"The night advances, and the castle bell
Tolls slowly, solemnly, the midnight hour;
Then rings a rapid peal, designed to tell

Th' appointed watchers they must wake, and scour
The purlieus of the castle, hill and dell,

Lest foemen in the dark surprise the tow'r.
Groping, scarce half awake, from bed they creep,
And curse the summons that forbids to sleep.

"Now heavy and reluctant steps are heard
Along the narrow passages and stairs,
Grumbling, and oaths, and many a muttered word;
A court-yard lanthorn on th' assemblage flares,
Each on his halberd leans, with face unstirred.

The draw-bridge falls, and forth one party fares,
To range the ground; the rest within the yard
Replace the draw-bridge and remain on guard.

"Scarce half an hour since forth they went hath past,
And hark! the word is given, and the reply:
Now over the lower'd bridge come trampling fast
The scouts, full certain that no danger's nigh ;
When lo! a strange alarm !—all stand aghast,
For issuing from the portal all descry

A tall white phantom, that, amidst their fears,
Crossing court-yard and draw-bridge, disappears.

"The guards all trembling stood; then raised a yell

Of fear, and shrouded with their hands their eyes;
But when they heard their shrieks re-echoing swell,
For shelter swift each hurrying dastard flies;
Jostling and dashing at the gate, some fell,

Borne down and trampled on with groans and cries;
Pale, livid, icy-cold, some fainting lay;

Some, as their feet were winged, fled fast away.

"The bridge is lowered, the postern-gate set wide,
Raised the portcullis! It behoves that quick
I venture forth, to learn, did spectre glide

Through the scared band, or was it boyish trick,
Or daring stratagem? On every side

The dazzling snowdrifts on the ground lie thick.
Ay, but yon marsh and all those rustling reeds ?—
There sure some mortal wight concealment needs.

Was then the phantom only flesh and blood!

For footsteps hurrying thence I plainly hear.
Elisa thus exclaims in merry mood-

'Oh goblin spectres, and oh slaves of fear!
I leave ye, purblind guards, for scorn meet food!'
And loud her laugh, as memory painted clear
The frolic pranks that erst, in childhood played,
Full oft her home a house of mourning made."

Crocciata, is a portion of the first crusade and should perhaps have been noticed before; but he has now given the world another narrative poem, depicting the early days of Italy, and has laid his scene further back than either of the writers just noticed,

We now proceed to a writer who, already enjoying a very considerable share of celebrity, is entitled to more attention than Carcano or Montanari. Grossi is well known in this country as the author of Marco Visconte, an historical novel, the best perhaps that the Italian, we could al-and, it seems to us, in a more interesting most say the continental school has yet produced; but many of his warmest English admirers may possibly be unaware that even prior to the appearance of that tale, Grossi's reputation as a poet stood high in Italy. His great work, I Lombardi alla Prima

age; namely, the beginning of the 12th century. His tale of Ulrico e Lida is an episode of the fierce war provoked by the murder of a Milanese noble in a Comasian sedition, and which raged for ten years between the neighbouring Lombard cities

Notwithstanding their precautions, Ulrico is wounded, and Richelmo seizes the fiercest of the crowd:

"Loudly he roars and struggles, the poltroon,
But vainly as the pie in eagle's claw;

By turn so strange the crowd is silenced soon;
The bold exploit enforces sudden awe,

And the wild outcries of the caitiff loon

Their fickle minds from rage to laughter draw,

As on his back and shoulders falls each blow

Dealt by the sword-hilt of his vigorous foe."

turns to Como to solicit his father's approbation. Lida and her family remove, in the mean time, to the castle of Bellano, on the lake of Como.

The mob being thus unexpectedly brought |tween the belligerents; whereupon Ulrico into good humour by the sound drubbing declares his passion, obtains every requisite bestowed upon one of themselves, Richelmo consent in Milan to his marriage, and redelivers up to the authorities all his prisoners except Ulrico, whom he takes home. There, however, he finds his mother considerably less manageable than the mob. She is vindictively inconsolable for the mur- But time rolls on; peace is not concluded, der of her husband, and for a long time and no tidings are received from Ulrico; at positively insists upon leaving the mansion length a rumour arises that he is on the that shall harbour a Comasian, even though point of marriage with Eurosa, the daughter her former favourite, and innocent of the of Azzo di Rumo, a powerful ally of Como. crime: her two daughters, Lida and the Richelmo is furious at such treatment, child Odalinda, are equally implacable. which he leaves home to avenge: Lida is Richelmo, however, ultimately extorts ac- distressed; but one evening it is whispered quiescence in favour of his wounded friend, in her ear that, next morning, Ulrico, with and, the domiciliation accomplished, time six vessels, will be on his way to Dongo, on and intercourse produce their accustomed the other side of the lake, from whence he effect, Ulrico and Lida falling in love with each other. Negociations for peace and an exchange of prisoners are set on foot be

purposes immediately to repair to Bellano. Lida looks round, but the messenger has vanished. She is early on the watch :

“Pure azure is the sky in morning's prime;
The rising sun with roseate vapours dyed;
White with fresh snows and with nocturnal rime
Show mountain, vale, and bank, the lake beside :
All veiled except its breast; outspread sublime,

Dark midst the white expanse, its waters glide;
Beneath whose glassy surface, still and clear,
Rock, castle, tree, and hut, reversed appear.

"Seest thou how, bowed beneath their load of snow
Thrown from each neighbouring mountain's lofty crest,
Albeit yet green their leafy tresses show,

Dark olive, cypress, laurel, bend oppressed?

While birds, that deeply taste of famine's woe,

Sweep downward from each native crag-built nest,

Searching the boughs, whence every touch of wings,

The gathered snows in showery powder flings."

At length she descries the promised vessels, closely pursued by a superior force.

"But, mark ye, where around yon loftiest peak,

In the far north, a gathering tempest lowers;
Thence one small, round, grey cloud appears to seek,
Outstarting from the mass, Legnone's towers.
The fisher plies his oar to reach the creek,

Hauls up his boat, and safe beneath it cowers.
The sportive swallows screaming, swoop from high,
And dip their wings, so near the lake they fly.

"Hark to the sullen murmur, rising now

Remote; from crag to crag that louder grows:
See heaped in pillars 'gainst each mountain's brow
Upwhirled by hurricanes, the gathered snows;
The watery plain as yet no furrows plough;

Alone the murmuring roar that deepening goes
Forth from yon dark horizon, Boreas' reign,
Heralds the tempest to th' adjacent plain.

"Lida, who gazes from a turret's height,

Beholds the surges swell beyond the strait;

Sees waves, now white with foam, now black as night,
Roll menacingly onward, big with fate.

But yet with hope she views the threatening sight,
Trusting the storm man's fury may abate.
At length the tempest comes with horrid crash
Ship forced on ship the foaming billows dash.

"Madly the wind amidst the vessels raves,

And takes their broadside-whirling round and round.
No longer raging foe his foeman braves,

The gusts, commingling all things, all confound;
While by the fierce concussion of the waves
Resistless tossing, barks from barks rebound,
Or, by the billows 'gainst each other driven,
One by another's brazen beak is riven."

The tempest so far answers to Lida's hopes | sels being driven by the storm upon the inithat it puts an end to the fight; but the ob- mical shore of Bellano, to encounter, as may ject of her anxiety derives little advantage be supposed, little hospitality.

from this interruption of hostilities, his ves-1

"Meanwhile, through town and village, far and near,
The pealing bells give notice of th' affray;
Signal of war, to summon all who hear;

Thither they flock, though armed in uncouth way;
Some cross-bows bring, some clubs or pikes uprear,
Some spits, and rustic scythes, or bill-hooks sway.
On the wrecked men they fall with savage joy,
And all who gain the fatal shore destroy."

The leader's vessel makes a stout resistance under the castle walls.

"Stationed at some small distance from the land,

A storm of bolts and stones her engines pour
Upon the barb'rous race that on the strand

Slay the wrecked sailors struggling to the shore.
But from behind the mole starts forth a band

Of wherries, skiffs, and boats; by vigorous oar
Impelled, along the angry waves they glide,
And crowd the gallant ship on every side.

"The maiden, palpitating, terrified,

Yet dares not from these horrors turn her eye,
For well hath she her best-beloved descried
Amongst the warriors in the flag-ship nigh.
The danger grows-a moment must decide

His fate, who combats there so gallantly;
His comrades dead, or wounded, strew the deck;
The sinking vessel is itself a wreck.

"Whilst the poor remnant of his crew he cheers,

And on the poop can scarce his stand maintain,
See, tow'rds her prow a buoyant wherry steers,
Shoots underneath, and takes the hanging chain.
Triumphant now each rower's strength appears

As to the beach they tow the prize amain,
Whilst, both from lake and shore, their daring feat
Ferocious cries and clamorous plaudits greet.

"And now the Milanese o'erpowering bands
Board her, and win, dismanned and desolate;
Alone, and near the stern, Ulrico stands,
Assailed on all sides; his deserted state
He sees; his vessel in the foeman's hands;
Resistance hopeless 'gainst impending fate:
Fierce on th' assailant most athirst for blood

He springs, and plunging with him, seeks the flood.

"Then might you hear from that ship's hold arise
A female shriek of bitter agony.

Hath Lida heard it? Scarcely-for she lies
Swooning, unconscious of her misery,
Stretched upon earth, as corpse of one who dies.
There long, in blest insensibility,

She lay supine, across the threshold spread,
As marble white and cold, though living, dead."

We have suffered this extract to run to hears that Ulrico is alive-a prisoner in the some length, because its scene of mingled castle, and his bride with him. Her agony human and elemental strife is one of the and rage when her rival comes before her, most striking in the poem. The main fault are well described; but Ulrico's supposed of Grossi and Carcano, and, in a less de-bride proves to be his sister Rosamonda, gree, of Montanari also, is the dryness of the narrative they detail, instead of selecting a few dramatic and graphic scenes, forwarding the catastrophe, and connected by a brief intimation of the intermediate facts. This, we apprehend, was one of the secrets that endered the poems of Scott and others so effective for the genuine poet can only paint vividly that which vividly impresses his own fancy, namely, particular scenes and portions of his tale.

and the lover satisfactorily exculpates himself respecting Eurosa di Rumo. The nuptial project is resumed; the crews are prisoners at large in the castle; and, upon the next rumour of peace, Ulrico is again sent home to implore his father's consent. But scarcely is he gone when the Comasian sailors break out of the castle, and meeting with Rosamonda, Lida, and Odalinda, forcibly carry them off. Their appearance at Cosmo complicates matters. Azzo di RuRichelmo, intent upon chastising Ulrico's mo, learning that his daughter is rejected reported falsehood, had led the Milanese for Lida, obtains the incarceration of the latfleet, and was killed in the first attack.ter, with threats of fearful punishment unWhilst Lida is weeping over his body, she less she persuades Ulrico to marry Eurosa.

VOL. XXI.

But this generous, hopelessly enamoured the child wakes and screams just as they girl, at Rosamonda's instigation secretly are stealing past Azzo's door, and he is inliberates Lida, and conducts her to Ulrico, defatigable in pursuit. We extract the con

who flies with her and her little sister; but clusion of their disastrous flight.

"Beneath a beam of mighty len th, thrown o'er
The valley where it narrows and grows deep,
The foaming waters of a torrent pour,

Headlong, precipitous, adown the steep:
Only the side that fronts the cataract's roar,

Is guarded with a rail by which to creep
More safely, but worm-eaten, broken, low,
It gives frail hold for those across that go.

"Ulrico, on this beam, before him placed

And gently forward urged the tottering child,
Behind him drawing on with careful haste
Lida, who stepped with fear, and faintly smiled.
Thus high uplifted o'er the watery waste,

The sisters trembling, shook in terror wild;
Betwixt them he, their sole support and stay,
Guided them both on that aërial way.

"Now close behind them suddenly they hear
Fierce Rumo's accents, vengeance menacing, -
Behold him burst from out a thicket near,

And see him on the bridge impetuous spring.
The gentle sisters shriek, o'erwhelmed with fear;
His cheek and eye of wrath such terrors fling;
Blinded with rage, he hurries on to dart
His eager weapon to Ulrico's heart."

Lida shields her lover, receiving in her bosom the descending blow, and—

"Th' assailant on his murderous aim intent,

Thrown blindly forward, feels his footing fail,
And fain, with swaying arms alternate lent
To either side, would balance him: the rail
He grasps at, misses, falls: that shock hath bent
The beam; it leaves him: nothing now avail
The fragile bars: hurled, shrieking, to the wave,
That wood-work, following, floats upon his grave."

either poetic tales, or fragments of epics.

With this catastrophe we should have, prose historic novel far better suited than thought the poem might have properly closed; but Grossi has added a whole canto, in The works we have just noticed do not which Lida gets home and goes to bed; finds possess all the merit we could desire, but her mother insane at the loss of her children; they are at least interesting, and even imand sees her recover her senses on the resto-portant, as showing that the most recent ration of the two survivors. Yet just when literary taste of western Europe has also exevery body, surgeon and reader included, tended to Italy.

imagines her wound in a fair way of healing, the poor girl dies, a minute or two after being married to Ulrico.

It strikes us as somewhat remarkable, that two out of these three new and popular poems should terminate with a death-bed marriage; and we feel half tempted to consider the cir cumstance as indicative of a return to a depth and solemnity of feeling such as has not, for some centuries past, been indigenous in the Italian soil and spirit.

Here we take a temporary leave, looking forward with hope to more finished produc- THERE is in vogue amongst our continental tions from Carcano and Montanari: to the neighbours a Philosophy which, let it take genius of Grossi we decidedly think the what shape it will, is perpetually tending