--Lord Nelville for some time walked about the room
with a hurried step, then approaching Corinne, was about to betray his
feelings; but the invincible pride of his nature repressed his emotion,
and he returned to the pictures as if he were waiting for Corinne to
finish showing them. Corinne expected much from the effect of the last
of all; and making an effort in her turn to appear calm, she arose and
said, "My lord, I have yet three landscapes to show you--two of them are
allied to very interesting ideas. I am not fond of those rustic scenes
which are as dull in painting as idylls, when they make no allusion to
fable or to history. I am most pleased with the manner of Salvator Rosa,
who represents, as you see in this picture, a rock with torrents and
trees, without a single living creature, without even a bird recalling
an idea of life. The absence of man in the midst of natural scenes,
excites deep reflection. What would the earth be in this state of
solitude? A work without an aim; and yet a work so beautiful, the
mysterious impression of which would be addressed to the Divinity alone!

"We are come at last to the two pictures in which, according to my
opinion, history and poetry are happily blended with landscape[27]. One
represents the moment when Cincinnatus is invited by the consuls to
leave the plough, in order to take the command of the Roman armies. In
this landscape you behold all the luxury of the South, its abundant
vegetation, its burning sky, the smiling aspect of all nature,
discoverable even in the plants themselves; and that other picture which
forms a contrast with this, is the son of Cairbar asleep upon the tomb
of his father.--For three days and three nights he has awaited the
arrival of the bard who is to honour the memory of the dead. This bard
is perceived at a distance descending the mountain; the shade of the
father hovers in the clouds; the country is covered with hoar frost; the
trees, though naked, are agitated by the wind, and their dead branches
and dried leaves, still follow the current of the storm."

Till then, Oswald had been influenced by resentment at what had taken
place in the garden; but on beholding this picture, the tomb of his
father and the mountains of Scotland appeared to his mind, and his eyes
were filled with tears. Corinne took her harp, and before this picture,
began to sing one of those Scotch ballads whose simple notes seem to
accompany the noise of the wind, mournful