Hardly you toiled to gain the mountain's side,
Seeking a day's supply,

Then, with the wave to die

Ask, and the boon is your's-an everlasting tide!

The supply of water to the inhabitants of Loiano, or Lugliano, is one of the many acts of beneficence, for which our countrymen have distinguished themselves on the Continent. The fountain, which is a substantial structure of stone, without needless ornament, is erected in the centre of the village. The spring is pure and abundant. The following inscription engraved upon it records the gift and the names of the donors.

QVESTA FONTE

A COMMODO PVBLICO FECERO

GLI VOMINI DELLA SEZIONE DI LVGLIANO,

A PROPRIE SPESE E CO' DONI

DI LORD SANDON E DI LADY BUTE,

A. D. 1825.

Attinga il passagier la limpid' onda,
Abbeveri il pastor, greggi, ed armenti,

E Generosi Donatori Rammenti.

VERONA.

JULIET'S TOMB.

WOE UNTO THEM THAT CALL EVIL GOOD, AND GOOD EVIL; THAT PUT DARKNESS FOR LIGHT, AND LIGHT FOR DARKNESS, THAT PUT BITTER FOR SWEET, AND SWEET FOR BITTER.-ISAIAH V. 20.

I STOOD beside the open tomb
Where living Juliet lay,

Lighting the damp vault's midnight gloom,

Like a bright and sunny ray

The spirit of my boyhood rose,
And bade the story of her woes
Resume their earlier sway;

Yet no!-for ever fled the hour,

When even Shakespeare's spell had power

My eye was on the tomb-my soul

Far o'er the ocean fled,

And sought, beyond the world's control,
A green and lowly bed,

Where one, her friends' beloved care,

As Juliet fond, as Juliet fair,
Reclines her weary head;
No victim of an earthly love,
Her treasure in the realms above!

I never see a beauteous flower
Bow its frail head and die,
But 'fore me rears the leafy bower,
Where Ellen's ashes lie-

I never see the pallid brow
Of youth and beauty bowed low,
With bright but sunken eye,
But she appears, in shaded bloom,
The loveliest inmate of the tomb.

Tho' like a blighted rose, her form
Withered in calm decay;

And o'er her full-blown bloom the storm
Wrought its remorseless way;

She clung not to the strings of life,
Nor murmured at the ceaseless strife,
Though her Redeemer slay-

But watched, with meek and quiet eye,
The shades of Death, that hovered nigh.

Long seemed the hour, as, year by year,
Returned the laughing spring;

And many a branch, erst dry and sear,
Put forth its blossoming;

And many a bird, in many a grove,
Trilled loud of liberty and love,
Fluttering on joyous wing;

Wondering what voice could check its lay,
Where shone so warm, so bright a ray.

For her spring's balmy sweets were vain;
They had no power to cheer-
The wintry storms of ceaseless pain
Wrung forth the anguished tear-

Yet, 'neath disease's secret fang,
Her song of future bliss she sang,
Faith triumphing o'er fear;

While beamed, in visions bright and blest,

The golden city of her rest!

Thousands roam hither, to bewail

The haplessness of love;

And, as they list the mournful tale,
Their fancies fondly rove,

And picture to the frenzied eye,
The form of Juliet, loving, lie,

A fair and timid dove;

P

While Romeo, in his grief unblest, "Sets up his everlasting rest.1 "

Well may they weep, that such a day
Should sink in such a night;

That youth's proud strength, and beauty's ray,
Should fade 'neath such a blight-

Well may they weep-for gathering gloom
Lours, where crime hath raised a tomb,

And Satan claims his right,

Ere the charmed heart God's grace might move From earthly to celestial love!

All other sympathy is vain

With the souls that sorrowed here-
The truth of God shall aye remain,
Tho' lies becloud the bier ;

Myriads may throng to feed the sense,
With woes of fabled innocence,

The fate, not trespass, fear

Yet still the thought beclouds the brow: "How speeds it with the lovers now!"

1

O, here

Will I set up my everlasting rest.

Romeo and Juliet, Act v. Scene iii.