she made her mother the confidant of her sor- | Antwerp lady, who was already on her way to row, and disclosed to her its true origin. The shrewd old lady learned little more by this disclosure than she knew already. But it afforded opportunity to mother and daughter for a full, fair, and free discussion of this delicate affair. Brigitta made her no reproaches on the subject; she believed that what was done could not be undone, and directed all her eloquence to strengthen and encourage the dejected Meta to bear the failure of her hopes with a steadfast mind. With this view she spelled out to her the extremely reasonable moral, a, b, ab; discoursing thus: "My child, thou hast already said a, thou must now say b too; thou hast scorned thy fortune when it sought thee, now thou must submit when it will meet thee no longer. Experience has taught me that the most confident hope is the first to deceive us. Therefore, follow my example; abandon the fair cozener utterly, and thy peace of mind will no longer be disturbed by her. Count not on any improvement of thy fate, and thou wilt grow contented with thy present situation. Honour the spinning-wheel, which supports thee; what are fortune and riches to thee when thou canst do without them?" Close on this stout oration followed a loud humming symphony of snap-reel and spinningwheel, to make up for the time lost in speaking. Mother Brigitta was in truth philosophizing from the heart. After her scheme for the restoration of her former affluence had gone to ruin, she had so simplified the plan of her life that Fate could not perplex it any more. But Meta was still far from this philosophical centre of indifference; and hence this doctrine, consolation, and encouragement affected her quite otherwise than had been intended: the conscientious daughter now looked upon herself as the destroyer of her mother's fair hopes, and suffered from her own mind a thousand reproaches for this fault. Though she had never adopted the maternal scheme of marriage, and had reckoned only upon bread and salt in her future wedlock, yet on hearing of her lover's riches and spreading commerce, her diet-project had directly mounted to six plates; and it delighted her to think, that by her choice she should still realize her good mother's wish, and see her once more planted in her previous abundance. This fair dream now vanished by degrees, as Franz continued silent. To make matters worse, there spread a rumour over all the city that he was furnishing his house in the most splendid fashion for his marriage with a rich Bremen. This Job's-news drove the lovely maiden from her last defence; she passed on the apostate sentence of banishment from her heart, and vowed from that hour never more to think of him; and as she did so, wetted the twining thread with her tears. In a heavy hour she was breaking this vow, and thinking, against her will, of the faithless. lover; for she had just spun off a rock of flax, and there was an old rhyme which had been taught her by her mother for encouragement to diligence: Spin, daughterkin, spin, Thy sweetheart's within!" which she always recollected when her rock was done; and along with it the memory of the deceitful necessarily occurred to her. In this heavy hour a finger rapped with a most dainty patter at the door. Mother Brigitta looked forth: the sweetheart was without. And who could it be? Who else but neighbour Franz from the alley? He had decked himself with a gallant wooing-suit, and his welldressed, thick brown locks shook forth perfume. This stately decoration boded, at all events, something else than flax-dealing. Mother Brigitta started in alarm; she tried to speak, but words failed her. Meta rose in trepidation from her seat, blushed like a purple rose, and was silent. Franz, however, had the power of utterance; to the soft adagio which he had in former days trilled forth to her, he now appended a suitable text, and explained his dumb love in clear words. Thereupon he made solemn application for her to the mother; justifying his proposal by the statement that the preparations in his house had been meant for the reception of a bride, and that this bride was the charming Meta. Franz provided comfortably for old Timbertoc, lived happily with his wife, and found Brigitta the most tolerable mother-in-law that has ever been discovered. WEEP NO MORE. Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, THE LAMENT OF TASSO. BY LORD BYRON. [Torquato Tasso, born at Sorrento, 1544; died at Rome, 25th April, 1595. The author of Jerusalem Delivered, and one of the most celebrated of the Italian poets, was long confined, by order of the Duke Alfonso, in a part of the monastery of St. Anne, designed for lunatics. A traditionary story attributes this step to some extravagancy on the part of the poet, evincing an attachment to the Princess Leonora, the duke's sister, in whose praise he had written some impassioned verses. 1 The confinement is said to have aggravated a constitutional disposition to madness. "At Ferrara," says Lord Byron, in his advertisement to the following poem, "are preserved the original MSS. of Tasso's Jerusalem and of Guarini's Pastor Fido, with letters of Tasso, one from Titian to Ariosto, and the inkstand and chair, the tomb and the house of the latter. But as misfortune has a greater interest with posterity, and little or none for the contemporary, the cell where Tasso was confined in the hospital of St. Anne attracts a more fixed attencion than the residence or the monument of Ariosto.] I. Long years! It tries the thrilling frame to bear, And the mind's canker in its savage mood, Till its unsocial bitterness is gone; Tasso's biographer, the Abate Serassi, has ascertained beyond doubt that the first cause of the poet's imprisonment was his desire to be occasionally or altogether free from servitude at the court of Alfonso. The suspicion of this desire, aggravated by a visit which Tasso made to Rome in 1575, caused the duke to refuse him admission to the court; and none of the many promises which had been given to him were fulfilled. Exasperated by this treatment, Tasso publicly uttered the wildest invectives against the duke and all the house of Este. He was thereupon consigned to prison. The silence of the Princess Leonora is attributed to her fear of the consequences to herself and her lover of any discovery of their passion. Tasso was released in 1586, and died in 1595. Byron wrote The Lament in 1817, after a day's visit to Ferrara. For I have battled with mine agony, II. But this is o'er - my pleasant task is done :- Of my own spirit shall be found resource. I have not sunk, for I had no remorse, Nor cause for such: they called me mad-and why? Oh Leonora wilt not thou reply? I was indeed delirious in my heart To lift my love so lofty as thou art; But still my frenzy was not of the mind: I knew my fault, and feel my punishment Not less because I suffer it unbent. That thou wert beautiful, and I not blind, The wretched are the faithful; 'tis their fate Above me, hark! the long and maniac cry There be some here with worse than frenzy foul, With these and with their victims am I class'd, IV. I have been patient, let me be so yet; I had forgotten half I would forget, But it revives-Oh! would it were my lot To be forgetful as I am forgot! Feel I not wroth with those who bade me dwell Where laughter is not mirth, nor thought the mind, Which echoes Madness in her babbling moods; While all can hear, none heed his neighbour's call- V. Look on a love which knows not to despair, The vivid thought still flashes through my frame, Oh! not dismay'd-but awed, like One above! A something which all softness did surpass- VI. It is no marvel-from my very birth My soul was drunk with love,-which did pervade I found the thing I sought-and that was thee; VII. I loved all solitude-but little thought VIII. Yet do I feel at times my mind decline, IX. I once was quick in feeling-that is o'er; But Thou-when all that Birth and Beauty throws No power in death can tear our names apart, As none in life could rend thee from my heart. Yes, Leonora! it shall be our fate To be entwined for ever-but too late! THE GARDENS OF ARMIDA.1 BY TORQUATO TASSO. Still lakes of silver, streams that murm'ring crept, "Twas magic's spell call'd forth the genial breeze, With half her beauties hid, and half reveal'd A POET'S ROMANCE. [James Sheridan Knowles, born at Cork, Ireland, 1784; died 1st December, 1862. Actor, lecturer, drama tist, novelist, and Baptist minister. It is as a drama tist his fame will live longest. He wrote upwards of twenty plays, of which the best known are:-Virginius (see Library, vol. ii. p. 253); William Tell; The Hunchback: The Love Chase; The Wife, a tale of Mantua; and Love. His novels are: Fortescue: George Lovell: The Rock of Rome; and The Idol Demolished by its own Priest. He contributed largely to the annuals and other periodicals. "His strength lies in home-bred affections," wrote Allan Cunningham; "his Virginius, his Beggar's Daughter, and his Wife of Mantua, all bear evidence of this, and contain scenes of perfect truth and reality, such as no modern dramatist surpasses. He touches the heart and is safe." The following little romance has been evidently suggested by incidents in the life of the poet Tasso.] Bright was the saloon of the ducal palace. It had been a fete-day. At the head of the apartment sat its princely master; around it were distributed in groups the shining company; the buzz of satisfaction filled it. A Frenchman and one of the courtiers held each other in converse. Surprise was painted upon the countenance of the former. "The fairest woman in Padua," he exclaimed, "without a lover!-I mean an accepted one, for all Italy rings with the praises of the lovely Victoria-'Tis very strange! Has she not a heart?" "If she has, signor, it is yet to be found; nor is the search an easy one-at least if we "And yet," resumed the other, "her form and countenance are the very mould of sweetness!" "You read her to admiration, signor," replied the courtier. "Till the age of sixteen she was the soul of frankness and simple bearing; then, however, a mood came on, the fruit of which you see. Upon that face, which used to be nothing but sun, the cloud which then settled has remained for the last three years without moving. Observe the cavalier who approaches her with a basket of fruit. the son of the Duke of Milan, and a candidate for the honour of her hand. Mark, I pray you, how she will receive him:-there are wages for a prince to play the lacquey for!" 66 He is Wages, indeed! Methinks the haughty bow with which she declines his attentions should be sufficient to extinguish his love." "Nay, signor," resumed the courtier, "frost, you know, makes the fire burn brighter." "And yet, if, after all," exclaimed the other, as if a thought had suddenly struck him-" if, after all, that very suitor should be the object of her choice! I have met with as strange a thing. He hath a truly princely presence!" "And a princely heart and mind, signor! with endowments of a corresponding quality. He is every way her match, saving that the lady is not more haughty than the gentleman is affable. The youth who approaches her now is the bearer, I suspect, of a message to her from the duke, with whom I remarked him a moment ago conversing. Observe how she will receive him-as I expected, she neither lifts her eyes nor gives any other notice of recognition. Ha! she rises and approaches her harp; the duke has doubtless desired her to sing. Now shall you hear music, signor! If she freezes you with her looks she will melt you with her voice." A prelude arose from the harp, such as one would imagine a seraph in adoration to awaken. The strain which that prelude introduced was accompanied by the lady in the following verses: "She lived a nun!-no convent wall Had met a kindred one-her whole |