Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine. Volume 55, No. 344, June, 1844. Various

said Albert. ‘Have the goodness to tell that conceited girl there, that her headgear is the most miserable that ever was seen.’

      “‘What!’ said the old lady wondering, and with a shake of the head. ‘Maud has no other gear that I see, but her own beautiful hair, which may God long preserve to her!’

      “Instead of giving any answer, Albert would have set the daughter before her mother’s eyes. But Maud had already, in the doorway, pulled off the fairy’s gift, and turned pale as she saw that she had actually worn dried mushrooms on a string, twisted of withered rushes. Albert observed her perplexity, and laughed. He bantered her, and snatched two or three mushrooms from the chain, to hoard up for future sport. This was the token of their reconciliation. Maud, although very calmly, assured her lover, over and over again, that within a month their nuptials should take place. That the tired old man might not be disturbed, Albert went home early; and Maud hastened to put carefully away, for a while, the very meagre-looking fairy gifts.

      “On the following morning, Albert was off betimes to his work. Putting on his jacket, he heard something chinking within. His surprise was naturally great, knowing that he had no money there. He dived at once into his pocket, and drew out two large old gold pieces. Then he suddenly remembered, that the evening before he had pocketed the mushrooms which he had snatched away from Maud, and the most extravagant joy possessed him. He forgot his work and every thing else; started off, and ran, as fast as his legs could carry him, to the house of the stone-mason.

      “Maud stood at the brook, before the door, washing her small white hands in the clear stream.

      “‘Good-morrow, dear Maud, and a thousand blessings on thy sweet head!’ cried Albert to her, as he came running. ‘Look, look, how thy mushrooms have changed! If the others turn out as well, I am afraid that, after all, I must forgive that little shrimp that was so killingly polite to you!’

      “‘Delightful! delightful!’ exclaimed Matilda, gazing at the gold pieces. ‘Mine have not changed yet—but that doesn’t matter; for in the night, a little rush band, with which the fairy steered me into his kingdom of wonders, has bloomed into precious pearls and brilliants, and two sparkling wreaths are now lying upstairs in my drawer.’

      “Joyful surprise choked Albert’s words in his throat; but Maud drew him on, and displayed to him her glories from the fairy world.

      “‘Let us leave nothing undone that may help our luck. Do you take the little wreath for the present. Such is the wish of the mysterious being, who required my attendance at the Fairies’ Sabbath.’

      “Albert received the gift with a softened heart. He begged Maud’s forgiveness of his fault; she granted it willingly, and before four weeks had passed by, the lovers were man and wife.

      “Of her adventure on Whitsun-eve, Maud never spoke. So much the more had her godmother Helen to say about it; for it was not difficult to guess that the fairies had had their prospering hand in the marriage of her godchild. The stone-mason now gave up his laborious calling. Albert became the master of a moderate property, which he diligently cultivated with his beloved Maud; and, as fair child after child was born to them, the happy mother laid upon the breast of each a shriveled leaf from the elfin chain, for so had her little guide counseled her, when she once, in a doubtful hour, had summoned him to her aid. Albert and Matilda reached a good old age; their children throve, and carefully preserved, like their parents, the gifts received from the subterranean folk, who continued their favour to them and to all their posterity.”

      COLUMBUS

(A Print after a Picture by Parmeggiano.)BY B. SimmonsI

      Rise, Victor, from the festive board

      Flush’d with triumphal wine,

      And lifting high thy beaming sword,

      Fired by the flattering Harper’s chord,

      Who hymns thee half divine.

      Vow at the glutted shrine of Fate

      That dark-red brand to consecrate!

      Long, dread, and doubtful was the fray

      That gives the stars thy name to-day.

      But all is over; round thee now

      Fame shouts, spoil pours, and captives bow,

      No stormier joy can Earth impart,

      Than thrills in lightning through thy heart.

II

      Gay Lover, with the soft guitar,

      Hie to the olive-woods afar,

      And to thy friend, the listening brook,

      Alone reveal that raptured look;

      The maid so long in secret loved—

      A parent’s angry will removed—

      This morning saw betrothèd thine,

      That Sire the pledge, consenting, blest,

      Life bright as motes in golden wine,

      Is dancing in thy breast.

III

      Statesman astute, the final hour

      Arrives of long-contested Power;

      Each crafty wile thine ends to aid,

      Party and principle betray’d;

      The subtle speech, the plan profound,

      Pursued for years, success has crown’d;

      To-night the Vote upon whose tongue,

      The nicely-poised Division hung,

      Was thine—beneath that placid brow

      What feelings throb exulting now!

      Thy rival falls;—on grandeur’s base

      Go shake the nations in his place!

IV

      Fame, Love, Ambition! what are Ye,

      With all your wasting passions’ war,

      To the great Strife that, like a sea,

      O’erswept His soul tumultuously,

      Whose face gleams on me like a star—

      A star that gleams through murky clouds—

      As here begirt by struggling crowds

      A spell-bound Loiterer I stand,

      Before a print-shop in the Strand?

      What are your eager hopes and fears

      Whose minutes wither men like years—

      Your schemes defeated or fulfill’d,

      To the emotions dread that thrill’d

      His frame on that October night,

      When, watching by the lonely mast,

      He saw on shore the moving light,

      And felt, though darkness veil’d the sight,

      The long-sought World was his at last?18

V

      How Fancy’s boldest glances fail,

      Contemplating each hurrying mood

      Of thought that to that aspect pale

      Sent up the heart’s o’erboiling flood

      Through that vast vigil, while his eyes

      Watch’d till the slow reluctant skies

      Should kindle, and the vision dread,

      Of all his livelong years be read!

      In youth, his faith-led spirit doom’d

      Still to be baffled and betray’d,

      His manhood’s vigorous noon consumed

      Ere Power bestow’d its niggard aid;

      That morn of summer, dawning grey,

18

October 11, 1492.—“As the evening darkened, Columbus took his station on the top of the castle or cabin, on the high poop of his vessel. However he might carry a cheerful and confident countenance during the day, it was to him a time of the most painful anxiety; and now, when he was wrapped from observation by the shades of night, he maintained an intense and unremitting watch, ranging his eye along the dusky horizon in search of the most vague indications of land. Suddenly, about ten o’clock, he thought he beheld a light glimmering at a distance. Fearing that his eager hopes might deceive him, he called to Pedro Gutierrez, gentleman of the king’s bedchamber, and enquired whether he saw a light in that direction; the latter replied in the affirmative. Columbus, yet doubtful whether it might not be some delusion of the fancy, called Rodrigo Sanchez of Segovia, and made the same enquiry. By the time the latter had ascended the roundhouse, the light had disappeared. They saw it once or twice afterwards in sudden and passing gleams, as if it were a torch in the bark of a fisherman rising and sinking with the waves, or in the hand of some person on shore, borne up and down as he walked from house to house. So transient and uncertain were these gleams, that few attached any importance to them; Columbus, however, considered them as certain signs of land, and, moreover, that the land was inhabited.”—Irving’s Columbus, vol. i.