes o'er the deep are hoard Above the hoarse waves' laughter; nr. Art thou indeed, as seems to me. Her spirit, sorrow-laden Sent forth, in longing, o'er the sea,- Ihe spirit of mj maiden? An answering blast with omen sad rephes, lie bird departs with loud and waili g„, es • T)ic day wanes quickly, and another time 78 aUIDO AND LIT A. Of hateful doubt must liiLlo tlio men of ciimc ; But danger comes as giver of relief, And makes tlio busy hours by contrast brief. Amid the foam that they at dawn descry, They sec a vessel that no more can fly : From shattered stumps mere strips of canvas stream, The high waves beat through many an opened seam, And fhng their froth, as serpents lick their 2^i'cyj O'er the doomed hull ere hiding it from day ; Her low-laid length the corsair craft betrays : O God of justice, to Thy name be praise ! With weapons bared, and Avitli exultant cheers. The Christian bark upon the foeman steers ; Gra|)ples her quarter, pours upon her beam A clattering torrent, a fierce leaping stream Of armed avengers, for an instant checked. Then pouring headlong o'er resistance wrecked. Faint words, from lips of dying wretches wrung, Tell how all hope on false delusion hung. How the swift sails they thought they had pursued, Might now from Orles indeed be closely viewed, Ihit that none lingered on the storm-swept sea. One ship alone of all, by Heaven's decree. This sinking hull, by lightning struck and maimed, A TAIE OF THE RIVIERA. By friomb forsaken ,vhcn their aid «hc claimed, ll.at round tl,e liarbonr forms a fatal bar Ga,„st Christian il..ets, to keep tlicir .succour far • One band alone of all the Prophet's host, rhat but embarked to swoop upon the coast, • lh.i sets the k.,j-stone to proud Islam's arch ; That arch of conquest, 'neath vhose shelter cast Oiles captire daughters shall forget the past. Enough, enough, the impious boast La,l Invath rron. hearts now shielded from revenge by death ■ That gave the infidel a hissing pyre Whem flame and wave, commingling, fought to win Me fiends that battle for lost souls rf sin ' But did not Truth the ghastly fiction spurn. Must foil Despair embitter tho return • Leave other hearts to joy in harvests sown By those whose grief no carnage could atone ? The cowering di^ad that bids the partridge lie Slid dust or leaf while yet the hawk is n.gh; llio fatal panic that so closely holds The victim menaced by the serpent's folds • 7U I i 80 QUIDO AND LIT A: i i' Tlio vague yot strong foreboding of his doom At times vouelisjifcd tlic traveller to tlie tomb ; Appeared to brood upon the steep-built town Since reddening skies had told of heaven's frown, And her stout manhood, lured by guile to fly, Had left the helpless to withstand and die. The few who on their errands, hasting, went, Seemed worn by sorrow, and with toiling spent ; No prattling children chased with eager feet As wont of yore, the passer in the street ; Her women, wan and trembling in distress, Could find no hand to comfort them and bless ; For e'en old soldiers, left behind, would prose No more of early fightings, joys, or woes ; But in grave silence donned the weighty steel, And marvelled time had made it heavier feel Than when, with youth and confidence elate, They saw them.selves the guardians of the State, Where now sad auguries alone held reign That e'en the boldest had not dared disdain. Her caverned ways lay hushed where'er they wound, And from the church alone was heard the sound Of voices raised, that in united prayer Breathed low responses to the listening air ; While the robed priests from rise to set of sun A TALE OF THE BIVIEItA. Prayed God his supj-liante not in wrath to shun i!ut in His strength inviueiblo to rise And sl,ow His niorcy to His servants' eyes. What varying signs, what altering moods attest Iho presence stern of tliat unwelcome guest Who secfe at tnnes an entry to eaclx breast; Who. lodged within the fortress he has ta'en IcarS down disguises men assume in vain ■ ' Whose hand, of ice, can tluill tluongh ner™ and bone Can prove our nature by one touch alone • Can stiil the wildest, and the fiercest tame, By might that Fear and Fear alone can claim ! No sentient life, inheriting th(j dower Of thought or instinct, can deny its power A gift of God to warn the weak of harm And move the valour of the stronger arm • And yet an influence giving rise to care Too great for frail humanity to bear Deepenmg onr evil till its gloom is far Too dense and dark for virtue's high-set star ; But m,d the night how bright the silvery glo; On all, soul-lifted, o'er the world below r No craven he, who has to fear confessed Nor brave the man whom it has ne'er o;pressed; For he who knows it not, is less than brute 6 ' 81 III IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) * W M 1.0 I.I 11.25 ^ 1^ 12.0 u JA 11.6 ff 'W /a "y. Oj/ y s:ping sea, she reigns, O'er the hushed mountains and the silejit plains ; !'■ 88 QUWO AND LITA: For one short liour, tlirougliout tlie beauteous scene Violence lias yielded to lier sway serene. But men wlioso words were bravest, and whose cry Was ever, "Courage, fight ! ye see they fly ! " Know that the strain is more than can be borne, If such a night again bring such a morn ; And yet undaunted, the old knight has turned Again to Lita, saying, "Thou hast earned More than thy share of glory, but the means TJiou hast prepared for victory, though she leans As if bestowing \\Y)0\\ us the palm, Are not enough. The foe has wrought no harm Upon our buildings, for his wild desire For plunder shielded them from shafts of fire. These, at the next attack, will surely fly Upon the roofs. See there ! as if to try My words, they come with torches, and the bows Already in the front, the danger grows ! Then be it thine, -with all thy comrades here, To stifle with quick hands this flickering fear, That soon shall threaten us in front and rear. Be this thy work ; and if I send to tell That we are pressed too sorely, see thou well That all the women, though they wail their loss, Leave gear and goods as if they were but dross, And instant seek the castle j there we may A TALE OF TUB RIVIERA. 89 Yet reckon witli tliem for our toil to-clay : Now to the wells, for we must to the wall." Then while her bfind, obedient to her call, Wait near the tanks, and in the shelter cower, Hoping 'gainst hope to mar the flames dread power, A herald, springing to the Moorish van. Cries for surrender ! "or the winds shall fan Destru'^tion o'er each dwelling, and each man Shall die by sword, or fire." To whom the knight, Standing conspicuous on the blood-stained height, Replies disdainfully, " No sun shall see, No stars behold such dastard infamy ; " Daring the worst. And as the torches dance Among the Arab ranks, their files advance : And singly placed afar, they slowly bend The bows, and overhead, high-aimed, they send The first red arrow, with its trail of flame. And following flights incessant seek the same High paths, and arching in wide curves the air. Fall crackling on the tiles, or lighting where The woodwork, wrinkled by the un, is bare, Strike with dulled stroke : and anxiously aware Of the great peril menacing so near, The few defenders of the wall, for fear Of fresh attack, durst never quit their post. 90 QUIDO AND LIT A: But iJl}^ watcliing tlio opposing liost, And all inactive, marked with added gloom Tbe fiery messengers of coming doom. But where the tongues of leaping heat woidd rise, Warned hj prompt signal, bred of watchful eyes, The ready water, hissing o'er the roof, Still kept the dwelling to the peril proof. But as the evening came, the sneaking fire Hose at one spot yet higher still and higher ; And in attempting to subdue its might. Amid the arrows' ^ver quickening flight, Some of the women by the shafts were maimed. And then came panic, as the houses flamed. And a wild onset from the foe without. And hurried tumult, with blind rage and doubt. The strong resistance was no more ; o'erdone, Outnumbered, and exhausted, as the sun Descended sadly, the survivors let The growing conflict follow, as they set Their faces to the castle, and arrayed In such fair order that no haste betrayed Dismay was spreading 'mid their ranks, they closed Gates that deaf ii'on to grim threats opposed. There for an instant, by their victory fired, To win the bridge the furious foe aspii-ed. . . A TALE OF THE mviEUA. But whoro two warriors scarce couM kcop abreast Numbers wore useless ; and no foot could rest Upon Its narrow patli, wliere every rock Thrm a from the fortress overhead, witli sliock That seemed enour^li to crush its slender build, TVith darmg men, would leave it bare and dean Save for the blood that on its dust was seen • ' As though mere flies had thus been brushed away, Wlxei^ shnn lang souls had left the mangled clay, That hurled to tlie abyss beneath, lay stilled ^ orgotten in the i)lace its life had filled For soon, withdrawing from the fatal space, Wliere lay the bravest of their dauntless rac. The Moorish host among the houses spread, ^ And m the Christian homes, untenanted Sought eagerly for spoil, and of the wine Made glad carousal. 91 Then the gleaming line Ihat marked the limits of the fire's domain Spread out and lengthened sloAvly, until fain To force tlieir rival conqueror to delay They stayed his course ; but threw wftJi waste away Ihe water gathered in the town, that none Remained at last Avhen victory was won From smouldering embers, from the parching c^bw 92 OUIDO AND LITA. They turned athirst to greet the Avine's cool flow ; And drank, till revelry and riot rung Through the thick darkness that o'er Orles was liung ; For smoke from burning roofs and huildings' fall Spread through the night a dim, gigantic pall. And 'neath its shadow, Sleep swept down to stand Upon the ramparts, and to wave his hand ; And impious moutlis were closed, and fevered brows, That flushed at braggart and blaspheming vows, Relaxed in still forgetfulncss, as though The spell that held them could no breaking know. But 'neath the robe of silence that she wore. Night in her womb a ghastly danger bore ; For the hot ashes, kindling at the breath Of whispering breezes, subtly wrought for death. And wdiere they slumbered in the timber's heart, Through blackened surfaces began to start ; Until wdtli lurid hue incarnadined, A pulsing life replaced the darkness blind ; And greeting wdth hot lips the outer air, Caressed it, rising from its steaming lair. With fair and lustrous arms, that felt and sought The ambient element that vigour brought, And fed on its desire ; then flung on high Broad beckoning banners to the answering sky ; And onward leaping, urged afar and near The rapid ravage of a fell career. A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. In stupor sunk, by dull oblivion doomed, Tho Pfiynim soldier sleeps, until entombed. And many an agony and stifled groan Is seen and lieard by vengeful flames alone. The blaze, extending witli devouring rage, Aroused the rest a useless fight to wage. Where yet a hope remains thoy soon create A line of ruin, barren, desolate. And seek to mock their grim pursuer's greed By leaving nought whereon his tongue may feed. But as they toil to gain a narrow space, And pray destruction may avert its face ; The paltry trenches are o'erleaped and stormed, Tho conflagration o'er each house has formed A dazzling pile of forked and stabbing fires, Lilie hellish phantoms, shaped as shrines and spires. But round the church's tower and shining roof Still guardian angels kept the fiends aloof ; And from the keej), the Christians could behold How, as the bellowing flames about it rolled, The ancient fane, around its massive wall, Gave hope and refuge, still alike, to all. As there tho Saracens stood thronged in light, Or fled yet further into blackest night, Out of tho darkness, and from oflf the sea Were wafted sounds, that made men bend the knee 93 94 OUIDO AND LIT A: To pray they told of conflict, and to hear If aid they meant, and if they drew more near ; And spring again to foot, and grasp their arms, For such sliarp notes must speak of war's alarms. Aid comes ! aid comes, oh, hark the surging cry The quick assault sends forth unto the sky ! Hark ! as if oaks were crashing in the blast The splintering ruin of some tangling mast. The shock of charging prows ; the ringing knell Of whose hushed notes the mournful wave must tell ! Oh, who can know the fortunes of the fight. Interpreting the doubt of doom aright ? And who distinguish 'mid that awful din The battle-call, that shall, prevailing, win ? Yet, as the tumult to their ears is borne, Joy may re-enter every heart forlorn ; Returning strength sustain the shaking knees, "Orles, Orles !" and "Rescue!" vibrate on the breezo " Orles, Orles ! " replies the knight, and shouts amain, "Down with the dogs ! who follows me again?" The fighting passion of his early days Burns in his veins, and sheds on age its rays. The gates are opened and a faithful few Charge, and with him the conflict they renew. A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. Against the flying foe liis band lie leads, But when the church is reached, he faUs, he bleeds ! Meanwhile the Fates, inexorable, brought Kecoiling mischief back to where 'twas wrought. Expelled by terrors they themselves contrived. Of Orles' strong shelter suddenly deprived, The Moslems, scattered in disorder, meet ' A death too merciful, because too fleet. But, springing o'er their prostrate corpses, who Comes swift, as though on winged foot he flew? Whose the tall form with pallid face that speeds Before the foremost where the vanguard leads? Who passes now the bridge, and now the gate, And pauses only where the women wait, A piteous crowd on floor of court and stair, And seems to seek, but seek for one not there? Though numbers press in every vaulted space, AU seems a void without that absent face. Each passage empty, and he rushes down Again to wander in the burning town. Look, his wild eye with quick delight can beam ; For by the church, and near the fountain's stream, Is she for whom he seeks, nor seeks in vain, For Lita turns not from his arms again 1 95 96 QUIDO AND LIT A, But soon her liand points where his father lies ; And Guido starts, and flies to him, and tries To chase the blood to nerveless fingers, laid Upon the handle of a crimsoned blade ; Thc:^ ixotes how carefully a scarf is bound And fastened firmly Avliere the wound is found ; Sees how the eyelids lift their heavy fringe And faintly life again the cheeks may tinge. The ashen lips with feeble effort smile, As Lita loieels by Guido's side the while, And looking on his son, and on the maid, "Let nought against thy love for her be said." He slowly speaks, " She came to bind my hurt, She brought the warning to our town inert, She reft the infidel of Sirad's aid. Her timely help the battle's chances swayed ; By her the fire throughout the day was stayed, And safe retreat ensured to wife and maid. What say these people, are they ours ? My sight Grows dim. place me 'neath the altar bright." And borne by soldiers come from victory's fight They lay him where afresh the candles burn Beneath the crucifix, that he may turn His dying gaze upon the Death Divine. And as the shades of night at length incline To tints of grey, the rescued people me^t, mmm A TALE OF THE RIVIERA. And kneel in church, or search if fervid heat Has spared some reUc they may fondly greet. But, with the flushing of the rising sun On sea, and mount, and clouds of smoke-wreaths dun, Is heard a cry from those who, where they stand. See the white line of bay-indented strand. They point to where, along the western road Bright pennons wave, and brilliant horsemen goad Their steeds, with ardour, o'er the winding way. Light leaps and ripples o'er their long array, A silver river, kissed by joyous day ! Whence come those troops, whose glittering ranks appear An endless host, although the van is near? Moors would not ride so frankly, and so free On Christian land, by Orles' well guarded sea? 'Tis not a foeman who thus comes ? Behold, He bears a banner with a cross of gold ! Each heart may joy, and sheathed be every sword : There rides our Liege, Provence's sovereign Lord ! f) Away with grief, let every fear be banned, Our Prince is come, the Father of our land, Count Wilham comes, with chivahy, with might^ Isarn, blessed Prelate ! rides upon his right. Forth then to meet him, througli our blackened gates, And greet the vengeance that the Moor awaits ! 97 98 QUIDO AND LITA: ! Tho gallant train tlie cliurcli's front has gained ; Their Leader's steed is at the fountain reined, And Guido takes his Lord within to view ; Him whom he mourns, the sire the Paynim slew, Recounts the tale of those adventurous days. How brief their space, and yet it years outweighs ! When all is learned, the Count goes forth to stand Upon the church's stops, and lifts his hand, And bids his troops rank round him on the place ; And calls for Lita, who, with blushing face Comes out to stand before him ; and he speaks : "Who now for glory, or for honour seeks. Let him, from deeds done here, example take ; Deeds of this gentle maiden, whom I make A Lady of my land, and ask that she Attend my court : and Guido, as for thee. Thou too must follow ; till the realm be free Of heathen hordes, our swords must never sleep. Our name must be so terrible, yon deep Shall yet refuse to bear upon its breast The fleets it brought to startle us from rest." Thus by his love was Guido called to brave War on the land, and war upon the wave. By love awakened to a manly pride, Li spirit searched, and changed, and purified. His bright renown o'er Christendom was spread. And lived where'er the light of victory sped. A TALE OF TEE RIVIERA. A year has passed, and where red battle burned, Fair Peace again with blessings has returned, And mailed processions, banished from the field, To white-robed trains the festive town must yield. See, to the sound of music and of song, A stately pageant slowly moves along. Before the church'.s door ihQ crowds divide ; Hail the sweet pomp, that guards the maiden bride ! HaH the young lord, who comes this day to claim, A prize, the guerdon of a glorious name ! They kneel before the altar, hand in hand, "While thronged around, Provence's warriors stand. Hush ! for the sacred rites, the solemn vow. That croAvns with Faith, young Love's impetuous brow. The prayer is said ; then, as the anthem swells A peal ruigs out of happy marriage bells ; Grief pales and dies 'neath joy's ascending sun. For knight, and moid, have blent then- Hves m'one. 99 f NOTES. (}) "Le midi ne fut plus assailli par de grandcs armdes dMnfidelcs ; (after 924 A. D.) mais, durant pr^s d'un dcmi-si^cle encore, la cote de Provence et las d^filds des Alpes furent infestd's par la colonie de brigands musulmans qui s'etaient fait un rcpaire inaccessible dans les bois et les rochcrs de Freycinet ou la Garde-Frainct, non loin de Saint-Tropez, et du golfe de Grimaud. Ces audacieux bandits s'empar6rent de tons les passages qui ni6ncnt de la Gaule en Italic, p6n(5tr6rcnt de valine en vallde jusque dans le Valais, rilelvetie et la Lombardie, et s'^tablirent au couvent de Saint-Maurice en 940. Les pelerins de Rome, longtemps depouilles ou massacres par eux, finircnt par leur payer un tribut r^gulier, analogue h. celui que les hadjis de la Mccquc ont si longtemps paye aux Arabcs du desert. lis occupaicnt une multitude de tours et de for- tercsses, depuis les sources du Rhone jusqu'a rembouchure du Var ; ils (5taient devenus une puissance politique, et se m^nagaient cntre le roi d'ltalie et le roi d'Arles, qui craignaient ^galement de les pousser si bout." — Ilistoire de Fratue, par Martin. Tom. ii. p. 510. (') " On Ignore s'il se passa quelqiies ^v^nements dignes d'inl^rSt dans la France romane de 966 h. 973 ; on sait seulement que les chefs proven9aux, durant cette intervalle, chassferent et ddtruisirent glorieusement les bandcs musulmanes qui avaient si longtemps ran9onnd leur pays, et que la politique des rois d'ltalie avail prot^gdcs pour rcndre I'acc^s des Alpes plus dilTicile aux hommes de France et de Germanic. Les Sarrasins n'avaient pu tenir longtemps le poste de Saint- Maurice, CO point central des Alpes qu'ils avaient envahi avec une si ^tonnante w 102 NOTES, audace ; mais ils conservaient toujours de nombreux repaires dans les Basses- Alpes, et surtout dans les rochers de Fraxinet, capitale de cctte r^publique de pirates : Guilhem, comte d'Arles ou de Provence, second^, suivant les traditions locales, par un pr^lat guerricr, Isarn, 6v6que de Grenoble, detruisit successive- ment ces aires d'oiscaux dc proie, et finit par ^eraser Ics 'infiddes ' dans un com- bat ddcisif, au moment ou ils se rcpliaient de toutes parts sur Fraxinet : la colonic musulmane fut tout enti^re taill^e en pieces ou engloutie dans les pr<$cipices de ces cotes abruptes." — Histoire de France, par Martin. Tom. ii. p. 535.