The Arno rolled through the town, but no music trembled from balconies over its waters; it gave only the busy voices of sailors on board vessels just arrived from the Mediterranean; the melancholy heaving of the anchor, and the shrill boatswain's whistle;--sounds, which, since that period, have there sunk almost into silence.They then served to remind Du Pont, that it was probable he might hear of a vessel, sailing soon to France from this port, and thus be spared the trouble of going to Leghorn.As soon as Emily had reached the inn, he went therefore to the quay, to make his enquiries; but, after all the endeavours of himself and Ludovico, they could hear of no bark, destined immediately for France, and the travellers returned to their resting-place.Here also, Du Pont endeavoured to learn where his regiment then lay, but could acquire no information concerning it.The travellers retired early to rest, after the fatigues of this day; and, on the following, rose early, and, without pausing to view the celebrated antiquities of the place, or the wonders of its hanging tower, pursued their journey in the cooler hours, through a charming country, rich with wine, and corn and oil.The Apennines, no longer awful, or even grand, here softened into the beauty of sylvan and pastoral landscape; and Emily, as she descended them, looked down delighted on Leghorn, and its spacious bay, filled with vessels, and crowned with these beautiful hills.
She was no less surprised and amused, on entering this town, to find it crowded with persons in the dresses of all nations; a scene, which reminded her of a Venetian masquerade, such as she had witnessed at the time of the Carnival; but here, was bustle, without gaiety, and noise instead of music, while elegance was to be looked for only in the waving outlines of the surrounding hills.
Monsieur Du Pont, immediately on their arrival, went down to the quay, where he heard of several French vessels, and of one, that was to sail, in a few days, for Marseilles, from whence another vessel could be procured, without difficulty, to take them across the gulf of Lyons towards Narbonne, on the coast not many leagues from which city he understood the convent was seated, to which Emily wished to retire.He, therefore, immediately engaged with the captain to take them to Marseilles, and Emily was delighted to hear, that her passage to France was secured.Her mind was now relieved from the terror of pursuit, and the pleasing hope of soon seeing her native country--that country which held Valancourt, restored to her spirits a degree of cheerfulness, such as she had scarcely known, since the death of her father.At Leghorn also, Du Pont heard of his regiment, and that it had embarked for France; a circumstance, which gave him great satisfaction, for he could now accompany Emily thither, without reproach to his conscience, or apprehension of displeasure from his commander.During these days, he scrupulously forbore to distress her by a mention of his passion, and she was compelled to esteem and pity, though she could not love him.He endeavoured to amuse her by shewing the environs of the town, and they often walked together on the sea-shore, and on the busy quays, where Emily was frequently interested by the arrival and departure of vessels, participating in the joy of meeting friends, and, sometimes, shedding a sympathetic tear to the sorrow of those, that were separating.It was after having witnessed a scene of the latter kind, that she arranged the following stanzas:
THE MARINER
Soft came the breath of spring; smooth flow'd the tide;And blue the heaven in its mirror smil'd;The white sail trembled, swell'd, expanded wide, The busy sailors at the anchor toil'd.
With anxious friends, that shed the parting tear, The deck was throng'd--how swift the moments fly!
The vessel heaves, the farewel signs appear;Mute is each tongue, and eloquent each eye!
The last dread moment comes!--The sailor-youth Hides the big drop, then smiles amid his pain, Sooths his sad bride, and vows eternal truth, 'Farewel, my love--we shall--shall meet again!'
Long on the stern, with waving hand, he stood;The crowded shore sinks, lessening, from his view, As gradual glides the bark along the flood;His bride is seen no more--'Adieu!--adieu!'
The breeze of Eve moans low, her smile is o'er, Dim steals her twilight down the crimson'd west, He climbs the top-most mast, to seek once more The far-seen coast, where all his wishes rest.
He views its dark line on the distant sky, And Fancy leads him to his little home, He sees his weeping love, he hears her sigh, He sooths her griefs, and tells of joys to come.
Eve yields to night, the breeze to wintry gales, In one vast shade the seas and shores repose;He turns his aching eyes,--his spirit fails, The chill tear falls;--sad to the deck he goes!
The storm of midnight swells, the sails are furl'd, Deep sounds the lead, but finds no friendly shore, Fast o'er the waves the wretched bark is hurl'd, 'O Ellen, Ellen! we must meet no more!'
Lightnings, that shew the vast and foamy deep, The rending thunders, as they onward roll, The loud, loud winds, that o'er the billows sweep--Shake the firm nerve, appall the bravest soul!
Ah! what avails the seamen's toiling care!
The straining cordage bursts, the mast is riv'n;The sounds of terror groan along the air, Then sink afar;--the bark on rocks is driv'n!
Fierce o'er the wreck the whelming waters pass'd, The helpless crew sunk in the roaring main!
Henry's faint accents trembled in the blast--'Farewel, my love!--we ne'er shall meet again!'
Oft, at the calm and silent evening hour, When summer-breezes linger on the wave, A melancholy voice is heard to pour Its lonely sweetness o'er poor Henry's grave!
And oft, at midnight, airy strains are heard Around the grove, where Ellen's form is laid;Nor is the dirge by village-maidens fear'd, For lovers' spirits guard the holy shade!