jealousy and vengeance fired the deep iris of his large stern eyes. For thus it is, that those very objects which, both in themselves and in their natural effects, are the most holy and the most beautiful, produce in the minds of the evil-disposed the very opposite results from those which they were formed to create: thus it is, that every good and fair gift has an equal capacity of good and of evil; so that the one may always be exactly measured by the other. Thus is it with wealth and power, and eloquence and reason, and fancy and wit, and youth and beauty and thus was it with the gift of the Rose Queen. To those who gazed on it with pure minds and gentle hearts it kindled a glow of loving rapture, whilst in the unworthy it awakened the smouldering fires of that hell which already lay slumbering in their breasts.

The third dance, however, at last came to an end; and Sir Eustace, much to her relief, came forward immediately to claim Alethe's hand. "How I wished just now," said he, "that I were twenty years older." The princess said nothing, but she looked as if she thought things very well as they were, and the glancing eye and beaming cheek with which she listened to all that her partner said to her, did not escape Sir Edred as he scowled upon them from a distance. She would indeed have been hard, very hard, to please if she had not been satisfied with her present companion. A commanding form, at once powerful and graceful; a frank and noble expression of countenance; an eye though blue as the southern heaven was bright as the northern star; a voice rich, clear, deep, and eloquent even in its slightest tones; and a smile-oh! such a brilliant, open, chivalrous smile, full of gladness and glory!-all these made Sir Eustace at once the delight of old and young. Maidens intuitively admired and trusted him; and men acknowledged that for truth of heart and strength of arm he was without superior. He, too, remarked the rose, but how different was its influence on him to that which it had exerted over Sir Edred. It seemed actually to inspire him: and as he conversed with ease and grace and eloquence, each succeeding topic afforded him new occasions for expressing those high principles, and noble sentiments, and warm and generous feelings, which tinged every word and influenced every action of his life.

We must, however, leave the ball for the more weighty matter of the supper; merely observing that all present, with the single exception of the knight of Drontheim, enjoyed themselves extremely, especially the female attendants of the princess, who having been (as we before observed) selected on the very opposite principle from that applied to the knights, found no difficulty in obtaining the bravest, and handsomest, and most delightful partners. It would, however, be unfair to these fair girls, did we not mention that even in the midst of the exuberance of their own joy, and the attraction of their own charms, their eyes constantly followed their lovely mistress with pride and devotion. Above all, the Lady Alice watched her with especial attention, so that scarcely a look or a gesture escaped her.

But the supper! Ay, you are hungry after so much dancing, are you not, dear friend? We are; at least mentally: and so were the assembled guests, not mentally, more especially the ugly knights-these hideous heroes felt the most unmistakable symptoms of a good appetite; they were conscious of a craving of the stomach, a tickling of the throat,

a watering of the mouth, and an actually convulsive restlessness about the jaws.

At length the signal was given by the blowing of a roebuck's horn, and the gay assemblage, having formed once more in marching order, proceeded to the banquet-hall in the same manner in which they had entered the ball-room. But the banquet itself! The pen of the nineteenth century is unequal to portray its glories; the mind of the nineteenth century is unable to imagine them. The tables were arranged much after the plan of a college hall, and it just at this moment strikes us that there are other points of similarity between the two exhibitions. The high table was of course raised on a high dais-its burden was goodly to look upon. At the top was a baked urus, at the bottom a roasted elk, in the centre a brace of broiled wild boars, on one side was a leash of boiled sheep, on the other half-a-dozen fried fillets of veal. Before commencing the solids, dishes were handed round of a less important character, and the more impatient guests derived solace for the present and strength for the future by pitching into a fore-quarter of sucking pig, or some such trifle. Then to it they went, and did as much justice to their viands as the guardians of a poor-law union would to beefsteaks and porter, if they had been kept for eight-and-forty hours on "Paupers' Strengthening Diet."

All earthly joys are, however, transitory; even the suppers of our stalwart ancestors came to an end in time. In fact, had they not done so they would still be going on, which they are not; wherefore, &c., as Euclid hath it—Q. E. D. The supper, however, in this case was not of overlong duration, such not being the custom of Alured's court; and the solids having been despatched, and the fluids having gone round twice or thrice, Sir Reginald intimated to the princess that the six minstrels whom he had selected, out of about six score, were in attendance, and craved her audience. These six were to play before the princess in succession, and he who was by her accounted victor, was to have the high honour of celebrating the victor of the tournament, and to receive a golden harp and a bag of gold besants in further reward of his minstrelsy.

And now as their less honoured brethren, who had been playing and singing by relays during the luncheon, ball, and dinner, sat down in silence, the chosen six advanced up the hall and stood on the second step

of the dais.

"It was passing strange," says the diary of the Lady Alice, "to see the different appearances of the minstrels, and the different manner in which they comported themselves. The noble and sturdy German, Arnold of the Brocken, wore an air of quiet ease and sure confidence, though his blue eye kindled as he drew near to our adorable mistress; the Northman, Folko of Sternfeld, scowled around on the company, and seemed to veil his glance rather by supernatural compulsion than in willing homage, when it met the soft eyes of the matchless princess. The Provençal, Orlando of Toulouse, had that mixture of conceit and courtesy which marks those who desire to please and are wont to do so. The Greek Acmæus of Mitylenè, as young and handsome as the Provençal, but more perfect in symmetry of form and feature, seemed rapt in some glorious poetic vision, which did not, however, hinder him from watching eagerly, but gracefully, the looks of the princess-for she was the substance of his vision. The Briton, Lleirwg, of Carnarvon, had a stern, wild air about

him, as though even the joyous festival around, and the peerless charms before him, could not make him forget that he stood amongst the enemies of his race, the kinsmen of those who had enslaved his country. The native of Iernè, Fingal of Tara, an old blind man, with a long white beard, stood leaning against his harp and watching with eager countenance all that passed; the quick changes of expression on his almost inspired face showing how deeply interested he felt in the approaching trial of skill.

The princess looked round upon the assembled minstrels, and with scarcely a moment's hesitation exclaimed,

"Father Fingal, I have heard many praises of thy minstrelsy, which they tell me is prized above all others in that green isle where the streams flow music, and the breezes murmur poetry. Father Fingal, do thou begin."

The king looked proudly pleased at his daughter's words, and added, "The princess has well decided. Do thou begin."

The old man quaffed a cup of alimeth which was handed to him, and, after drawing his hand once or twice across his harp, sang as follows, in a voice the defects of which were amply made up for by the poetic fervour which breathed in every tone:

More than a hundred years have shed
Their wintry snows on Fingal's head,
Whilst each succeeding day has cast
Its shadow o'er the dreamy past,
And failing strength and clouded eye
Tell, clearly tell, that death is nigh.

Yet, till the tyrant's hand hath prest
Its iron weight on Fingal's breast,
Till hand have ceas'd to touch the string,
And heart to beat, and voice to sing,
Still shall his harp unfailing raise
Its sweetest strains in beauty's praise.

'Twas beauty first awoke my lyre,
Thrilling its chords with words of fire,
When in the glowing days of youth,
My heart all love, my soul all truth,
The dark-ey'd Nora rul'd my breast,
And Fingal felt that he was blest.

Alas! her wishes soar'd above
A minstrel's home-a subject's love,
She sought and gain'd an envied throne,
And Fingal wander'd forth alone,
Destin'd through life o'er earth to roam,
And never make one heart his home.

And should I, therefore, rebel prove,
Traitor to Beauty, foe to Love?-
No! Beauty is the minstrel's queen;
And Love, his lord, hath ever been;
And he who dares renounce their rule
I dub him recreant, knave, and fool.

Aye, even the woes, Love's liegemen feel,
Woes which nor change nor time can heal,
Are blessings which I would not give
For all for which the heartless live.
No! Let me still his empire prove,
And cease to live ere cease to love.

Lady! these eyes may never see
The charms all tongues ascribe to thee:
And well perchance; for could he gaze
Upon thy beauty's dazzling blaze,
Too much the light for eye or brain,
And the old man were blind again.

But Fingal's practis'd ear can tell
Enough to make his bosom swell,
For lovely are the lips, I trow,

From which such winning accents flow,

And bright the eyes whose beams are shed
In kindness on the hoary head.

We must take into consideration the old man's voice, manner, and appearance-the reverence which the Teutons of that age showed to the hoar head-and the intense devotion which all of the vast assembly then present felt towards the Princess Alethe, to account for the enthusiastic and at the same time reverential applause with which this song was welcomed, both within and without the banquet-hall. The old man raised to his lips the hand which the princess placed reverently in his as she left the banquet, attended by her female train, and would have probably fallen to the ground-for poets are excitable beings, and too much joy or too much sorrow are equally likely to upset them-had he not been supported by Arnold of the Brocken."

"Look, look!" cried one of the disappointed minstrels to his comrades ; "did you ever see such a marvel-the rising and the setting sun in the same heaven?"

The poor poetaster knew not that genius can best appreciate geniusthat envy belongs to those who are doubtful, not to those who are certain of their position-that the true poet welcomes a kindred soul with more than a brother's love-and that to reverence all that is deserving of reverence, to love all that is deserving of love, and to admire all that is worthy of admiration, is one of the inseparable tokens, the unalienable privileges of the true-born sons of song.

72

ST. VERONICA; OR, THE ORDEAL OF FIRE

WE left Bologna for Milan. As I followed Ethra into the carriage, she said, "I expected my sister Theonoe to join me here, and to accompany me on my journey, for we have some family affairs to arrange with the Marchioness of Ferrini, who is at present in Lombardy."

Ere we had proceeded far, my fair companion threw off all restraint, and talked to me with a familiarity exceeding that of a sister.

"I have now been married some years," said she, "and have had cause to lament that I should have been so much misled by passion as I was, at an age when love is but a childish impulse."

She sighed as she spoke, and looked at me with melting eyes.

"You surprise me," replied I; "when I saw you first at Siena, you were a child no longer, but in the beauty of early youth, and then, if my recollection does not fail me, you, for the first time, saw the Count of Marsino."

"You are right," said Ethra, "but I loved long before then; indeed," she playfully added, "my life, from infancy to the present hour, has been one scene of love."

Pray narrate its incidents to me," replied I; "so charming a history, from such rosy lips, will wonderfully relieve our journey; and above all, begin by telling me whether I have any part in that continuous scene." "I doubt not you have broken many a woman's heart," she rejoined. One pang shot through my conscience at these words, a pang such as might have been caused at that moment by a glance from Giuditta's eyes; but it was rendered momentary by the caressing looks and movements of thra, which, resembling the manner of Giuditta, seemed, with a sort of magic, to heal all wounds hitherto inflicted, whether by love or hatred.

"Of one thing I am sure," remarked I; "it has never been your lot to love and yet remain unloved."

"Deem you so," answered the countess, thoughtfully; "at all events, I am not disappointed; my mind has long been reconciled to what has happened."

"Disappointed!" exclaimed I, with gallantry and feigned surprise. "When a man marries young," answered she, 66 he grows indifferent to the beauty and virtue of a woman.

"Indeed!" exclaimed I, with renewed astonishment; "can such be possible?" But as I spoke I felt convinced that it was true, and experienced pity for the man who, by an untoward fate, should have been reduced to a like indifference. The idea, however, did not long operate on my mind; I felt more inclined to listen to my fair cousin than to

muse.

"When I was but fifteen years old my mother died," pursued the fair one; "from my childhood to that time I had been the betrothed of a cavalier named D'Orsolo, and so precocious was my nature, I passed the