and so; therefore was I obliged to hire a separate house of my own wherein to see my friends, although I lived most with my benefactors. I had besides another motive for this, which was to marry the beautiful young ward of the late Baron de Iskar, whom I conceived to be now left destitute. Her name was Rose Weiland, of Flemish extract, and natural qualities far above common; so we were married, with great feasting and rejoicing, about a month before we left Florence."
It turned out that this lovely Fleming, Rose Weiland, now Lady St Gio, who was thus left destitute, proved herself to have had some good natural qualities. She had helped herself liberally of the robber's store, for she had one casket of jewels alone which her husband admits to have
been worth an earldom. Riches now
flowed on our new baron, for besides
all that he amassed at Florence and
all that his spouse brought him, he
exacted the full of the offered reward
from his benefactors, which amount-
ed to a great sum. He brought his
lady to Lancashire, but she disliked
the country, and they retired to Flan-
ders, and there purchased an estate.
She was living so late as 1736, for
she was visited in the summer of
that year by Lady Helen Douglas,
and the Honourable Mrs Murray, at
her villa on the Seine, above Brussels.
Into her hands she put several cu-
riosities of former days, and among
others her deceased husband's MS.
from which I have extracted these
eventful incidents.
May 15, 1830.
AMBASSADORS FROM CESAR ADDRESS CATO.
"NOBLEST of Romans, we come to save
The pride of Rome from a timeless grave:
Hear the greeting which Cæsar sends-
'Cæsar counts Cato among his friends.”
"Bear back to Cæsar Cato's reply-
Cato's friends are the friends of liberty."
"Cæsar offers thee power, high station, and sway--
Power that all next to Cæsar's himself shall obey.”
"No power of value to Cato can be,
Save the power of keeping his country free."
"Cæsar offers thee wealth-riches we'll bring
That shall rival the stores of the Lydian king."
"Freedom is of a price too high
For all the wealth of Croesus to buy."
"Cæsar offers thee pleasure-the west and east
Shall be traversed for beauty thy view to feast."
"No beauty can equal in Cato's eye
The loveliness of liberty."
"A grander offer of favour we bring;
Some subject kingdom shall call thee king.'
"In Cato's eyes, the freeman's grave
Is grander far than the throne of a slave."
"Ask aught in the power of Cæsar to give :
There's nought he'll refuse if Cato will live."
"Go, bear this answer to Cæsar home-
The boon Cato asks is-THE FREEDOM OF ROME."
Julian. Blest be each grain of sand beneath my feet,
And blest these shells so bright and beautiful,
On which 'twere sin to tread! Pedro, behold'
How like a troop of gay and laughing friends,
Greeting some exiled man on his return,
With eager haste and voice most musical,
Flow the sweet waves of this delightful bay!
Fly not away, ye birds of loveliest plumes!
Calm is the air,-the ocean and the shore
Are calm as calm may be,-and love ye not,
Fair Halcyons! Ocean in his hours of rest!
Well may the Sun in all his glory bathe
Yon stately mount, that in the clear blue sky,
Rock-crested, like an airy citadel,
Spreads gorgeously abroad his olive-groves.
See where yon towers and temples, through the mist
Of the great city, sporting with the light,
Now burn like fire above the brightening woods,
And now,
soft-sinking in the haze so dreamily,
Lie imaged still within my gazing soul !
Pedro! we two have sail'd around the world,
And many a strange and beauteous thing have seen
On continent or isle,-yet saw we not,
Methinks, through that our five years' voyaging,
A paradise like this! But yesternight,
Stretch'd on the deck, I dreamt of this same land,
Bleak, desolate, and wild ;-henceforth, no more
Trust I in foolish dreams.
Nay! then it is good time for men like us,
To live dull landsmen on the sluggish shore;
Seafaring men, who, in our swinging cots,
Sailing along through darksome solitude,
'Mid shoals, sands, rocks, some single fathom deep
Below our rushing keel, yet haply dream,
Even in the shadow of Eternity,
Of all most peaceful in this world,—of bays,
Calm and serene as the untroubled light
Within the crescent moon imparadised,
Where proudly riding at her anchorage,
Our good ship streams her proud emblazonry
High o'er the island-woods,-of verdant lawns,
Where suddenly our white pavilions
Smile to the sea,-and of a glorious shew
Of plumed princes, tall and beautiful,
Marching with green boughs--
* Four or five lines, perhaps, in this composition, are versified from a passage in a prose article.by the same author, published in this Magazine a good many years ago, entitled, "Singular Preservation from Death at Sea.”
The like hath been with wiser men than I.
Yet, Julian, thus to hear the Sailor's creed
Scoff'd at by one himself a mariner,
Did stir the heart within me! 'Tis most true
That dreams descend from heaven!
Julian.
It is most true.
God brought us here-I breathe the gales of heaven.
Here would I wish to live-here wish to die!
I touch yon green cliff with my magic wand,
And lo! exhaling, like a wreath of dew
That girdles the fresh bosom of the morning,
Uprises mine own dwelling from the height;
But whether resting on this earth of ours,
Or on the tender, soft-embracing air,
My soul scarce whispers to its happiness!
Pedro. Shame on this sighing mood! The scene is fair, As needs must be where the great Ocean
Walks monarch-like along his subject shores
In calm or storm. But hast thou lost so soon
All memory of those refulgent Isles
Far in the West, where our delighted crew
(And none more eager, Pedro! than thyself)
Would fain have sojourn'd, and their numerous tents
Pitch'd, ne'er to strike them more? There was the land
Worthy indeed thy blessing, as it stretch'd
Beyond the ken of searching telescope,
Smooth, hard, and shelving gradual to the main,
Till underneath our anchor'd ship it smiled
Sparkling to us, who, from the idle deck,
Hung gazing down! There might your startled eyes
Have worshipped a league-long wreath of shells,
O'er which the billows, in their merry march,
Blush'd crimson as they murmur'd-there, in sooth,
Good cause there was for fond Idolatry,
Where birds, like some celestial fruitage, hung
On every large-leaved bough, or from the waves
Rose meteor-like with softly-burning plumes,
Or on our rigging swung like magic lamps,
Taming our Pendant's lustre, though it shone
With the proud arms of Spain. These olive-groves
Are green and fresh, and breathe a summer-feeling
But in my soul I see a Forest frown,
Beneath whose shadow our top-gallant mast
Shrinks to the mimic tackling of some skiff
By burgher launched on the Venetian seas,
The pride and glory of the gay Regatta!
Julian. Not undelightful, Pedro, is the dream
Of all those fairy Islands, as they lie,
Clustering like stars, amid a heavenly sea,
Each in itself a solitary world
Serene as sleep, where hermit well might build
His bower, nor in that far tranquillity
Hear the faint whisperings of his mortal nature!
Or where the homeless dweller on the deep,
Soul-stunn'd and heart-sick with the endless roll
Of waves, waves, waves, a weary world of waves,
And still his lonely ship, where'er she sail,
The centre of that world of weariness,—
Why, he might leap ashore in ecstasy,
Fast pitch his tent, or build his summer-bower,
Dismantle his proud ship, and fondly swear
For aye to sojourn there! And such a man
Was I! But yon bright spire of burnish'd gold
Gleams o'er my native city, and, ere noon,
I hope to say my prayers upon my knees
Within my father's house!
Pedro.
These gushing tears,
That sobbing voice, and solemn countenance,
And clasped hands hard-press'd convulsively!
My soul is touch'd within me-Yet I feel
More sorrowful than glad thus to behold
My friend in such a trance of happiness.
Thy father's house! No wonder that kind heart
Should weep. Nay, troth, these tears so womanlike
Are follow'd fast by mine; yet in their graves
My father and my mother, side by side,
Slept, ere their orphan child had memory
To keep the dead alive within his soul!
Julian. God love thy tender heart!-To me most dear
My father's silver locks, and may they long
His honour'd temples shade! Yet may a son,
Without offence to filial piety,
Own one sight holier than the holy snow
That crowns his father's head with reverend age.
Then listen to me, Pedro! while I strive
To tell my friend the story of my life,
The reason of these blessed tears, and all
That tearless agony oft witness'd by him;
Whether, when sitting speechless at his side
In our dim cabin, or in horrid mirth
Singing and shouting through the solitude
Of the huge Indian forest. Since the dawn,
The glorious dawn of this refulgent morn,
My spirit burns within me to reveal
Secrets, that tomb-like it so long hath kept,
Not only, Pedro, to thy pitiful heart,
But to that gentle sea, those skies serene,
And those hush'd listening woods. All nature calls
For my confession; and the weight of joy
So presses on my soul, that I must break
With grateful words this universal calm,
Too heavenly to be borne!
Speak-Julian-speak,
And I will listen to thee, like a brother
Who for the first time knows his brother's heart.
Julian. When first I came upon our warlike deck
Thou well remember'st. Chain'd unto the oar,
While you fierce boarders like a whirlwind swept
The shrieking Pirate, all unarm'd I sat
A wretched galley-slave. Three moons before,
Sailing through sunshine in my war-ship's barge,
(Thou must have heard her not inglorious name—
The Salvador,) a Moorish schooner bore
Down on our beam, and nearing, hoisted straight
Her bloody ensign. There was with me on board
A fair and delicate lady, who my name
Three little weeks had borne, my peerless bride.
I saw her lying dead among the oars-I heard
The plunge of her sweet body in the sea!
And some days after, as a fellow slave
Informed me, I woke as from the dead,
Sitting in chains among a ghastly crew,
Each ghastlier than the toiler at his side.
What misery tore my being, God forbid
That I should strive to tell thee-let it pass
With the forgotten clanking of my chains!
I said unto myself that I would live,
Till God in his good mercy should demand
My not unwilling soul; and so I sail'd
Away from Spain, as I believed, for ever;
Though now, sweet Spain! with reverential lips
I kiss thy soil once more!
And was despair
The heart-companion of my Julian,
Even when we stood together on the deck,
Watching the stars that shone conspicuous
Below as up above,—or in the shrouds
Hung near each other, near although unseen,
When storm at midnight laid the straining ship
I' the trough of the mad sea! All-all the crew
At all times happy-Thou at all times curst!
Julian. Aye! many a thousand leagues we sail'd along For days before the wind, our gallant prow
As in a cataract of thundering foam
Buried, or in close contest with the storm,
Even like an eagle to his mountain-cliff
Steering on his broad vans majestical,
Right through the broken hurricane, we bore
The tempest's fury on our slanting sails
Close-reef'd, while high above the naked mast
One solitary ensign through the gloom
Like shivering gleams of lightning danced and play'd.
I thought of nothing but our glorious ship!
Save sometimes when she slacken'd in her course,
Amid the sudden pause a sense confused
Of irremediable misery
Seem'd shaken from the flapping of her sails.
In truth that fever, and the midday-toil
I suffer'd in my slavery, had touch'd,
Most strangely touch'd, my brain; and though I knew,
And wept to know, that some sweet one had died,
Whom I when well most tenderly had loved,
Yet was her name unknown, her place of birth,
Where I had loved her, and where she had died!
Oft, I remember, did I climb the mast,
And gazing on the Ocean, who no bound
Felt to his vastness but the walls of heaven,
'Mid his eternal thunder I forgot
The far-off silence of that thing call'd land,
All human beings but our crew alone;
And as she slowly wafted us along
Through the pure ether, I believed our ship
Not built by human hands, but gliding there
On-on for aye--some product of the sea.
At last, one morning, as I stood alone,
Ne'er thinking on myself, nor aught around,
All on a sudden the thick night of mist
Ascended from my soul-as I have seen
A shroudlike vapour from some mountain-vale
Drawn up to heaven, and a resplendent lake,
With steadfast woods and hanging palaces,
Seeming immortal in their depth of rest.
By heaven! I was most happy, and I blest
Sea, heaven, and ship, and pray'd that she might float
For everlasting o'er those golden waves!
"Hast thou forgot Theresa?" a small voice
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