THE SISTERS OF SCIO. I hear the rustling banners; and I hear The wind's low singing through the fretted stone; 1 hear not thee; and yet I feel thee near What is this bound that keeps thee from thine own? I wait thee-1 adjure thee! hast thou known How I have loved thee? could'st thou dream it all? Thou canst not come! or thus I should not weep! ; But I shall come to thee! our souls' deep dreams, 817 THE SISTERS OF SCIO. "As are our hearts, our way is one, And cannot be divided. Strong affection Contends with all things and o'ercometh all things. 'SISTER, Sweet sister! let me weep awhile! Joanna Baillie Bear with me-give the sudden passion way! Our brother's bounding step-where are they, where? Desolate, desolate our chambers lie? -How hast thou won thy spirit from despair? O'er mine swift shadows, gusts of terror, sweep ;I sink away-bear with me-let me weep!" "Yes! weep my sister! weep, till from thy heart The weight flow forth in tears! yet sink thou not; For thee, my gentle one! our orphan lot A breath of our free heavens and noble sires, Yet shall they light us onward, side by side;- BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. [The celebrated Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, having made many ineffectual efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Saldana, who had been imprisoned by King Alfonso of Asturias, almost from the time of Bernardo's birth, at last took up arms in despair. The war which he maintained proved so destructive, that the men of the land gathered round the King, and united in demanding Saldana's liberty. Alfonso, accordingly, offered Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person, in exchange for his castle of Carpio. Bernardo, without hesitation, gave up his stronghold, with all his captives; and being assured that his father was then on his way from prison, rode forth with the King to meet him. And when he saw his father approach ing, he exclaimed, says the ancient chronicle, 'Oh, God! is the Count of Saldana indeed coming? Look where he is,' replied the cruel King, 'and now go and greet him whom you have so long desired to see.' The remainder of the story will be found related in the ballad. The chronicles and romances leave us nearly in the dark as to Bernardo's history after this event.] THE warrior bow'd his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprison'd sire; "I bring thee here my fortress keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!-oh, break my father's chain!" "Rise, rise! even now thy father comes, a ransom'd man this day: [way." Mount thy good horse, and thou and I will meet him on his Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed. And lo! from far, as on they press'd; there came a glittering band, With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land; "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he, The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearn'd so long to see." BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. 219 His dark eye flash'd, nis proud breast heaved, his cheek's blood came and went [ing, bent; He reach'd that grey-hair'd chieftain's side, and there dismountA lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took,What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook? That hand was cold-a frozen thing-it dropp'd from his like lead, He look'd up to the face above-the face was of the dead! A plume waved o'er the noble brow-the brow was fix'd and white He met at last his father's eyes-but in them was no sight! Up from the ground he sprung, and gazed, but who could paint that gaze! They hush'd their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze; They might have chain'd him, as before that stony form he he stood, [blood. For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the "Father!" at length he murmur'd low-and wept like childhood then, Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!— He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young re nown, He flung the falchion from his side, and in the dust sate down. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mourn ful brow [now."No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for My king is false, my hope betray'd, my father-oh! the worth, The glory, and the loveliness, are pass'd away from earth! "I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire! beside thee yet [met,I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had Thou would'st have known my spirit then-for thee my fields were won, [no son!" And thou hast perish'd in thy chains, as though thou had'st Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein, Amidst the pale and wilder'd looks of all the courtier train; And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face-the king before the dead!— "Came I not forth upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss?— Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what is this! The voice, the glance, the heart I sought-give answer, where [cold clay! are they? If thou would'st clear thy perjured soul, send life through this "Into these glassy eyes put light-be still! keep down thine ire, Bid these white lips a blessing speak-this earth is not my sire! Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed, [thy head!" Thou canst not-and a king?-His dust be mountains on He loosed the steed; his slack hand fell-upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look-then turn'd from the sad place: His hope was crush'd, his after-fate untold in martial strain,His banner led the spears no more amidst the hills of Spain. THE TOMB OF MADAME LANGHANS.* "To a mysteriously consorted pair Wordsworth How many hopes were borne upon thy bier, Of mingled prayer they told; of Sabbath hours; How many hopes have sprung in radiance hence! Of triumph, blent with nature's gush of weeping, As, kindling up the silent stone, I see The glorious vision, caught by faith, of thee. Slumberer! love calls thee, for the night is past; * At Hindlebank, near Berne, she is represented as bursting from the sepulchre, with her infant in her arms, at the sound of the last trumpet. An inscription on the tomb concludes thus :-"Here am I O God! with the child whom thou hast given me." THE EXILE'S DIRGE. THE EXILE'S DIRGE. "Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages." Cymbeline. 221 ["I attended a funeral where there were a number of the German settlers present. After I had performed such service as is usual on similar occasions, a most venerable looking old man came forward, and asked me if I were willing that they should perform some of their peculiar rites. He opened a very ancient version of Luther's Hymns, and they all began to sing, in German, so loud that the woods echoed the strain. There was something affecting in the singing of these ancient people, carrying one of their brethren to his last home, and using the language and rites which they had brought with them over the sea from the Vaterland, a word which often occured in this hymn. It was a long, slow, and mournful air, which they sung as they bore the body along: the words mein Gott,' mein Bruder,' and Vaterland,' died away in distant echoes amongst the woods. I shall long remember that funeral hymn."-FLINT'S Recollections of the Valley of the Mississippi.] THERE went a dirge through the forest's gloom. "Brother!" (so the chant was sung So swell'd the chant; and the deep wind's moan "Brother! by the rolling Rhine |