Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/237

4 THE SIBYL'S PROPHECY

BY MRS. SARAH H. HAYS

Slowly, in one unclouded blaze of liquid fire, the summer sun was sinking behind the green-robed hills of Austria, while his parting rays lingered amid the gorgeous scenery and shed a flood of "living light" upon the massive walls of Castle Alverstein—walls that, in their frowning strength, seemed gloomily to defy the storms of ages. Two girls, both young and beautiful, were gazing at the prospect. The elder, by her queenly bearing, might have been known to be the possessor of this fair domain.

"My sweet Eva," cried the younger lady, in a voice whose tones of youthfulness proclaimed that on her young and guileless heart the wing of care had never thrown one darkening shade. My sweet Eva, come and with me enjoy this scene of enchantment."

"Scenarios of Enchantment," returned her companion with a mournful smile. "Scenarios of Enchantment possess no charms for me; the laughing eye of happy youth can fling its own hue of gladness over the gloomiest prospect; but to the stony gaze of cold despair, a land glorious as a Musselman's dream of Paradise could present no beauty to admire."

"You speak of despair and smile so mournfully," said Lina, her own playful face assuming an expression of sadness, "that I could weep, although I knew not why. Even within the convent walls, where together we bent over the classic page and explored the hidden mysteries of science, when first you clasped me to your heart and called me friend, I noticed the cold abstracted gaze with which those eyes so formed to beam with love and hope rested on every object, and the quivering look of heartfelt anguish lingering around a lip moulded to wreath with naught but smiles of gladness. And yet, young, beautiful, high-born, and independent, what has earth to bestow with which you are not gifted?"

"A draught from the dark wave of Lethe's fabled stream.' Oh! Lina, dear and best, could I drown all recollection of the past, fling aside exalted rank, and with tomorrow's dawn begin a new state of existence? Even as a bond woman, I might yet be happy."

"Friend of my love," cried Lina, kneeling beside her and winding her snowy arms around the neck of Eva. " Friend of my love, reveal to me the horrid mystery; oh, without reserve, repose your sorrows on the sympathizing bosom of your earliest friend."

Hear me,” cried Eva, raising her head and motioning the weeping girl to a seat by her side. "Hear me, then, and you are the first, except for the proud race of Alverstein, who has listened to the tale. On such a night as this, in years gone by, the lady of Alverstein reclined upon her luxurious chair within this very balcony. Her eyes were fixed upon the extent of country stretched around, redolent with the beauty of summer, and with all the pride of conscious power, she mused upon the honors of her princely house. Twilight darkened slowly around her, but unmindful of the lateness of the hour and enamored of the dreamy loveliness of the scene before her, she lingered until the sound of approaching footsteps awaking her from her reverie aroused her to a consciousness of the loneliness of her situation. Turning with the quickness of thought, she encountered a pair of glowing eyes, whose snaky glare, striking a chill of terror in her heart, sunk her powerless on the seat from which she had arisen. Waving her arm with a gesture of command, a gaunt and spectrelike figure before her sang, or rather chaunted the following words in a low and sadly solemn voice: Lady of Lordly Alverstein, In velvet robes and jewels, sheen Sibyl to your haughty face. Predicts the downfall of your race! The lord of Alverstein shall die. Where none shall close his glazing eye; The heir of all this wide domain Shall fall upon the ensanguined plain, In foreign land, he shall yield his breath. Nor friend nor foe, near death! His heir within the stormy wave Shall find a cold, unhallowed grave; His orphan flow's tender bloom Shall sleep within an early tomb; The future is dim. I truly trace A daughter ends the lordly race. "The red glare of the rising moon cast a flood of crimson radiance around as she concluded, revealing to the awe-struck lady the fiend-like appearance of the unearthly being before her. A shrick, which ran fearfully upon the ears of the startled domestics, burst from her lips, and rushing to her assistance, they found her motionless upon the stony floor. The rays of the morning sun gleamed through the casement of her chamber, and consciousness returned to the bewildered faculties of the unfortunate lady. When starting wildly from her couch, she dispatched a courier for the Lord of Alverstein, absent on a hunting expedition, and with a frenzied gesture of command, bade her attendants explore every recess in the wide grounds and bring before her any intruder lurking therein. But vainly they searched each nook and bushy dell,' the warning Sibyl had disappeared, and forever. Loud and long, as many days rolled around, did the deep wail of woe echo within these massive walls. From the sports of hunting, in which he had engaged with all the ardor of youth, the Lord of Alverstein never returned. His mangled form, together with the crushed body of his fallen steed, had been found at the foot of the rocky precipice, surrounded by weeping comrades, by the courier of his lady. With a cry of agony, the despairing woman recalled the prophecy written in characters of fire upon her soul.