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Ay, weep the dear ones whom you part,
I could not prize a loveless heart,
And thou art fairer in thy tears,
Thy sad regrets and gentle fears,
Than when the smiles of gladness break
In beauty on thy blushing cheek.
You mourn the land you leave behind,
In mine a lovely home thoul't find,
Where every lip and heart of pride,
Shall own thee fairest, my sweet bride!"

In truth it was a princely home,
Those marble halls-that lofty dome,
The passing richness of each room,
Gorgeous with work of Persia's loom,
All made that noble dwelling seem
The fabric of some lovely dream.
Below lay terraced garden bowers,
(A very wilderness of flowers.)
And round the castle's towering pride,
The cultured lands spread far and wide.
How lovely each sequestered vale
That smiled around-each wooded dale
And breezy upland, where the deer
Went bounding by the river clear
That wound its silvery course away
By velvet lawn and mountain gray.
Yet that fair scene its charms displays
In vain to its sad mistress' gaze,
As leaning near the lattice high,
She looks upon the evening sky,
With aching heart and vacant eye.
Never were braids of raven hair
Parted o'er brow more purely fair;
So clear in its transparent hue,

You saw each blue vein wander through.
And beautiful the pensive grace,
The dearest charm of that sweet face,
Where the pale lip and paler cheek
A tale of silent sorrow speak.
And gushing tears unbidden rise
In the pure depths of those dark eyes.
Ah! 'tis most sad to shed such tears,
While yet the weeper's young in years,
Still young--yet what an age is told
Since first the heart in grief grew old!
What may that lady's musings be?
Of sunny eves-the murmuring sea-
Of whisperings which the soft wind made
Amid the fragant myrtle shade,
And the fresh fall of dewy showers
On beds of springtime's earliest flowers.
"Alas!" she sighed, "my blessed isle,
Dost thou still wear as bright a smile
As when Zurelli's light foot prest
With bounding step thy verdant breast?
And are thy cool delicious bowers
As gay with thousand-tinted flowers
As when amid the grateful shade,
A happy child I blithely played?
Yes-and the richly-plumaged bird
Still in the acacia-grove is heard,
And still my diamond-eyed gazelle
As wildly treads its native dell,
As gladly snuffs the mountain-breeze,
And browses on the almond trees,
That ope their silver buds as fair
As ever on the whispering air.
And still my little caique's sail
Flaunts idly in the fragant gale,
The while the sparkling waves below,
As brightly in the sunbeams glow,
And gem with glittering spray the oar,
Zurelli's hand shall guide no more.

At jocund evening's peaceful hour

Sounds the low lute from glen and bower,
And still with darkly-braided hair
Throng to the dance the maidens fair;
But what is she-once happiest there?

A lonely and a loveless thing,

Round whose sad heart these memories cling
With blighting clasp and deadly sting!
Mine is the dark despairing heart
From light and hope for aye apart,
Mine is the wild and wasting pain
That cannot be at rest again,

For I have loved and found it vain!
And yet, how could I deem his pride
Would brook that I, his peasant bride
Should be the gaze of scornful eyes
The theme of insolent surprise-
The mocked, perchance, of every voice,
Nor blush to own his hasty choice.
But he did love me - it may be
This wasting change began in me-
Mayhap when my De Courcy came
From tournay or from field of fame
To tarry by my side a while,
Less bright he found Zurelli's smile-
It may be that my tear-dimmed eye
Met his, with cold unkind reply;
And thus, perchance, each saddened look
Seemed to my lord a mute rebuke.
Of late within the banquet-hall,
'Mid sounds of mirth and festival,

Where pealed the laugh from pleasure's throng,
And flowed the wine-cup and the song,
Methought at times his gentle gaze
Turned towards me as in happier days.
I felt his eye upon me dwell,

I felt my heart with triumph swell,
For many a noble dame was there
With coronet and jewelled hair ;
And many a high-born graceful girl,
With ermined robe and clasp of pearl,
And diadem and princely plume
Moved lightly round the glittering room,
While eyes that made the lamps seem dim,
Were showering all their beams on him.
And yet, 'mid all that beauty's blaze
Mine was the form could win his gaze!
Then o'er his soul some change would come
To shade his brow with sudden gloom;
Anon he'd join the dance and song,
And speed the light-winged jest along,
And smile with every lady fair
As though he was the happiest there.
Mine be the anguish now to bear
The bitterness of deep despair;
Still must I love him-still alone
Weep the bright hours for ever gone-
Still must his name for ever be
A treasure dear to memory,
'Mid all this wreck of happiness
I could not bear to love him less!

Yet there is one, who even now
Would fondly kiss my faded brow,
And lay this aching head to rest
With soothing kindness on her breast-
Does not each hour, each moment prove
That change will mark all other love?
Passion with youth and charms departs,
Time steals the truth from other hearts.
All else is mutable below,

A mother's love no change can know!
Oh for one echo of her voice
To bid my drooping soul rejoice-
Oh for my father's fervent kiss,
Earth's purest holiest caress,

That fell upon my brow at even
Like to a blessing sent from Heaven."

She paused-there was no living sound
To break the utter silence round,
Save the cool cascade's tinkling flow
That played amid the flowers below,
And twilight darkened calm and still,
O'er voiceless glen and lonely hill.

For many a day unstrung and mute
Had lain that fair girl's favorite lute,
But now her snowy hand she flings
Idly across those glittering strings.
'Twas memory's music! How that tone
Brought thoughts of honrs for ever gone-
Ah! wherefore can she only raise

The well-known song of others days?
Tears gush anew at that sweet lay,
She turns, and casts the lute away.
Alas, she sighed, how heavily

The long, long day has wearied by!
Its lonely hours at last are gone,
And night with solemn step comes on,
But not to me the inorning light
Brings joy, or calm repose the night!
My aching eyes gaze sadly round
On gilded roof, and marble ground,
While shuddering at the deepening gloom
I wander through each stately room,
And start as on the mirrored walls
My shadowy image dimly falls.
Still faster fades the evening light-
Oh will De Courcy come to night!"

But hark to the impatient fall

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Of footsteps through the echoing hall.
'My first, best loved," a low voice cried,
Her lord kneels by Zurelli's side!
He parted back her clustering hair,
Gazed on that face so passing fair,
And wildly kissed her dewy cheek,
"Zurelli, dearest, loveliest, speak!
If I was ever loved by thee,

Oh, listen now, and pardon me-
Let not De Courcy sue in vain,
To see Zurelli smile again!"
An idle task I ween 'twould be
To trace that truant's history:
Too often has the tale been told,

Of broken vows and hearts grown cold.

Sadly e spoke-Zurelli heard,
And woman's pride within her stirred.
She turned away her tear-dimmed face,
And sought to shun his warm embrace.
Then as the idol of past days
Rose to her faithful memory's gaze,
And as upon her softened soul
Those pleading accents sweetly stole,
She hid her brow upon his breast,
And felt that she again was blest!

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And listened as the tinkling bells
Chimed blithely from the pasture dells.
While from the Ilex grove was heard
The song of many a bright-winged bird.
Sadly De Courcy leaned apart―
Remorse was busy at his heart!
He thought of that fair bridal hour
When from her lowly cottage bower
With all a lover's rapturous pride
He bore his newly-plighted bride-
Ah, ill had he her trust repaid,
By blighted hopes and faith betrayed!
He did not move, he dared not speak-
He watched her burning lip and cheek;
He saw how wildly her dark eye
Flashed as she fixed it on the sky,
He shuddered at its brilliancy,
As looked she on the evening ray,
And gazed her very soul away.

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My own Ionia! I have seen Once more thy hills of grateful green, Have seen thy sky's unrivalled hue Of golden glow, and cloudless blue; How have I pined to look again On each loved path, and mossy glen; Ply, boatmen, ply the rapid oar, Oh, let me touch my blessed shoreYet, 'tis too late-Life's silver cord Is loosed, and now my heart's adored" (Gently she turned towards her lord, And whispered with a seraph's smile, "Lay me at rest in mine own isle." He clasped her in his wild embrace, He gazed upon her changing face, And kissed in agony her browOh never seemed she dear as now! While closer to his breast she clung And blest him in her native tongue; Once, and but once, her waning eye Turned to her loved Ionian sky, Then fixed upon the face of him Who o'er her bent-that gaze grew dim, A smile upon her pale lips shone, "De Courcy-Mother," was she gone? They bent to catch another breath, And started-for they looked on Death!

DUKE OF SUSSEX AND THE BIBLE.-The Duke of Sussex was a great collector of Bibles. Few men were more diligent and ardent students of the sacred volume than his Royal Highuess, a considerable portion of every day being set apart for its persual. His attainment in biblical criticism was very considerable. The Rev. Dr. Raffles, at the opening of the new Independent College at Withington, near Manchester, last Wednesday, stated that 30 years ago he waited upon his Royal Highness at Kensington Palace. "Did you ever meet with Bishop Clayton on the Hebrew Text, Mr. Raffles?" asked his Royal Highness. "I am acquainted with Bishop Clayton on Hebrew Chronology," said the doctor. Ay, ay," rejoined the Duke of Sussex, "but that is not what I mean. The book I mention is a thin quarto, so rare that I borrowed it of a friend, and so valuable that I-(forgot to return it, we thought Doctor Raffles was about to represent his Royal Highness as saying; but no, and let book collectors take a leaf out of his Royal Highness's book,-and so valuable that I copied it with my own hand." -Col. Gaz.

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DISCLOSURES, we confess, we have no great fancy for-" revelations" are to us not, only offensive, but dull; and with if possible a more decided distaste, we repudiate the prolix apologies of a perfunct official, who seeks, by throwing open the ledgers of his iniquitous craft, to beget an interest in deceit, chicanery, and espionage, because of its ingenuity. All this we not only dislike, but unhesitatingly condemn; and it is only where, in the course of the tedious "showing up," the author comes involuntarily to subjects having an interest in themselves distinct from his interferene with them, that we are glad to accept the information, though with the drawback of a muddy medium, and in availing ourselves of it shut our eyes to the way we have come at it.

There is a peculiar taste in the French nation for the morbid scrutiny we have politics and the social system, but to robeen describing, extending not only to mance, poetry-we had almost said religion. This craving for unnatural stimulus leads them to love the monstrosities of nature, and the evisceration of the human economy; and they are ever on the gape, like a shark under a ship, to swallow whatever is loathingly rejected by the above-board appetites of the healthy portion of mankind. The existence of this diseased propensity has, of course, the tendency to draw forth what will feed it, and accordingly in France, and in France alone, are to be found a class of works which have attained a certain degree of popularity, while they pander to such a taste. The book before us, we venture to say, would never have been tolerated in England, on this and on many other accounts. It humiliates the people it comes amongst, by exhibiting how they have been the objects of surveillance, like the lunatic at half liberty, whose keeper dodges him through the streets; it halt reveals the dia

While we thus strongly and unhesitatingly give this opinion, we do not mean to deny that to certain persons and parties the mond-cut-diamond system on which politics statistics of crime and infamy may be both and parties, ministers and governments, profitable and interesting. Truth, under placemen and particuliers, have existed from any circumstances, is worth gathering up; the last revolution; and it displays a deand if the object of the search be fair and gree of overwhelming egotism, which even proper, we have no right to object to in the fatherland of vanity we scarcely unthe opening of the sewers of society, derstand being endured by the public for a though every right to remove ourselves moment. Three-fourths of the prolix as far as possible from beholding the dis- memoirs are a refutation, on the part of gusting investigation. It is the interfer- their author, of various attacks principally ence of mere curiosity on such occasions newspaper ones, upon him and his adminwe denounce just as we disapprove of the istration; entering into tedious details of taste for revolting studies, where it only transactions, the greater portion of which evinces a natural, or perhaps we should can be of no interest but to the parties consay diseased, appetite for the horrible.cerned, and exhibiting at length folios of Anatomy, for instance, in the pursuit of newspaper scurrility, of which we know surgical investigation, is a noble and im- not which, the style or the matter, are the portant study. We are ready to admit more contemptible. Let us, however, fulthe frequenter of the dissecting-room not fil our promise, and cull from this wilderonly to toleration but approval, when the ness the few grains that chance, not culti loathsome apartment forms the porch, if vation, has scattered over it. we may so call it, to the sick chamberthe school in which the practitioner makes himself acquainted with the means of relieving human suffering. But an amateur turn for the dead subject we confess we shudder at, on the score of the natural antipathies and natural predilections of mankind; and are always glad to see it a struggle, even in the most charitable and philanthropic person, to come in contact with what is wisely left by the great Manager behind the scenes of nature and ordinary observation.

M. Gisquet informs us that he was born at Vezin, in the department of the Moselle, on the 14th of July, 1792, of an obscure and indigent family. His father was a custom-house officer; and although he tells us that his education was at first confined to the inculcation of patriotism, and a love of honor and probity, we may well suppose that he imbibed, along with these, some small share of the shrewdness and cunning which are generally engendered by such an employment as his father's. At an early age he was removed to Paris to fill the

situation of copying clerk in the great banking house of MM. Périer Fréres, at the head of which was the famous Casimir Périer.

One Sunday morning the future minister, finding the young clerk in his bureau, thought he would ask him a question or two relative to the books of the establish ment and the accounts in them. The following conversation ensued:

as they had been tested in the furnace of revolution, or rather a permission to men to remain where they were found deposited on the subsiding of the popular flood, so that they might embank, as it were, the stream, by the turbulence of which they had been cast up from the bottom of society. Such is, certainly, one of the advantages of revolution, an advantage which must be relinquished in quiet times, when so little opportunity occurs of forming a judgment of the qualifications of individuals before trying the often fatal experiment by practice.

"M. Gisquet,' said Périer, 'how do we stand with M. A.? Reply-He owes us 35,000 francs, of which 15,000 are payable the 28th instant, 10,000 the 29th, and 10,000 on the 16th While charges of cavalry were sweeping of next month.'-' And M. B., what is the state backward and forward, in alternate rush and of his account?'-' He has made use of the full repulse before the door, and amidst the din amount of his credit; he owes us 150,000 francs, of musketry, the twelve commissaires apof which 50,000 will be payable on the 10th November, 50,000 the 25th of the same month, and pointed to organize the rebellion, or "re50.000 the 20th December.And M. C?sistance," as as it was cleverly termed, His debt amounts to 90,000 francs; but he has through the different arrondissements of placed such and such goods in our hands as so the city, were assembled at the house of M. much value, which reduces our balance to Gassicourt. Of these M. Gisquet was one 58,000 francs. The remaining 90,000 are com- of the most active. His part in the busiposed of our acceptances divided thus:-24,000 francs on the 5th of November, 16,000 on the ness is thus described by the author of Deux Ans de Regne:

"La nuit du 27 au 28 (Juillet, 1830) et la

ricades, à rassembler des armes, à organizer
des points de resistance-M. Audry de Puyra-
veau et M. Gisquet secondèrent le mouvment
de tout leur pouvoir. M. Gisquet rassembla
dans sa maison, rue Bleu, de la poudre et des
armes, et sa maison fut, pendant les journées de
28 et 29, le centre de réunion de tous les patri-
otes, qui, dejà dès le 28, avaient élevés les bar-
ricades de la rue Cadet."
p. 66.

18th, 20,000 on the 14th of December, 15,000 on the 23d, and 15,000 on the 5th of January.' The result of this and other such inter-journée du 28 furent consacrées à faire des barviews was, that the banker became sensible of the extent of the clerk's abilities, and the value of his services, and took him by degrees into more intimate connexion, which ended in a partnership that was only dissolved when Gisquet was sufficiently advanced to set up for himself. This occurred in 1825. Meantime Gisquet had proved himself too shrewd a man of busi- Our author contrives, in spite of a conness not to be had recourse to in more im- stantly repeated disavowal of such an obportant matters; and his continued inti-ject, to involve in his disclosures the names macy with Casimir Périer led him naturally of many who, it is plain, must be startled to a participation in the continued po- at this late publicity given to transactions litical plotting which, in the ten years pre- then performed, if not under the veil of ceding 1830, prepared France for the event night, in the smoke of national convulsion; which then apparently so unexpectedly re- and no doubt an additional relish is given. volutionized her. We find him at the close to the narrative amongst a people who see of that period, one of the most confidential where the relation rips up old sores, or of the conspirators. At his house took opens new ones. He is very ready with place most of the conclave assemblies names; he "withholds nothing," and unwhich during the "three days" usurped der the plea of candor, dexterously hits. the functions, if not the name, of the gov- here and there, as perhaps private pique or erning council of the nation; and during official disappointment may urge the blow. that momentous period were displayed We repeat our abhorrence of "revelations," those peculiar talents which, with a ques- and oh, what cannot a prefect of police tionable distinction, pointed him out for reveal! the post afterwards assigned to him, that of prefect of police. There was, indeed, we must admit, considerable tact displayed in the choice of public men at that time, as affairs subsided into order again-a reference in making appointments to the characters and capabilities of the appointed,

Gisquet soon became charged with a mission to England to procure firearms for the national guard, the French manufacturers having been unable to attempt a supply in sufficient quantity to meet the immediate demand of the government. The execution of this mission has been

ever since the watch-word of attack against as the statements are ex-parte ones, they Gisquet. Fusils-Gisquet is the name for are made sufficiently plausible to suit the all that is execrable in artillery, and all purpose; and we may suppose, for the that is flagrant in state-jobbing; and ac- nonce, the police-prefect the best abu sed cordingly our biographer sets himself vig- man in the kingdom of France. (We canorously to repel the two-fold accusation. not help seeing, par parenthese, that Gisquet We are not sure how much of the English has furnished Mr. James with a character part of his relation is to be credited; if it of considerable interest in his romance of be true, we might perhaps find cause to the Ancien Regime, Pierre Morin ;-even if use a harsh expression or two relative to there were no other points of resemblance, some of our own officials of the time; but the mode in which Morin originally proved we have no right to commit ourselves by his talents for the office he afterwards filled, censure on the apocryphal testimony of the resembles too closely the first épreuve of ex-prefect, and prefer enjoying the benefit Gisquet's abilities not to have been sug. of doubting until we shall hear some more gested by it; and all the abuses of espiorespectable evidence on the one side or the nage which formed the burthen of public other. complaint, under the odious tyranny of Louis XV., thus appear to have found their counterpart in the still more oppressive police system of twice-liberated-and-regenerated France. So much, as far as the safety and ease of the individual subject is concerned, for the benefit of the torrents of blood, foreign and kindred, shed from 1793

sanguinary struggles for an Utopian freedom and happiness, which can only be realized by the moral and constitutional movement of legitimate reform.)

He enters into an elaborate defence, with all the cunning of an experienced pleader, upon the weak points of his adversaries' charge, and passes over, with a few expressions of supreme indignation and scorn, what forms the gist of the accusation; namely, that the whole business was made the means of private money- to 1831; and so much for the results of jobbing. Not a syllable of argument or proof does he adduce on this all-important point, but contents himself with getting into a rage, and passing it by. He seeks, indeed, to cover himself under the high names of MM. Soult and Périer, and takes a sentence pronounced against a newspaper for libel, in which these two personages were the prosecutors, as an à fortiori argument in favor of his own innocence, as if the clearance of the principals exonerated the less scrupulous agents from suspicion. Why, we ask, did not the prefect of police, equally libelled with the ministers, become a party to this prosecution? Why has he delayed, for nearly ten years, his vindication?-for five years after he quitted office? We think we have no right to take his own book now as evidence in his favor. When we read the book, and judge of the man from the matter it contains, we might, indeed, rather be justified in admitting it as tolerably satisfactory testimony the other way. The fusil Gisquet, we cannot help thinking, has turned out to be of true Birmingham manufacture, and, discharged for the purpose of wounding others, has burst in the worthy prefect's hands, to the serious injury of his own reputation.

But it is not our design to follow our author through the catalogue of apologies which form the subject of three-fourths of his four volumes. Deferred refutations of obsolete newspaper attacks can never be interesting, except to editors and the pares implicated. It is sufficient to say, that

Amongst the parties and sects which agitated France about this time, there was one which, in a strange degree, united consistency of purpose and completeness of internal economy with absurdity and folly, as regarded the general system of society and the ordinary nature of mankind. We allude to the St. Simonians, a body which, had they been as capable of extension from their essential requirements as they were vigorous by their union and intelligence, would have proved formidable to a firmer form of government than that under which they rose and fell.

Here is Gisquet's description of the sect

"A supreme father, more infallible than the pope, whom his apostles must respect and venerate as the image of the Divinity-assuming the exclusive right to determine, by himself or his delegates, the nature and extent of human capacities-constitutes himself arbiter of the re-distribution of earthly possessions and enjoyments. It may be believed that the worthy father, in proportion to his immeasureable intellectual superiority, helps himself to a tolerable share of both."

It is a community of rights, personal and proprietary, which constitutes, as in Owen's system, the soul of St. Simonianism; and marriage is as much excluded as individual wealth from their society. That they were

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