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j April 20, 1850.] ®|»e &£&>£¥+ SI
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*$\ 1* f "PfT ^J Uii-l-UHiU
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ttrp should do our utmost to encourage t...
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IMAGINARY CONVERSATION. LEONORA DI ESTE ...
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PARABLE OF THE BREAD-FRUIT-TREE. It was ...
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THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. A POLISH LEGEND. [Th...
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Transcript
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
J April 20, 1850.] ®|»E &£&>£¥+ Si
j April 20 , 1850 . ] ®|» e & £ &> £¥ + SI
*$\ 1* F "Pft ^J Uii-L-Uhiu
putlfalh .
Ttrp Should Do Our Utmost To Encourage T...
ttrp should do our utmost to encourage the Beautiful , for the Useful encourages itself . — vv Goethe .
Imaginary Conversation. Leonora Di Este ...
IMAGINARY CONVERSATION . LEONORA DI ESTE AND FATHER PANIGAROLA . Leonora . You have then seen him , father ? Have you been able , you who console so many , you who console even me , to comfort poor Torquato ? Panigarola . Madonna ! the ears of the unhappy man are quickened by his solitude and his sorrow . He seemed aware , or suspicious at least , that somebody was listening at his prison-door ; and the cell is so narrow that every sound in it is audible to those who stand outside . Leonora . He might have whispered . Panigarola . It would have been most imprudent . Leonora . Said he nothing ? not a word ?—to prove—to prove that he had not lost his memory—his memory ! of what ? of reading his verses to me , and of my listening to them . Lucrezia listened to them as attentively as I did , until she observed his waiting for my applause first . When she applauded , he bowed so gracefully : when I applauded , he only held down his head . I was not angry at the difference . But tell me , good father ! tell me , pray , whether he gave no sign of sorrow at hearing how soon I am to leave the world . Did you forget to mention it ? or did you fear to pain him ? Panigarola . I mentioned it plainly , fully . Leonora . And was he , was gentle Torquato , very sorry ?
Panigarola . Be less anxious . He bore it like a Christian . He said deliberately , but he trembled and sighed , as Christians should sigh and tremble , that , although he grieved at your illness , yet that to write either in verse or prose , on such a visitation of Providence , was repugnant to his nature . * Leonora . He said so ? could he say it ? But I thought you told me he feared a listener . Perhaps , too , he feared to awaken in me the sentiments he once excited . However it may be , already I feel the chilliness of the grave his words breathe it over me . I would have entreated him to forget me ; but to be forgotten before I had entreated it—O father , father !
Panigarola . Human vanity still is lingering on the precincts of the tomb . Is it criminal , is it censurable in him , to anticipate your wishes ? Leonora . Knowing the certainty and the nearness of my departure , he might , at least , have told me , through you , that he lamented to lose me . Panigarola . Is there no voice within your heart that clearly tells you so ? Leonora . That voice is too indistinct , too troubled with the throbbings round about it . We women want sometimes to hear what we know ; we die unless we hear what we doubt . Panigarola . Madonna ! this is too passionate for the hour . But the tears you are shedding are a proof of your compunction . May the Virgin , and the Saints around her throne , accept and ratify it .
Leonora . Father ! what were you saying ? What were you asking me ? Whether no voice whispered to me , assured me ? I know not ; I am weary of thinking . He must love me . It is not in the nature of such men ever to cease from loving . Was genius ever ungrateful ? Mere talents are dry leaves , tossed up and down by gusts of passion , and scattered and swept away ; but Genius lies on the bosom of Memory , and Gratitude at her feet . Panigarola . Be composed , be calm , be resigned to the will of Heaven , be ready for that journey ' end where the happier who have gone before , and the enduring who soon must follow , will meet .
Leonora . I am prepared to depart ; for I have struggled ( God knows ) to surmount what is insurmountable ; and the wings of angels will sustain and raise me , seeing my descent toward earth too rapid , too unresisted , and too prone . Pray , father , for my deliverance ; pray , also , for poor Torquato ' s . Do not separate us in your prayers . O ! could he leave his prison as surely and as soon as I shall mine ! It would not be more thankfully . O ! that bars of iron were as fragile as bars of clay ! O ! that princes were as merciful as Death ! But tell him , tell Torquato—go again ; entreat , persuade , com - mand him to forget me *
Panigarola . Alas ! even the command , even the command from you and from above , might not avail , perhaps . You smile , Madonna ! Leonora . I die happy . Walter Savage Land or .
Imaginary Conversation. Leonora Di Este ...
* Mr . Milman , in h is Life of Tasso , misinterprets the expression . Genio and ingenio do not always signify genius . His words are " a certain secret repugnance of his genius , * ' but Tasso meant temper or disposition , Inganium has the same meaning in Latin . Milton was not thinking about his genius when he wrote " Ctctcranuc ingenio non Bub eunda mco . "
Parable Of The Bread-Fruit-Tree. It Was ...
PARABLE OF THE BREAD-FRUIT-TREE . It was after one of those heavy convulsions which have divided era from era , and left mankind to start again from the beginning , that a number of brave men gathered together to raise anew from the ground a fresh green home for themselves . The rest of the surviving race were sheltering themselves amidst the old ruins , or in the caves on the mountains , feeding on the old husks and shells : but these men with clear heads and brave hearts ploughed and harrowed the earth , and planted seeds , arfd watered them , and
watched them , and the seeds grew and shot up with the spring ; but one was larger and fairer than the rest , and the others seemed to know it , for they crawled along till they reached the large one ; and they gathered round it , and clung to it , and grew into it ; and soon they became one great stem , with branching roots feeding it as from many fountains . Then the men got great heart in them when they saw that , and they laboured more bravely , digging about it in the hot sun , till at last it became great and mighty , and its roots went down into the heart of the earth , and its branches stretched over all the plain .
Then many others of mankind , when they saw the tree was beautiful , came down and gathered under it , and those who had raised it received them , with open arms , and they all sat under its shade together , and gathered its fruits , and made their homes there , rejoicing in its loveliness . And ages passed away , and all that generation passed away , and still the tree grew stronger and fairer , and their children ' s children watched it age after age , as it lived on and flowered and seeded . And they said in their hearts , the tree is immortal—it will never die . They took no care of the seed ; the scent of the flowers and the taste of the sweet fruit was all they thought of : and the winds of heaven , and the wild birds , and the beasts of the field caught the stray fruits and seed-dust , and bore the seed away , and scattered it in far-off
soils . And bye and bye , at a great great age , the tree at last began to cease to grow , and then to faint and droop : its leaves were not so thick , its flowers were not so fragrant ; and , from time to time , the night winds , which before had past away , and had been never heard , came moaning and sighing among the branches . And the men for awhile doubted and denied—they thought it was the accident of the seasons ; and then a branch fell , and they said it was a storm , and such a storm as came but once in a thousand years . At last there could be no doubt that the leaves were thin and sore and
scantythat the sun shone through them—that the fruit was tasteless . But the generation was gone away which had known the tree in its beauty , and so men said it was always so—its fruits were never better—its foliage never was thicker . So things went on , and from time to time strangers would come among them , and would say , why are you sitting here under the old tree ? there are young trees grown of the seed of this tree , far away , more beautiful than it ever was ; see , we have brought you leaves and flowers to show you . But the men would not listen . They were angry , and some they drove away , and
some they killed , and poured their blood round the roots of the tree ; saying , they have spoken evil of our tree , let them feed it now with their blood . At last some of their own wiser ones brought out specimens of the old fruits , which had been laid up to be preserved , and compared them with the present bearing , and they saw that the tree was not as it had been ; and such of them as were good men reproached themselves , and said , it was their own fault . They had not watered it , they had forgotten to manure it . So , like their first fathers , they laboured with might and main , and for a while it seemed as if they might succeed , and for a few years branches , which were almost dead
when the spring came round , put out some young green shoots again . But it was only for a few years ; there was not enough of living energy in the poor tree . Half the labour which was wasted on it would have raised another nobler one far away . So the men grew soon weary , and looked for a shorter way ; and some gathered up the leaves and shoots which the strangers had brought , and grafted them on , if perhaps they might grow ; but they could not grow on a dying stock , and they , too , soon drooped and became as the rest . And others said , come , let us tie the preserved fruits on again ; perhaps they will join again to the stem , and give it back its life .
But there were not enough , for only a few had been preserved ; so they took painted paper and wax and clay , and cut sham leaves and fruits of the old pattern , which for a time looked bright and gay , and the world , who did not know what had been done , said—See , the tree is immortal , it is green again . Then some believed , but many saw that it was a sham , and liking better to bear the sky and sun , without any shade at all , than to live in a lie , and call painted paper leaves and flowers , they passed out in search of other homes . But the larger number staid behind ; they had lived so long in falsehood that they had forgotten there was any such thing as truth at all ; children
the tree had done very well for them , it would do very well for their . And if their children , as they grew up , did now and then happen to open their eyes and see how it really was , they learned from their fathers to hold their tongues about it . If the little ones and the weak ones believed , it answered all purposes , and change was inconvenient . They might smile to themselves at the folly which they countenanced , but they must be discreet , and they must not expose it . This is the state of the tree , and of the men who are under it at this present time : —they say it still does very well—perhaps it does—but stem and boughs and paper leaves , it is dry for the burning , and if the lightning touches it F .
The Glass Mountain. A Polish Legend. [Th...
THE GLASS MOUNTAIN . A POLISH LEGEND . [ The following marvellous tale may not be unwelcome as a specimen of the legends current in Foland . It is wild enough . To our renders the interest , probably , will not bo diminished by knowing that tho English version comes from the pen of a Polish gentleman whose hand has seen service in rougher work : we have not altered a word , ] Once upon a time there stood upon a glass mountain a castle made of gold ; an apple-tree , bearing golden apples , stood at its entrance . Whoever could pluck an apple from this tree could enter the golden castle ; and there , in a silver room , he would find a bewitched princess of uncommon beauty . She
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), April 20, 1850, page 19, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_20041850/page/19/
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