These arrogant words were not uttered arrogantly, but in a tone of the most mournful dejection. Glyndon was enraged, confounded, and yet awed. However, he had a brave English heart within his breast, and he recovered himself quickly. 'Hush!' interrupted Zicci, gently, and with a smile of singular but melancholy sweetness: 'have you earned the right to ask me these questions? The days of torture and persecution are over; and a man may live as he pleases, and talk as it`suits him, without fear of the stake and the rack. Since I can defy persecution, pardon me if I do not succumb to curiosity.' Glyndon blushed, and rose. In spite of his love for Isabel, and his natural terror of such a rival, he felt himself irresistibly drawn towards the very man he had most cause to suspect and dread. It was like the fascination of the basilisk. He held out his hand to Zicci, saying, 'Well, then, if we are to be rivals, our swords must settle our rights: till then I would fain be friends.' 'Friends! Pardon me: I like you too well to give you my friendship. You know not what you ask.' Enigmas again!' 'Signior,' said he, calmly, 'I am not to be duped by these solemn phrases, and these mystical assumptions. Enigmas!' cried Zicci, passionately, 'ay: can you You may have power which I cannot comprehend or dare to solve them? Would you brave all that human emulate, or you may be but a keen impostor.' heart can conceive of peril and of horror, so that at 'Well, sir, your logical position is not ill taken-pro-last you might stand separated from this visible uni ceed.' 'I mean, then,' continued Glyndon, resolutely, though somewhat disconcerted, 'I mean you to understand, that, though I am not to be persuaded or compelled by a stranger to marry Isabel di Pisani, I am not the less determined never tamely to yield her to another.' Zicci looked gravely at the young man, whose sparkling eyes and heightened colour testified the spirit to support his words, and replied-"So bold! well; it becomes you. You have courage then-I thought it. Perhaps it may be put to a sharper test than you now dream of. But take my advice: wait three days, and tell me then if you will marry this young person.' 'But if you love her, why-why"'Why am I anxious that she should wed another:to save her from myself! Listen to me. That girl, humble and uneducated though she be, has in her the seeds of the most lofty qualities and virtues. She can be all to the man she loves-all that man can desire in wife or mistress. Her soul, developed by affection, will elevate your own: it will influence your fortunes, exalt your destiny: you will become a great and a prosperous man. If, on the contrary, she fall to me, I know not what may be her lot; but I know that few can pass the ordeal, and hitherto no woman has survived the struggle.' As Zicci spoke his face became livid, and there was something in his voice that froze the warm blood of his listener. 'What is this mystery which surrounds you?' exclaimed Glyndon, unable to repress his emotion. 'Are you, in truth, different from other men? Have you passed the boundary of lawful knowledge? Are you, as some declare, a sorcerer, or only a verse side by side with me? When you can dare this, and when you are fit to dare it, I may give you my right hand, and call you friend.' 'I could dare every thing and all things for the attainment of super-human wisdom,' said Glyndon; and his countenance was lighted up with wild and intense enthusiasm. Zicci observed him in thoughtful silence. yet' He broke off abruptly; then, speaking aloudGo, Glyndon,' said he: 'in three days we shall meet again.' "Where?' 'Perhaps where you can least anticipate. In any case we shall meet.' CHAPTER VI. Glyndon thought seriously and deeply over all that the mysterious Zicci had said to him relative to Isabel. His imagination was inflamed by the vague and splendid promises that were connected with his marriage with the poor actress. His fears, too, were naturally aroused by the threat that by marriage alone could he save himself from the rivalry of Zicci-Zicci, born to dazzle and command-Zicci, who united to the apparent wealth of a monarch the beauty of a god-Zicci, whose eye seemed to foresee, whose hand to frustrate, every danger. What a rival! and what a foe! But Glyndon's pride, as well as jealousy, was aroused. He was brave comme son epée. Should he shrink from the power or the enmity of a man mortal as himself? And why should Zicci desire him to give his name and station to one of a calling so equivocal? ing of the Dolce far niente; and when that luxury has been known-when you have breathed that atmosphere of faëry land-then you will no longer wonder why the heart ripens with so sudden and wild a power beneath the rosy skies, and amidst the glorious foliage, of the south. Might there not be motives he could not fathom? | charm, believe that you can comprehend all the meanMight not the actress and the Corsican be in league with each other? Might not all this jargon of prophecy and menace be but artifices to dupe him?-the tool, perhaps, of a mountebank and his mistress! mistress! ah, no!-If ever maidenhood wrote its modest characters externally-that pure eye-that noble forehead-that mien and manner, so ingenuous even in their coquetry-their pride-assured him that Isabel was not the base and guilty thing he dared for a moment to suspect her. Lost in a labyrinth of doubts and surmises, Glyndon turned to the practical sense of the sober Merton to assist and enlighten him. As may be well supposed, his friend listened to his account of his interview with Zicci with a half-suppressed and ironical smile: The young actress was seated by the door of her house: overhead, a rude canvass awning sheltered her from the sun: on her lap lay the manuscript of a new part in which she was shortly to appear. By her side was the guitar on which she had been practising the airs that were to ravish the cars of the cognoscenti. But the guitar had been thrown aside in despair: her voice this morning did not obey her will. The manuscript lay unheeded; and the eyes of the actress were fixed on the broad blue deep beyond. In the unwonted negligence of her dress might be traced the abstraction of her mind. Her beautiful hair was gathered up loosely, and partially bandaged by a kerchief, whose 'Excellent! my dear friend. This Zicci is another Appollonius of Tyana; nothing less will satisfy you. What! is it possible that you are the Clarence Glyndon of whose career such glowing hopes are enter-purple colour served to deepen the golden hue of the tained? You the man whose genius has been extolled by all the greybeards? Not a boy turned out from a village school but would laugh you to scorn!-And so, because Signior Zicci tells you that you will be a marvellously great man, if you revolt all your friends, and blight all your prospects, by marrying a Neapolitan actress, you begin already to think of Jupiter! I cannot talk patiently on the subject. the girl alone; that would be the proper plan; else tresses. A stray curl escaped, and fell down the graceful neck. A loose morning robe, girded by a sash, left the breeze, that came ever and anon from the sea, to die upon the bust half disclosed:-and the tiny slipper, that Cinderella might have worn, seemed a world too wide for the tiny foot which it scarcely By covered. It might be the heat of the day that deepenLeted the soft bloom of the cheeks, and gave an unwonted or languor to the large dark eyes. In all the pomp of her stage attire-in all the flush of excitement before the intoxicating lamps-never had Isabel looked so lovely. You talk very sensibly,' interrupted Glyndon, but you distract me. I will go to Isabel's house; I will see her;—I will judge for myself.' By the side of the actress, and filling up the thre "That is certainly the best way to forget her!' said shold, stood Gionetta, with her hands thrust up to the Merton. Glyndon seized his hat and sword, and was gone. CHAPTER VII. elbow in two huge recesses on either side her gown— pockets, indeed, they might be called in courtesy;— such pockets as Beelzebub's grandmother might have shaped for herself,-bottomless pits in miniature. 'But I assure you,' said the nurse, in that sharp, quick, ear-splitting tone in which the old women of the south are more than a match for those of the north, but I assure you, my darling, that there is not a finer cavalier in all Naples, nor a more beautiful, than this Inglese: and I am told that all the Inglesi are much richer than they seem. Though they have no trees in She was seated outside her door-the young actress! The sea, which in that heavenly bay literally seems to sleep in the arms of the shore, bounded the view in front; while, to the right, not far off, rose the dark and tangled crags to which the traveller of to-day is duly brought to gaze on the tomb of Virgil, or compare with the cavern of Pausilippo the archway of High-their country, poor people, and instead of twenty-four gate-hill. There were a few fishermen loitering by the cliffs, on which their nets were hung to dry; and, at a distance, the sound of some rustic pipe (more common at that day than in this,) mingled now and then with the bells of the lazy mules, broke the volup-sic; and a take glass or two of pistoles whenever they tuous silence-the silence of declining noon on the are troubled with the cholic. But you don't hear me! shores of Naples;-never, till you have enjoyed it, Little pupil of my eyes, you don't hear me!' never, till you have felt its enervating, but delicious 'Gionetta, is he not godlike?' they have only twelve hours to the day, yet I hear, cospetto! that they shoe their horses with scudi; and since they cannot (the poor heretics!) turn grapes into wine, for they have no grapes, they turn gold into phy For some thou dost attune the play-mate brook; Dismiss thy Infant-school, good Mistress Starch; That bind with love and duty. Strut and march, THE SICK DREAM. A wintry night:-my casement with the blast And wrathful mutterings ran from cloud to cloud. Who made my after-slumbers calm and blest. HARMONY. O wouldst thou give me Music, let it be O language is not for the Spirits of Air, That sing as they awake. They hide themselves From speech and unclosed eyes-wouldst thou repair To their loved haunts-the woods-the rocky shelvesThey to thy lute, beside the mountain stream, Will come to thee in Music and in Dream. THE SUMMER OF 1838. Ye Summer Winds, ye come upon mine ear And in that quiet hear no more the surge FATHER AND SON. O check not, thoughtless Parent, Childhood's tear; That, while his limbs enlarge with man imprest, THE BROOK-THE WATERS OF CONSOLATION. Ah! well do I remember thee, sweet Brook, That Grief has left no trace-thy banks I tread- THE LOVER'S MOONLIGHT. I saw a Lover-on his upraised brow The Midnight Moon had in sweet token lighted. Blest Creatures ye! for Nature's self doth plot THE CONTRAST. Ungentle Love wakes Love of gentler mood, What else shall soothe the frenzy of the brain? And gave a name out to the winds. The Wood It called the Fiends out of the passing clouds, As they th' uprooted rocks would on me cast, And the dim wood gleamed pale with ghostly shrouds, Then Laura came-she smil'd-the Frenzy pass'd. She kneel'd to me-and laid upon her breast My aching head—and look'd me into rest. day by day. It is like the shadow of twilight, spread-recesses of his breast. He shivered as he stepped ing slowly and solemly round. My hour approaches: into the sunlight, and musingly retraced his steps into a little while and it will be night!' the more populous parts of that liveliest of Italian cities.* As she spoke, Glyndon listened with visible emotion and perturbation. 'Isabel!' he exclaimed, as she ceased, 'your words more than ever enchain me to you. As you feel, I feel. I, too, have been ever haunted with a chill and unearthly foreboding. Amidst the crowds of men I have felt alone. In all my pleasures, my toils, my pursuits, a warning voice has murmured in my ear, "Time has a dark mystery in store for thy manhood.' When you spoke, it was as the voice of my own soul.' Isabel gazed upon him in wonder and fear. Her countenance was as white as marble: and those features, so divine in their rare symmetry, might have served the Greek with a study for the Pythoness, when, from the mystic cavern and the bubbling spring, she first hears the voice of the inspiring God. Gradually the rigour and tension of that wonderful face relaxed-the colour returned, the pulse beat, the heart animated the frame. 'Tell me,' she said, turning partially aside, 'tell me, have you seen, do you know, a stranger in this city? one of whom wild stories are afloat.' "You speak of Zicci: I have seen him! I know him? and you? Ah! he, too, would be my rival!-he, too, would bear thee from me!' 'You err,' said Isabel, hastily, and with a deep sigh; 'he pleads for you: he informed me of your love; he besought me not-not to reject it.' 'Strange being! incomprehensible enigma! why did you name him?' 'Why? ah! I would have asked, whether, when you first saw him, the foreboding, the instinct, of which you spoke came on you more fearfully, more intelligibly than before-whether you felt at once repelled from him, yet attracted towards him-whether you felt (and the actress spoke with hurried animation) that with HIM was connected the secret of your life!' 'All this I felt,' answered Glyndon, in a trembling voice, 'the first time I was in his presence; though all around me was gay;-music, amidst lamp-lit trees, light converse near, and Heaven without a cloud above, my knees knocked together, my hair bristled, and my blood curdled like ice; since then he has divided my thoughts with thee.' No more, no more,' said Isabel, in a stifled tone; "there must be the hand of fate in this; I can speak to you no more now; farewell.' She sprung past him into the house, and closed the door. Glyndon did not dare to follow her, nor, strange as it may seem, was he so inclined. The thought and recollection of that moonlit hour in the gardens,-of the strange address of Zicci, froze up all human passion; Isabel herself, if not forgotten, shrunk back like a shadow into the | I From Blackwood's Magazine. SONNETS BY THE SKETCHER. THOUGHTS. Come, living Thoughts-envelope me around With th' unfelt pavement of your golden way, Sees all is Beauty, and feels all is Love. And, ministering Thoughts, ye come more bright Than wings of Angels glistening in their flight. THE CONCERT. Last eve, a Concert gave me such high pleasure But on a primrose bank, and on the brink Their freshness, lying there in endless leisure. Of a sweet streamlet, whence the pure leaves drink felt the boughs o'ershadow me-and closed Mine eyes-and the quick Spirits that haunt the stream, Each with his lyre upon my lids reposed- THE GLOW-WORM. O Gem, more precious than the thrice-tried ore, (For what rare diamond ere did life enfold?) And jewels that the cavern'd treasuries hold, Thee at her bridal hour the chaste Earth wore, Heaven's Archway spread his mantle, gemm'd with gold When Ether, her proud bridegroom, came, and o'er Of Stars in all their glory manifold— Yet deem'd Earth's bosom still adorned more. They call thee worm, thy love ungently name, Some bold Leander with thy constant flame, Whilst thou, like Hero, lightest to thy nook Whose Hellespont may be this running brook. O let the wise-man-worm his pride abjure, And his own love be half as bright and pure! THE BEST INFANT-SCHOOL. Nature, best Schoolmistress, I love the book Thou biddest some on thy bright pictures look *Erratum in the first Number (Zicci), chapter 1, near and she could not see him;' which crept into the text by the end. Dele the words, 'Her father was ill, dear girl, a mistake of the copyist of the MS. For some thou dost attune the play-mate brook; Dismiss thy Infant-school, good Mistress Starch; That bind with love and duty. Strut and march, THE SICK DREAM. A wintry night:-my casement with the blast And wrathful mutterings ran from cloud to cloud. Who made my after-slumbers calm and blest. HARMONY. O wouldst thou give me Music, let it be Now loud and soft, in indulating motion, O language is not for the Spirits of Air, That sing as they awake. They hide themselves From speech and unclosed eyes-wouldst thou repair To their loved haunts-the woods-the rocky shelvesThey to thy lute, beside the mountain stream, Will come to thee in Music and in Dream. THE SUMMER OF 1838. Ye Summer Winds, ye come upon mine ear O, on green Nature's lap to lay one's head, And in that quiet hear no more the surge FATHER AND SON. O check not, thoughtless Parent, Childhood's tear; That, while his limbs enlarge with man imprest, THE BROOK-THE WATERS OF CONSOLATION. Ah! well do I remember thee, sweet Brook, That Grief has left no trace-thy banks I tread- THE LOVER'S MOONLIGHT. I saw a Lover-on his upraised brow The Midnight Moon had in sweet token lighted. Blest Creatures ye! for Nature's self doth plot THE CONTRAST. Ungentle Love wakes Love of gentler mood, What else shall soothe the frenzy of the brain? And gave a name out to the winds. The Wood It called the Fiends out of the passing clouds, As they th' uprooted rocks would on me cast, And the dim wood gleamed pale with ghostly shrouds, Then Laura came-she smil'd-the Frenzy pass'd. She kneel'd to me-and laid upon her breast My aching head—and look'd me into rest, |