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“ Which is __"
“And why not, sir? Of what " To call in the Austrians,"
value could such a man as I am be to " Per Bacco! it is exactly what they your service, if I were not to tell you have advised. How did you come to what you'll never hear from others-know it? Who is the traitor at the the plain, simple truth? Is it not council board ?"
clear enough that if I only thought “I wish I could tell you the name of my own benefit, I'd say whatever of one who was not such. Why, your you'd like best to hear-I'd tell you, Highness, these fellows are not your like Landetti, that the taxes were ministers, except in so far as they are well paid, or say, as Cerreccio did, paid by you. They are Metternich's t'other day, that your army would do people; they receive their appoint- credit to any state in Europe; when ments from Vienna, and are only he well knew at the time, that the accountable to the cabinet held at artillery was in mutiny from arrears Schoenbrunn. If wise and moderate of pay, and the cavalry horses dying counsels prevailed here, if our finan- from short rations !" cial measures prospered, if the people “I am well weary of all this," said were happy and contented, how long, the duke, with a sigh. “ If the half think you, would Lombardy submit of what I hear of my kingdom, every to be ruled by the rod and the bay- day, be but true, my lot in life is worse onet? Do you imagine that you will than a galley-slave's. One assures be suffered to give an example to the me that I am bankrupt; another peninsula of a good administration ?” calls me a vassal of Austria; a third
" But so it is,” broke in the Prince; makes me out a Papal spy; and you " I defy any man to assert the oppo- aver that if I venture into the streets site. The country is prosperous,
the of my own town---in the midst of my people are contented, the laws justly own people, I am almost sure to be administered, and, I hezitate not to assassinated !" say, myself as popular as any sove- Takeno man's word, sir, for what, reign of Europe.
while you can see for yourself, it is * And I tell your Highness, just your own duty to ascertain," said as distinctly, that the country is Stubber resolutely. “If you really ground down with taxation, even to only desire a life of ease and indolence, export duties on the few things we forgetting what you owe to yourself have to export_that the people are and those you
send for the poor to the very verge of starvation- Austrians. Ask for a brigade and a that if they do not take to the high- general. You'll have them for the ways as brigands, it is because their asking. They'd come at a word, and traditions as honest men yet survive try your people at the drum head, and amongst them—that the laws only flog and shoot them with as little exist as an agent of tyranny, arrest disturbance to you as need be! You and imprisonment being at the mere may pension of the judges ; for a caprice of the authorities. Nor is court martial is a far speedier tributhere a means by which an innocent nal, and a corporal's guard is quite an man can demand his trial, and insist economy in criminal justice.Trade on being confronted with his accuser. will not perhaps prosper with martial Your jails are full, crowded to a state law, nor is a state of siege thought of pestilence with supposed political favourable to commerce. No matter. offenders, men that, in a free country, You'll sleep safe so long as you keep would be at large, toiling indus- within doors, and the band under triously for their families, and whose your window will rouse the spirit of opinions could never be dangerous, if nationality in your heart, as it plays, not festering in the foul air of a dun- . (rod preserve the Emperor !'” geon. And as to your own popularity, "You forget yourself, sir, and you all I say is, don't walk in the Piazza forget me !" said the Duke sternly, as at Carrara after dusk. No, nor even he drew himself up, and threw a look at noon-day."
of insolent pride at the speaker. " And you dare to speak thus to "Mayhap I do, your Highness," was me, Stubber !" said the Prince, his the ready answer,
" and out of that face covered with a deadly pallor very forgetfulness let your Highness as he spoke, and his white lips trem- take a warning. I say, once more, I bling, but less in passion than in fear. distrust the people about you, and as to this conspiracy at Carrara, I'll nothing to confirm my views, I'll say wager a round sum on it, that it was not one word against all the measures hatched on t'other side of the Alps, of precaution that your council are and paid for in good forins of the bent on importing from Austria." Holy Roman Empire. At all events, * Take your own way ; I promise give me time to investigate the mat- nothing," said the Duke haughtily, ter. Let me have 'till the end of the and with a motion of his hand disweek to examine into it, and if I find missed his adviser,
BY FRANCIS DAVIS.
God bless the towers and temples,
And those cloud-lividing piles,
Of our green old queen of isles !
When His choicest love outpours,
That the minstrel more adores.
For our wonder or our weal,
'Neath the craftsman's peaceful steel,
Looking love so like devotion-
In my spirit-depths command,
Of our Dalriadan land,
That guard our northern strand,-
Or wall of wintry clouds,--
Divides the craggy crowds,
From the Causeway's pillared shore
The sublimely dark Benmore
In their hurricane career-
Of the lightning shaft and spear-
In the flashing of the moon,
To the golden pomp of June.
Through your cold eternal stone,
LET US BOW TO MIND ALONE-
That his sacred will is marred,
Winneth worship or reward,
Save the holy right of shining
O'er the stricken and the lone ;
Not the many for the moon --
When he darkest soul of any
Hath its own peculiar June.
Bless the teachers of those tenets,
Be they spirit, stone, or steel,-
Thou, Jehovah, where I kneel!
Oh! ye high and heaven-crowned ones,-
Not a world of kingly gems Could my soul so God-enkindle
As your craggy diadems. Mighty fruits of Mind gigantic,
Grizzled, gloomy, and sublime,
Watchers of the world's supernal,
Tempest-shorn and dew-anointed,
Foamy-robed and God-appointed,
Dazzling, desert of the sea !
Preached in more than pulpit tones, Where your mountain-limbs are rooted -
Where the baffled billow groans-Where the coast-born peasant ponders,
Backward as the waters roll, Till your iron self-dependence
Sheathes his roughly-noble soul ;
Through the sunlight of his song
Amid which his spirit swimmeth,
As the dark or light he hymneth,So the mass of mind is modelled
By the forms on which it rests, And a tone and colour taketh
From its oftener-coming guests. Yea, as river-roads are fashioned
By the water's rush and whirl, While their tinge and taste are taken
By its sweeping crest and curl, As it onward, ever, ever,
Maketh, taketh foul or fair, Until neither bed nor river
May its first or fount declare,
So is formed the mental channel
By the might of sight and sound, So is tinged the moral current
By what eye and ear have found,Until, from its race of ages,
Rolling basely or sublime, It revealeth less our Adam
Than the accidents of time.
Then, how few might be Earth's shadows
On the moral current here,
Through and through the ringing year!
Whose it were to ever be
Of this fair, mysterious sea--
Many-tinted fringes weave :
By the wanton breeze of eve-
Through a wild and dewy eye, From the broad and burning roses
On the golden isles of sky.
Yea, the universal Lord,
On the sea, and on the sward ; And I stood beneath these pillars-
'Twas a Sabbath morn in May, And I felt-ah! who can tell it ?
Never, never lips of clay! 'Twas that heaving heart-devotion
That hath neither sigh nor pray'r,
In the inmost spirit, where
It had ne'er been dreamt were there ;-
The battle-ground of many thoughts That reeled and wheeled again;
Then seethed in rushing roll,
Like fire-drops through the soul,
Seeming less in life than death,
Then a bending towards the sod-Sighing, “light enough is given--
Let us bow before our God !"
Consecrated to his name, -
I could ne'er have felt the same
Where our northern land is lost, And that pillared pile, the glory
Of old Dalriada's coast.
There is grandeur in your city,
Where the sculptured columns soar, And the sea of human beauty
Heaveth, heaveth evermore. There is grandeur in yon mountain, When beneath the burning West
Ten thousand tiny torches
At as many pearly porches
Flash and twinkle--flash and twinkle,
As the dying day-beans sprinkle
While the rosy vapour, rising
Floats and tinges --floats and tinges
Till they meet the musing eye,
On that silvery waste of sky.