Zicci, Complete

ld not come to a resolution. Ambition, hitherto the leading passion of his soul, could not yet be silenced by love, and that love, such as it was, unreturned, bese

tive and the impassioned), was at hand to ridicule the impression produced by Zicci, and the notion of delicacy and honor towards an Italian actress. It is true that Merton, who was no profligate, advised him to quit all pursuit of Isabel; but then the advice was precisely of that charact

this wish Merton readily entered. The young men agreed to be absent from Naples that day. Early in the morning they mounted their horses and took the road to Baiae. G

route back into the suburbs of the city, and took the opposite road, which conducts to Portici and Pompeii. It was late at noon when they arrived at t

ually gay; he pressed the lacryma upon his friend, and conversed gayly. "Well, my dear friend, we ha

are come,

akes you credulous. Thank Heaven, I do not think myself of such importance

deeper philosophy than we dream of,-a philosophy that discovers the

het,-a reader of the future; perhap

otive for deluding us,-either ambition or avarice. I am neither rich nor powerful; Zicci spends more in a week than I do in a year. Nay, a

s as that of gold and power with others? Zicci has a moral ostentation; and the same character that mak

sed. He was most touched,-touched to the heart that they liked the macaroni. Were their Excellencies going to Vesuvius? Ther

cried Merton. "Wha

n an eruption; I sh

danger?" said t

l at present. It only plays a little, just

e it is dark. Clarence, my friend, nunc est bibendum; but tak

mounted, the landlord bowed, and they bent their way

liant as those of a school-boy released; and the laughter of the Northern to

tain Fire burned with an intense lustre. In various streaks and streamlets the fountain of flame rolled down the dark summit, then undiminished by the eruption of 1822, and the English

. Their guide was a conversable, garrulous fellow, like most of his country and his calling; and Merton, whose chief charact

ssion for the volcano. Long life to them; they bring us plenty of m

ill go to Vesuvius, I suppose. I have never been: why should I go? You have cold, you have hunger, you have fatigue, you have dan

me cavaliers think to ascend the mountain without our h

lows to go alone: you

um to return for it, and bring it to her at Naples; so I went in the evening. I found it sure enough, and was about to return, when I saw a figure that seemed to emerge from the crater itself. The air was so pestiferous that

, hid

o terrible. It had nothi

said the s

burning lava, soon vanished on the other side of the mountain. I was curious and foolhardy, and resolved to see if I could bear the atmosphere which this visitor had left; but thou

Zicci," whis

say so," returne

low. An oppressive and sulphureous exhalation served to increase the gloomy and sublime terror of the place. But on turning from the mountain, and towards the distant and unseen ocean, the contrast was wonderfully great: the heavens serene and blue, the stars still and calm as the eyes of Divine Love. It was as if the realms of the opposing principles of Evil and Good were brought in one view before the gaze of man! Glyndon-the enthusiast, the poet, the artist, the dreamer-was enchained and entranced by emotions vague and undefinable, half of delight and half of pain. Leaning on the shoulder of his friend, he gazed around him, and heard, with deepening awe, the rumbling of the earth below, the wheels

sed. He was separated from his friend, from the guide. He was alone with the Darkness and the Terror. The vapor rolled sullenly away; the form of the plumed fire was again dimly visible, and its struggling and perturbed reflection again shed a glow over the horrors of the path. Glyndon recovered himself, and sped onward. Below, he heard the voice of Merton calling on him, though he no longer saw his form. The sound served as a guide. Dizzy and breathless, he bounded forward, when hark! a sullen, slow, rolling sound in his ear! He halted, and turned back to gaze. The fire had overflowed its course; it had opened itself a channel amidst the furrows o

d in that over-strained pitch of voice which is never hear

and ventured as far towards the crater as the noxious exhalation would permit; then, gazing below, carefully and deliberately he chalked out for h

ve and behind, burned out clear and far; and beyond, the stars lent him their cheering guidance. No obstacle was visible, no danger seemed at hand. As thus, spell-bound and panic-stricken, he stood chained to the soil-his breast heaving, large drops rolling down his brow, and his eyes starting wildly from their sockets-he saw before him, at som

things-the Being and the Shadow-that impressed the beholder with the difference between them,-the Man and the Superhuman. It was but for a moment, nay, for the tenth part of a moment, that this sight was permitted to the wanderer. A second eddy of sulphureous v