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gentlemen, hal officiously communicated his name, and it had reached her at the same time as the account of his danger.

Poor Horace started and shuddered—“Mercifulheaven!” he muttered,“ spare me this trial!" and as he spoke his eyes became glazed, and his troubled spirit was at rest.

SONG.

BY THE LADY E. S. WORTLEY.

(FROM THE CIRCASSIAN.)

What means this misery-happiness?

In torrents wild my blood is flowing ;
My heart now mountains seem to press,

Now seems it but too freely glowing.

Whence come these transports ? Still the same,

From one dear Object only springing ;
Yet changing evermore their name,

So rapidly their flight they're winging!

Hope, doubt, faith, joy, fear, phrenzy, pain,

Seem one by one this heart to awaken;
With such emotions in their train,

Can reason long remain unshaken?

Still one by one, in absence drear,

These make my wild heart glow or wither;
In absence ? Aye! when thou art near,

Then—then I fe ALL together!

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Abrera sien, Wien
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And slurria mana ia 49 salone
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Join in the praga nr: 20-
Weep for me, deatore:

At morning's dawn, it *3***
Weep for me! Wher. a ***

At eve, of half yoz
And when you react semn

Fond words, that man
And when she narre ng

Weep for me this pas
Pray for me, des ore!

Sweeps seaward, 17 2 - -
Pray for me! when sage",

Pray for me! when
Though dark and dren,

No storm can chill, so
While thoughts of the

Like angels, through ** The Danube, near Linz,

LAKE OF COMO.

BY LEITCH RITCHIE.

It is pretty generally allowed that the Lake of Como is the inost beautiful in Italy: but, it is in reality something more than beautiful. It is divided into three distinct portions, each with scenery peculiar to itself; and thus in wandering along its banks, the traveller perpetually receives new impressions. The mountains which border the lake are in general upwards of two thousand feet high; and as they are extremely precipitous—in some places, indeed, overhanging the water, it might be expected that the preponderating character of the view would be sublimity. This, however, is not the case. In Italy, the giants of nature lose half their terrors by being divested of those deep shadows, and that mysterious gloom which they possess in other countries; for here the sides and summits of the mountains are entirely naked, and of a light stone colour, as if the vegetation had been burnt away by the sun.

But at the water's edge, and for some distance above it, the lake is girdled by a rich tuft of foliage. The pine, the ilex, and the chesnut fringe the shore, and climb the precipices; and in midst of all, the gay cypress (the favourite ornament of a Roman villa!) presents itself in striking contrast. Here, is a village; there, a country seat; yonder, a ruin. In a hundred places the delighted scholar discovers the Plinian villa, for there are a hundred places as beautiful.

These magnificent banks, so well calculated for con

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