CANZONETTE , & c . 49
of his worldly ambition - the legal and undisputed possession of his chosen Maria .
The last agonies are upon him - a few moments longer , and the mortal career of Henry Fitzge- rald will be closed for ever !
Sumptuous was the couch on which reclined his decayed form ; soft was the pillow which sup- ported his dying head : splendid the coverlid on which rested his white and wasted hand . But did the luxury which surrounded him retard one moment the gentle , but perceptible approaches of death - impart the glow of health to the hectic of his cheek , invigorate his languid frame , or sti- fle the reproaches of conscience , with which his last mortal hours were embittered ? Each fleet- ing moment , as it flew towards eternity ; warned him of his proximity to the tomb , and reminded him how impossible it was to render that justice to his Maria which her wrongs demanded . But it was too late - and , however just and honoura- ble his intentions , however sincere his professions , Henry was now doomed to labour under that most distressing of all reflections to a sensitive mind , the consciousness of having wronged an innocent and confiding creature who loved him , and whose affections he returned with a tenfold warmth . But Henry felt his end approaching- the grave already yawned to receive its victim , and he was about to quit this world , leaving his orphan and friendless Maria alone and unshield- ed from the poisonous breath of calumny - ex- posed to the rude taunts of scorn , and undefend- ed from the bitter revilings of a censorious world . Fitzgerald felt that he , and he alone , was the cause of her ruin , and the consciousness smote him in his dying hour , and strewed his pillow with thorns .
Henry had lingered for some months , and , un- derstanding that dissolution was certain , at his earnest request the injured Maria was sent for- she stood by his bedside , and endeavoured , by
her attentions and uncomplaining gentleness , to soothe his mental torture . She never reproached him , and still nourished the hope of his recovery , and entertained full confidence in his honour . Yet her cheek was pale - her form attenuated , and the deep lines in her once blooming cheek showed the ravages of sorrow , remorse , and grief ! Each look of kindness from her mild , yet tearful eye , struck a dagger to the heart of her adoring Henry - each soft and endearing word carried with it volumes of reproach to his faulty , yet repentant spirit .
She watched the looks of the sufferer with an intense agony - she saw a yellow hue overspread his fine features - she saw his eye change - she heard an awful rattling , to which no other sound can be compared , in the throat . " Maria - be- loved Maria - I am dying - I leave you , my ador- ed one . My mother - it is my last request - take my Maria under your care - cherish her - pro- tect her for my sake - be unto her as a parent- the fault - the fault - Oh , God , forgive me , was mine " -and Henry spoke no more .
Even the haughty mother of Fitzgerald was for a time affected , but , soon recovering her proud , unbending spirit , she pointed with stern and significant gesture towards the unfortunate Maria , who had fallen senseless on the corpse of her lover . The hint was understood - she was conveyed from the apartment , and restoratives applied . No sooner , however , did sense return , than , by order of the proud mother of her Henry , she was spurned from the door .
It was night - it was stormy - it was cheerless , as the unhappy girl wandered from the house of her departed lover ! Her reason could not sup- port the weight of her accumulated misfortunes , and , in a fit of despair and madness , she sought the shade of her Henry beneath the dark waves of the river . A striking example , that guilt , even when atonement is intended , will always meet its due punishment from a justly offended God .
CANZONETTE .
I'LL come to thee when the eve's pale star Rises above the sea ,
It shall light the way for my fairy barque To thee to thee !
And though thy sire may coldly frown On the heart that beats for thee , Fear not , a more than father now , Thou shalt find in me !
Fear not , nor heed those frowns , For I have smiles in store , And truth , as no passion'd knight For maiden ever bore .
When the chimes are heard again , And the convent bell is rung ; When the moon is in the sky , And the vasper hymn is sung-
I'll be with thee , my boat
Shall waft us down the tide ; And ere the morning dawns Thou'lt be my bride !
SONG OF THE TROUBADOUR .
LIST , love , list ,
The night bells chime ; Come , come with me , To Agnes ' shrine .
Long , long has the sun sunk behind the dark mountain , The valley beneath us is silent and dim ;
Naught is heard but the gush of the silvery fountain , The sounds of the convent's last evening hymn
Starlight is on the water ,
My light barque on the tide ; Fairest of Italy's daughters , Away and be my bride :
My oars shall strike the sparkling wave ,
Our boat fly swift along ;
Each pearly tear I'll chase away , And charin thee with my song .
Come , my love , come , The night bells chime ; Come , my love , come , To Agnes ' shrine .
G
