You have no children, and you cannot guess

What anguish, what unspeakable dis

tress

A mother feels, whose child is lying ill, Nor how her heart anticipates his will. And yet for this, you see me lay aside All womanly reserve and check of pride, And ask the thing most precious in your sight,

Your falcon, your sole comfort and delight,

Which if you find it in your heart to give, My poor, unhappy boy perchance may live."

Ser Federigo listens, and replies, With tears of love and pity in his eyes: “Alas, dear lady! there can be no task So sweet to me, as giving when you ask. One little hour ago, if I had known This wish of yours, it would have been my own.

But thinking in what manner I could best

Do honor to the presence of my guest,
I deemed that nothing worthier could be
Than what most dear and precious was
to me,

And so my gallant falcon breathed his last

To furnish forth this morning our repast.'

In mute contrition, mingled with dismay, The gentle lady turned her eyes away, Grieving that he such sacrifice should make,

And kill his falcon for a woman's sake, Yet feeling in her heart a woman's pride, That nothing she could ask for was denied ;

Then took her leave, and passed out at the gate

With footstep slow and soul disconsolate.

Three days went by, and lo! a passingbell

Tolled from the little chapel in the dell; Ten strokes Ser Federigo heard, and said, Breathing a prayer, "Alas! her child is dead!" Three months went by; and lo! a merrier chime

Rang from the chapel bells at Christmas time;

The cottage was deserted, and no more Ser Federigo sat beside its door,

But now, with servitors to do his will, In the grand villa, half-way up the hill, Sat at the Christmas feast, and at his side Monna Giovanna, his beloved bride, Never so beautiful, so kind, so fair, Enthroned once more in the old rustic chair,

High-perched upon the back of which there stood

The image of a falcon carved in wood, And underneath the inscription, with a date,

"All things come round to him who will but wait."

INTERLUDE.

Soox as the story reached its end,
One, over eager to commend,
Crowned it with injudicious praise;
And then the voice of blame found vent,
And fanned the embers of dissent
Into a somewhat lively blaze.

The Theologian shook his head ;
"These old Italian tales," he said,
"From the much- praised Decameron
down

Through all the rabble of the rest,
Are either trifling, dull, or lewd;
The gossip of a neighborhood
In some remote provincial town,
A scandalous chronicle at best!
They seem to me a stagnant fen,
Grown rank with rushes and with reeds,
Where a white lily, now and then,
Blooms in the midst of noxious weeds
And deadly nightshade on its banks."

To this the Student straight replied,
"For the white lily, many thanks!
One should not say, with too much pride,
Fountain, I will not drink of thee!
Nor were it grateful to forget,
That from these reservoirs and tanks
Even imperial Shakespeare drew
His Moor of Venice, and the Jew,
And Romeo and Juliet,
And many a famous comedy."

Then a long pause; till some one said,
"An Angel is flying overhead!"
At these words spake the Spanish Jew,
And murmured with an inward breath:
"God grant, if what you say be true,
It may not be the Angel of Death!"

Then all the Angels cried, "O Holy One,

See what the son of Levi here hath done! The kingdom of Heaven he takes by violence,

And in Thy name refuses to go hence!" The Lord replied, "My Angels, be not wroth;

Did e'er the son of Levi break his oath? Let him remain; for he with mortal eye Shall look upon my face and yet not die."

Beyond the outer wall the Angel of Death Heard the great voice, and said, with panting breath,

"Give back the sword, and let me go my way."

Whereat the Rabbi paused, and answered, Nay!

66

Anguish enough already has it caused Among the sons of men." And while he paused

He heard the awful mandate of the

Lord

The Angel took the sword again, and

swore,

And walks on earth unseen forevermore.

:

INTERLUDE.

He ended and a kind of spell
Upon the silent listeners fell.

His solemn manner and his words
Had touched the deep, mysterious
chords,

That vibrate in each human breast
Alike, but not alike confessed.
The spiritual world seemed near ;
And close above them, full of fear,
Its awful adumbration passed,
A luminous shadow, vague and vast.
They almost feared to look, lest there,
Embodied from the impalpable air,
They might behold the Angel stand,
Holding the sword in his right hand.

At last, but in a voice subdued,
Not to disturb their dreamy mood,
Said the Sicilian: "While you spoke,
Telling your legend marvellous,
Suddenly in my memory woke
The thought of one, now gone from us,
An old Abate, meek and mild,
My friend and teacher, when a child,
Who sometimes in those days of old
The legend of an Angel told,
Which ran, as I remember, thus."

THE SICILIAN'S TALE.

KING ROBERT OF SICILY.

ROBERT of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane

And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine,
Apparelled in magnificent attire,
With retinue of many a knight and
squire,

On St. John's eve, at vespers, proudly

sat

And heard the priests chant the Mag

nificat.

And as he listened, o'er and o'er again
Repeated, like a burden or refrain,
He caught the words, "Deposuit poten-

tes

De sede, et exaltavit humiles";

And slowly lifting up his kingly head He to a learned clerk beside him said,

"What mean these words?" The clerk made answer meet,

"He has put down the mighty from their seat,

And has exalted them of low degree." Thereat King Robert muttered scornfully, ""T is well that such seditious words are

sung

Only by priests and in the Latin tongue; For unto priests and people be it known, There is no power can push me from my throne !"

And leaning back, he yawned and fell asleep,

Lulled by the chant monotonous and deep.

When he awoke, it was already night; The church was empty, and there was no light,

Save where the lamps, that glimmered few and faint,

Lighted a little space before some saint. He started from his seat and gazed around,

But saw no living thing and heard no sound.

He groped towards the door, but it was locked;

He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked,

And uttered awful threatenings and complaints,

And imprecations upon men and saints. The sounds re-echoed from the roof and