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owing his security to the man who had so impression which he had made upon the deeply mortified him.

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assembly. A magnificent collation was now Romilda's share in this mal-accident set out, which afforded him an opportunity obliged her to retire from court: the Prince, of giving a bright example to the male part having won his bets, pursued her no more; of the company, by his unceasing attentions and Victor, ashamed of his attachment to to the ladies. When the repast was conone so heartless, strove to divert his mind cluded, a band of music commenced a popuby new scenes and new amusements. The lar air, and Victor instantly led Ernestine burghers of Dresden, eager to shew their Vanhagen to the dance. The evening high esteem of Colonel Wallenstein, had passed delightfully away; his fair partner prepared for him a magnificent present, was all innocence and simplicity; and, un consisting of the precious manufacture of acquainted with the arts of her sex, took the city, the rich china so highly celebrated no pains to disguise her admiration of the throughout Europe. A deputation waited handsome hussar. What a contrast to upon him to invite him to the house of one || Romilda, and how much more attractive of the principal merchants, where he found was such frank sincerity, than the cold and the chief citizens assembled, together with studied airs of that calculating coquette ! their wives and daughters. Victor lent Wallenstein's style of living was almost apparent attention to the long-winded ora- entirely changed. He went seldom to tions and laboured compliments, delivered court, but amused himself with domestic with considerable difficulty by the civic parties given by the honest burgesses. authorities, whilst his eyes glanced over Ernestine led him to her favourite walks the fair faces of the damsels, who, shrink-round the city; she displayed a charming ing behind their mothers, blushed deeply || taste for the beauties of nature, as they at his regards. There was one who far wandered under the spreading pine-trees exceeded her companions in beauty and which crown the rocky banks of the sparkgrace: her cheeks were suffused with a ling Elbe; and whilst, standing together richer crimson, and her eyes flashed out in the cupola of the Frauenkirche, she brighter beams, when those of the gallant pointed out to him the distant hills Der Colonel rested upon her glowing counte- || Iaechishen Schweitz, and described to him nance. The first ceremonial over, this her own pleasant dairy in that romantic young creature, though evidently embar-region, he thought that he could relinquish rassed by her timidity, advanced a few paces, and having singled out six of the youngest and prettiest of the company, who arranged themselves into a group, motioned them to follow her as she stepped forward, and, with downcast looks and besitating accents, approached the hero of the day. "Alas!" said she, "I have forgotten my speech; but I am directed to tell you, Sir, that the women of Dresden are not ungrateful to the patriot band who saved the city from the horrors of a siege; and, though most unworthy of your acceptance, they entreat that you will accept this vase from their hands. We do not pre-tor was engaged to meet Ernestine at the tend to vie with our fathers and brothers in the gift; but we trust that, as it has been purchased by the product of our industry, exerted for the purpose, you will not disdain so trifling a record of our deep sense of your merits."

Wallenstein made a suitable reply, and his polite gallantry increased the favourable

all the glories of his profession, to lead a pastoral life with so sweet a companion. In fact, the prejudices of aristocracy were melting fast away, and Victor, too honourable to win a maiden's heart and leave her to weep over his desertion, had determined to raise the burgher's daughter to the rank of his wife. The birth-day of the Elector occurred in this month, and was celebrated with great magnificence. There was a masqued ball at court, and a sort of carnival established throughout the city, aN ranks and classes appearing in the streets and public places in fanciful dresses. Vic

house of a friend. After he had paid his respects to his sovereign, disengaging himself as quickly as possible from the brilliant assembly, he hastened to his appointment. The streets were blazing with torches and ringing with minstrelsy; as he passed along, group after group, in quaint disguisings, accosted him with merry speeches, and the

spirit of joy seemed to be abroad. He hurried forward to make his lovely friend a sharer in the universal gaiety, but she was not to be found. Vainly did he search the houses of their mutual acquaintance, all those which were open for the reception of masks he had visited save one-it was Prince Albert's-it was splendidly lighted, and music resounded from within: he hesitated, yet entered. The Prince, superbly dressed, was parading the principal apartment unmasked; a lady, covered with a flowing veil, leaned upon his arm; the height, the air, was that of Ernestine! Victor gazed for a moment, in doubt and dismay; he pulled off his hat and mask for air; and in another moment caught the regards of the veiled female: she uttered a faint shriek—his fears were verified, and, hastening up to her, he exclaimed, "Have you been betrayed into this den of vice, or did you enter it with your own consent ?" Her whole frame shook with the conflict of her feelings-her veil fell aside, and disclosed a face quivering with agitation. Wallenstein grasped his sword; but, clasping her hands together, and rushing forward to prevent the rash design, she said, "Do not hazard your life for one so unworthy-I came here by my own consent." Victor turned away, but he could not leave her without an effort to save her from farther wretchedness and degradation.

bitter mortification, turned the tide of his thoughts. Ernestine's confession cut him to the soul. Should he forfeit his life and honour, for a creature so easily won!

Wallenstein was seen no more in the haunts of the gay; he sickened at the name of pleasure-and devoted the whole of his time to study, seldom appearing in the streets except when his military duties called him abroad, save in the dead of the night, when, secure from interruption, he perambulated the deserted avenues of the city. In one of these nocturnal rambles a shower of rain obliged him to seek shelter under the porch of a church. The dim light of a lamp gleaming faintly upon the pavement, caught the gold setting of a locket which, by some accident, was lying on the ground. Wallenstein listlessly picked up the sparkling ornament, and holding it nearer to the light, discovered it to be the miniature portrait of a young and beautiful woman. Though the features were unknown to him, and consequently could not excite any painful feeling, his first impulse was to throw the bauble away; but, ashamed of so childish a sentiment, he placed it in his bosom, and, the night clearing up, went immediately home. Victor looked very often at the picture: there was a sweet pensive expression in the countenance which sympathized with the present state of his mind; the original was now probably either grown old, or was dead, for he had never seen any one in the least degree resembling her during his sojourn in the city-and the idea pleased him. He might gaze upon the inanimate object before him without danger: those melting eyes were perchance dim, or closed

"Return with me at least to your parents," he cried, "Oh, no! no!" she replied, wrapping up her head in her veil, "never shall I behold either them or you again." All this time the Prince stood silently by with a calm, cold look; his easy indifference roused Wallenstein to desperation; fire flashed from his eyes, and, draw-||in the grave; that ruby lip, shrivelled and ing his sword, he menaced him with a blow; but Ernestine, perceiving the action even through her veil, threw herself into Albert's arms; and Victor, dropping his weapon, rushed out of the palace.

Every feeling of Wallenstein's heart was outraged; his pride and his affection were equally wounded. Scarcely able to restrain the passionate impulse which prompted him to take a deep and speedy revenge upon the base contriver of his wretchedness, he wildly resolved to crush him like a noisome reptile, or hunt him as a beast of prey; but reflection, in bringing even more

pale, could no longer deceive the ear of trusting man. This mute companion, so beautiful and so lifeless, unconsciously soothed the tumult in his breast; he wore the picture next to his heart, and in its contemplation forgot the forms of those treacherous beings by whom he had been so deeply injured.

Passing one night through the most ancient and unfrequented part of the city, a street consisting principally of large buildings formerly tenanted by the nobility, but now falling into decay and converted into magazines and storehouses, he

his protection: his respectful demeanour disarmed her fears; and she retired to an inner chamber, where a sofa invited her to repose, upon his promise that he would keep guard in the street. The night pass

it did not reach so far; and Victor, at the next meeting with his fair incognita, perceiving that she was unwilling to enter more fully into her history, and flattering himself with the idea that he was perfectly indifferent about it, forbore to ask her any questions. His time was, however, devot

observed that, from the high and narrow windows of the only mansion apparently inhabited by a family of the higher order, streams of brilliant light issued, illuminating the pavement and the opposite wall, and brightly contrasting with the dreari-ed quietly away: if any pursuit were made, ness of the surrounding objects. The sound of music came sweetly upon his ear; he paused to catch the air of a favourite composition. He was standing in the deep shadow of square tower which flanked the house, and scarcely perceived a low door under a projecting archway beside him. The withdrawing of a rusty bolt arouseded to arrangements for her especial comhis attention; his eyes glanced involun- fort; and it was by no slight exertion of tarily to the place whence the sound pro- skill and diligence that he continued to ceeded; the door creaked harshly upon its combine convenience with secrecy. He hinges, and a veiled female stole cautiously allowed himself only a few hours' rest in out. Wallenstein retreated a few paces; the middle of the day, in an outer apartthe light from the house fell full upon him; ment, and regularly, throughout every and the lady for such the richness of her night, paced the street up and down begarb indicated her to be-gazed earnestly neath her windows. Their interviews with upon him for the space of a second, then each other were few and short, but each darted forward, and cried, "You look like || seemed equally interested by them. Wala man of honour; pity, and save me from lenstein could not long remain proof against a fate which I dread worse than death." the charms of Luitgarde; and the lady, Victor wrapped his cloak about the sup- deeply touched by the scrupulous delicacy plicant in an instant, and putting her arm of her protector's conduct, evinced the within his, conducted her with speed and most captivating gratitude. The morning safety to his lodgings. A light was burning at length came which freed her from the in the hall, and procuring ready admission tyranny of her guardians; and Wallenby a master-key, he gratified his com- stein, at her request, conducted her to a panion's repeated intreaties for conceal- convent, an asylum which she did not conment by ushering her into a private apart-sider to be sufficiently secure before. The ment unseen by any individual. Agitated and weeping, the veil dropped from her head, and he beheld the original of the miniature! "Do not think ill of me," she cried," and do not abuse the trust which my unhappy fate has obliged me to repose in a stranger. Afford me shelter for three weeks: I have fled from the persecution of my guardians, who would force me into a marriage with a man that I abhor. Their power ends the instant that I become of age; but, in the interim, should they discover my retreat, the law would compel me to return to them; and such is the weight and influence of my detested suitor, that I should be conveyed away to one of his castles, and left to the mercy of the most brutal wretch alive.. I am rich-alas! my wealth has been the cause of infinite misery; but I have not a single friend in the world." Wallenstein assured her of

whole city now rang with the adventures of the young heiress, who had, almost by a miracle, escaped from the machinations of interested relatives, who had sold her to a man she hated. They made a futile attempt to reclaim her, but failed: the intemperate effort of the rejected suitor, who even endeavoured to influence the Elector to an act of the grossest injustice, revealed him to a scoffing crowd-it was Prince Albert, of Saxe Saalfeldt !

Wallenstein, already many fathoms deep in love, almost adored the lovely creature who had afforded him so signal a triumph over his insulting enemy; and, encouraged by the brightest smiles that ever beamed upon an anxious lover, he threw himself at Luitgarde's feet, and wooed and won the only woman in the world who had ever inspired the libertine destroyer of her sex with a serious attachment.

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Who said my shape, and dress, and air,
With nothing earthly could compare,
And call'd me, "fairest of the fair?"
My Lover'

Who, while I bask'd in fortune's ray,
Was like my shadow, ev'ry day;
And still had something kind to say?
My Lover!
But when the sun withdrew its light,
And fortune frown'd, his hopes to blight,
Who treated me with scorn and slight?
My Lover!
Who made me feel the bitt'rest smart
That ever cross'd my youthful heart,
Till reason bade me scorn his art?

My Lover!

And now, from Cupid's fetters free, I smile at thy inconstancy,

And bid a long adieu to thee,

False Lover!

Unlike that flower,

No spring to thee can new bloom impart; Nor minstrel's power

Awake the chords of life in thy heart:

The star of even

Shall brighter burn for its transient gloom; And the light of heaven

Shall bid thee wake from thy lonely tomb. OZANA.

SONG.

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6th June, 1825.

THIRZA.

LONE is thy bower;

Round it sighs the chill evening wind:
Wither'd the flower

Thy snowy hand o'er the arch had twined;
Neglected the lute

Thy taper fingers had swept along;

Its chords are mute

They echo no longer thy plaintive song.
Dim is the star

That oft attracted thy pensive eye;

Its glories are

Veiled in the mists of a wintry sky.

The sound of mirth

Again may gladden thy lonely bower;
The flower of earth

May blossom again in Spring's sweet hour;
Some minstrel's lay'

May wake thy lute from its transient slumbers; Some heart, as gay

As thine, may throb to its thrilling numbers:

Oн, think not my soul's still triumph less,
Though I droop in the worldly wilderness ;—
Oh, deem not its faith less firm than now,
With hope like a gem on my diadem'd brow!
Sometimes o'er my mind's fair glass will glide
Damp breathings of sorrow, of pain, and pride;
Yet there, while bathed in the darkening dew,
Thine image lies ever distinct and true :
And oft as it the heaven beholds
All purpled through transparent folds,
How pure is the pleasure of each young vein,
As it bubbles and laughs through the shadowy
stain!

And think'st thou, when skies look cold and dim,

That they hold no whispering cherubim ?
And when the twilight star is hid,
That it shines not behind some silver lid?
And when the sun-voiced beam bath flown
That it burns not and sings in its sable zone?
My heart and love can change like these--
New-coloured and lit in the hurrying breeze;

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STANZAS TO JESSY.

Ir is not, lady, charms like thine,
Where all are borrow'd, that can move
A heart of simple truth, like mine,
To admiration's thrill of love.
While on thy radiant eyes I gaze,
I'd bow before their magic blue;
But when my own to heav'n I raise,
I see from whence they stole their hue.
Perchance, the deep and crimson dye,

Which on thy cheek so richly glows, Might fan the flame of passion's sigh,

If 'twere not plunder'd from the rose.

Each golden curl upon thy brow

Long since in chains my soul had caught, If every tress I did not know

Had by the silk-worm's skill been wrought.

Thy pouting lip, so soft and red,

Thy flowery breath of fragrant balm,
Would blend a spell so full of dread,
'Twere vain to hope escape from harm.

But, truth, I deem both breath and lip
Were gained from-what? I know not well;
Oh! let me once their treasures sip,
And then, sweet love, I'll guess and tell.
E. R.

THE MAID OF LODI. WHERE yon lorn drooping willows Their branches wave around,

The hapless Maid of Lodi

A last retreat has found. Her eyes were bright like morning, Or sparkling gems of blue, Like magic were her dimples,

Her teeth, the snow-drop's hue.

Her eyes are now like evening,
When gloomy night is nigh;
Her lips, ambrosial roses,
Were doom'd to blush and die.
Ah, hapless Maid of Lodi !

'Tis hard, 'tis hard to prove The pangs that rend the bosom Of one who dies for love.

Ye maidens, in the morning,

When bending flow'rets wave, Strew Spring's ambrosial roses

Upon her lonely grave. The dew within the cowslip

Its glittering tears will shed, And weep, oh Maid of Lodi! O'er thy once lovely head.

SOPHIA.

F.

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