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Thou dost not leave me! But a brief while retire into the darkness:

TERESA (retires from him, and feebly supports herself O that my joy could spread its sunshine round thee'

against a pillar of the dungeon).

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Ha! speak on!

ALVAR.

Beloved Teresa!

It told but half the truth. O let this portrait
Tell all-that Alvar lives-that he is here!
Thy much deceived but ever faithful Alvar.

TERESA.

The sound of thy voice shall be my music!

[Retiring, she returns hastily and embraces ALVAR. Alvar! my Alvar! am I sure I hold thee?

Is it no dream? thee in my arms, my Alvar! [Ezit. [A noise at the Dungeon door. It opens, and ORDONIO enters, with a goblet in his hand

ORDONIO.

Hail, potent wizard! in my gayer mood

I pour'd forth a libation to old Pluto,
And as I brimm'd the bowl, I thought on thee.
Thou hast conspired against my life and honor,
Hast trick'd me foully; yet I hate thee not.
Why should I hate thee? this same world of ours,
"Tis but a pool amid a storm of rain,

And we the air-bladders that course up and down,
And joust and tilt in merry tournament;
And when one bubble runs foul of another,
[Waving his hand to ALVAR

The weaker needs must break.

ALVAR.

I see thy heart!
There is a frightful glitter in thine eye
Which doth betray thee. Inly-tortured man!
This is the revelry of a drunken anguish,
Which fain would scoff away the pang of guilt.
And quell each human feeling.

ORDONIO.

Feeling! feeling!
The death of a man—the breaking of a bubble—
"Tis true I cannot sob for such misfortunes;
But faintness, cold and hunger-curses on me
If willingly I e'er inflicted them!

Come, take the beverage; this chill place demands it
[ORDONIO proffers the goblet.

Yon insect on the wall,

ALVAR.

Which moves this way and that its hundred limbs,
Were it a toy of mere mechanic craft,

It were an infinitely curious thing!

But it has life, Ordonio! life, enjoyment!

And by the power of its miraculous will

Wields all the complex movements of its frame

[Takes her portrait from his neck, and gives it her. Unerringly to pleasurable ends!

TERESA (receiving the portrait).

The same it is the same. Ah! who art thou?
Nay I will call thee, ALVAR! [She falls on his neck.

ALVAR.

O joy unutterable!

But hark! a sound as of removing bars
At the dungeon's outer door. A brief, brief while
Conceal thyself, my love! It is Ordonio.

For the honor of our race, for our dear father;
O for himself too (he is still my brother)
Let me recall him to his nobler nature,
That he may wake as from a dream of murder!
O let me reconcile him to himself,

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Mountebank and villain!

What then art thou? For shame, put up thy sword!
What boots a weapon in a wither'd arm?

I fix mine eye upon thee, and thou tremblest!
I speak, and fear and wonder crush thy rage,
And turn it to a motionless distraction!

Thou blind self-worshipper! thy pride, thy cunning.
Thy faith in universal villany,

Thy shallow sophisms, thy pretended scorn
For all thy human brethren-out upon them!
What have they done for thee? have they given thee
peace?

Cured thee of starting in thy sleep? or made
The darkness pleasant when thou wakest at midnight?
Art happy when alone? Canst walk by thyself
With even step and quiet cheerfulness?
Yet, yet thou mayest be saved-—————

ORDONIO (vacantly repeating the words).

ALVAR.

Saved? saved?

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How sweet and musical the name of Alvar!
Then, then, Ordonio, he was dear to thee,
And thou wert dear to him; Heaven only knows
How very dear thou wert! Why didst thou hate him?
O heaven! how he would fall upon thy neck,
And weep forgiveness!

ORDONIO.

Spirit of the dead! Methinks I know thee! ha! my brain turns wild At its own dreams!-off-off, fantastic shadow!

ALVAR.

I fain would tell thee what I am! but dare not!

ORDONIO.

Cheat! villain! traitor! whatsoever thou be-
I fear thee, man!

TERESA (rushing out and falling on ALVAR's neck).
Ordonio! 'tis thy brother.

[ORDONIO with frantic wildness runs upon ALVAR with his sword. TERESA flings herself on ORDONIO and arrests his arm. Stop, madman, stop.

ALVAR.

Does then this thin disguise impenetrably
Hide Alvar from thee? Toil and painful wounds
And long imprisonment in unwholesome dungeons,
Have marr'd perhaps all trait and lineament
My anguish for thy guilt!
Of what I was! But chiefly, chiefly, brother,

Ordonio-Brother!
Nay, nay, thou shalt embrace me.
ORDONIO (drawing back and gazing at ALVAR with a
countenance of at once awe and terror).
Touch me not!

Touch not pollution, Alvar! I will die. [He attempts to fall on his sword: ALVAR and TERESA prevent him.

ALVAR.

We will find means to save your honor. Live,
Oh live, Ordonio! for our father's sake!
Spare his gray hairs!

TERESA.

And you may yet be happy.

ORDONIO.

O horror! not a thousand years in heaven
Could recompose this miserable heart,
Or make it capable of one brief joy!
Live! Live! Why yes! 't were well to live with you:
For is it fit a villain should be proud?
My brother! I will kneel to you, my brother!

[Kneeling. Forgive me, Alvar!—Curse me with forgiveness!

ALVAR.

Call back thy soul, Ordonio, and look round thee: Now is the time for greatness! Think that Heaven

TERESA.

O mark his eye! he hears not what you say.
ORDONIO (pointing at the vacancy).
Yes, mark his eye! there's fascination in it!
Thou saidst thou didst not know him-That is he!
He comes upon me!

ALVAR.

Heal, O heal him, Heaven!

ORDONIO.

Nearer and nearer! and I cannot stir!
Will no one hear these stifled groans, and wake me?

He would have died to save me, and I kill'd him- She hath avenged the blood of Isidore!
A husband and a father!-

TERESA.

Some secret poison

Drinks up his spirits!

ORDONIO (fiercely recollecting himself).

Let the eternal Justice

Prepare my punishment in the obscure world—
I will not bear to live-to live-O agony!
And be myself alone my own sore torment!
[The doors of the dungeon are broken open, and in
rush ALHADKA, and the band of MORESCOES.

Seize first that man!

ALHADRA.

I stood in silence like a slave before her,
That I might taste the wormwood and the gall,
And satiate this self-accusing heart
With bitterer agonies than death can give.
Forgive me, Alvar!

Oh! couldst thou forget me! [Dies [ALVAR and TERESA bend over the body of ORDONIO

ALHADRA (to the Moors).

I thank thee, Heaven! thou hast ordain'd it wisely,
That still extremes bring their own cure. That point
In misery, which makes the oppressed Man
Regardless of his own life, makes him too
Lord of the Oppressor's-Knew I a hundred men
Despairing, but not palsied by despair,

[ALVAR presses onward to defend ORDONIO. This arm should shake the Kingdoms of the World,

ORDONIO.

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Why didst thou leave his children?
Demon, thou shouldst have sent thy dogs of hell
To lap their blood! Then, then I might have harden'd
My soul in misery, and have had comfort.
I would have stood far off, quiet though dark,
And bade the race of men raise up a mourning
For a deep horror of desolation,

Too great to be one soul's particular lot!
Brother of Zagri! let me lean upon thee.

[Struggling to suppress her feelings.
The time is not yet come for woman's anguish.
I have not seen his blood-Within an hour

Those little ones will crowd around and ask me,
Where is our father? I shall curse thee then!

The deep foundations of iniquity

Should sink away, earth groaning from beneath them;
The strong-holds of the cruel men should fall,
Their Temples and their mountainous Towers should

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Delights so full, if unalloy'd with grief,

Wert thou in heaven, my curse would pluck thee Were ominous. In these strange dread events

thence!

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Just Heaven instructs us with an awful voice,
That Conscience rules us e'en against our choice.
Our inward monitress to guide or warn,
If listen'd to; but if repell'd with scorn,
At length as dire Remorse, she reappears,
Works in our guilty hopes, and selfish fears!
Still bids, Remember! and still cries, Too late!
And while she scares us, goads us to our fate.

APPENDIX.

Note 1, page 81, col. 1.

You are a painter.

The following lines I have preserved in this place, not so much as explanatory of the picture of the assassination, as (if I may say so without disrespect to the Public) to gratify my own feelings, the passage being no mere fancy portrait; but a slight, yet not

unfaithful profile of one,* who still lives, nobilitate felix, arte clarior, vitâ colendissimus.

ZULIMEZ (speaking of Alvar in the third person).
Such was the noble Spaniard's own relation.
He told me, too, how in his early youth,

And his first travels, 't was his choice or chance
To make long sojourn in sea-wedded Venice;
There won the love of that divine old man,
Courted by mightiest kings, the famous Titian!
Who, like a second and more lovely Nature,
By the sweet mystery of lines and colors,
Changed the blank canvas to a magic mirror,
That made the Absent present; and to Shadows
Gave light, depth, substance, bloom, yea, thought and

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SELMA.

My husband's father told it me,

Poor old Sesina-angels rest his soul!
He was a woodman, and could fell and saw
With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam
Which props the hanging wall of the old Chapel?
Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree,

He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined
With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool
As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home,
And reared him at the then Lord Valdez' cost.
And so the babe grew up a pretty boy,

A pretty boy, but most unteachable-
He never learnt à prayer, nor told a bead,

But knew the names of birds, and mock'd their notes,
And whistled, as he were a bird himself:
And all the autumn 't was his only play

To gather seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them
With earth and water on the stumps of trees.

A Friar, who gather'd simples in the wood,

A gray-hair'd man, he loved this little boy:

The boy loved him, and, when the friar taught him,
He soon could write with the pen; and from that time
Lived chiefly at the Convent or the Castle.

So he became a rare and learned youth:

But O! poor wretch! he read, and read, and read,
Till his brain turn'd; and ere his twentieth year
He had unlawful thoughts of many things:
And though he pray'd, he never loved to pray
With holy men, nor in a holy place.

But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet,
The late Lord Valdez ne'er was wearied with him.
And once, as by the north side of the chapel
They stood together, chain'd in deep discourse,
The earth heaved under them with such a groan,
That the wall totter'd, and had well-nigh fallen
Right on their heads. My Lord was sorely frighten'd;
A fever seized him, and he made confession
Of all the heretical and lawless talk
Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seized
And cast into that hole. My husband's father
Sobb'd like a child-it almost broke his heart:
And once as he was working near this dungeon,
He heard a voice distinctly; 't was the youth's,
Who sung a doleful song about green fields,
How sweet it were on lake or wide savanna
To hunt for food, and be a naked man,
And wander up and down at liberty.
He always doted on the youth, and now
His love grew desperate; and defying death,
He made that cunning entrance I described,
And the young man escaped.

TERESA.

'Tis a sweet tale: Such as would lull a listening child to sleep, His rosy face besoil'd with unwiped tears. And what became of him?

SELMA.

He went on shipboard With those bold voyagers who made discovery Of golden lands. Sesiba's younger brother Went likewise, and when he return'd to Spain, He told Sesina, that the poor mad youth, Soon after they arrived in that new world, In spite of his dissuasion, seized a boat, And all alone set sail by silent moonlight Up a great river, great as any sea,

And ne'er was heard of more: but 'tis supposed, He lived and died among the savage men.

Zapolya;

A CHRISTMAS TALE.

IN TWO PARTS.

Πὰρ πυρὶ χρὴ τοιαῦτα λέγειν χειμῶνος ἐν ὥρᾳ.

Apud ATHENZUM.

ADVERTISEMENT.

KIUPRILI.

Enter RAA

But Raab Kiuprili moves with such a gait? Lo! e'en this eager and unwonted haste But agitates, not quells, its majesty. THE form of the following dramatic poem is in hum- My patron! my commander! yes, 't is he! ble imitation of the Winter's Tale of Shakspeare, Call out the guards. The Lord Kiuprili comes. except that I have called the first part a Prelude instead of a first Act, as a somewhat nearer resem-Drums beat, etc. the Guard turns out. blance to the plan of the ancients, of which one specimen is left us in the Eschylian Trilogy of the RAAB KIUPRILI (making a signal to stop the drums, etc.) Agamemnon, the Orestes, and the Eumenides. Though Silence! enough! This is no time, young friend! a matter of form merely, yet two plays, on different For ceremonious dues. This summoning drum, periods of the same tale, might seem less bold, than Th' air-shattering trumpet, and the horseman's clatter, an interval of twenty years between the first and Are insults to a dying sovereign's ear. second act. This is, however, in mere obedience to Soldiers, 't is well! Retire! your general greets you, custom. The effect does not, in reality, at all de- His loyal fellow-warriors. pend on the Time of the interval; but on a very dif [Guards retire. ferent principle. There are cases in which an interval of twenty hours between the acts would have a Thus sudden from the camp, and unattended! Pardon my surprise. worse effect (i. e. render the imagination less disposed What may these wonders prophesy ? to take the position required) than twenty years in

other cases.

For the rest, I shall be well content if

CHEF RAGOZZI.

RAAB KIUPRILI.

Tell me first,

my readers will take it up, read and judge it, as a How fares the king? His majesty still lives? Christmas tale.

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CHEF RAGOZZI.

We know no otherwise; but Emerick's friends
(And none but they approach him) scoff at hope.

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