PAOLO AND FRANCESCA.

[FROM DANTE'S "INFERNO.") AFTER that I had heard my Teacher name The Ladies and the Knights of days gone by, 'Wildered I stood,—so pity o'er me came.

" Fain," I began, " oh, Poet, fain would I Speak with the two who pass on side by side, And seem so lightly on the wind to lie !"

And he to me, " When thou shalt see them glide Nearer to us, entreat them by the love That leads them on ; thou wilt not be denied."

Soon then as them the wind toward us drove, I raise my voice,—" Oh, spirits woe-oppressed, Come, speak with us, if none else disapprove !"

As doves, invited to their genial nest By fond desire, with wings outstretched and strong, Fly through the air at their own will's behest, So came they to us, issuing from the throng

Grouped around Dido, through the air malign,—

Such force did to my tender plea belong.

" Oh, breathing creature, gracious and benign, Who through the lurid air on visit wend To us who tinged the earth incarnadine, If that Creation's Sovereign were our friend, Him would we now petition for thy peace, Who pity had on our perverted end.

To hear and speak, whate'er thy pleasure is, Of that, together, will we speak and hear, The while the winds, as now, in silence cease.

The burgh where I was born is seated near The sea-board, whereunto the Po descends, He and his affluents to have quiet there.

Love, that the gentle heart full soon appends, Seized upon him, for the fair form removed From me in manner that e'en yet offends.

Love, that from loving ne'er exempts the loved, Charmed me with his so potent spell ; and he Has ne'er abandoned me, as thou seest proved.

Love to one death led us in company.

Him Caine waits for, who our life distraught' These were the words conveyed from them to me.

While thus I heard what the chafed spirits taught, I bowed my head, and held it low until The poet asked me " Whereof is thy thought ?"

When I made answer, I began, " What thrill Of sweet imaginings,—what yearning's force Urged them, alas ! to the last step of ill ?"

Then I returned to them, and my discourse Renewed," Francesca, thy indign Tortures draw tears from sad and pious source..

But say, in time of those sweet sighs of thine, Whereat, and in what mode, did love dispose, So that your dim desires ye should divine ?"

And she to me, " None greater among woes Than the remembrance amid misery Of happy days ; and that thy Teacher knows.

But since thy words so keen a wish imply To trace our love back to its earliest prime, Even as one who weeps and speaks, will I.

We read one day—'twas but to while the time—

Of Lancelot, how love held him enchained ; We were alone, and without thought of crime.

The story oft our eyes to meet constrained, And blanched our cheeks, but over us sore tried' One point alone it was that victory gained.

When of warm lips we read that failed to chide Kissed by so frenzied lover,—then, too, he, Whom never more from me may aught divide, Kissed me upon the mouth all tremblingly.

Pander, the book, and he who wrote it, was.

No farther forward on that day read we.

W. T. THORNTON.