Five years have now elapsed; and now and then, perhaps this very day, these two strange friends bend their still young and beautiful heads together in secret over some little piece of news--from Paris--Vienna--St. Petersburgh. For, as the best outlet of never-resting emotions, Godwin had turned himself to music, had spent whole nights in pouring from the strings of his violin songs of his experience. Till at last he began to grow famous; and is now known to the cognoscenti by a new name--which, after all, is only Jessy’s name Italianized--as a musician full of ungovernable fire and pathos, as a wild, erratic, fast-consuming genius, careless at once of emolument and praise. And so, suddenly appearing here and there, he still pours music into ears that understand not the bitter secret of its power.
Oh! bright cigar! I love thy wreaths of smoke so dimly curling, I love thy murky cloud above me whirling, While like a star Amid the smoke thy brilliant tip is shining, And bids me cast all care and repining From me afar.
Companion dear! When weary of this world, its empty pleasure, Its ceaseless toil, its cares without a measure, Its doubt and fear, Then Fancy paints upon thy bright cloud waving The far-off friends and scenes my heart is craving, And brings them near.
And when in sorrow My heart is bowed, and all is cold around it, And dreary thoughts and weary cares surround it, Yet still I borrow From thee a solace, while dear Hope, reviving, Brings to my view, the mists before it driving, A bright to-morrow.
Upon the appointed day, the Count of Barcelona, who had passed the preceding eve in masses and prayers, presented himself at the gate of the camp, mounted on a horse from Seville--a steed whose slender legs and light step made him rather resemble a courser for a _fête_-day than a battle charger.
The champion of the empress was clad in a coat of mail of polished steel, inlaid with gold, the work of the Moors of Cordova, in the midst of which shone a sun of diamonds, which threw rays like pointed flames; round his neck he wore the chain given him by the empress, for whose life and fame he was about to do battle. He struck the barrier three times, and thrice he was asked by a herald who he was, to which he always gave this reply--“I am the Champion of God.” At the third response, the gate was opened, and the Count of Barcelona entered the lists, which were arranged in an oval form, like the ancient classic circus, and bordered with seats, raised one above each other in tiers, filled at this time with the nobility of the Rhine, who had hurried to see the imposing and interesting spectacle.