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should save you from the evil spirit, if he is true and pious, otherwise he will be doomed to expiate your fault by retiring to a convent."
"Alas, father!" said the lady; "he is, he must be faithful, and merits reward rather than punishment. I confess that no other than Amador has engaged my thoughts ever since my husband's death; and since he has proved himself so worthy, it is but fitting I should give him my hand, with half my fortune to the church."
Whatever objections the monk might have made to the first part of the lady's design, her last words were convincing; and he denied not his blessing to the pair who knelt at his feet.
The Lady of Tazana and her new husband became the patterns of the country for conjugal affection, and they went in procession to the Gour, soon after their marriage, where a solemn mass was said over the abyss. Since that time, it is seldom that the Ice King dares to appear; indeed, it is said, that he is never allowed to do so to any but those who have deceived their lovers; so that few like to acknowledge that they have seen him; and in winter, all the inhabitants carefully avoid passing near the Gour de Tazana, particularly by moonlight.
ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR.
By Camilla Toulmin.
Great Time! E'en if the lay be weak, 'twould seem,
From thy sublimity, to surely gain
Both power and glory,─borrowed not in vain;
For peerless attar, 'prisoned in dull clay,
Doth make the poor earth rich, though pass'd away,
Leaving a legacy of wealth behind.
'Tis thus we seek embodiment to find
Of those high thoughts, which, like an essence rare,
Men fain would bind and keep; for this they share
The subtle power or spirit with some thing
Ofmeaner quality, and strive to bring,
And hold, within their reach that spirit-power
Impalpable as fragrance from a flower.
So poets strive to summon at their call
Th' embalming words, which, if they come at all,
The best and brightest are but earthy things,
Dimming the radiance they should enshrine,
Too weak to follow Thought's aspiring wings,
Or pierce the depths ofits unfathom'd mine!
Of thee is all so vast, we cannot hope
To find for it a prison in the scope
Of narrow words;─enough if there be caught
Some feeble sparks, in kindred minds to light
A flame, which there may grow more clear and bright.
They fashion thee, old Time, with wings outspread;
Yet I could think that sometimes they are furl'd,
When thou dost move with halt and lagging tread,
Casting a shadow on that inner world
The mind itself creates. Lovers do count
The shadow'd days of absence, dark indeed
To the true heart, which eagerly would mount
The car ofPhœbus, that each lazy steed