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For ever and anon she threw
“She came with mother and with sireA prying, pitying glance on me
What need of more?-I will not tire With her black eyes so wild and free: With long recital of the rest, I gazed, and gazed, until I knew
Since I became the Cossack's guest : No vision it could be,
They found me senseless on the plain But that I lived, and was released They bore me to the nearest hutFrom adding to the vulture's feast: They brought me into life againAnd when the Cossack-maid beheld
Me—one day o'er their realm to reign! My heavy eyes at length unseald,
Thus the vain fool who strove to glut She smiled—and I essay'd to speak, His rage, refining on my pain, But fail'd-and she approach'd, and inade Sent me forth to the wilderness, With lip and finger signs that said, Bound, naked, bleeding, and alone, I must not strive as yet to break
To pass the desert to a thronc.The silence, till my strength should be What mortal his own doom may guess? Enough to leave my accents free;
Let none despond, let none despair! And then her hand on mine she laid, To-morrow the Borysthenes And smooth'd the pillow for my head, May see our coursers graze at ease And stole along on tiptoe trend,
Upon his Turkish bank,--and never And gently oped the door, and spake Had I such welcome for a river In whispers – ne'er was voice so sweet! As I shall yield when safely there. Even music follow'd her light feet! - Comrades, good night! ”—The Hetman three But those she call'd were not awake, Ilis length beneath the oak-tree-shade, And she went forth; but, ere she pass'd, With leafy couch already made, Another look on me she cast,
A bed nor comfortless nor new Another sign she made, to say,
To him who took his rest whene'er That I had nought to fear, that all The hour arrived, no matter where :Were near, at my cominand or call, His eyes the hastening slumbers steep. And she would not delay
And if ye marvel Charles forgot Her due return;- while she was gone To thank his tale, he wonder'd not, Methought I felt too much alone. The king had been an hour asleep.
ROXALIND. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country ; be out of love with your Nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are ; or 1 will scarce think that you have swam in a GONDOLA.
As You LUE IT, Act. IV. Sc. I.
Annotation of the Commentators.
"Tus known, at least is should be, that the moment night with dusky mant thronghout
covers All countries of the Catholic persuasion, The skies (and the more duskily the better Some weeks before Shrove-Thesday comes The time less liked by husbands than by about,
lovers The people take their fill of recreation, Begins, and pruderyflings aside ho And buy repentance, ere they grow devout,
fetter; llowever high their rank, or low their And gaiety on restless tiptoe hovers,
Giggling with all the gallants who best With fiddling, feasting, dancing, drinking,
her; masking, And there are songs, aud quavers, roaring And other things which may be had for
Guitars, and every other sort of strumming
And there are dresses splendid, but fantast- | And therefore humbly I would recommend ical,
“The curious in fish-sauce,” before they Masks of all times and nations, Turks and
The sea, to bid their cook, or wife, or And harlequins and clowns, with feats
friend, gymnastical, Walk or ride to the Strand, and buy in Greeks, Romans, Yankee - doodles, and
(Or if set out beforehand, these may send All kinds of dress, except the ecclesiastical, By any means least liable to loss), All people, as their fancies hit, may choose, Ketchup, Soy, Chili-vinegar, and Hervey, But no one in these parts may quiz the Or, by the Lord ! a Lent will well nigh clergy,
starve ye; Therefore take heed, ye Freethinkers! I charge ye.
That is to say, if your religion's Roman,
And you at Rome would do as Romans do, Pw'd better walk about begirt with briars, According to the proverb, - although no lastead of coat and smallclothes, than put on 1 single stitch reflecting upon friars, If foreign, is obliged to fast; and you, Although you swore it only was in fun; If protestant, or sickly, or a woman, íbey'd haul you o'er the coals, and stir would rather dine in sin on a ragoutthe fires
Dine, and be d-d! I don't mean to be Or Phlegethon with every mother's son,
coarse, le ay one mass to cool the cauldron's But that's the penalty, to say no worse.
bubble Thai boild your bones, unless you paid them double. Of all the places where the Carnival
Was most facetious in the days of yore,
For dance, and song, and serenade, and ball, saving this, yon may put on whate'er And masque,and mime and mystery,and more a lite, by way of doublet, cape, or cloak, Than I have time to tell now, or at all, arhus in Monmouth-street, or in Rag-Fair, Venice the bell from every city bore, Houd rig you out in seriousness or joke; And at the moment when I fix my story, but even in Italy such places are That sca-born city was in all her glory. Wich prettier names in softer accents spoke, fer, bating Covent-Garden, I can hit on to place that's called "Piazza” in Great- They've pretty faces yet, those Britain.
pressions still, Di feast is named the Carnival, which such as of old were copied from the being
Grecians, krpreted, implies farewell to flesh:” In ancient arts by moderns minnick'd ill; callid, because the name and thing And like so many Venuses of Titian's
agreeing, (The best's at Florence—seo it, if ye will), Miragh Lent they live on fish both salt They look when leaning over the balcony, and fresh.
Or stepp'd from out a picture by Giorgione, why they usher Lent with so much
glee in, Dore than I can tell, although I guess Whose tints are truth and beauty at their 23 we take a glass with friends at parting,
And when you to Manfrini's palace go, like stage-coach or packet, just at starting. That picture (howsoever fine the rest)
Is loveliest to my mind of all the show:
It may perhaps be also to your zest, und thus they bid farewell to carnal dishes, And that's the cause I rhyme upon it so, ha ulid meats, and highly spiced ragouts, Tis but a portrait of his son, and wife, Barone they have no sauces to their stews, Je line for forly days on 1-dress dishes, and self; but such a woman? love in Life! A thing which causes many "poohs” and
Love in full life and length, not love ideal, And several oaths (which would not suit No, nor ideal beauty, that fine name,
the Muse) Fram travellers accustoin'd from a boy
But something better still, so very real,
That the sweet model inust have been the Total their salmon, at the least, with soy ; !
A thing that you would purchase, beg, or Which smothers women in a bed 'of feath
But worthier of these much more jol Wer't not impossible, besides a shame:
fellows; The face recals some face, as 'twere with When weary of the matrimonial tether
Ilis head for such a wife no mortal bothe You once have seen, but ne'er will see But takes at once another, or another's.
Did'st ever see a gondola? For fear One of those forms which flit by us, when we You should not, I'll describe it you exact/ Are young, and fix our eyes on every face; Tis a long cover'd boat that's common her And, oh! the loveliness at times we see Carved at the prow, built lightly, b In momentary gliding, the soft grace,
compactly, The youth, the bloom, the beanty which Row'd by two rowers, each called “Go agree,
dolier," In many a nameless being we retrace, It glides along the water looking black Whose course and home we knew not, nor Just like a coffin clapt in a canoe,
shall know, Where none can make out what you sa Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below.
I said that like a picture by Giorgione And up and down the long canals they Venetian women were, and so they are,
And under the Rialto shoot along, Particularly seen from a balcony, By night and day, all paces, swift or slo (For beanty's sometimes best set off afar). And round the theatres, a sable throng, And there, just like a heroine of Goldoni, They wait in their dusk livery of woe, They peep from out the blind, or o'er the But not to them do woeful things belon
For sometimes they contain a deal of fu And, truth to say, they're mostly very Like mourning coaches when the funera pretty,
done. And rather like to show it, more's the
But to my story.– Twas some years ago
It may be thirty, forty, more or less, For glances beget ogles, ogles sighs, The Carnival was at its height, and so Sighs wishes, wishes words, and words a Were all kinds of buffoonery and dress
certain lady went to see the show, Which flies on wings of light-heelid Mer- Her real name I know not, nor can gue
And so we'll call her Laura, if you plea Who do such things because they know no Because it slips into my verse with ease
better; And then, God knows what mischief may
She was not old, nor young, nor at ! When love links two young people in one
Which certain people call a “certain ag Vile assignations, and adulterous beds, Which yet the most uncertain age apped Elopements, broken vows, and hearts, and Because I never heard, nor could engag
A person yet by prayers, or bribes or tek
Of time, and time returnid the conuplime Husband whom mere suspicion could in- and treated her genteelly, so that, dres
She look'd extremely well where'er To suffocate a wife no more than twenty,
went: Because she had a "cavalier servente." A pretty woman is a welcome guest,
And Laura's brow a frown had rarely be
Indeed she shone all smiles, and seen Their jealousy (if they are ever jealous) Is of a fair complexion altogether, Mankind with her black eyes for looki Not like that sooty devil of Othello's
She was a married woman; 'tis convenient, And could not sleep with ease alone at Because in Christian countries 'tis a rule
night; To view their little slips with eyes more She deem'd the window-frames and shutters lenient;
brittle Whereas if single ladies play the fool, Against a daring house-breaker or sprite, (Taless, within the period intervenient, And so she thought it prudent to connect her À well-timed wedding makes the scandal With a vice-husband, chiefly to protect her.
cool) I don't know how they ever can get over it, Except they manage never to discover it. She chose, (and what is there they will
If only you will but oppose their choice?). Her husband saild upon the Adriatic, 'Till Beppo should return from his long And made seme voyages, too, in other seas,
cruise, And when he lay in quarantine for pratique And bid once more her faithful heart rejoice, (A forty days' precaution 'gainst disease), A man some women like, and yet abuse — His wife vonld mount, at times, her highest A coxcomb was he by the public voice; attic,
A Count of wealth, they said, as well as Far thence she could discern the ship with
And in his pleasures of great liberality. He was a merchant trading to Aleppo, His name Giuseppe, call’d, more briefly, Beppo. And then he was a Count, and then he
Music and dancing, fiddling, French and H vas a man as dusky as a Spaniard,
Tuscan; Suburt with travel, yet a portly figure; The last not easy, be it known to you, Tough, colourd, as it were, within a For few Italians speak the right Etruscan. tanyard,
He was a critic upon operas too, le vas a person both of sense and vigour And knew all niceties of the sock and A better seaman never yet did man yard :
buskin; And the, although her manners show'd no And no Venetian audience could endure a rigour,
Song, scene, or air, when he cried “gecWa deem'd a woman of the strictest
catura." principle, So mach as to be thought almost invincible.
His “bravo” was decisive, for that sound
Hush'd “academie,” sigh'd in silent awe; But everal years elapsed since they had met, The fiddlers trembled as he look'd around, Sese people thought the ship was lost, For fear of some false note's detected flaw. and some
The "prima donna's”, tuneful heart would That he had somehow blunder'd into debt,
bound, dad did not like the thoughts of steering Dreading the deep damnation of his “bah!” home;
Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto, And there were several offer'd any bet, Wish'd him five fathom under the Rialto. Or that he would, or that he would not come, lemost men (till by losing render'd sager) Hd back their own opinions with a wager. He patronized the Improvisatori,
Nay,could himselfextemporize some stanzas,
Wrote rhymes, sang songs, could also tell Tu said that their last parting was pathetic,
a story, i partings often are, or ought to be, Sold pictures, and was skilful in the dance as And their presentiment
was quite prophetic Italians can be, though in this their glory That they should never more each other see, Must surely yield the palm to that which A sort of morbid feeling, half poetic,
France has; Whicho I have known occur in two or three) In short, he was a perfect cavaliero,
on the shore upon her sad And to his very valet seem'd a hero,
knee, He left this Adriatic Ariadne.
Then he was faithful too, as well Had Laura waited long, and wept a little, so that no sort of female could complain, And thought of wearing weeds, as well she Although they're now and then a little She almost lost all appetite for victual, might;
clamorous, He never put the pretty souls in pain :
His heart was one of those which most | But “Cavalier Servente” is the phrase
enamour us, Used in politest circles to express Wax to receive, and marble to retain. This supernumerary slave, who stays He was a lover of the good old school, Close to the lady as a part of dress, Who still become more constant as they cool. Her word the only law wbich he obeye.
His is no sinecure, as you may guess ;
Coach, servants, gondola, he goes to cal No wonder such accomplishments should And carries fan, and tippet, gloves, a turn
shawl. A female head, however sage and steady With scarce a hope that Beppo could return, In law he was almost as good as dead, he With all its sinful doings, I must say, Nor sent, nor wrote, nor show'd the least That Italy's a pleasant place to me,
Who love to see the Sun shine every da And she had waited several years already, And vines (not nail'd to walls) from tra And really if a man won't let us know
to tree That he's alive, he's dead, or should be so. Festpond, much like the back-scene of
Or melodrame, which people sock to see Besides, within the Alps, to every woman When the first act is ended by a dance (Although, God knows, it is a grievous sin,) In vineyards copied from the south Tis, I may say, permitted to have two men;
France. I can't tell who first brought the custom in; But“Cavalier Serventes” are quite common, And no one notices, nor cares a pin; I like on Autumn-evenings to ride ont, And we may call this (not to say the worst) Without being forced to bid my groom A second marriage which corrupts the first.
My cloak is round his middle strapp
about, The word was formerly a "Cicisbeo," Because the skies are not the most secur But that is now grown vulgar and indecent; I know too that, if stopp'd upon my rout The Spaniards call the person a “Cortejo," Where the green alleys windingly allure For the same mode subsists in Spain, though Reeling with grapes red waggons cho recent ;
the wayIn short it reaches from the Po to Tcio, In England 'twould be dung, dust, or a dra And may perhaps at last be o'er the sea sent. But Heaven preserve Old England from
such courses ! I also like to dine on becca ficas, Or what becomes of damage and divorres? To see the Sun set, sure he'll rise to-morro
Not through a misty morning twinklin
weak as However, I still think, with all due deference A drunken man's dead eye in maudl To the fair single part of the Creation,
sorrow, That married ladies should preserve the But with all heaven t'himself; that d preference
will break as In tête-à-tête or general conversation- Beauteous as cloudless, nor be forced And this I say without peculiar reference
borrow To England, France, or any other nation - That sort of farthing-candlelight whi Because they know the world, and are at ease,
glimmers And being natural, naturally please. Where reeking London's smoky cauldr
'Tis true, your budding Miss is very
charming, I love the language, that soft bastard Lati But shy and awkward at first coming out, which melts like kisses from a fema So much alarm'd, that she is quite alarming,
mouth, All Giggle, Blush ;-half Pertness, and half And sounds as if it should be writ on sati
With syllables which breathe of the swe And glancing at Mamma, for fear there's
South, harm in
And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, What you, she, it, or they, may be about, That not a single accent seems uncouth, The Nursery still lisps out in all they Like our harsh northern whistling, grun utter
ing guttural, Besides, they always smell of bread and which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, an