The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 332, September 20, 1828

Doom'd was the Count within that tow'r to die,
Him Pisa's vengeful bishop did oppose;
With covert speech and false aspersions sly
He stirr'd the people, till they madly rose,
And shut him in this prison strong and high;
His former slaves are now his fiercest foes.
Coarse was their food, and scantily supplied,
A prelude to the death these captives died.

And on a luckless day it thus befell—
About their surly jailer's wonted hour
To bring them food, he enter'd not their cell,
But bolted fast their prison's outer door.
This on the County's heart rang like a knell—
Hope was excluded from this grizzly tow'r.
Speechless he sat, despair forbade to rave—
This hold was now their dungeon and their grave.

His youngest babe had not seen summers three;
"Father," he cried, "why does the man delay
To bring out food? how naughty he must be;
I have not eat a morsel all this day.
Dear father, have you got some bread for me?
Oh, if you have, do give it me, I pray;
I am so hungry that I cannot sleep—
I'll kiss you, father—do not, do not weep."

And day by day this pining innocent
Thus to his father piteously did cry,
Till hunger had perform'd the stern intent
Of their fierce foes. "Oh, father, I shall die!
Take me upon your lap—my life is spent—
Kiss me—farewell!" Then with a gentle sigh,
Its spotless spirit left the suff'ring clay,
And wing'd its fright to everlasting day.

(He who has mark'd that wild, distracting mien,
Which for this Count immortal Reynold's drew,
When bitter woe, despair, and famine keen
Unite in that sad face to shock the view,
Will wish, while gazing on th' appalling scene,
For pity's sake the story is not true.
What hearts but fiends, what less than hellish hate,
Could e'er consign that group to such a fate?)

And when he saw his darling child was dead,
From statue-like despair the Count did start;
He tore his matted locks from off his head,
And bit his arms, for grief so wrung his heart.
His two surviving babes drew near and said,
(Thinking 'twas hunger's thorn which caus'd his smart,)
"Dear sire, you gave us life, to you we give
Our little bodies—feed on them and live!"

Like two bruis'd lilies, soon they pin'd away,
And breath'd their last upon their father's knee;
Despair and Famine bow'd him to their sway;
He died—here ends this Count's dark tragedy.
Whoso would read this tale more fully may
Consult the mighty bard of Italy;
Dante's high strain will all the sequel tell,
So courteous, friendly readers, fare ye well.

    P. HENDON.

A LAPLANDER'S FAREWELL TO THE SETTING SUN

(For the Mirror.)

Adieu thou beauteous orb, adieu,
Thy fading light scarce meets my view,
Thy golden tints reflected still
Beam mildly on my native hill:
Thou goest in other lands to shine,
Hail'd and expected by a numerous line,
Whilst many days and many months must pass
Ere thou shall'st bless us with one closing glance.
My cave must now become my lowly home,
Nor can I longer from its precincts roam,
Till the fixed time that brings thee back again
With added splendour to resume thy reign.

    IOTA.

ANCIENT VALUE OF BOOKS

(For the Mirror.)

We have it from good authority, that about A.D. 1215, the Countess of Anjou paid two hundred sheep, five quarters of wheat, and the same quantity of rye, for a volume of Sermons—so scarce and dear were books at that time; and although the countess might in this case have possibly been imposed upon, we have it, on Mr. Gibbon's authority, that the value of manuscript copies of the Bible, for the use of the monks and clergy, commonly was from four to five hundred crowns at Paris, which, according to the relative value of money at that time and now in our days, could not, at the most moderate calculation, be less than as many pounds sterling in the present day.

    H. W. P.

MARINE GLOW WORMS

(For the Mirror.)

These extraordinary little insects are more particularly noticed in Italy, during the period of summer, than in any other part of the world. When they make their appearance, they glitter like stars reflected by the sea, so beautiful and luminous are their minute bodies. Many contemplative lovers of the phenomena of nature are seen, soon after sun-set, along the sea coast, admiring the singular lustre of the water when covered with these particles of life, which it may be observed, are more numerous where the alga marina, or sea-weed abounds.

The marine glow-worm is composed of eleven articulations, or rings; upon these rings, and near the belly of the insect, are placed fins, which appear to be the chief instruments of its motion. It has two small horns issuing from the fore part of the head, and its tail is cleft in two. To the naked eye of man, they seem even smaller than the finest hairs; and their substance is delicate beyond description. They first begin to make their appearance upon the sea-weed about the middle of April, and very soon after multiply exceedingly over the whole surface of the water.