prince, they were struck with horror, and heart and hand failed them.
Theodomir endeavored in vain to rally them; they threw by their weapons
and fled; and they continued to fly, and the enemy to pursue and slay
them, until the darkness of the night. The Moslems then returned, and
plundered the Christian camp, where they found abundant spoil.
STANZAS TO E----.
Where the young mountain river
Springs for the far-off ocean;
Where the fresh leaflets quiver
With a delightful motion;
Oh! thither hie, and see
How Nature's youth doth tell of thee.
Where hang the sweet wild roses,
And the pale lilies drooping;
Where the violet reposes
'Neath young leaves o'er it stooping;
Oh! wander there, and see
How Nature's beauty speaks of thee.
Where the glad brook is bringing
Sweet music never dying;
Where the bright birds are singing,
And gentle winds are sighing;
Oh! thither go with me,
And list to Nature's song of thee.
Where ivy is entwining,
The stern tree's branch down-bending;
Where flowers are e'er combining
Their perfume, heaven-ascending;
Oh! roam thou there, and see
How Nature's love breathes but of thee.
BELISARIUS.
The trumpet's voice had stirred the sky,
And rustling banners waved on high;
The shouts of victory went up,
And wreaths of laurel crowned the cup
That flowed amid the festal halls,
Within the crowded city's walls;
Stern warriors came in long array
To grace the conqueror's pageant day:
Triumphant peeled the clarion's tone
And spears and glancing armor shone,
Mid the dust of thousands sweeping by,
Like meteors in a midnight sky.
They'd left behind their hosts of slain
Upon the far-off battle plain,
And brought the marks of conquest back;
Proud trophies glittered on their track:
Rich armor from the vanquished won,
Bright jewels glancing in the sun;
A captive monarch's golden throne,
And heaps of countless treasure shone;
But prouder, nobler spoils and high,
Adorned that mighty pageantry.
Reluctantly, with lofty form,
Like strong oaks blasted by the storm
But not bowed down, the captives came,
Their dark brows flushed with grief and shame;
And he, their sovereign, king no more,
In mockery the purple wore.
His the proud step, majestic mien,
The lip compressed and look serene
That mark a spirit strong and high,
A soul that smiles on destiny.
As surges breaking on the shore,
Or like the distant torrents roar,
The shouts of victory rolled afar.
And shook the hills, as the victor's car
Gorgeous and bright was borne along
By the swift rush of the gathered throng.
A glorious sight on his haughty way,
With laurel crown, and mail-clad breast,
With waving plume and princely crest,
Was the conqueror on that day.
* * * * *
An old man paced the guarded room,
With quivering lip and brow of gloom,
And his silver hair in the moonlight shone
Like the grayish front of a time-worn stone;
Nor voice, nor sound the still air woke,
Till his burning words the silence broke:
I.
'Where is the shining car
And where the gorgeous train?
Fled as the falling star
That sunk behind the main!
II.
'Where is the victor's crown?
The pageant sweeping past?
Gone with the thistle-down,
Swept by the hurrying blast.
III.
'Where is the trump of Fame
That woke the startled air?
'Tis like my branded name,
And like my dying prayer.
IV.
'I've braved the din and strife
Of many a battle-plain,
And lavished strength and life;
My guerdon is a chain!
V.
'I brought a true heart brave,
A spirit bold and free,
Free as the ocean wave;
My country! unto thee.
VI.
'I had not thought to start
Before thy stinging frown;
Wo for the trusting heart!
Wo for the laurel crown!'
_Shelter Island_. MARY GARDINER.
A VERITABLE GHOST STORY.
'There are more things in heaven and earth
Than are dreamed of in our philosophy.'
Some forty years since, an elderly English gentleman, who had been
successful in his pursuit after wealth in the British metropolis,
determined upon purchasing an estate in the country, upon which he might
retire and enjoy the residue of life in unostentatious ease and quiet. He
was a man of elegant tastes and fond of antiquarian pursuits. This latter
predilection induced him, in his various summer journeyings in England, to
select from among those old inns or taverns which are invariably to be met
with in every ancient borough or market-town, the most respectable one, as
the place at which he would put up; and when 'mine host' gave token of
being a gentleman, his companionship would generally be requested, through
a card by the waiter, bearing the compliments of the guest, with a hope
that it might be convenient for the landlord to favor him with his company
over a bottle of wine. This was the almost invariable plan adopted, when
he was unaccompanied with his 'better half.' It will readily be conceived
that in these tete-a-tete gossipings, a great fund of anecdote and
legendary tales had been gleaned, which were made subservient to the
entertainment of friends when assembled around the social board. It is
from this fund of gossip to which I have so often listened, that I propose
to select one which, owing to my close relationship to the stout
gentleman, has been to me a source of no little interest, even as a
'thrice-told tale.' The incident occurred at the time when he was in
search of the estate to which I have alluded in the commencement of this
sketch.
It was late in the evening, in the spring of the year, when he arrived at
the destined stopping-place for the night, which if I remember rightly was
the ancient borough of St. Albans. Here he selected an inn according to
his usual taste; an old rambling disjointed patch-work piece of
architecture, the gradual accumulation of many preceding generations,
where might be seen rude carvings of grinning nondescript monsters
supporting the projecting stories as they each hung over the side-walk;
large and small casement windows, with square mullions and gothic arches,
and many a gabled roof fronting on the street, where at their junction the
continuous gutters projected in the form of long pipes, which in rainy
weather discharged cataracts of water, deluging the unfortunate pedestrian
who should unwittingly prefer the side-walk to the rough paved road. In
the centre of this pile of buildings was the gate-way, large enough to
admit coaches with outside passengers; and under its ample, shadowy
shelter would be found the entrance to the building itself. On one side
was the door to the tap-room, used by post-boys, servants, and the like
class, while on the opposite side the glazed door led to the coffee-room
and the more respectable apartments. Here Boniface would present himself
whenever a carriage drove up, to give a hearty welcome to his guests. The
interior, in accordance with the outside, was composed of low, spacious
rooms, wainscoated in oaken pannels, blackened with age, but brightly
polished by continued rubbings. The furniture was of a past century; the
floors worm-eaten but of scrupulous cleanliness, their centres covered
with modern or perchance Turkish carpets. The mullioned windows with their
appropriate leaden-lozenged casements, glazed with glass of various shades
of green, were ornamented with curtains, not hung for show but intended to
be used nightly.
Into one of these rooms our elderly gentleman was ceremoniously shown by
the obsequious waiter; and here, after the hearty meal was ended and the
newspaper run through, the evening was spent, as the reader will perhaps
anticipate, in company with 'mine host.' It was spring, as I have before
said; cold and cheerless without, but within a bright blazing fire, and a
table upon which sparkled generous wine, 'that maketh glad the heart of
man,' gave earnest of comfortable quarters. You may fancy the stout
gentleman and his companion honest Boniface, no shadow, each seated in arm
chairs of creditable proportions, whiling away the evening hour with many
a tale; a fragment of one of which we will now just touch upon.
'And you really think the tile which you have dug up from below the
foundation in the cellar, to be of the date of Julius Caesar; and infer
from it that a roof has sheltered this spot for two thousand years? It is
a hallowed thought to reflect upon the crowd of spirits which must hover
over and around us, if we suppose, as some do, that when we leave this
tabernacle of clay, we shall continue to linger in the midst of our old
haunts; and that these spirits are the unseen and unfelt witnesses of our
every act. It may be mere fancy, but I am inclined to think there is more
truth in the thought than cold philosophy is willing to admit.'
'Then, Sir, you are a believer in ghosts?' observed Boniface.
'Why, no; I cannot say truly that I am, though I have oftentimes longed to
make an acquaintance with one. By the way, I should think this building of
nooks and corners was admirably adapted for the carrying out some marvel
of the sort. Pray, is there not some hobgoblin or merry sprite playing his
antics about your premises, my worthy host?'
Hereupon Boniface looked doubtingly, and feeling his way before committing
himself, he at last admitted that 'there was some idle story of the kind,
but for his part, he put no faith in such silly things.'
'Well, of course,' said his guest, 'it must be some particular room that
is thus honored?'
'Well?' was the deferential rejoinder, in a tone denoting a wish to hear
the deduction.
'Then, if it is a bed-chamber, snug and comfortable, do me the favor to
apportion it to me for the night.'
'Most certainly, if you are serious,' rejoined Boniface; 'it shall be made
ready immediately; but I assure you that my patrons seldom give it the
preference.'
Hereupon the bell was rung, and the waiter presenting himself, was
requested to direct the chamber-maid to prepare the large room, and to see
that the bed was well aired, and to tell Boots to take the gentleman's
trunk up, to kindle a fire, and to see that every thing was tidy.
The evening was thus whiled away until the hour of eleven had arrived,
when the great stillness of the house betokened the time for retiring.
Accordingly, the chamber-maid was summoned, and with a candle in each
hand, she led the way up a wide stair-case, graced with twisted bannisters
and of easy ascent, terminating on a long corridor, the floor full of
uncertain undulations, running the entire length of the building. At the
end was a door, which upon opening, discovered a room of large
proportions, with a low ceiling divided into square compartments. Here our
traveller was no sooner installed and left alone, than he locked the door;
then with candle in hand he began to examine each crack and cranny, but
could find nothing suspicious. There were few things in it worthy of note,
excepting a large bed with drawn curtains of dazzling whiteness; a most
ample hearth, on which was blazing a bundle of dry faggots, sending forth
a warm, cheerful light into the room, more powerful than both the candles.
This huge fire-place, with its concomitant ornament, a profusely-carved
mantel-piece of the usual time-stained oak, was at least five feet high,
and more than two feet broad; its ingenious workmanship occupied his
attention, and kept him for some time engaged in curious admiration of its
exquisite quaintness. The other furniture consisted of chairs, a
chest-of-drawers, and a table, all the work of a former age. An easy chair
was placed in the middle of the room, in which the stout gentleman
composed himself luxuriously for a short time. The room however was too
large to be easily warmed, and he soon abandoned it for the bed, but not
before he had raked the remaining brands together and extinguished the
candles. Not feeling at once the influence of the drowsy god, he abandoned
himself to many fanciful speculations. He marvelled why it was that the
concurrence of all ages and nations, enlightened or ignorant, savage or
civilized, should have so uniformly led to the belief in good and evil
spirits wandering at large on the earth, not subject to the laws of
matter, save in the sensation of sight and hearing. The creditable phalanx
of names of distinguished persons who had placed their veracity on the
side of believers, as having themselves been visited by the inhabitants of
the other world, was opposed by his own experience; for although he had
frequently thought he had been so honored, yet upon investigating the
cause, he had invariably found it to be a mere delusion.
It was not long however that he was suffered thus to enjoy himself; for
hearing a slight noise near the fire-place, he turned his head, and saw a
deformed, dwarfish body emerge from the shadowy part of the room, proceed
stealthily toward the fire, over which he rubbed his thin, attenuated
hands, and then placing them under their opposite arms, he hugged himself
in evident comfort. The fire had by this time so far dwindled away as to
be only a handful of smouldering embers, which cast but an exceedingly
feeble and uncertain light, sufficient only to reveal the general outline
of the pigmy spectre. The old gentleman, with strained eyes, attentively
observed his motions, till from very weariness, caused by looking through
a light so dim, he began to doubt whether he saw truly: he reasoned with
himself, but with no satisfactory result; till at last, desirous of
'making assurance doubly sure,' he gently enlarged his look-out in the
slightly-opened curtains in order that he might more attentively observe
the room; but all was darkness, save in the immediate vicinity of the
fire. The removal of the curtain however had made a rustling noise, which
had given the alarm to the spectre-imp, who immediately vanished into the
gloom of the apartment on the side of the fire-place.
This was no sooner observed by the wide-awake old gentleman, than he
jumped out of bed, resolved to give chase; but although stout gentlemen
are generally no-wise active, not a second had elapsed before he reached
the hearth, and scattering the embers in order to obtain more light, he
looked carefully around, but no trace of the phantom could be seen. A few
seconds more, and one of the candles was lighted, when the room was again
subjected to a more rigid scrutiny; but all to no purpose; for the door
remained locked, and the closet-doors were equally secure; nothing was
under the bed, nor behind the table; the easy-chair could afford no
shelter; in the front of every lower tier of pannels was some article of
furniture, which effectually prevented their being used suddenly; beside,
how could the furniture be reaedjusted? The upper ones were too high to be
at all likely to afford the means of such quick concealment. Hence he was
completely mystified, amazed, perplexed. His mental powers were in a
whirl; until at length he became perfectly bewildered, and concluded that
he had been dreaming, or had been taking a short trot on a night-mare;
and with this latter idea he returned, shivering like an ague, to his cold
bed. The candle was now suffered to burn, and pillowing his head high, so
as to see all around, the curtains having been previously withdrawn, he
determined to keep vigilant watch. At length becoming composed and
comfortably warm, he distinctly recalled the whole train of thought which
had preceded the appearance of the strange phantom. Finally, he concluded
that if it were all a dream, an illusion, never was a dream or an illusion
so like reality. He must from henceforth doubt the evidence of his senses.
Thus he reasoned and doubted, doubted and reasoned, until the candle's
light and all around had faded into dimness. Slumber gradually usurped its
sway, and he slept till late next morning. On awaking, the whole affair
was too vividly remembered, for him to settle down into a belief that he
had dreamed. He was determined to satisfy himself. It was not long before
his feet were in his slippers; and throwing on his dressing-gown, he went
the round of another and still another examination, with no more
satisfactory result than before; until at last, tired with conjecture, he
dismissed it from his mind, and completed his toilet.
At the breakfast-table, he simply remarked, in reply to the inquiry if he
had slept well, that he had dreamed the room was haunted by a dwarfish
ghost, but he pretended to believe that it was only a dream.
'There!' rejoined the auditor; '_others_ have dreamed the same thing!'
The discussion of the creature-comforts on the table was too interesting
to permit a discussion of discomforts, and inquiry was silenced.
The morning sun was shining brightly, tempting the healthful to enjoy his
cheerful beams. It was not long therefore before our traveller was seen
taking the direction to the old abbey-church. The sight of such ancient
buildings was always keenly relished by him, by reason of his antiquarian
tastes; but in this instance, it led to the clearing up of the last
night's mystery; for in his rambles around this immense pile of
architecture, he literally 'stumbled upon' an old friend, who was
connected with the parish affairs, and was consequently enabled to give
much interest to his descriptions of the place. The last night's events
were of course not forgotten; in fact it was all circumstantially
detailed, even to a minute description of the dwarf.
'Well, well,' was the reply, 'I think I can show you the living facsimile
of your fancied dream; the only thing which puzzles me is to account for
his entrance to your chamber. Let us step into the house adjoining the
inn, and you shall judge for yourself.'
They accordingly adjourned to the place indicated; and there the very imp
himself was actually felt and handled! It required some coaxing, not
unmixed with threats, before he could be prevailed upon to unfold the
secrets of his prison-house, but they were finally extorted. It seemed,
that up stairs, on a level with the haunted chamber, was a closet,
immediately back of the fire-place with the carved oaken mantelpiece, once
side of which, it will be remembered, was at least two feet wide; and its
curious carvings were so adroitly made as to conceal the cracks of that
part which opened as a door: this, if even left ajar, would still be in
shadow from the fire on the hearth, and consequently an instant of time
was only necessary for the person near by to make his escape, and to
effectually conceal the mode by which it was accomplished. The brick jam
was of course hollow, and led to the back of the closet in the next house;
which, being pannelled all around, and situated against a solid wall, as
was supposed, had eluded discovery after the builders had passed away. How
this misshapen piece of humanity had re-discovered it, I never knew; but I
fancy that, accidentally being in the closet at the time when there had
been a noise made in the fire-place, either from kindling a fire or
cleaning it; and hearing this noise distinctly, might have suggested to
him to try the back; which, opening inside of the secret passage, might
have been forced from its spring-catch; while the holes in the carved work
of the mantel enabled him to see if any one was in the room; and thus
prevent an intrusion which would lead to his detection.
G. R. V.
REVES ET SOUVENIRS.
I.
I remember roaming lonely by the mournful forest streams,
The loveliness and melody of childhood's happy dreams;
Pale flowers, the vermeil-tinted, lightly fanned by vernal breeze,
Whose fitful breath went sighingly among the solemn trees;
Sunny streamlets, gushing clearly in their fresh and tameless glee,
Sparkling onward, ever onward, toward a golden summer sea.
Fairy isles of green were sleeping on its softly-heaving breast,
Where the chime of waves low rippling forever lulled to rest.
The slanting sunbeams wandered through each quiet vale and dell,
Shaded glen, and gray old cavern, where the foamy cascade fell;
And birds, the starry-wing'd, flitting through the rich perfume,
Filled with their gladsome minstrelsy the depths of leafy gloom.
II.
I remember, I remember, in my musings sad and lone,
The beauty and the brightness, that have vanished, and are gone,
Rosy clouds at eve reposing in the crimson-curtained west,
Mocking with their tranquil splendor the human heart's unrest.
They are gliding through my visions, as they used to do of yore,
Yet the gentle thoughts they wakened, shall _they_ come back no more?
Oh! many an hour I lingered to watch their gorgeous dyes
In soft and shadowy outlines against the purple skies;
Through their regal halls, air-woven, the parting radiance streamed,
Ever varying like the opal's hue: and often have I deemed
They were come with tender message, in the holy hush of even,
From the Loved of years departed, spirit-guardians in Heaven!
III.
To my memory come back darkly in the stilly midnight hour,
Dim and faded now, the pictures of Life's early glow and power,
When the world was arched with halos of hopes unmixed with fears,
And I marvelled they should tell me but of sorrowing and tears!
When my spirit loved to revel in its palaces of dreams,
Lit with lightning-flash of fancy, rosy bloom and starry gleams;
Listening to the choral harmonies that filled each lofty dome,
Like the clear and liquid music in the Nereid's azure home.
And it looked from its proud towers on the Future's magic scene,
Till the Present grew all gladsome with the brightness of its sheen;
Far off-notes of triumph swelling, floated up from years to come,
Silver blast of clarion blending with the roll of stormy drum!
IV.
I remember, I remember, in my vigils cold and lone,
Brilliant reveries, burning fantasies, forever fled and gone!
Stately visions passed before me in the mystic realms of Mind,
Shapes of glory lightly wafted on the balmy summer wind;
Forms of pale and pensive loveliness, with eyes like pensile stars,
Such as never yet were beaming 'mid this world's discordant jars.
And their whispers wild, unearthly, unutterable, fell
like a harp-string's dying echo, or a fair young spirit's knell,
On my soul amid the shadows of my native forest trees,
Rustling melancholy, lowly, in the wailing of the breeze,
Till, unknowing pain or agony, I've wept such blissful tears
As shall never, never flow again 'mid darker later years!
V.
I am dreaming, I am dreaming of the bright ones that are gone,
The gifted and the beautiful, from Time's sad wasting flown,
Of those beings pure and gentle, like the passing glow of even,
Sent to teach us of a better, higher heritage in Heaven!
Sweet they were as first wild flowers that herald coming spring,
Or a mellow gleam of sunset through the storm-cloud's raven wing.
Fragile as that opening flower, fleeting as that golden ray,
Like the snow-wreath of the morning, full soon they fled away!
And fit it is it should be so; their mission here was brief
'Mid the blighting and the bitterness of Earth's unquiet grief;
So their hands were meekly folded, and closed their dreamful eyes,
And they passed in stainless innocence to dwell beyond the skies!
VI.
I am dreaming, I am dreaming of the lordly minds of old,
Whose 'winged-words' of power had once like glorious music rolled;
Lofty intellects that kindled as a far-off beacon flame,
Sending down the stream of ages the light of deathless fame;
Bursting through the rusty shackles of dark and spectral fears,
Leaving Freedom as a legacy to men of coming years.
And I've read in hoary records solemn story of the dead,
The mighty, the immortal, with their souls' vast treasures fled.
The piercing eyes of Genius, lit with unearthly fire,
Seemed to thrill me as I listened to his wild and burning lyre;
And their spell was on my spirit in the starry cope above,
In the gush of morning sunlight, and the fervent glance of love.
VII.
I am lonely, I am lonely! In the palace of my soul,
As I walk its lofty corridors, I read a mystic scroll,
And it seemed a fearful warning, yet I knew not whence it came,
Writ in wild and wondrous characters of rosy-colored flame;
And a deep voice murmured: 'Destiny, that wrought thy web of life,
Hath inwoven fierce unrest, brilliant dreams, and fiery strife.
And this solemn spell shall bind thee, be thy shrinking what it may,
Strength, and Faith, and earnest Suffering to thy latest earthly day!'
Ever since a dusky Presence seemeth phantom-like to brood,
Dim and shadowy and tearful, o'er my haunted solitude;
And a wind-harp waileth lowly 'mid the swell of joyous song,
Breathing from the lips of beauty o'er the listening festal throng.