I protest solemnly that I will never forsake her;
no, not if I was sure to contract the enmity of mankind by this
resolution. Her I made the object of my wishes, and have obtained her;
our dispositions suit; and I will shake hands with them that would sow
dissension betwixt us; for death, and only death, shall take her from
me."

The eulogies of the poets in regard to this amiable trait in the female
character, are sublime and beautiful; but none, I think, have surpassed
in vivid fancy and depth of feeling, that of Lord Byron, in his elegant
poem of the _Corsair_. The following passage describing the grief of
Medora on the departure of Conrad, the pirate, is sketched with the
pencil of a poet who was transcendently gifted with a knowledge of the
inmost recesses of the human heart:--

"And is he gone,"--on sudden solitude
How oft that fearful question will intrude?
"'Twas but an instant past--and here he stood!
And now"--without the portal's porch she rush'd,
And then at length her tears in freedom gush'd;
Big, bright, and fast, unknown to her they fell.
But still her lips refus'd to send--"Farewell!"
"He's gone!"--against her heart that hand is driven,
Convuls'd and quick--then gently rais'd to heav'n;
She look'd and saw the heaving of the main:
The white sail set--she dared not look again;
But turn'd with sickening soul within the gate--
"It is no dream--and I am desolate!"

CANTO I.

The description of Conrad's return from his piratical cruise, the agony
of his mind when he finds that his lovely Medora had fallen a sacrifice
to her affectionate regard for him, and his sudden departure in a boat,
through despair, is equally grand and powerful, and exhibits a fine
specimen of the influence of female constancy even on the mind of a man
like Conrad, who, from the nature of his pursuits, was inured to the
infliction of wrongs on his fellow-creatures.

The anecdote of the behaviour of Arria towards her husband, Paetus,
related by Pliny, is one of the greatest instances of constancy and
magnanimity of mind to be met with in history. Paetus was imprisoned, and
condemned to die, for joining in a conspiracy against the Emperor,
Claudius. Arria, having provided herself with a dagger, one day observed
a more than usual gloom on the countenance of Paetus, when judging that
death by the executioner might be more terrible to him than the field of
glory, and perhaps, too, sensible that it was for