The tyrant muttered a cry that might Heaven appal: Twist cords around those arms so delicate and fair. Hither had the people drawn, Olindo with the throng. "Sire, by me was removed the image in the shrine; "Those chains are mine --- for me is lit the fire; Forgive the maiden, she is blameless, sire!" 66 Why comest thou? What is it brings thee here? And he chafes the more that she and he To bind the young man with their chains, For the King's wrath two victims claims. Both are fastened to the stake, back turned to back, Face from face away; o'erhead the sky is low'ring black. And now the funeral-pyre is laid, the flames arise, Thus spake he wailing. Sweetly she replied, "Be patient, Olindo; we suffer in God's name, A cry of anguish from the Pagans loudly pealed, Sudden appears, in stately guise, a warrior, So she seems, of semblance high, in strange attire. Draws toward it every eye; Clorinda's device it seems. For she had from childhood felt but idle chains, The small adornments of her sex. From Persia's plains Hither she has come to oppose the Christian host With might and at whatever cost. Eager to see and learn, soon she found Sophronia and Olindo, 'mid the throng, with fagots bound. Clorinda's heart was melted in pity for the twain Stunned by the tale, swift did she decide To o'erthrow their doom, let what will betide. With defiant air She sought the King: "I am Clorinda! Dost know I came; to lift the standard of our faith, nor yield Ready am I to lift thy standard on 'leaguered walls; She ceased. The King replied: "Clorinda, hail! As though of old some far-renowned knight." Then spake the warrior maiden in reply, With courteous thanks for praise so high: “O King, service I would to thee give. It may cost thee dear Yet 'tis all I ask-bestow on me the culprits there. "The Christian took the image, and I plainly see "Up to Mohammed this miracle I joy to trace, "Let, then, Ismeno attempt all that spells can do, Here ceased she, and the King replied: Thus were they freed from death. Olindo's fortune proved And soon their nuptials did the gods delight. THE SHEPHERD'S SONG. TORQUATO TASSO. AFE stands our simple shed, despised our little store; SAFE Despised by others, but so dear to me, That gems and crowns I hold in less esteem; From pride, from avarice, is my spirit free, And mad ambition's visionary dream. My thirst I quench in the pellucid stream, Nor fear lest poison the pure wave pollutes; With flocks my fields, my fields with herbage teem; My garden-plot supplies nutritious roots; And my brown orchard bends with autumn's wealthiest fruits. Few are our wishes, few our wants; man needs But little to preserve the vital spark. These are my sons; they keep the flock that feeds, The goats disport amid the budding brooms ; Now the slim stags bound through the forest dark : The fish glide by, the bees hum round the blooms, And the birds spread to Heaven the splendor of their plumes. Time was (these gray hairs then were golden locks) When other wishes wantoned in my veins; I scorned the simple charge of tending flocks, Long by presumptuous hopes was I beguiled, But when with youth false hope no longer smiled, Then farewell State's proud palaces! Once more To these delightful solitudes I fled; And in their peaceful shades harmonious days have led. UNA AND THE RED CROSS KNIGHT. A EDMUND SPENSER. GENTLE knight was pricking on the plaine, And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, |