[December,

Processions of the festivals of June; Big amber shells, whose hollowed lips were dyed With the strange brightness of a sinking moon.

At deep of night, 'ere the Italian blue

Prisoned its stars; before the topmost pines Were touched with daylight, or the Apennines Steamed their broad foreheads in ascending dew; Beneath her white and lofty balcony,

While, in the laurels, sang the nightingales,

Wedding a viol's to his own voice, he

Wooed her in allegories, songs, and tales.

Slowly the passion burned into his frame,
Ministered to by chance or circumstance;
Thus, on a holiday, as his quick glance
Caught her's, he saw the cheek of Agnes flame
With lightnings of her blood. Fine tumults shook
His heart, if she but passed him in the street;
And, like the sun upon a wind-blown brook,
Her faintest smile had meanings deep and sweet.

She loved him not at first; his presence smote

Her heart with pleasant terrors. Moons waxed dim And lustred in the heavens; she turned to him With longings infinite and yet remote. At last, she lent his voice a charmèd ear, Listening in rich languors, whilst he stole, With words, interpreters of hope and fear, Thro' silent passages into her soul.

Thenceforth existence, rounded with a dream,
Merged into vagueness and abstractions rare;
She haunted gardens, when the evening air
Slanted across the walnuts, and the stream
Of the great fountain flowed, with mournful tone,
Thro' the thick-reeded lilies; she would sit,
With wreathed hands, upon the terrace stone,
Watching the bats athwart the darkuess flit.

All shapes of beauty, symbols of delight,

Scarce touched by her imaginings, became Shades of one image, echoes of one name, Reflected splendours of one supreme light. In sleep, she wandered into lands forlorn,

And, looking to the stars, saw Gabriel rise Far, from the radiant margin of the morn, Upborne by angels into Paradise.

She had an uncle, an austere old man,—
A snow-topped hillock in the heats of June-
A caryatidé in granite hewn,
Half human, half conventional; his ban

Had branded Gabriel a profligate,

Lacking nobility of brain and blood; A mountebank, a canker in the stateLeather and prunella, gilt and wood.

And shrewdly guessing why his niece no more
Sang Tuscan ditties to the Pisan lute,
But sat, all day, apart, unhappy, mute,
Sighing at intervals; he freely swore
That she should leave the city, and depart,
Unto Lipari; and, with sardon smile-
A green snake knotted in a rose's heart-
Wished her a sunny voyage to the isle.
Then up rose Agnes, a rain-laden flower,

And swiftly passed thro' high-arched corridors,
And misty galleries and griffined doors,
Until she reached a little Eastern bower,
Teeming with uncertain lights and glooms,
In furniture of Venice prodigal,
And shadows thick of palpitating blooms,
That shook like figured arras on the wall.

And writing-"To Lipari I must go

Forget me not ;" the pinions of a dove

She burthened with the story of her love

Hope's dying testament. A diift of snow,
The white bird fluttered thro' the open pane,

Then rose, and soared in circles, 'till it fell,
Starlike, thro' the mists that dusked the plain
Around the fields and vines of Gabriel.

Spring bubbles in the earth; the daisies leap
Blood-fringed into the meadows; the green dells
Moult all their snows; like golden miracles,
Primroses, fresh delivered up from sleep,
Gleam in the grass. Vernal pulsations run,

Thro' the brown trunks like breathings; purple wing And damask throat of finches court the sun :

But for pained hearts, there blows no second spring.

Far, in the East, the voices of the morn,

With clashing cymbal and melodious pipe,
Herald the summer, falling warm and ripe,
On tracts of olives, breadths of yellow corn;
Red poppies fire the furrows; the south wind
Breathes phantom lights on mulberry and lime;
The apple ruddies o'er its emerald rind :

But, for pained hearts, there comes no summer time.
Hot-templed Harvest-time, with rounded moon,
White in the front of twilight, thou dost come,
With fresh-fermenting vintage, all afoam,
And sheafy slumbers in the barns at noon.
Plenteous Deity, who dream'st the day,

On oat stacks, piled upon the stubbles calm; Piping on drowsy reeds a viney lay,

On wounded hearts thou pour'st exhaustless balm. Latest of seasons, unseen Alchemist,

Whose frosts transmute the greenness of the dell
To fiery splendours in thy crucible,
Of Northern tempest-claps and icy mist:

Most cunning Artist, who dost hood the eaves
With fretted glories; at whose touch the glass
Blossoms with chilly stars, and flowers, and leaves,
O'er wounded hearts with healing thou dost pass.

From bright Lipari, in Sicilian seas,

She saw the changes of the year pass by
With unimpressive aspect on her eye,
Dully as the thunder-blasted trees,
Rooted in snowy fiords of the North,

Which summer touches but enkindles not:
Home, friends, the dearest memories of earth,
Save one remembrance, were by her forgot.
Day after day she climbed a little bill,

Steeping a promontory, at whose base

The green seas curdled; turning her white face Fearful at times, to the impalpable

Mists of the brine, that drowsed upon the rim

Of the far world; and there watched the ships
Full-sailed, float up, like ghosts from out the dim,
Or low stars, crescented with faint eclipse.

No tidings came. Oh! for a message brief,
To tell her that he lived, and sacred kept
Some hallowed nook within his heart, where slept
A tangled memory of her and grief;

That she might yield the heavens a quiet breath,
Within the narrow cincture of the isle ;

Plead piteous to God for early death,

And pass the gates of Darkness with a smile. Then came a rumour blown into her ear,

That Gabriel in battle had been slain, Fighting the pirates on the Afric main; A sudden thought convulsed her heart with fear; She waited 'till the night fell down the bay: Stole from her chamber to the silent street; And wandered whither the broad harbour lay, Cirqued round with high-beaked ships, beneath 1er feet.

Like blackest marble, in cathedral light,

Gloomed the dead waters. Inspirations rose,

Prompting her soul how she might cease her woes-
One little step-one faint cry on the night,
And she should rest, and, disembodied rise,
A winged angel from a silent sea,
Emancipated; and, within the skies,
Embrace her lover for eternity.

Then pious teachings of her infant years;
Legends of patient saints; moralities,
Gathered, at twilight, at a mother's knees,
Smote her, until, bursting into tears,
She prayed for succour in her agony;
And, whilst conflicting angels ruled her mind,
Wildly resolved to cast herself asea,

Unto God's mercy, and the waves and wind.
Then she unmoored a fisher's little boat,

Commended her to heaven; and, folding close Her silken scarf about her throbbing brows, Down the cold tide with moon and stars did float;

Down 'till the bay outbroadened, vast and dark,
On the wild levels of the wrinkled sea:
And gusts of odour touched the sailless bark,
Blown off the midnight capes of Sicily.
Awhile, she heard low undulations sob

Under the keel; saw silver fishes leap,

Like arrows, dripping diamonds, from the deep; Anon the slow immeasurable throb

Of broad-backed surges tumbling to the moon,

With moans like monsters tortured with fierce pain ; Then fragments of an immemorial tune

And cavern echoes mingled in her brain.

She slept; the sea grew dark; the day was near;

With intense splendour the white stars looked down, Though three had dropped from out the lustrous crown Of Ariadne. Then the Eastern mere Blushed in the sunrise; perfumes of the land

Blew o'er the happy boat and sleeping girl, Who lay, her cheek upon her jewelled hand, A lily offered on a shrine of pearl.

A gentle wind, delivered from the North,

Blew her towards Susa; the expiring day Was dropping seaward, when a gust of spray Tossed on her forehead by a dolphin's mirth, Unprisoned her sweet eyes; and she awoke

And saw the harbour and the citadel,
And one who clasped her in a purple cloak;
God of all mercies! it was Gabriel.

Not slain, but ransomed; and, returning home,
He from his ship, saw, scarce a league at sea,
The boat of Agnes, drifting silently,
Hither and thither in the weedy foam;
He sought it, precious treasure, in it found.

His heart's lost idol; the great world may roll,
And storm, or light, or darkness clip it round;
But they are heart to heart, and soul to soul.

THE O'DONNELLS IN EXILE. BY JOHN O'DONOVAN, ESQ., LL.D., M.R.I.A. (CONCLUDED FROM OUR LAST.)

THE O'DONNELLS OF AUSTRIA. THIS illustrious family, distinguished both in the field and cabinet, are descended from Henry O'Donell, the third son of Charles Duff, son of Hugh O'Donell and Margaret O'Neill. He was born about the year 1729. At an early age he entered the Austrian service, and rose rapidly to distinction. He is said, by tradition, to have been the handsomest man in the Austrian army, and an especial favourite with the empress; both which accounts seem probable, for in the year 1754, while he was yet scarcely twenty-six years old, he received in marriage a cousin of the empress, a princess of the illustrious house of Cantacuzeno, descendants of John Cantacuzenus, the Byzantine emperor and historian, who flourished in the year 1246. No event can display in a more striking

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light than this marriage, the estimation in which the great Irish families, when driven into exile, were held on the Continent, when we thus see the greatest and proudest queen of Europe," and in a court that was, and still is, proverbially aristocratic, bestowing the hand of her own kinswoman on a young soldier, whose only fortune were his sword and his pedigree. In 1767 he was "Camerarius Cæsarei ordinis milit. Mariæ Theresa," and colonel of a corps of cuirassiers, which from him was called "the O'Donell Regiment;" a name by which it is still distinguished. Some time after his marriage he wrote to his brother Manus, to Ireland, to have whichever of his sons he intended sending into Austria, carefully educated in the Irish language, that he might instruct his (Henry's) children in the language of their ancestors. General John O'Donell thus speaks of his influence

at court:

"As I told you here, you and your father should employ cousin Harry; and if he can get Lewis an agreement in the regiment he commands, it would be so much the better, for reasons known to you. Harry is very capable of bringing many things to bear that others cannot. He is particularly well with her majesty. The last time he saw her she gave him a very fine present of jewels for his wife, saying, as she would never wear them any more herself, she divided them among her children, and kept them for his wife.'"

There is no date to this letter, but the fact here alluded to shows, that it was subsequent to the year 1765, when the emperor died, after which, it is said, the queen sank into deep melancholy.

This Henry subsequently attained the rank of lieutenant-general, and was made count of the empire, with the title of "Graf O'Donell von Tyrconell." He left issue four sons-1, Joseph; 2, John; 3, Charles; and 4, Henry; the three last of whom died in the Austrian service, without issue; he had one daughter, who married Count Vansovich, a Polish nobleman. Joseph Count O'Donell, (the eldest son of Henry,) who was born in 1755, was educated for a diplomatic career. While pursuing his studies he became acquainted with his cousin Therese, the daughter of Count John O'Donell, of the Larkfield family, and it appears they became attached to each other, to the great derangement of her father's plans for her establishment; for she was affianced at the time to General Manus O'Donell (of the Newport family), then on leave of absence in Ireland, and for whom her father entertained the sincerest friendship.

The following letter, without the date of the year, but evidently written at Vienna in 1772, is most interesting, as showing the high position of the O'Donells in Austria at the time, and their favour at court.

"My Dear Cousin-The pleasure I had in receiving your last letter, without date, would certainly have engaged me to answer you immediately, were I not detained for some time by a little contradiction I found myself in with her Majesty about the time of your arrival here. You'll remember I informed you my desire of having Therese transferred to a convent of this town, but would wait your answer, to know when you intended to be here, before I would put myself in Her Majesty's way, imagining she would ask me about you, which I did till the end of April. Then the gentlewoman she sent in the beginning, to bring my daugh

ter to Presbourg, let me know that Her Majesty was to go in a couple of days to that town; and as she would probably see Therese, thought it was proper I should shew myself at Court, believing the Empress would fain speak to me. Accordingly I went to Court, and found by the Chambellan de service, that Her Majesty said, if I came there, he should tell me to wait. After she had dispatched some ministers, I was called for. Her first words were to ask for you with a sort of amazement, that made me imagine she might have heard of a rumour spread here a considerable time before, of your being married in Ireland. Yet, as she did not directly mention it, and that I myself gave no credit to it, I did not seem to understand anything of the kind, but took occasion to enlarge a little on your zeal for her service, your candour and good nature for me and my children-assured her that you would be here at farthest, about the middle of summer, and that if her Majesty approved of it, I would be desirous in the mean time, to transfer my daughter to a convent of this town, which she not only approved, but said she was very glad I found such a good partie for my child, “qui lui servirait même de pere." I told her I thought myself happy to know her so well established.—“ Oui, dit elle, est ce qu'il apporte bien bien de quoi avec ?" I said you were well in your affairs, that I did not know how much you would bring along with you at present, but knew your desire was to take all you had out of that country, provided you could find means to bring it to bear, which I feared would be very difficult. Then she asked me if I was sure you would come? I said I was very sure. "Eh bien, dit elle, je vais a Presbourg demain, si vous avez la patience d'attendre mon retour et que vous voulez me confier votre fille, je vous la s' amenerai”—which she did, and giving her a dinner at Shönbrun, sent her in the afternoon to the convent of St. Laurent, where she awaits your arrival. Some days after I received your good-natured letter,--but as your stay is longer than I had foreseen, and contrary to the assurances I gave her Majesty, I went to Princess Esterhazy, and pray'd her to excuse me to her Majesty, and inform her of the circumstances; which she took upon her. I told this lady your intention was to come last year, but that I advised you myself not to derange or be detrimental to your affairs by coming so soon, but should rather wait till all was on a proper footing. She performed the commission, but somewhat slow, so that 'tis only a few days since she told me, that she informed her Majesty of all those particulars; that her Majesty was satisfied, saying, she knew I would not tell her anything but what was truth, and that you did very well to settle your affairs, particularly as you took a wife, and laughed at my concern. In short, this is what hindered me from expressing immediately to you the real satisfaction your letter gave me. Therese and I agree with all our hearts to the marriage articles. Her conduct is so good that I find every comfort in her I could wish. She will be a comfort to you. She is yours, you are hers, and God Almighty bless you both. She and I are truly acknowledging for your memory of her and Hugo. It is a proof of your good nature, but we hope and pray, God will preserve your life for our greater comfort. My dear Manus, I am now at the end of the 60th year of my age. My head and my health in general weakening daily, still I hope God will spare my life to see you and Therese happy together. Come, my dear, as soon as you possibly can, without neglecting your affairs. Write immediately to Therese or to me. Hugo joins in our embraces to you, and we are, with heart and hand, your own for ever, "O'DONEL

"O'Ferral is well, and Brochanger, whom I saw three days agoe, says everything good of him. My sincere friendship to O'More, and my mother-in-law, when you see them. "To the Honourable Count

"Magnus O'Donel, Major-General
"in their Impl. Majesties' Service,

"at Newcastle, near Castle-Barre,
"Ireland.

"December 25th" [Vienna, 1772]

Here we have in real life some of the elements of a first-rate story: a father, an old warrior, betroths his young and beautiful daughter to his friend and comrade in arms, about his own age, and taking for granted, because the latter is excessively acceptable to himself, he must be equally agreeable to his daughter; an empress for a confidant, evidently not over well inclined to the match, the young lady being somewhat of a protégée, and perhaps other views entertained for her; an illustrious princess as peace-maker; a convent for a bower; and, strangest of all, the lovely heroine agreeing to the arrangement "with all her heart." Certainly the last incident, though it be the most strange, seems to make the whole thing common place enough; and if the assurance were from herself, we might despair of any result sufficiently worthy of such promising materials; but since it happens that young ladies in convents are rarely consulted in matters of the kind by their more experienced parents, (being supposed not to have any wish, pro or con, upon the subject,) it is not only possible, but very probable, that the daughter of our diplomatist, though aware of the engagement, might have had but little sympathy in all the tender embraces so warmly transmitted in her name. Nor would we in coming to that conclusion be much mistaken. Here is the dénouement:

"It will appear surprising to you, my dear Manus, to be so long without any answer to your last letter of the 11th December, which the confusion and trouble of mind I have been in this long time past has occasioned. However, friendship and sincerity do not permit me to conceal any longer from you a circumstance that you seemed to foresee and hint in your letters to me, but that I must own that I did not apprehend, which shews that you are a better judge of the female kind than I. Therese has broken through the measures you were so kind to combine with me for her establishment, by declaring she would rather chuse to remain single all her life than to marry any other than Harry's eldest son. This young man was with me in my house the whole of last winter frequenting the Chancellarie to make himself fit for employment in that part of Poland our Court has acquired of late. He was still with me when I got my daughter transferred to a convent of this town, as I was expecting your arrival in June or July following, but soon after her arrival you informed me of your longer stay in that country. These two young people saw one another sometimes in my house, when I had her to dinner now and then. They took a mu tual liking to each other without letting me know it other than by their looks and countenances, which I observed, and questioning the girl, her confusion and tears explained her sentiments. At last she owned she had a great inclination for him, but knowing my engagements with you, and how intent I was upon it, her intention was to overcome, if possible, her inclinations, and sacrifice them and herself rather than displease or disobey me, etc. I told her there was no question of such efforts in regard to you or me; that you would be as far from taking her against her will, as I would be from imposing her on you, if I found or thought she had not for you all the sentiments you deserved. She said, she was and ever would be very acknowledging of your goodnatured intentions for her, but that if she got leave to follow her choice, it would be never to marry, if she could not get Monsieur Peppi [little Joseph]. I told her, it never was my desire to compel her wishes in that respect, but that she would do well to put such notions out of her head, whereas she could not expect to get that young man-that I had no fortune to give her, and that his father had two or three

matches in view for him already on his arrival in Poland; that she should dine no more with me, till he was off-remain in her convent-set her mind at rest, and let me know her thoughts hereafter. I gave him to understand my displeasure without entering into any particulars. He took other lodgings, but attempted several times to come to an explanation, which I always avoided, till about a couple of days before his setting off for Poland, he surprised me in my room, and with a transport of tenderness, threw himself in my arms, begging I should forgive him the sentiments he could not hinder himself to conceive for my daughter; that he was persuaded you would have nothing against it, and beseeching I would write to his father, who, though he had other parties in view for him, would prefer his happiness, etc. etc. I told him, though I knew you would be as far from taking her (knowing she preferred another) as I would be from giving, or advising you to take her, yet it was not my business to write to his father, nor would I ever any more write about her to any one after you. Now, I know not as yet what Harry will or can do. Therese persists in her sentiments, and refused, since his departure, a very advantageous proposal made me for her by a nobleman, whose birth and fortune would establish her splendidly, without pretending to a farthing from me while I lived, but she will hear of no one but Mons. Peppi. I must own I had a great reluctance to write to you on this subject, and waited hitherto to see what turn her mind would take after his departure; but finding she persists, and reflecting it may be of consequence to you to be informed of it, as well in regard to the settling your affairs, or, perhaps, other views of matrimony you might have in that country, I now acquaint you of all with the same sincerity I had recommended her to you, as long as I thought her heart corresponded with mine, and that she would be a suitable partner for you, without which, as I told you before, the views of establishing my child would never engage me to undertake imposing on any one, much less on so dear a friend as you, and hope this female flirt will not alter your friendship for me, as it rather augments mine for you.

"I hope you will soon write to me, and send me your commands, if any you have hereabouts. My children join with me in best wishes for your prosperity in all respects, and be assured that no one can be with more truth and affection than I,

"My dearest cousin,
"Your faithful friend,
"Kinsman, and servant,
"O'DONEL."

As the conclusion of this letter would indicate, so was the event. Joseph O'Donell is recorded in their pedigree as having married Therese, the daughter of General Count John O'Donell, and by whom he had issue one son, Maurice. His first wife dying, he subsequently married Josephine of Geisruch, (of a noble Styrian family, of which the late Cardinal Archbishop of Milan was a member,) by whom he had issue one son and two daughters: Count Henry, born 12th June, 1804, Imperial chamberlain and councillor of state in the government of Trieste; 2, the Countess Eveline, born 23rd December, 1805; and 3, the Countess Adela, born 3rd February, 1807, and married 21st December, 1829, to Charles Count Sturgk.

Count O'Donell was eminently successful in his diplomatic career. In 1805, he was chamberlain of the palace and privy councillor, and was afterwards minister of finance to the Emperor Francis I. He was succeeded by his eldest son, Maurice Count O'Donell, a general in the Austrian service, who married, 6th November 1811, Christine de Ligne, daughter of Prince Charles de Ligne;

she was born January 4th, 1788. He died December 1st, 1843, leaving issue two sons and one daughter: 1, Maximilian Count O'Donell, of Tyrconnell, (the present head of the Austrian O'Donells) born 29th October, 1812, and 2. Count Maurice, born 6th June, 1815, married 18th July 1844, Helena, princ ́ss of Cantacuzeno, born 18th September, 1819. She died in the second year of her marriage, leaving issue one son, Henry Charles George Joseph, born 2nd July 1845. The Countess Euphemia, the only sister, was born 13th of March 1823.

Count Maximilian O'Donell was aide-de-camp to the Emperor Francis Joseph I. whom he saved from assassination in February 1853. For this signal service, the Emperor granted him and his heirs a special patent of nobility, entitling them to quarter with their own old coat, the imperial arms of the house of Austria,-a distinction never before conferred upon any subject, except in one instance, namely, that of Prince Schwartzenburg after the battle of Leipsic. From this patent, which has been published in the Oesterreichnischer Soldate Freund of October 26th, 1853, the following extract will point out to the reader the renown of the O'Donnell family in Austria

The patent, after noticing the pre-eminent worth and title to distinction of Maximilian Charles Count O'Donell, colonel, Imperial aide-de-camp and chamberlain, commander of the Order of St. Leopold, possessor of the Military Cross of Merit, and likewise knight commander of several foreign orders, adds of the Count:

"He is descended from the exceedingly ancient and very illustrious race, the chiefs of Donegal, and dynasts of the former Tyrconnell in Ireland. History speaks of them in early ages, when Christianity was first introduced into that country; and extols the zeal with which they founded churches and monasteries to assist in the propagation of the true faith. In later times they exercised princely power in the land of their descent, and enjoyed widely extended martial fame. Shortly before the final incor poration of Ireland with the royal crown of Great Britain, Roderick, one of this ancient princely race, was invested with the dignity of Earl of the above-named province, as we have satisfactorily ascertained by the original document of king James I., with the seal of Ireland thereto attached; and dated the tenth day of February, in the first year of his reign in England, and thirty-seventh year of his reign in Scotland. Various concurrences in ecclesiastical and political affairs, unnecessary now to numerate, compelled the above named to quit his native land, and seek refuge in a catholic foreign country, as his elder brother Hugh had previously done. The latter met with a distinguished reception at the court of Philip III. of Spain, and the former was welcomed with paternal kindness by the paternal Head of the Church, Pope Paul V. Since that period their de scendants have devoted themselves to the service of the monarchs of the Spanish line of our most serene Archducal House in the kingdom of Spain, and in later times, in the beginning of the past century, to that of our most serene predecessors in the imperial government. During their stay in the land of Spain, as well as in that of Austria, they ever enjoyed the consideration and respect due to the rank of Count and to their original nobility. It is to us a grateful and pleasing thing to bring to mind the banished (but with honour and dignity expatriated) forefathers, and relatives of our beloved, loyal, Maximilian Charles Count ODonnell, here mentioned, whose virtues and deeds for the greatest welfare of our most serene House and the highest