A SKETCH.

That fair Euterpe!—each brown tress
With budding orange blooms was twined;
Full did the clustering ringlets press,
Above a brow where sate enshrined
Instinct divinity of mind;

But o'er those smoothest temples shone,
Amid their lofty grace, revealings

Of such compassionate, fervid feelings,
"T was all but love to look thereon.
I marked Euterpe 'mid the bright,
Gay mazes of the festal night,
Beside her smiled the one, on whom

Her frank eyes coveted to rest;

Careless he smiled-I marked the bloom

Desert her cheek, a deep sigh rend her breast;

"T was with gay scorn he smiled, as though he deemed
He might command her heart; and proudly seemed
To say 'thou may'st love on, but I shall be

Unmoved by those sweet arts to conquer me.'
And she whose tameless graces speak,
(Like the hues rushing o'er her cheek,
Of mind all fancy, heart all glow,)
Stood fixed and mute, but not with wo-
Her cheek wore anger's wavering stain,
Her lip, slow smiling, breathed disdain,
As when the stubborn heart for pride
Would fain dishonoring weakness fling aside.
Her heart that heaved with sudden swell,
'Neath snow white drapery rose and fell;
But though such simple guise enzoned,
The haughty brow, the bitter smile,
Gave her a mien like queen dethroned,
Who tasks a traitor for his guile!
Did he not shrink, and faltering turn
Who gave such anger leave to burn?
Anger-oh no, he knew, in vain

Might the all conscious slave resist the chain.
Not once the large and fringed lid

Her sparkling eye declining hid;
Nor upward with beseeching gaze,

Strove she those darkening orbs to raise,

But on the mocker full they bent
Till their indignant flame was spent ;
And dew-bright, o'er their evil glare,
Stole a mild shade, like an eclipse

Falling through sunlight air.

Then sealed in meekness was her lips; But in the sad solemnity

Of her submissive mien, I read,

How love's enthusiast sophistry

To fevered fortitude misled,

And justified the wrong with lavish clemency. 'Alas,' her sighs to fancy said,

'Let me not blame unkindly-wise too late;

'Is not love doom? and when was passion felt 'Without full measure of this anguish dealt ? 'Man too is haughty ever ;-this is fate.' Such the poor! love's ills his sweets transcend, And still the wisest, like the weakest, bend.

M.

In the church yard of**** there had just arranged his sling; 'Fair is a grave covered with a plain lady, henceforth, I vow myself slab of white marble, with no oth- your true and loyal knight, and er inscription than 'Isadore D'Er- thus pledge my heart's first homeillo, aged nineteen.' These few age!' pressing the yielding fingers words speak histories to the heart; to his lips. Alas, thought Isadore, they tell of a beautiful flower while those eloquent interpreters withered, far from its accustomed of the feelings, a blush, sigh, and soil, in the spring-day of its blos- smile, mingled together, he loves som; they tell the fate of a young not passionately as I love, or he and unhappy stranger, dying in a could not trifle thus; a light comforeign country, remote from eve-pliment was never yet breathed ry early association, her last mo- by love. Isadore was at that age ments unsoothed by affectionate when the deeper tendencies of wosolicitude-no tender voice, whose man first deepen the gaiety of lightest sound breathed happy childhood, like the richer tint memories-no eye of fondness on that dyes the rose as it expands which the fainting mourner might into summer loveliness. look for sympathy-her very ash-by her father, for she had her es separated from their native mother's voice and look, and came earth. a sweet remembrancer of his

Adored

'Might I not fancy myself a youth's sole warm dream of haphero of fiction?' said Colonel Fitz-piness, of that love whose joy dealan, bending gracefully as he parted ere it knew one cloud of caught the small snow hand which care, or one sting of sorrow; a

had not one thought for self; but when that father's eyes were closed, and her tears had fallen on the grave of the companions of her infancy, the orphan looked round for comfort, for consolation, and felt, for the first time, her loneliness, and the sickness of hope deferred. Fear succeeded expectation; fear, not for his fidelity, but his safety: was he again laid

word of anger seemed to Don Fer- correspondence soon slackened on nando a sacrilege against the his part. Isadore, tending the dead, and his own melancholy con- last moments of a beloved parent, stancy gave a reality to the romantic imaginings of his child. She now loved Fitzalan with all the fervor of first excited attachment: she had known him under circumstances the most affecting, when the energies and softer feelings of a woman were alike called forth; when the proud and fearless soldier became dependant on her he had protected; laid on the bed of sickness; far from the af-on a bed of sickness, and Isadore fectionate hands that would have far away? She dwelt on this idea, smoothed, the tender eyes that till it became a present reality; would have wept over, his pillow. suspense was agony; at length Isadore became his nurse, soothed she resolved on visiting England. with unremitting care the solitude She sailed, and, after a quick and weariness of a sick room; and voyage, reached the land;-a wanwhen again able to bear the fresh derer seeking for happiness, which, air of heaven, her arm was the like the shadow thrown by the lily support of her too interesting pa- on the water, still eludes the tient. With Fitzalan the day of grasp. It was not thus in the romance was over; a man above groves of Arragon she looked forthirty cannot enter into the wild ward to the British shore; it was visions of an enthusiastic girl; then the promised home of a beflattered by the attachment which loved and happy bride. The day Isadore's every look betrayed, he after her arrival in London, she trifled with her, regardless or drove to her agent's (for her faththoughtless of the young and in- er, during the trouble in Spain, nocent heart that confided so fear- had secured some property in the lessly. Love has no power to look English funds,) hoping from him forward-the delicious conscious- to get some intelligence of the ness to the present, a faint but Colonel. Passing through a very delightful shadow of the past, crowded street, her coach becomforms its eternity; the possibility ing entangled in the press, occaof separation never entered the sioned a short stoppage. Gazing mind of his Spanish love, till Fitz-round in that mood, when, anxious alan's instant return to England to escape the impressions within, became necessary. They parted the eye involuntarily seeks for with all those gentle vows which others without, her attention beare such sweet anchors for hope to came attracted to an elegant rest on in absence-but alas, such equipage. Could she be mistaken? frail ones. For a time her English never in that form-it was surely lover wrote very regularly. That Fitzalan! Well she remembered philosopher knew the human heart that graceful bend, that air of prowho said, 'I would separate from tection with which he supported my mistress for the sake of wri-his companion. The agitated ting to her.' A word, a look, may Spaniard just caught a glimpse of be forgotten; but a letter is a her slight and delicate figure, of lasting memorial of affection. The leyes blue as a spring sky, of a

cheek of sunset: and, ere her sur-ery. They parted, one to despair prise allowed the power of move-over the expiring embers, the ment, the carriage was out of other to nurse the first sparkles of sight. Her entreaties to be allow- hope. The next morning, scarcely ed to alight, being only attributed aware what he was doing, or of the to fear, were answered by assur- motive which actuated him (for ances that she was safe. Gradu- who seeks to analyze love's earliest ally becoming more composed, sensations?) Edward sought the she bade the coachman inquire abode of the interesting stranger. who lived in the house opposite- He found with her Colonel Fitzit was the name she longed to alan's solicitor; that gentleman, hear-Colonel Fitzalan. She re- suspicious of the warm feeling turned home, and with a tremu- evinced by his friend for the fair lous hand traced a few lines, Spaniard, had employed a profestelling him how she had wept in sional man, for he was well aware silence, and entreating him to that the letters he had written come and say she was still his own would give Isadore strong claims Isadore. The evening passed upon him. He arrived at the drearily away; every step made moment when she first comprethe color flush her cheek; but he hended that her lover's reason for came not. Was he indispensably wishing his letters restored origiengaged? Had he not received nated in his fear of a legal use her note?-any supposition but being made of them. Her dark intentional delay. The next morn- eyes flashed fire, her cheek burnt ing the same favored anxiety op- with emotion, her heart-beat bepressed her; at length she heard came audible, as she hastily caught the door, and, springing to the the letters, and threw them into window caught sight of a military the flames. You have performed man-she heard his step on the your mission,' exclaimed she; stairs, a gentleman entered, but it leave the room instantly.' Her was not Fitzalan! Too soon she force was now exhausted, she learnt his mission; he whom she sunk back on the sofa. The tender had loved, so trusted, had wedded assiduities of Edward at length another the lady she saw the day restored her to some degree of before was his wife; and unwilling composure. It was luxury to have to meet her himself, had charged her feelings entered into; to share a friend to communicate the fatal sorrow is to soothe it. She told intelligence. Edward B*** gazed him, of hopes blighted for ever, of with enthusiastic admiration on wounded affection; of the heart the beautiful creature, whose pale sickness which had paled her lips, lip, and scalding tears, which forc- and worn to a shadow her once ed their way through the long dark symmetrical form. She had in eye-lashes, belied the firmness her her hand a few withered leaves. woman's pride taught her to as- 'It is,' said she, 'the image of my sume. Shame, deep shame, thought fate; this rose fell from my hair he, on the cold, the mercenary one evening; Fitzalan placed it in spirit which could thus turn the his bosom; by moonlight I found warm feelings of a fond and trust-it thrown aside, it was faded, but ing girl into poisoned arrows, could to me it was precious from that thus embitter the first sweet flow momentary caress; I have to this of affection. He took her hand in day cherished it. Are not our dessilence-he felt that consolation tinies told by this flower? His was in a case of this kind was but mock- the bloom, the sweetness of love;

FOR THE BOWER OF TASTE.

my part was the dead and scentless leaves.' Edward now became her constant companion; she had found THE EMIGRANT. in him a kind and affectionate brother. At length he spoke of (Concluded from p. 121.) love. Isadore replied by throwing WHEN Sir William ascended to the back her long dark hair with a drawing room he found his lady hand whose dazzling whiteness was affectionately administering comall that remained of its former fort and refreshment to the sweet beauty, and bade him look upon child that was thus thrown on his her pale and faded countenance, protection, and the little boys and there seek his answer. 'Yes, seemed delighted with the prosI shall wed, but my bridal wreath pect of having so interesting a will be cypress, my bed the grave, companion. Although scarcely bemy spouse the hungry worm!' Ed-yond infancy she possessed a beauward gazed on her face, and read tiful and intelligent face, and a conviction: but still his heart clung to her with all the devotedness of love, which hopes even in despair; and, amid the wreck of every promise of happiness, grasps at even the unstable wave. One evening she leaned by a window, gazing fixedly on the glowing sky of a summer sunset: the rich color of her cheek, which reflected the carnation of the west, the intense light of her soft but radiant black eyes, excited almost hope; could the hand of death be on what was so beautiful? For the first time she asked for her lute; hitherto, she had shrunk from the sound of music; Fitzalan had loved it; to her it was the knell of departed love. She waked a few wild and melancholy notes. "These sounds,' sighed she, 'are to me fraught with teuder recollections; it is the vesper hymn of my own country. She mingled her voice with the tones, so faint, so sad, but so sweet, it was like the song of a spirit as the concluding murmur died away. She sunk back exhausted; Edward for a while supported her head upon his shoulder; at length he parted the thick curls from off her face, and timidly pressed her lips; -he started from their chilling touch-it was his first, his last kiss-Isadore had expired in his

arms!

form of the most exquisite proportions;-the voice of kindness soon dissipated her fears, and as her sparkling black eyes looked forth from the clustering ringlets of her dark hair that parted on her white forehead, she smiled with all the sweet confidence of innocence upon her new friends. Weeks, months, and even years, rolled on and yet the father of Laurine came not to St. Orne. That he should have voluntarily abandoned his child, Sir William knew was impossible. It was therefore probable that, having failed in discovering the villain who had robbed him of his fortune, and son, he had fallen a victim to that despair which had subsequently almost deprived him of his reason. But this amiable child gained so strong a hold upon the affections of her benefactors, that, although destitute of fortune, they determined to adopt her as their own.

As a father, Sir William knew no difference between his sons; but as the representative of a noble house, he felt a solicitude that his heir should be qualified by example and education to transmit his name and honors unsullied to posterity. Having finished their collegiate studies they returned home to their parents, bearing testimonials from the