1821.1 



News from Parnassus. — No. II. 



43 



And yet a woman's pagsion dwelt within 

 Your heart, as warm as love -But I am 

 wrong ? 

 Isid. Oh ! no, I loved — 

 Guido. Indeed ! 

 Isid. Indeed, Indeed ! 

 'Guido. Well I there was one who loved 

 you too; he said 

 That every hope he had rested on you. 

 He worsbipp'd you, as idols are a dor 'd 

 In countries near the sun.— He gave his heart 

 So absolutely up, that liad he thought 

 Then, that you would desert him, he'd have 



slain 

 Himself before you.— You were his home, 



his heav'n, 

 His wealth, his light, his mind, and life sub- 

 stantial. 

 But then he went away to the fierce wars, 

 (His honour was pledged for it) and he left 

 You, with an oath upon your soul, behind— 

 'Twas said he died— 



Isid. One s.iid he saw you fall. — 

 Guido. 'Twas said he died, and that 

 she grieved awhile 

 In virgin wiiiowhood for him. At last 

 A Duke — a reigning Duke, with viintry hair 

 And subtle spirit, and without a heart. 

 Came wooing to her, and so — you do not 



heed me — 

 And so she dried her tears, and (tho' the 



youth 

 Wrote that he liv'd) she laugh'd, and left 



tha son 

 To marry with the father." 



We will make our next extract from 

 Guido's closing scene. Tlte Duke has 

 detected him, as he believes, in a 

 guilty interview with Isidora, and in 

 a paroxysm of rage proceeds to pass 

 judgment : 



" I will sit 

 Beneath the stars. — Roll back those curtains 



which 

 Hide the pale visage of the moon. — And now 

 I call upon the assembled lights of heaven, 

 And on the immortality of truth. 

 Upon white chastity, and crowned revenge. 

 To attest what here I do. — Traitors, draw 



near ! 

 What have ye (mark! the huge and pon-. 



derous sky 

 Hangs right above your heads) — to say- 

 speak forth." 

 After a short altercation, he pro- 

 nounces (juido's doom — 



Duke. "Come hither, slave! 

 You, Sirrah ! What's your name? no matter, 



take 

 This man intothe Palace Court— and there — 

 Come nearer— near— (whispers officer.) 

 Remember— 



Isid. (thrieks.) lla.\ What's that? 

 Oh! mercy, mercy! Spare him, spare us 



both 

 My Lord; O husband. — 



Guido. Sweet implore no more — 

 My fate is come— I'll meet it as a man— 



Of thee I dare not think : — but thou — 



Duke. Speak on ! 

 You shall have licence — once— but once — 

 speak on. 



Guido. Thou hast abused 

 Thy trusts of fither, husband, prince — 



Isid. No, iij — 



Guido. Thou hast to glut a base anf bitter 

 hate 

 Destroy'd thin? only son. — Angels now look 

 Upon U-, and bafore Iheir homes I swear 

 That I am innocent— Remember this; 

 For her who stands palely besile you there 

 (A star amidst this darkness) she is pure 

 As Heaven— I speak this with a dying 



toiigue— 

 I lov'd her. — 



Duke. Ha ! .'hall this be said? Away, 

 Away, 1 say — If once I swear — (rises.) 



Guido. One word. — 



Isid. One word. 



Guido. Poor Isidora ! 



Isid. One — 



Guido. One word's enough — my Lord, 

 wlien I depart 

 To where — no matter; mark me — I .shall 



tread 

 With the same slep— the same bold taithful 



step 

 Which bore me on," midst fire and carnage, 



when 

 I sav'd your life at Mantua. — Now, leadon !" 



It is impossible, when tlie subjects of 

 the scene so closely resemble each other, 

 not to draw a comparison between the 

 final words of Guido and (hose of Hugo, 

 in Parasina; reiiiemberinij always, that 

 Mr. C. labours under the disadvantage 

 of finding the ground fully pre-occu- 

 pied by Lord Byron ; whom, we must 

 own, he has not forced from liis posi- 

 tion. We give a short extract From 

 Parasina, to (he whole of which the 

 reader of Mirandola ought to refer. — 

 " Hugo rais'd his chained hands, 

 And for a brief deiaj' demands 

 His father's ear : thi silentsire 

 Forbids not what hi-; words require — 



" It is not that I dread tlie death — 

 For thou hast seen me by thy side 

 All redly thro' the battle ride; 

 And that not once a useless brand 

 Thy slaves have wrested from my hand. 

 Hath shed more blood in cause of thine, 

 Than e'er can stain the axe of mine. — 

 Thou gav'stand niaj'st resume my breath, 

 A gift for which I thank thee not, 

 Nor are my mother's wrongs forgot — 

 — But she is in the grave, where he 

 Her son — thy rival soon shall be — 

 Her broken heart, my sever'd head, 

 Shall witness for thee from the dead. 

 How trusty and how tender were 

 Thy youthlul love— paterual care — 

 — The past is nothina; — and at last 

 The future can but be the past, 

 Yet would I that I then had died : 



For 



