r. I joyfully followed the sound,
and, after an hour of perilous exertion, discovered a light at some
distance, which I soon found to proceed from the window of a small
hut.

After I had knocked repeatedly, the door was opened by an old man,
with a lamp in his hand. He started back on seeing me, for my dress
was wet and disordered, my face and hands had been wounded while
scrambling among the rocks, and fatigue and terror had given me a wan
and agitated look. I entered the house, the inmates of which were a
woman and a boy, and having seated myself near the fire, related to my
host all that had occurred on board the floating beacon, and then
requested him to accompany me down to the beach, that we might search
for Angerstoff and Marietta. "No, no," cried he; "that is impossible.
Hear how the storm rages! Worlds would not induce me to have any
communication with murderers. It would be impious to attempt it on
such a night as this. The Almighty is surely punishing them now! Come
here and look out."

I followed him to the door, but the moment he opened it the wind
extinguished the lamp. Total darkness prevailed without, and a chaos
of rushing, bursting, and moaning sounds swelled upon the ear with
irregular loudness. The blast swept round the hut in violent eddyings,
and we felt the chilly spray of the sea driving upon our faces at
intervals. I shuddered, and the old man closed the door, and then
resumed his seat near the fire.

My entertainer made a bed for me upon the floor, but the noise of the
tempest, and the anxiety I felt about the fate of Angerstoff and
Marietta, kept me awake the greater part of the night. Soon after
dawn my host accompanied me down to the beach. We found the wreck of
the floating beacon, but were unable to discover any traces of the
guilty pair whom I had left on board of it.

COLONNA THE PAINTER.
A TALE OF ITALY AND THE ARTS.

[_MAGA._ SEPTEMBER 1829.]

[The following "Tale of Italy and the Arts" was submitted in MS. to
the late Mr Coleridge, who signified his approval by giving to the
writer, as an appropriate heading, two then unpublished stanzas from
his admirable translation of Goethe's Song of Mignon in "Wilhelm
Meister," beginning "Kennst du das Land?"]

Know'st thou the Land where the pale Citrons blow,
And Golden Fruits through dark green foliage glow?
O soft the breeze that breathes from that blue sky!
Still stand the Myrtles and the Laurels high.