affection prompts him to repeated endeavors, and ephem-eral hopes continually lead him on. He wanders along the banks of the Danube, he sits be-neath the dark shadow of the Ténébreuse, from whose por-tals no ransomed captive has ever yet come forth to the free light of day. He assays his most thrilling strains, but the guards, insensible as the granite effigies that frown upon him from the lofty turrets, remain unmoved. He throws down his lyre in despair, and hot tears gush from his eyes. The image of Berengaria floats before him, her cheek flushed with hope, and her eyes sparkling with love. He sees her leaning enchanted from the vessel's side, lis-tening to the voice of her royal lover, while the wind with fairy fingers sweeps a wild symphony through the straining cordage of the gallant Trenc-the-mere. "With the recollec-tions come the long-forgotten emotions of that blissful sea-son. Instinctively his hand grasps the harp ; his spirit kindles with the inspiration ; a melodious prelude rings out upon the still air, and he sings, " Your beauty, lady fair, None views without delight ; But still so cold an air No passion canexcite. Yet this I patient see, While all are shunn'd like rne." Is it the v.oice of the warder mingling with his own in the concluding strain, or has his rapt fancy taught the echoes to mock his impatience with the loved tones of the royal troubadour ? He pauses— 'Tis neither memory nor fancy. From the lonely turret and the closely barred case-ment pours a liquid strain, and his fond ear drinks again the clear tones that answered to his own, when in harmoni-ous rivalry each sought the rich reward of Berengaria's smile. " No nymph my heart can wound, If favors she divide, And smile on all around, Unwilling to decide: I'd rather hatred bear • Than love with other share." BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 267