ページの画像
PDF
ePub

by what Elvira had before said to him, "and I shall always receive it with the greatest pleaure."

"And I," replied Zara, "shall always feel the greatest happiness in hearing from you,¦' and seeing you myself as often as possible, and that will be to me a happiness which I would purchase at the expence of my life. You will come every morning, under pretence of cultivating the flowers, under my window, and that shall keep me from jealousy. I will complain of the restraint which prevents me from speaking to you, and the hope of its soon being at an end shall console me. The pleasure of seeing you will make me happy in spite of the barbarous constraint in which the custom of this country compels me to live. Adieu Ernestus, it is time we should part, but I leave you with regret. The day will come, and I hope it is not far distant, when nothing will be able to separate me from him whom I love.”

Zara then tendered her hand to the Colonel, who hesitated whether he should accept it; but Elvira, who was well acquainted with his

thoughts, and who feared the cousequence of his scruples, said to him:-"My brother, when two bearts are equally smitten, reserved. ness ought to have no share in their friendship."

The Colonel perceiving the inclination of Elvira, fell upon one knee, and embraced the hand of Zara.

can,

"Rise Ernestus," said the beautiful Afri "your sister has anticipated my desires. There is no more cause for scruple with regard to rank; I am no more the daughter of a sovereign, nor you any longer a slave. It is to my lover, my intended husband, that I give my hand, and love and friendship are equally strangers to troublesome distinctions. Can the union be perfectly complete between two hearts, when the one assumes over the other a disagrecable superiority which soon or late gives cause of odium? Let me therefore en treat you, my dear Ernestus, before we sepa rate, that you forget for ever that disparity of station between you and me." (To be continued.)

KATE KEARNEY OF THE LAKE OF KILARNEY.

THE fatal beauty of the heroine of the Lake of Kilarney is celebrated in song, but there is not the slightest allusion to any of the strong features which marked the mind and misfortunes of this female, whose heart, though one in which all the tender susceptibilities were mature, even to luxuriance, was too much oppressed by feelings of another kind to cherish those of love. If her eye was exquisitely penetrating, the tear which early adversity filled it with, obtruded often enough to quench the flame of its glance; and the spell that is said to have lurked in it, was more calculated to conjure up a spirit of compassion, than one of wild and ungovernable passions.

The tale which we are about to relate, as it is only upon oral record, has a great deal of the fabulous in it, which can be accounted for by the romantic spirit of the people of Ireland, and the ignorance of that part of them who lived in the interior of the country up

wards of two centuries ago. It is, however, easy to collect from it, that Kate Kearney lost a father upon whom she doated, and that his loss was the occasion of her despondence and death.

Upon the borders of the most beautiful part of this extensive Lake lived Kate Kearney, with her father: she had been educated under the immediate eye of her parent, a clergyman, and imbibed notions of virtue which were per haps too much tinged with enthusiasm. Her father was a widower some years, and had been in the habit of officiating as clergyman in his neighbourhood; he was of course an object almost of idolatry amongst the hordes, whose minds he succeeded in reducing to a kind of civilization. He possessed a character of the most extraordinary humanity, and his mind was elevated by inspirations of a mild and comprehensive religion; he looked as if his thoughts were in the grave, he spoke as if his thoughts were in the heavens!

The relaxations in which his daughter used

to indulge, were chiefly music and fishing,
and he was in the habit of visiting a small
island distant from his habitation about a
quarter of a mile. One morning the young
lady was alarmed at the delay of her father,
who had repaired to the island in his boat at
a very early hour; and having waited a con-
siderable while, in much agitation, she de-
termined to go to the island herself and seek ||
him. She immediately ordered her female
attendant to prepare her skiff, and upon her
arrival at the island, was horror-struck, upon
seeing her father's boat lying empty in the
midst of it, about five hundred yards from the
water. The island appeared as if the waves
of an ocean had washed it, several of the
trees were levelled to the ground, and every
thing had the signs of an agitation which must
have been caused by the joint powers of all the
elements.

The boat alone seemed to have been uninjured. An oar was at each side, a fishing net Jay at the bottom of it, and an old manuscript which her father was fond of perusing, lay upon one of the seats. In this indescribable state of distraction the afflicted girl ran through every part of the island, calling upon the name of her beloved father, but no answer was returned, and she was carried in a state of insensibility to her boat. These dreadful circumstances were soon diffused through the country. The poor object of commisseration refused for a long time to take any food, and such were the effects which sorrow had upon her countenance, that she was called by all those who lived Lear her paternal dwelling, "the Queen of Grief." An elderly lady, who had been in the habits of intimacy with the family, took her into her house, and endeavoured to comfort her. Her efforts were not entirely thrown away as a fresh wound shrinks back from the hand that would apply a remedy, but by degrees subunits to and even requires the means of cure, so a mind under the first impression of misfortune shuns and rejects all arguments of consolation, but at length, if applied with tenderness, calmly and willingly acquiesces in them.

Her afflictions were by this time mellowed into a kind of constitutional melancholy, and she still retained the title to which the exquisiteness of her feelings had given her so indisputable a claim. At the period of her father's disappearance Kate Kearney was fifteen. There is no proof, or even report, that she was at that time distinguished for a levity which has been ascribed to her by the present panegyrist of her beauty, who has also ascribed cruelty and inconstancy to her. On the contrary, the circumstances which we have related, stamp upon her a character which can never die; filial tenderness is inconsistent with the disgusting levity of a flirt, and it is impossible that she who adored her kindred, could be cruel to her kind.

Three years rolled on, and the fair mourner still had her misery imprinted on her soul. There appeared in the neighbourhood an old woman, who was generally reputed to be a witch; she had done many things of a wonderful description, and to this woman Kate Kearney, who believed that her father was taken away by supernatural meaus, was resolved to apply. The story goes on thus: -Our heroine was told by the old oracle that her father was yet living, but that the divinity of the Lake, the hoary Killarn, had taken him to his dominions, in order to reward him for his || virtues upon earth; that he could again be beheld by his daughter if she visited the bottora of the Lake. She accordingly prepared herself, and after several masses plunged into the water. In a short time she rese above the water, and told those who were waiting in silent expectation, that she had been with her father, from whom she determined to part no more. She immediately disappeared and was never seen again.

For a long time after this the art of the Lake which the name of Kate Kearney has immortalized, was distinguished by certain solemn ceremonials, which showed the admiration and the superstition of the clans which inhabited its banks.

INTERESTING ACCOUNT OF THE FALL OF PART OF A MOUNTAIN.

cour. "It was above a we k after the fall of the mountain," says a person who visited the spot, "that our rout through Switzerland led us to visit the scene of desolation: and never can I forget the succession of melancholy views which presented themselves. From various points on our passage, we had views of such a scene of destruction, as no words can describe. Picture to yourself a rude mingled mass of earth and stone, bristled with the shattered parts of wooden cottages, and with thousands of heavy trees, torn up by the root, and projecting in every direction. In one part

ABOUT five o'clock in the evening of the 3d of September, 1800, a large projection of the mountain of Rossberg, Geneva, on the north-east, gave away, and in less than four minutes completely overwhelmed three vil lages. The torrent of earth and stone was far more rapid than that of lava, and its effects as terrible. The mountain in its descent carried trees, rocks, houses, every thing before it Burying completely a space of charming country, more than three miles square. The force of the earth must have been prodigious, since it not only spread over the hollow of the valley but even ascended fr up the opposite si range of peasants' huts, which the torrent of the Rigi. The quantity too was numerous, carth had reached with force enough to oversince it left a considerable hill in what was be- throw and tear in pieces, but without bringing fore the centre of the vale. A portion of the soil enough to cover them. In another were falling mass was rolled in to the lake of Lowertz, mills broken by huge rocks, transported from and filed in a fifth part; two little islands in the top of the mountain, which fell and were this lake were admired for their picturesque- || carried high up the opposite side of the Rigi. ness. One of them famous for the residence Birds of prey, attracted by the smell of the of two hermits, and the other for the remains dead bodies, were hovering about the valley. of an ancient chateau, once belonging to the But the general impression made by the sight house of Hapsburgh. S large a body of water of such an extent of desolation, connected, too was raised by the falling of such a mass into with the idea that hundreds of wretched creathe lake, that the two islands and the whole tures were at that moment alive, buried under village of Sven, at the southern extremity, a mass of earth, and inaccessible to the cries were, for a time, completely submerged by the and labours of their friends, was too horrible passing of the swell. A large house in this to be described or understood. As we travelled village was lifted off its foundations and caralong, a poor peasant, wearing a countenance ried half a mile. The hermits were absent on ghastly with woe, came to beg a piece of a pilgrimage to the abbey of Einsideln. A fermoney. He had three children buried in the tile plain was at once converted into a harren ruins of a cottage, which he was endeavouring tract of rocks and calcareous earth, and the to clear away. As we were walking mourn former marks and boundaries of property ob- fully along we met the dead body of a woman, literated. The main road from Art to Schweitz which had been just found; two men, precedwas completely filled up, the fo.er channel ed by a priest, was carrying it to more decent of a large stream choked, and its course alter- burial.-We hoped this sight would have coned. The number of inhabitants buried alive cluded the horrors of the day; but we conunder the ruins of this mountain was scarcely tinued to find relicks of ruined buildings for a less than fifteen hundred. Some estimated it league along the whole extent of the lake; and as high as two thousand. Of these, a woman a little beyond the two islands, mentioned and two children were found alive, after hav. above, we saw, lying on the shore, the stiff ing been several days under ground. They body of a peasant, which had been washed up affirmed, that while they were thus entombed, by the waves. ButĮ will mention no more parthey heard the cries of poor creatures who ticulars." were perishing around them, for want of suc

LETTERS ON MYTHOLOGY.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF C. A. DEMOUSTIER.

LETTER XIX.

(Continued from Page 130.)

VENUS had a long time sought to reconcile her son with Jupiter; Destiny at length || presented to her an opportunity. It was the nuptials of Thetis and of Peleus, to which all the celestial court were invited, except Dis cord. Profiting by the circumstance, Venus sought Thetis, and said to her, "Jupiter has proscribed my son from his birth. To-day all things are granted you. Obtain grace for him, and reckon upon my gratitude."

Thetis promised her intercession to Venus; who, to strengthen it, went to solicit the sup port of Juno. "Introduce my son," said she to her; "obtain his pardon; and for the recompence of such a benefit he will throw a shaft at your husband which will render him faithful for eight days!"

Juno was tempted by the promise of such a wonder, and assured Venus she would assist her with all her influence.

Olympus being then assembled, Love, led by the hand of Thetis, appeared in the Temple of Hymen. His childish figure was full of that innocent candour, and that ingenuous air, which attract hearts. He smiled and was beloved. Hymen wished to make acquaintance with this amiable stranger, and even proposed to him a friendly league. But their commerce suffered much from the opposition of their characters. The one is fire, the other ice. Thus lovers tremble with reason when they see them united.

However that may be, Juno and Thetis presented Love to Jupiter, who received him graciously. The infant flew upon his knee, and embraced him. But how well we know his caresses are wounds! All the Goddesses were wounded nearly at the same time. Sighs and glances went round; and the eyes of Bacchus having encountered those of Cyprus, re mained fixed upon her. This God had formerly suffered from the wrath of Juno, but they were now reconciled, and he appeared for the first time at the celestial banquet. In addition No. XXXI. Vol.V.-N. S.

to his real qualities, he had the greatest of all
merits in the eyes of the Goddesses, that of
novelty. Curiosity besieged him. You may
divine that he was interrogated; you may
divine also that he replied. He replied in
these terms:-"You know, Goddesses, that I
owe my birth to Semele, daughter of Cadmus,
brother of Europa, who gave her name to the
most beautiful division of the globe. My
mother had just entered into that age in which
even ugliness has the charm of spring. Judge
with what brightness her beauty adorned it.
Jupiter was dazzled, and the arrow passed
from her eyes into his heart. He instantly
took the figure of a beautiful youth; he ap-
peared, and was beloved. For a long time the
modesty of Semele resisted Love, but at length
she ceded to Vanity. Repulsed from her arms,
her lover declared himself the Sovereign of the
Gods. At those words a look recalled him;
and Semele became a mother! I am ignorant,
Oh Juno! how you became instructed of this
mysterious intrigue, but terrible was thy ven-
geance. You sought my mother under the
form of Beroe, her nurse; and, giving her a
tender kiss, said to her secretly, 'My beauti-
ful child, what hast thou done with thy roses?
I see but lilies to day on those languishing
cheeks. What can have withered thy half-
closed lips? The wretch! I swear that it is
he.'

Ah, who do you mean?' replied my mother, with a blush.

"Who? that seducing young man whose eyes, whose smiles, carry a heart in two days. I will know nothing; but, if thou tellest me all, I promise thee to be silent.'

I have nothing to confide to you,' replied Semele.'

'Nothing! Look at me well. Oh, those downcast eyes!-Nothing! My child, I am too learned in these matters. I say no more, but thy robe hardly closes, and thy zone will no longer meet.'

"At these words my mother replied, but A a

with tears, and fell upon the neck of the false Beroe, who thus feigned to console her: 'Weep not, my poor child; when we are young we are weak; and I well know what it costs us to be wise in the bloom of youth. But who is this young unknown?'-'It is Jupiter. And

thou believest him? The Impostor! a Jupiter, without a beard! To prove his divinity, make him appear before thee in all the brightness of his glory.'

"This proposition flattered the vanity of Semele, and she soon after pressed her lover to yield to it. In vain did he represent to her, that by consenting, he would end her days. She replied to him, 'If by the burning lustre of thy supreme glry this frail bedy is des'royed, if I die in fire, I shall die in the arms of him I love.' Too tender to resist ber desires, Jupiter appeared in a cloud of light, holding in one hand his sceptre, and in the other the thunderbolt. Intoxicated with love and glory, Semele held out her arms and precipitated herselfinto his. But hardly had her lips touched the lips of her lover, when the thunderbolt consumed her. Her shuddering soul flew towards Elysium. Juno smiled; and Jupiter, bursting into tears, sought for me amidst the ashes of my mother, and putting me into his thigh, he carried me there till the term appointed for my birth. Mercury then confided me to the nymphs of the mountain of Nysa, saying to them, Educate this child under the shade of Mystary. He was an orphan ere he saw the light. May his infancy be dear to you, and in your fond bosoms may he forget that he has lost his mother!'

"I found that mother again in each of these faithful nurses; who, as a recompence for their cares, sparkle now in the midst of the stars, under the name of the Hyades. When I quitted their arms the good Silenus became my preceptor. He was a merry old man, always mounted on his ass; and it is to him that I owe my first lessons in education. Formed by the precepts of my master, I resolved from my earliest youth to follow the steps of heroes, and to surpass the glory of the most illustrious conquerors. But the ideas of conquest, which Silenus gave me, were not in the least sanguinary. I desired to make men happy, and not to enslave them. Thus the

nations that escaped my power, soon learned to envy the vanquished. My plan being thus conceived, I set forth at the head of a numerous army. The Dryades, thyrsis in hand, begau the march. Instead of artillery, the Sylvans rolled along the earth thousands of tuns of wine. Gaiety and Love, crowned with grapes, replaced amongst thein Fury and Glory. And when at the sound of the tambourine, our army was seen to halt, it was always for the purpose of drinking. I was mounted upon a car drawn by two tigers, a thyrsis was my sceptre, and a vine branch formed my diadem. Fame soon announced to the people of India, that a son of Jupiter was advancing to conquer them. These people believing me heir to the Thunderer, flew from my approach; but reviving from their first alarm, they came in crowds before their new master. Far from exacting from them tributes and hostages, I said to them, Sow these uncultivated but fertile fields. Plaut these young vines on the sides of your hills. Gather your scattered flocks into these smiling vallies. These are my laws, this is my worship. I exercise not the horrors of the God of Thrace, and of Bellona. Live free, I would subjugate only hearts. To your ancient princes I leave the crown, on condition that they render me a pure homage in your hap. piness. Go, submit yourselves, and drink to the conqueror.'

"In a short time all the neighbouring people submitted to my laws. Every city opened its gates to me, and I counted the days only by victories. Having finished the conquest of Arcadia, of Syria, and of the other provinces of India, I quitted my new subjects; I returned triumphant, and traversed all those beautiful countries where, at every step, I saw the peaceable monuments of my victories. I beheld the harvests gilding the fertile fields, the flocks sporting in the vallies, the trees and the vine crowning the hills with fruit and verdure. And comparing these scenes with those in which so many heroes have acquired a cruel glory, I joyfully said to myself I have not watered these plains with the blood of my new subjects. They will shine only with the iron of Ceres, and my nectar only shall redden their fountains.'

“At length I embarked, bearing with me

« 前へ次へ »