It was the Carnival: within the walls
Of Monterini's palace swarmed a host—
A motley host of Pleasure's votaries;

The laugh rang gaily forth; the am'rous song
Gush'd forth in strains melodious from the lips
Of fair Italia's children. Gaily too

'Neath shades by artificial planets lit,
Or on the verdant sward, or by the brink
Of bubbling fountains danced the merry throngs,
Forgetful of what had been, or might be,
And wasteful of the Present's golden hour.

But there are passions in the human breast
Which Pleasure-pow'rful though the siren be-
Fails to eradicate; and they are evil.

Within a distant room, low-roof'd and small,
Whose echoes slumber'd undisturb'd by mirth,
Nor woke at festive Revelry's command,
Where one dim lamp a feeble glimmer shed,
Around an oaken table sat four men.

In rigid silence sat they, save at times

When angry oaths dropp'd fiercely from their lips;
But as the flickʼring torch with fitful gleam
Athwart each visage play'd, Thought stood reveal'd,
And what the bosom felt the face express'd:
Envy and Malice, Expectation wild,
And Disappointment savage-all were there,
And all were visible, for they were gambling!

Vast heaps of gold were pass'd from hand to hand, And each succeeding game the stake was doubled;

More flush'd each cheek became, more wild each eye, Deeper the imprecations; and the wine

(For wine too lent its deadly aid to swell

The fierce excitement-) circled faster round;
And demon Passions gloated o'er the scene,
"Till at their beck fell Discord sudden rose,
And merged the angry thoughts in angry deeds.

Signior Amaldi had been much a loser,
His rival Guardini still had won,

And winning, triumph'd-fanning thus the wrath
That smould'ring rankled in Amaldi's breast,
To burst at length, with tenfold fury forth-
"He plays me false! by Heaven I saw the deed!
And his life-blood shall answer it. Stand off!-
Not all the fiends of Hell, nor saints of Heaven
Shall keep my steel from his accursed heart!"

Stung by the taunt, proud Guardini drew And interference was in vain. They foughtFiercely and madly-blind with wine and rage. Loud clash'd the jarring steel; but ere blood flow'd The door flew open, and the stately form

Of Monterini stepp'd between the foes.

"Hold! Signiors, hold !" he cried in accents stern. "What?―stain my halls with blood in quarrel shed? And in my palace act a tavern fray ?

Nay, Signiors both, I wish not to hear why;

Suffice it hath been done. 'Twere best ye part.
When next ye meet, I trust the fiery flood

That in your veins now rages will have cool'd.
Loath am I, that deep seated enmity

Between two noble Signiors, each my friend-
Within these halls should e'er originate."

It was a lesson for the keen observer-
To whom the words of man are as a veil,
Specious and flimsy, drawn around the heart,
Revealing nothing, nor concealing aught
From his soul piercing ken-to note the mien
Of those two men,-th' accuser and accused.
Calm was Amaldi's aspect; smooth his brow;
His lip-late curl'd with anger and disdain-
Was wreath'd in blandest smiles; and honey'd words
Flow'd from the tongue that late gave utterance
To fierce and vengeful breathings; but the eye—
Who can subdue its power? Who can force
The beams of Pleasure, or the rays of Love
To issue from the windows of the soul,
If Anger, Pain, or Hatred dwell within ?
As well attempt to soften fiery Mars
To the pale splendour graceful Venus owns.

The glance that darted from Amaldi's eye
Proclaim'd the malice burning in his breast;
E'en as the wreath o'er Etna's cone that floats
Betrays the horrors lurking in its womb.

My lord of Monterini," thus he spoke,

"Your words are just that I have done much wrong

In drawing sword-albeit justly moved

Within your palace, I do here confess;

And much regret, that e'er I raised my hand
With ill intent against yon noble Signior.

But that is past: I do forgive the deed,
And doubt me not the Signior will forget."

With glaring eyes, when Passion's torrent pour'd, With scowling mien, and fiercely lab'ring breast Stood Guardini; for his haughty soul,

Though slave to vilest passions, much disdain'd
To brook deceit, or don the hollow mask

Of seeming friendship. Panting with fierce rage,
Awhile he stood, nor deign'd a word—a look;
Then lion like, he turn'd upon his foe.-

"Forgive me!-Thou!-Forget!-By Heav'n I swear.”— He paused, and curl'd his lip in utter scorn,

And stamp'd his foot, as if to crush a worm.

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"My noble lord, adieu !-kind friends, farewell! "Twere best I speak not, lest my words offend."

He turn'd, and left the room with eager tread,
As one who seeks to fly the grisly fiend
That dogs his footsteps. Shunning all discourse,
He quickly strode through corridor and hall,
Aroused his knaves, and his gondola soon
Was swiftly gliding down the broad lagune,
Which silent and unruffled, calmly slept

Beneath the wing of Night, and mirror'd forth
The placid beauty of the smiling sky.

The stars beam❜d brighter as they saw their forms
Reflected in the waters and the Moon,

:

As though the azure depths her chariot roll'd,
Was mimic'd by a rival sphere beneath.

But Guardini saw not-heeded not

The sweet serenity that beam'd around;
For passion that foul night-mare of the soul,
That jaundic'd hag, whose ken distorted views
A hell in Eden's bowers- rack'd his soul,
And o'er his heart her gloomy shadow threw.

He reach'd his palace, and his chamber sought;
But not to sleep: Amaldi's bitter speech
Had raised a wrathful demon in his breast,
Whom nought save direst vengeance could appease.
With burning brow, and wildly throbbing heart
He paced the sounding floor, and to his ear

The
very echoes seem'd to cry, "Revenge!
"And I will be avenged!" he cried. In vain
The "still small voice" of Conscience whisper'd,
Hold!

Nor with thy brother's blood dare stain thy hands!
He heeded not the warning.—" What !-forget ?"
(The words with hissing sound appear'd to 'scape
Th' opposing barrier of his firm-set teeth,—)

.

'Forget the insult offer'd to my honor?

The foul, disgraceful slur upon my name?
Bear the reproach in silence ?-and submit
With patience to be sneer'd and pointed at,
As one who-Ogni Santi !-'tis too much
For mortal nature to endure. May Heaven
Myself abandon, if I wash not out

With his heart's dearest blood the deadly stain!"