Imágenes de páginas

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hasten without delay to the Spanish army then stationed at Placentia, and he made immediate preparations to obey the order. A life of activity, he hoped, would restore his mind to its former serenity, and change of scene contribute more effectually to remove the melancholy that preyed upon him; and yet it was with regret he would leave MADRID; the insinuating manners, the fascinating naivèté of the gentle ISABEL had wrought strangely on his too susceptible heart, and he felt that she was dearer to him than at first be dared to confess, even to himself. She was now in the eighteenth year of her age; young, beautiful, and accomplished. The imperial loveliness of her person could only be equalled by the modest timidity which shrunk from the gaze of admiration, and the retiring softness of her disposition that seemed desirous to shun the public display of acquirements, that to be admired needed but to be seen. The superior intelligence of her mind, the enthusiasm of her character, and the natúral vivacity of her soul, interested every heart, while the expressive beauty of her countenance where feeling and sensibility were depicted, and the graceful elegance of her person, captivated every eye. The distresses of her country affected her, and while mourning over her shame and degradation, -she turned with an eye of hope and expectation to the dawning of a brighter day, and the promise of a more glorious regeneration. Every account that secretly reached the capital of the successes of the Patriots animated and cheered her; and while more sensitive minds recoiled from the detail of victory and defeat, treachery, bloodshed, and massacre, which that sanguinary war presented, her's only revolted when her country was the sufferer, and brightened with proud But it was in the bosom satisfaction at her partial success. of domestic life that the mild and modest virtues of ISABEL were seen in their true lustrè; equally fitted to adorn the highest or the lowest station, she conferred a charm on society of which she was unconscious, and enlivened conversation by the splendor of her talents, and the playful vivacity of her genius. The presence of DE WINZA contributed to nourish the romantic feelings of her soul; his enthusiasm, his sensibility, the passionate struggles of his mind when the wrongs of his country were alluded to, interested her heart, and called forth the latent energies of her character. She gazed for hours upon that form where nature seemed to have lavished all her art to present a perfect model of manly beauty. His person, though still retaining the lightness and

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De Winza.

flexibility which formerly characterised it, had assumed a more commanding appearance, and exhibited all the grace of youth with the dignity of manhood. His countenance, open, candid, and dignified, betrayed the exalted conceptions that existed within, and was again animated with the glow of health, though latterly an air of pensive melancholy pervaded his features; while the full lustre of his dark blue eye, melting in passion, or brightening in enthusiasm, was the intuitive organ of the soul that burned within him. But it was not the outward form that interested the heart of ISABEL; she could appreciate these noble qualities of the mind which raise their possessor to a standard above the generality of men. She could dwell with pauseless delight upon the impassioned language that flowed from his lips-the enthusiasm that dictated, and the feeling that attended every word he uttered; and while contemplating the various emotions that disturbed and agitated him, she perceived that the effusions of his genius were the natural sensibilities of the man, and what in ordinary persons was the effect of habit and education, was in him the actual inclination of his disposition. There was an intellectual superiority, a tone of dignified thought, inherent in him, that all who associated with him felt themselves inferior, and bowed in reverential homage before the shrine of his genius; and yet he alone was unconscious of this influence, and attributed the readiness with which they yielded to his opinions rather to their truth and consistency, than to the manner in which they were expressed; the delicacy with which he enforced those opinions, and the gentle persuasiveness which accompanied his words, carried conviction to every mind; and the purity of his thoughts, combined with high romantic ideas of feeling and sentiment, served to mark sufficiently the outline of a character, at once dignified and commanding.

But DE WINZA was a mortal--and, like all mortals, possessed his failings and defects. He had an unconquerable pride, and a diffidence of manner, that on a first acquaintance was rather repulsive than inviting; but this, in time, wore off, and the native benevolence of his disposition unfolded itself. His pride, however, was not the false and mistaken pride of self-conceit, priding itself on the ostentations display of acquirements which excite admiration, but cannot fix esteem; but a deep and original feeling, inherent in his nature, betraying a real nobility of soul that recoiled from the commission of a mean action and stimulated to the per

De Winza.

formance of a generous one: a pride, founded not upon the qualities of his head, but of his heart; and that often hurried him beyond the bounds of prudence when his honor or veracity was in question. The impetuosity of his temper could seldom be restrained by the dictates of reason, and the tide of his feelings, once agitated by the sudden gust of passion, rolled with unbounded fury, till lost in the vehemence of its own exertion. His imagination, ever restless and deceptive, frequently mistook the shadow for the substance, and dwelt with more complacency on external appearances than on intrinsic merit. But Time, "who tames the proudest will," had softened the native fire of his disposition, without subduing it; and the blight of disappointment which had fallen upon his early hopes, tinged his mind with a melancholy that no circumstances could remove. First impression's are, generally, lasting; and that left by the fate of IMMALINE existed for ever. Joy and sorrow he had alike experienced, but the impression left by the latter was more deeply felt than that of any happier remembrance; for

"Joy's recollection is no longer joy,

While sorrow's memory is a sorrow still.”

His spirit, unsubdued by this first shock, bounded elastic from the pressure of misfortune, and seemed to come more brilliant and more pure from the trial it had gone through; to the gloom of despondency a pensive melancholy succeeded, that heightened considerably the interest of his character, and, by softening his temper, rendered his manners still more engaging. No longer the slave of passion or despair, he looked forward, with youthful expectation, to brighter hopes, and happier circumstances; and though doubt and uncertainty hung over his future prospects, the native vigor of his constitution seemed proof against all vicissitudes.

Such was the situation of DE WINZA when he resolved to obey his father's order, and set off for the army without farther delay. For ST. AUBERT, who was shortly expected in MADRID, he left a letter, intreating that he would hasten to join him as soon as possible, as his presence was absolutely necessary towards the furtherance of a project which he had in view.

Having regulated all matters on the night previous to his departure, he left ST. AUBERT'S, where he had still conti nued to reside, and proceeded to the spot consecrated to his first love-the once loved residence of IMMALINE. A new

De Winza.

cottage had been built on the site of the old one, more elegant and extensive, in which an officer, attached to the French court, had taken up his residence. The gardens and grounds adjoining, had been restored to their former neatness, and assumed a more tasteful appearance than formerly, and all indicated the presence of a rich and powerful possessor. After wandering through those scenes, endeared by the recollection of former happiness, and mourning over the chilling remembrance, DE WINZA returned by the light of a cloudless moon to MADRID; and on reaching ST. AUBERT'S, invited by the calm serenity of the night, so finely in unison with his own pensive ideas, he entered the gardens, and wandered in that retrospective dream of intellectual luxury, in which the images of the past are conjured to the view, while the consideration of the future is forgotten altogether.

Not a breath disturbed the fragrant shrubs that hung around him; all seemed as calm and still as the bright orb above, and he a restless wanderer amid the solitude of nature. He gazed on the blue sky, and the countless stars that studded its broad expanse appeared like islets in an azure sea, to which we may steer for ever, without once being able to reach them. He spoke not-he feared lest a breath from his lips would dispel the enchantment that reigned around; but "he communed with his own heart-and was still." The scenes of his boyhood rushed on his memory; he thought of those days of innocence and delight, when every sound that struck his ear was echoed by the music of his own heart, and every object that met his gaze was arrayed in the splendid garb of his own brilliant imagination; when life presented nothing but beauty and magnificence to his enraptured vision, while mirth and melody, and light and loveliness, shed their soft enchantments on the scene.

The prospect indeed was changed, yet the recollection of happier hours can fling a gleam of enjoyment on the gloom of the present, and leave a lingering hope in the promise of the future. Yet was not DE WINZA altogether unhappy; he felt there were some beings on this earth to whom his heart was united, with whom his destiny was associated, and the young and beauteous ISABEL came to his mind,

"New, as if come from other spheres,
Yet precious as if loved for years!"

But this was a feeling which he did not dare to entertain. He returned to his apartment, and throwing himself on the

Account of the late Historical Society of Trinity College.

bed, slept soundly till morning, when rising, he bade a hasty farewell to the family, and getting into the chaise which awaited him, ere the sun had run half his course, was far from Madrid.

(To be continued.)

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Extracted from a brief statement published in 1815.

IN the year 1753, a club was instituted in Dublin College which appears to have been established at first merely for the cultivation of historical knowledge; but in little more than a year a material improvement took place by engrafting on the original plan the monthly debate of an historical question. Nor can the honor of being the first institution of the kind. established in Dublin College be awarded to it; an older club existed; but how long either of them lived, and whether the first Historical society owed its origin to them in any degree is equally unknown, though some circumstances seem to favor the latter conjecture.

In the year 1770, several students, observing the insufficiency of the academical course as a preparation for active life, obtained a grant of apartments in College for the purpose of devoting one evening in every week to the cultivation of those useful branches of the Belles Lettres which were totally neglected in the under-graduate course. Of the nature of the grant we are left in ignorance. It cannot be supposed to have been absolute, but what the conditions were, whether strictly defined, or tacitly implied, must be left to conjecture. The objects of the society of 1770, seem to have been prosecuted with an ardor and ability proportioned to their importance; and we find the following gentlemen among its most active and distinguished members during the twenty years immediately preceding its secession:-In the church. Dr. Hall, late Bishop of Dromore,t-Dr. Magee, present Bishop of Raphoe,t-Dr. William Hamilton,t-Dr. Stack,†-Dr. Stopford,t-Dr. Greaves,t-Dr. Miller,t-Dr. Usher,t-Dr. Burrowes,t-Dr. Prior,t-Dr. Davenport,†Dr. Kyle, present Provost,t-Dr. Sadleir,t-Rev. James Dunne,-Rey. J. Jebb,-late Rev. J. Whitelaw, &c. &c. In the senate and at the bar:-the present Lord Ross,-Lord

Those, thus marked, † are, or have been Fellows of the College.

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