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But soon a heavy step drew near,
’Twas one, with a stern summons fraught,
From the fond sire, to her so dear;
It bade her, to his hall be brought;
And moved with wonder was the guide,
Who led her to his master’s side ;
But oh ! it seem’d not strange to her —
Her own heart was interpreter.
Upon his throne oflofty state,
Amid a proud and warrior band,
King Charlemagne, the good and great,
Sat, with his sceptre in his hand;
And when as with an ivy’s clasp,
His daughter sought his morning grasp,
The smile that lurk’d within his eye,
Belied the frowning forehead high.
“ Irama,look up,” the monarch said,
And as he spoke, with hurried mien,
The trembling maiden raised her head,
And glanced, like lightning, o’er the scene,
But soon she sunk in wild despair,
For lie, her Eginliard, was there,
And round the breast where she had lain
Was clasp’d a heavy iron chain.
“ My father !” shrieked the wretched girl,
And sunk on his paternal arm,
Until each light and flexile curl
Was stirr’d with his heart’s pulses warm,
“My father ! save him for my sake,
Or else this bursting heart must break !
Say, but this word, that he is free,
He who is all the world to me !”
“ Prisoner for life he must be, child !
This morning from a turret high,”
And as the monarch spoke, he smiled,
“ Thine artifice quite caught mine eye,
And, calling counsel to mine aid,
The heavy matter has been weigh’d,
And now, since all their votes concur,
To thee I yield him prisoner .”
And rising from his throne of state,
Good Charlemagne, w ith rapid stride,
As if he felt the deed was late,
Led Eginliard to Imma’s side ;
And laying in her trembling hand
The long and close-link’d iron band,
He call'd on every warrior there,
To join and bless the happy pair.
Scarce had he ended, when a shout
Broke from the martial throng around;
And louder yet the cheer burst out,
When, at the altar’s sacred bound,
The white-rob’d priest, in marriage rite,
Before a nation’s raptur’d sight,
Made Eginhard and Imrna one: —
Header, farewell, my tale is done.
Original £alcs.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE HEN-PECKED:
OR
HOW HE CURED IIER.
BY T. ADDISON RICHARDS.
PART FIRST.
“No! I tell you, I will he a match for
her; I’ll play Petruchio to her Katharine!
A wife usurp my prerogative! take the rib
bands out of my hands! I, Frank Morton,
bow to a woman’s rule! Ha, ha! funny—
very—-’pon my soul—very funny—if true!
No! no ladies,
“ Cursed be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal of the tyrant wife :
Who has no will but by her high permission ;
Who has not sixpence, but in her possession ;
Who must to her his dear friend’s secrets tell;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than h—11!
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I'd crush her spirit, or I’d break her heart!”
There, you have the sentiments of poor
Burns, with my hearty endorsement. 1 a
hen-pecked husband! Hercules, an infant—
Leonidas, a coward—Washington, a traitor,
and Mrs. Macbeth a saint!”
“Ha, ha, Frank 1 you may talk and laugh
and jest—you may flatter yourself as you
please, but it won’t do, brother, mine: just
marry Isadora Cruston—marry Isadora Crus
ton —you’ll see ”
“Yes, marry Isadora!” from a second soft
voice; “marry Isadora! Isadora! marry Is
adora!” from a whole host of fair lips—
“ Isadora! Marry Isad ”
“Tut, tut, tut ladies! I cry you mercy!
My poor ears are only flesh and blood! You
are all prejudiced, all wrong. Isadora a
shrew! preposterous! as I will prove to you
—but there she goes now, past the window,
on her way home! I must join her—adieu,
ladies—may you never find in a husband
more of a tyrant than I shall have in Isado
ra Cruston —au revoirP ’
“Good bye, but mark us—marry Isado-
SOS'if'SllliM ® SIST? & ♦
“Again farewell —I’m off!'’
“Isadora Crus ”
“ Bah!”
“Marry Tsado ah! he’s off!”
And so, dear reader, he was off and by the
side of the fair belle aforesaid; and, of course,
we cannot join them until we become better
acquainted with the parties. Ihe preceding
war of jests arose from a slight difference of
opinion between Mr. Frank Morton and his
sister and other fair friends, touching the do
cility of his lady-love, Miss Isadora Cruston.
Isadora was a dashing belle, and Frank a
dashing beau. Isadora had set her cap for
Frank; and Frank, though he had escaped
many similar snares, had very stupidly pop
ped his silly head therein. Thus Isadora was
the envy of all her fair associates, who, very
willingly, vented their spleen in owlish pre
dictions for the future.
Frank had long remained a bachelor, from
the avowed fear of finding only a termagant
in a wife; which was, of course, a gracious
compliment to the many who were ready to
prove to him the folly of his doubts, and to
yindicate the character of their sex. In Isa
dora he fondly hoped he had at last found
the ingenuous and confiding creature, for
whom his heart yearned, and he was bent
upon calling her his wife.
We are now, perhaps, sufficiently intimate
with the betrothed to follow them into the
parlor of the lady’s mansion, which they
were not long in reaching.
Isadora has tossed her hat to her obedient
lover, but why it should pass through his hands
to the table, he does not precisely compre
hend. Despite his desire that she should
take a seat by his side upon the sofa, she
has placed herself at the piano, and has sum
moned him to turn the leaves of her music
book, a task, which it occurs to his mind, she
might more effectually perform herself. Yet
he banishes the preposterous reflection, and
begs that she will sing for him the pretty
song, “Thou, thou reignest in this bosom.”
At this sentimental demand the gay lady
bursts into an unconquerable fit of merriment,
and with a slight sneer replies, “I will sing
something quite as novel and more sensible—
listed!”
“ The lords of creation men we call,
And say they rule the whole ;
But they find after all, whatever they do,
They are under woman’s control —ole—ole,
They arc under woman’s control!”
Frank thought of the party which he had
just left; but, alas! the bewitching eyes of
the fair tyrant, at the same instant, met his
own, and he —
“ Was under woman’s control —ole—ole,
lie was under woman’s control!”
“ Now Frank, is not that much more ration
al than such worn-out, lack-a-daisical stuff as
that you wished to hear ?•”
“Why, my love, I don’t say that ”
“You can’t say! why, you wont allow me
the least taste in the world! You used to
praise my singing, be it what it might.”
“ Well, my love, it is a pretty song—cer
tainly very pretty; indeed, one of the pret
tiest I have ever heard. Every thing is beau
tiful from your lips; sing as you please, I
would still, as Shakespeare says, have you
ever sing so!”
“Oh! very gallant, to be sure, sir; but you
do not like it, after all. You have no sym
pathy, no appreciation for my tastes. We
have opposite fancies in every thing, and
shall never be happy together.”
“Pardon me, Isadora, if I have uninten
tionally offended you —I did not think to do
so. I consider your taste and judgment to
be always and in all things faultless and in
fallible. But Isadora, dearest—now don’t
be angry —that song reminded me of what
they were saying at Mrs. just before I
joined you in the street; but, pshaw! that’s
all nonsense; I'll not repeat it.”
“Why, Frank, what were they saying
about me ?”
“Oh! I’ll not remember it, dear—’tis too
absurd!”
“ But you mvst tell me, Frank!”
“No, no, dear —'tis too silly.”
“ But I will hear it.”
“ Do ex ”
“Not a word! You excite my curiosity,
and refuse to gratify it. It’s just like you;
you have no regard for my feelings. You
take a pleasure in teasing me.”
“But it will only offend you, Isad ”
“You will offend me more if you do not
tell me directly. I will know what they
said.”
“Well then, dearest, if I must repeat it—
they hinted—they insinuated—ah, ah, ah,
only think of the idea—capital joke ’pon my
soul!—they suggested that you —you, Isado
ra, my angel, would—would ”
“For heaven’s sake would what, sir'?”
“Would prove to be a very Queen of ter
magants !”
“Oh! the slanderers—the malicious vili
fiers ! I wish I could tear their eyes out —l
do!”
“Isadora!”
“And you, sir, heard it all patiently and
smilingly, and did not attempt to defend
me! Oil! dear; why did I ever love such an
unfeeling creature!”
“ Why, to tell the truth dear ”
“Don’t speak to me! You do not care a
straw for me, it’s as plain as ”
“Forgive me love; the truth is, as I was
going to say, that I thought the idea too ab
surd to be angry at it; and, besides, I knew
they were only jesting. They cannot really
hold such a ridiculous opinion of you, any
more than I do.”
“Well, Frank, I will believe you and for
give you, on one condition. Promise me, on
your honor, not to go there again!”
“But, Isadora, that would be foolish and
unkind; they are my best friends—they
are ”
“ The slanderers of your ‘ angel*—your ‘ on
ly hope in life’—as you gallantly call her;
yes! sacrifice me to your dear friends—do, I
beg of you ”
“ Isadora, you attach too much import to a
trifle; but I cannot refuse you anything—
you are my only treasure—and I promise—”
“ Sacredly V’
“ Most religiously, dearest!”
“Oh, Frank! it is now my turn to ask for
giveness. Now, I know that you do indeed
love me, and I will not doubt it again.”
“We will then forget them ail, dear; and,
for the atonement which you offer me, I will
but abridge your days of freedom a little.—
You shall prove your forgiveness of my fault,
and gain a pardon for your own, by a speedy,
appointment of our bridal. You know that
you have half promised that it shall be next
Thursday, my birth-day; now say positively
that that shall be the happy hour.”
“ Thursday! I’m sure I did not say Thurs
day !”
“But, my love, that is an interesting time
to you—my birth-day ought certainly ”
“ I don’t like Thursday; it shall be the
next day!”
“ Friday, Isadora! But that, you know, is
an unlucky day.”
“ day can be unlucky which crowns
your most earnest hopes. It shall be only
Friday.”
“How perverse you are,lsadora.”
es! every thing I do or say is stupid.”
“ J mean—l mean—l was only jesting
dear. You know best, and it shall then be
Friday.”
“No, you don't like Friday; you say it is
unhappy, and you fear the results. I wont
have Friday!”
“Well then, my love, Saturday.”
“ How overbearing you are, Frank, to be
sure. Now do, for mercy’s sake, let me have
my own way in this matter, at least. It shall
be on Monday afternoon.”
“Monday I —■”
“\es, sir; Monday afternoon, and no oth
er time—that's decided, so don't say a single
word more about it.”
“Well, dearest, may heaven then hasten
and bless next Monday: and, Isadora, dear,
we will be married at 8 o’clock, and at 9 start
off in the cars for B ,as you proposed.
You see I let you make all the arrangements.”
“Eight! I’m sure I never said anything
about 8 o'clock; and I wouldn’t be married
at such an hour for the world. Eight, in
deed! how could you think of such a thing,
Frank. It shall be 10; and we’ll take the
steamboat for C at noon.”
“Agreed, dear; it shall be ten, that’s all
settled, find every thing shall be quiet and
private, as you desire.”
“ Private, Frank ! What, a private wed
ding. Why, Frank, I vow I should feel that
I was going to be buried ! Private, indeed!
I never said anything of the kind ; but I see
you are determined to have it all your own
way.”
“ I only thought, dearest, that you wished
it to be so.”
“No, I don’t! We must have a large par
ty, and every body must be invited. All the
world are married in private, now-a-days; but,
for my*part, I think that a wedding, at least
one like ours, should be accompanied by ev
ery token of gladness and joy.”
“ So it should be—and so it shall be, love;
and the whole world shall be there!”
“No; I don’t want such a jam as Ellen
Brown had. She says she wouldn’t go
through it again for all the husbands in cre
ation. We will only have a very select
number—very few.”
“Arrange it then, my love, as you please.
Make out the list of names and 1 will help
you with the earns. But now I must leave
you for a while. Business you know. Isa
dora, must not be neglected even for love.
Good bye—good bye, dear! What a prepos
terous idea, Isa, that of Sidney Brown and
his friends. We'll soon expose their folly—
aye Isadora—ha, ha, ha! God bless you!
ra RT SECOND.
The long wished-for Monday at length ar
rived. Ten o’clock drew near. A large
party was assembled in the gay parlors of
Mrs. Cruston’s mansion; among the guests,
were all the friends of the lovers, excepting
only Mr. Sydney Brown, who to the aston
ishment of every body, had not been invited.
The bridal ceremony passed off happily and
merrily, and Frank Morton became a fated
Benedict. Congratulations and kisses, God
bless-yous and Heaven-protect-yous, were
duly exchanged; noon came; the boat was
ready; the happy couple waved farewell
mouchoirs to waving mouchoirs upon the
shore, and were fairly off, on a six month’s
bridal tour in Europe.
*******
Six months were with the Past; during
which many varied events had happened;
such as hopes delayed, visions fled, and the
opposites of fears dissipated, and joys con
summated ; with all other appropriate lights
and shades in half a year of the picture of
life. Among other items, and which is more
interesting to us, at this time, the steamer
which had conveyed our friends to Europe,
had duly made her appointed trips to and fro ?
and was now, again, dropping anchor at the
wharf, after a homeward voyage.
Among the passengers one stood apart, list
lessly gazing over the bulwarks of the vessel,
as though it were a matter of life and death,
to him, to arrive at an exact estimate of the
number of bubbles in the foaming waters be
low. The life and joy which should sparkle
in the eye of the returning exile, dwelt not in
his. His whole air was sad and hopeless. —
Neither in his toilet, was there visible any
trace of the care and taste, which it was,
nevertheless, very evident, once belonged to
the man. Ihe vessel was securely moored at
the dock,- and happy greetings were swiftly
flying from lip to lip, of long parted friends.
All was animation and joy, excepting only
with our Solitaire. He still mused apart, ap-