Sisters of Scio. . . . by Felicia Dorothea Hemans sung. Die-rather let them die in famine amongst sea-sand shells, than ere their virgin charms be polluted in the harem of the barbarian who has desolated their native isle. Bowed down and half dead, beneath what a load of anguish hangs the orphan's dishevelled head on the knee of a sister, in pensive resignation, and holy faith triumphant over despair, as Felicia happily singeth!"-PROFESSOR WILSON, Blackwood's Magazine. Dec. 1829.]

BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.

[The celebrated Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, having made many ineffectual efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Saldana, who had been imprisoned by King Alfonso of Asturias, almost from the time of Bernardo's birth, at last took up arms in despair. The war which he maintained proved so destructive, that the men of the land gathered round the King, and united in demanding Saldana's liberty Alfonso, accordingly, offered Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person in exchange for his castle of Carpio. Bernardo, without hesitation, gave up his stronghold, with all his captives; and being assured that his father was then on his way from prison, rode forth with the King to meet him. "And when he saw his father approaching, he exclaimed," says the ancient chronicle, “Oh, God! is the Count of Saldana indeed coming?'-Look where he is,' replied the cruel King; and now go and greet him whom you have so long desired to see."" The remainder of the story will be found related in the ballad. The chronicles and romances leave us nearly in the dark as to Bernardo's history after this event.]

THE warrior bow'd his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,

And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprison'd sire :

"I bring thee here my fortress keys, I bring my captive train,

I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord !—oh, break my father's chain !"

His dark eye flash'd, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's blood came and went;

He reach'd that gray-hair'd chieftain's side, and there, dismounting, bent;

A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took,

What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook?

That hand was cold-a frozen thing-it dropp'd from his like lead:

He look'd up to the face above-the face was of the dead!

A plume waved o'er the noble brow-the brow was fix'd and white;

He met at last his father's eyes-but in them was no sight!

Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed, but who could paint that gaze?

They hush'd their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze;

They might have chain'd him, as before that stony form he stood,

For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood.

"Father!" at length he murmur'd low, and wept like childhood then

Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!

He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown,—

He flung the falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down.

Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,

No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for now.-

My king is false, my hope betray'd, my fatheroh! the worth,

The glory and the loveliness, are pass'd away from earth!

"I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire! beside thee yet

I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met !

Thou wouldst have known my spirit then-for thee my fields were won,

And thou hast perish'd in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!"

["I attended a funeral where there were a number of the German settlers present. After I had performed such service as is usual on similar occasions, a most venerable-looking old man came forward, and asked me if I were willing that they should perform some of their peculiar rites. He opened a very ancient version of Luther's Hymns, and they all began to sing, in German, so loud that the woods echoed the strain. There was something affecting in the singing of these ancient people, carrying one of their brethren to his last home, and using the language and rites which they had brought with them over the sea from the Vaterland, a word which often occurred in this hymn. It was a long, slow, and mournful air, which they sung as they bore the body along: the words 'mein Gott,'' mein Bruder,' and ' Vaterland,' died away in distant echoes amongst the woods. I shall long remember that funeral hymn."-FLINT'S Recollections of the Valley of the Mississippi.]

THERE went a dirge through the forest's gloom. -An exile was borne to a lonely tomb.

"Brother!" (so the chant was sung In the slumberer's native tongue,) "Friend and brother! not for thee Shall the sound of weeping be: Long the exile's woe hath lain

On thy life a withering chain;