As I sang 'she ran, she flew,' the workings and tremblings of the minstrel were in unison; while my winged fingers fluttered along the chords, light as a swallow over a little lake, when he touches it with the utmost feather of his pinion. But while I sang, 'peace to the daughter of Erin!' my voice, as it died over the faint vibration of the strings, had all the heart-breaking softness of an Eolian lyre; so woeful was it, so wistful, so wildered. 'Viva! viva!' resounded through the room. At the last cadence, I dropped one arm gently down, and hanging the other on the harp, leaned my languishing head upon it, while my moistened eyes were half closed. A sudden disturbance at the door roused me from my trance. I looked up, and beheld--what?--Can you imagine what? No, my friend, you could not to the day of judgment. I saw, in short, my great mother come striding towards me, with outspread arms, and calling, 'my daughter, my daughter!' in a voice that might waken the dead. My heart died within me: down I darted from the bower, and ran for shelter behind Lady Gwyn. 'Give me back my daughter!' vociferated the dreadful woman, advancing close to her ladyship. 'Oh! do no such thing!' whispered I, pulling her ladyship by the sleeve. 'Take half--all my property; but do not be the death of me!' 'What are you muttering there, Miss?' cried my mother, espying me. 'What makes you stand peeping over that wretch's shoulder?' 'Indeed, Ma'am,' stammered I, 'I am--I am taking your part.' 'Who could have presumed to liberate this woman?' cried Lady Gwyn. 'The Condottieri,' said my mother, 'headed by the great Damno Sulphureo Volcanoni.' 'Then you must return to your prison, this moment,' cried Lady Gwyn. My mother fell on her knees, and began blubbering; while the guests got round, and interceded for her being restored to liberty. I too thought it my duty to say something (my mother all the time sobbing horribly); till, at length, Lady Gwyn consented--for my sake, she said,--to set the poor wretch free; but on this special condition, that there should be no prosecution for false imprisonment. All matters being amicably adjusted, my mother begged a morsel of meat, as she had not eaten any these ten years. In a few minutes, a small table, furnished with a cold turkey and a decanter of wine, was laid for her in the bower. The moment she perceived it, she ran, and seating herself in the scene of my recent triumph, began devouring with such avidity, that I was thunderstruck. One wing soon went; the second shared the fate of its companion, and now she set about a large slice of the breast.