Suddenly there glittered round me,
Naked steel and fiery eyes;
Ruthless hands in fetters bound me
Red with sanguinary dyes;
Heedless of my shrieks, they bore me
To their frightful pirate-bark,

There with slavery before me,

All the world to me was dark.

Boots it not to tell what sorrow

To the Musselman a slave
Woke me to each hated morrow,
Far beyond th' Egean wave,
Twice two years of bondage-weary,
Hopeless years I wore away,

When athwart my path so dreary,
Shot a beam of dawning day.

Every day it broadened, brightened-
Human grew the Paynim's heart

Every day my fetters lightened.

Till, "Fair maid, thou mayst depart!"

On my ear blest yester-morning

Fell with kindly beaming smile.

Ere another glorious dawning

I shall press my native Isle,

THE LOST FOUND.

BY J. KENRICK FISHER.

CHAPTER I.

SOME years ago, while I was engaged in copying the celebrated picture, by Tintoretto, of the Crucifixion, in the school of St. Rocco, in Venice, I formed a chatting acquaintance with an elderly gentleman, and a lady of apparently thirty years, whom I at first took for his daughter, but afterwards supposed to be his wife—such disparities of age being not uncommon in Europe. There were few visitors in this retired quarter, still fewer in this building — though it merits the attention of every lover of art, and seldom visitors at all, even for a few minutes each, in the room which contains this sublime work, which a man of taste would wish to see every day of his life, if he might do so without much inconvenience. This couple seemed to be united by more of true love than is usually expected in marriages de convenance· marriages in which rank and fortune on the gentleman's side are deemed a fair equivalent of youth and beauty on the lady's: and they always came together, to the solitude of

this old palace, into whose silent walls the paintings of Tintoretto had breathed a soul, the soul of art. It seemed to be their favorite haunt; they had caused the guardian of the building to procure them two light chairs, which they took with them from room to room, and sat upon for hours, admiring the works of the great artist.

I was alone in that building; no other artist, at that time, was so anxious to procure mementos of those works as to induce him to undergo the tediousness of obtaining permission to copy there. And these habitual visitors took an interest in the progress of my copy; and frequently, in a manner most agreeable to me, led me into conversations, at first upon the works around us, and then gradually upon other topics. The impression left upon me was, that they were to be esteemed for a rare devotion to art; this was enough to excite my interest, and my desire to become acquainted with them in the formal way of introduction, without which, in that country, among strangers, no satisfactory acquaintance can be made. This desire was satisfied some months afterwards. A gentleman of my acquaintance, known also to them, happened to be conversing with me one day in the Academy of the Fine Arts, when they came in; they saluted us, in passing, and my friend soon after joined them; in a few minutes he returned, accompanied