Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street The muster of men at the barrack door, Then he climbed to the tower of the church, And startled the pigeons from their perch And the moonlight flowing over all. Of the place and the hour, the secret dread Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Now gazed on the landscape far and near, And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height, A hurry of hoots in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, It was twelve by the village clock, When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. It was one by the village-clock, Swim in the moonlight as he passed. And the meeting-house windows, black and bare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And one was safe and asleep in his bed Pierced by British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read How the British regulars fired and fled, How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farm-yard wall Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the field to emerge again YIELDING TO TEMPTATION. From LILLO's tragedy of FATAL CURIOSITY. CHARACTERS: OLD WILMOT, the Father, AGNES, his Wife. [The annexed extract is from one of the most pathetic of the old English plays. The story of the piece is as full of tragic horror as any of the antique Grecian plays, and is as follows: A young man leaves home, and his aged parents, in consequence of some misunderstanding with his father. After many years of adventure he returns. loaded with wealth in gold and jewels. After discovering the abode of his parents whom he finds reduced to abject poverty-be deter mines to stop over night at their humble home, as a guest. His general appearance having so much altered that they do not recognize him. In the morning he intends to make himself known. Driven to desperation by wretchedness and famine, they determine to take his life. This dialogue gives the fearful reasoning by which they try to justify their intended crime. The passages give opportunity for much expression of strong and varied emotion and passion. COSTUMES.-Old Wilmot may wear almost any attire-provided it is poor and threadbare, as the play is not necessarily of any particular period. The same remark applies to the dress of Agnes. Enter OLD WILMOT, to AGNES. OLD WILMOT. The mind contented, with how little pains The wandering senses yield to soft repose, And die to gain new life! He's fallen asleep He seems to me a youth of great humanity: Begged me to comfort thee: and-Dost thou hear me? Why have you opened it? Should this be known, AGNES. And who shall know it? O. WIL. There is a kind of pride, a decent dignity, To quit the world, shows sovereign contempt AGNES. Shows sovereign madness, and a scorn of sense. Pursue no further this detested theme: I will not die! I will not leave the world, For all that you can urge, until compelled. O. WIL. To chase a shadow when the setting sun Is darting his last rays, were just as wise As your anxiety for fleeting life, Now the last means for its support are failing: Were famine not as mortal as the sword, This warmth might be excused. But take thy choice AGNES. Nor live, I hope. O. WIL. There is no fear of that. O. WIL. Strange folly! Where's the means? Perhaps thou dost but try me; yet take heed. When flattering opportunity enticed, And desperation drove, have been committed O. WIL. The inhospitable murder of our guest. And yet so cruel, and so full of horror? AGNES. "Tis less impiety, less against nature, O. WIL. It is no matter whether this or that O, what is man, his excellence and strength, To plead the cause of vile assassination! AGNES. You're too severe: reason my justly plead For her own preservation. O. WIL. Rest contented: Whate'er resistance I may seem to make, I am betrayed within: my will's seduced, AGNES. Then naught remains But the swift execution of a deed We must dispatch him sleeping: should he wake, "T were madness to attempt it. O. WIL. True, his strength, Single, is more, much more, than ours united; Curs in duration, should he escape this snare. AGNES, By what means, By stabbing, suffocation, or by strangling,- O. WIL. Why, what a fiend! How cruel, how remorseless, how impatient, AGNES. Barbarous man! Whose wasteful riots ruined our estate, And drove our son, ere the first down had spread His rosy cheeks, spite of my sad presages, Earnest entreaties, agonies, and tears, To seek his bread 'mongst strangers, and to perish The loveliest youth, in person and in mind, I ought not to reproach thee. I confess That thou hast suffered much so have we both. Ere he reclined him on the fatal couch, From which he's ne'er to rise, took off the sash |