430 ' ISOLATION. 



the trembling eagerness for the excitement of battle, and the joys of 

 victory. 



" To Florence ! To Florence ! O, my Florence '." cried with 



vivacity Dante Alighieri, whose countenance shone resplendent. 



He drew himself up to his full heigh't, sent a piercing glance 

 through the fields of air, believed he saw Italy through them, and be- 

 came gigantic. 



— " And I, when shall I be in heaven," said Godfrey, who re- 

 mained, with one knee on the ground, before the immortal poet, like 

 an angel in face of the sanctuary. 



— " Come to Florence," said Dante to him, in a compassionate 

 tone. "Come! and when thou sees't the lovely landscapes of Fiesole 

 thou wilt believe thyself in paradise." 



The soldier began to smile. For the first, the only time, perhaps, 

 the sombre and awful countenance of Dante was expressive of joy. 

 He had in his eyes, upon his forehead, all the pictures of happiness of 

 which his paradise is so lavish. It might perhaps seem to him that 

 he heard the voice of Beatrice. And now the light step of a woman 

 and the rustling of her dress were distinctly heard in the silence. 

 The dawn was just breaking and scattering her first faint rays, when 

 the beautiful countess Mahaut entered, gave a shriek, and flew to 

 Godfrey. 



— " Come, my child, my son! it is now permitted me to acknow- 

 ledge thee ; and paradise shall be the heart of thy mother." 



— " I recognize the voice from heaven," cried the enraptured boy. 



This cry aroused Dante, who beheld the youth embraced in the 

 arms of the countess. He saluted them by a glance, and left the 

 companion of his studies upon the maternal bosom. 



" Let us depart," cried he, in a voice of thunder. *' Death to the 

 Guelphs!" 



THE FIRST " MEDITATION" of M. ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE. 



BY MISS MARGARET PATRICKSON. 



ISOLATION. 



How oft upon the mountain's side, beneath an old oak's shade. 

 When the sun is sinking to his rest, I mournfully am laid. 

 While my looks that ieek no object, all regardless what they meet. 

 Roam idly o'er the changing scene extended at my feet. 



Here rolls the stream his billows high, loud murmuring as they flow. 

 Till lost in far raeanderings we trace not where they go ; 

 And there, the calm lake motionless, its sleeping waves outspread. 

 Where the star of evening rises pure in the azure over head. 



On the summit of the mountains, with sombre forests crowned. 

 The twilight still dispenses a lingering ray around. 

 While the car, in vapours shrouded, of the queen of shades is seen 

 Slow mounting o'er the horizon, dim whitening all the scene. 



