Imatges de pÓgina

A voice of chanting rose, and as it spread,
They plainly heard the anthem for the dead.

It was the choristers who went to meet

The train, and now were entering the first street.
Then turned aside that city, young and old,
And in their lifted hands the gushing sorrow rolled.

But of the older people, few could bear
To keep the window, when the train drew near ;
And all felt double tenderness to see

The bier approaching, slow and steadily,
On which those two in senseless coldness lay,
Who but a few short months-it seemed a day,
Had left their walls, lovely in form and mind,
In sunny manhood he,--she first of womankind.

They say that when Duke Guido saw them come, He clasped his hands, and looking round the room, Lost his old wits for ever. From the morrow

None saw him after. But no more of sorrow :


On that same night, those lovers silently
Were buried in one grave, under a tree.
There side by side, and hand in hand, they lay
In the green ground:-and on fine nights in May
Young hearts betrothed used to come there to pray.




The main circumstance of this story—a knight fighting against three, with no other coat of mail than the delicatest garment of his mistressis taken from one of the Fabliaux that were versified by the late Mr. Way. The lady's appearance in the garment, after the battle, is from the same poem. The turn given to these incidents, the colouring, and the sentiment, are the work of the present writer. The original is a curious specimen of the license of old times. A married woman, who has a goodhumoured craven for her husband, is made love to by three knights; to each of whom, as a trial of his affection, and by way of proving the tenderness of her deserts, she proposes that he shall mix in the fight of a tournament, with no other covering to his body than the one just mentioned. Two of them decline the experiment; the third accepts it, is victorious, and, in order to be on a par with her in delicacy of sentiment, requests that she will make her appearance at her husband's table in the triumphant investment. She does so; the guests are struck with admiration;

“While the good spouse (not bold, 'twas lately sung)
Cast down his honest eyes, and held his tongue.

“Speak, guileless damsels! Dames, in love well read!
Speak, Sirs ! in chivalry and honour bred;
Who best descrves—the lady or the knight?
He, death who braved, or she, censorious spite ?"

Allowance is to be made for the opinions of a different age; and we see, even here, right and wrong principles struggling in the perplexities of custom. But the cultivation of brute force is uppermost; and nothing can reconcile us to the disposition of the woman who could speculate upon such a tribute to her vanity. It is hoped that the heroine of the following version of the story, without being wanting in self-love, is a little better, and not unsuited to any age.

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