A fresh tide of crusaders se by the place of my retreat: three nights -tant meditation dry my blood; meepless nights I passed in sounding on, words and things, a dim and perilous way; aberesce'er I turned me, I beheld Lavery compared to which the dungeon cing chains are perfect liberty. Understand me—I was comforted; that every possible shape of action Awad to good-I saw it and burst forth Tinting for some of those exploits that fill carta ir sure redemption of lost peace. [Marking MARMADUKE's countenance. you have had the worst. Ferocity ted in a moment, like a wind ** crows down dead out of a sky it vexed. **ret ind within me evermore In it spring of energy; I mounted I never rested—without meat or drink a: a continuity and substance a wek ng life had never power to give. M--, O wretched human-kind-Until the mystery as world is solved, well may we envy * that, underneath a stone whose weight crush the lion's paw with mortal anguish, 1, and feed, and coil, and sleep, in safety. the wrath of Heaven upon those traitors? ve not to them a thought. From Palestine ched to Syria: oft I left the camp, als that multitude of hearts was still, Ass Showed on, through woods of gloomy cedar, Ideap charms troubled by roaring streams; I have been nourished by the sickly food Than obloquy; that, if we wish to serve The world in substance, not deceive by show, Or fear disguised in simulated scorn. Mar. I pity, can forgive, you; but those wretches→→ That monstrous perfidy! Osw. Keep down your wrath. One of Love's simple bondsmen — the soft chain Mar. 'Tis a strange aching that, when we would curse And cannot,-You have betrayed me-I have done - We propped his steps, he leaned upon us both. Which for a season I have stooped to wear, I would have made us equal once again, But that was a vain hope. You have struck home, But what is done will save you from the blank - Mar. (in a faint voice, and doubtingly.) You do but echo My own wild words? Osw. Young man, the seed must lie Mar. What fiend could prompt This action? Innocent!-O, breaking heart! [Exit. SCENE, the inside of a poor Cottage. ELEANOR and IDONEA seated. Idon. The storm beats hard-Mercy for poor or rich, Idon. What can this mean? - [The voices die away in the distance. Returning from their feast my heart beats soA noise at midnight does so frighten me. Idon. Hush! [Listening. husband, I have a noble friend Idon. Elea. "Tis my husband's foot. Good Eldred Eld. I have done him no harm, but it will be Eld. Be at peace; I am innocent. [A short pause; she falls upon his neck. Eld. To-night I met with an old man lying stretched upon the ground-a sad spectacle: I raised him up with a hope that we might shelter and restore him. Elea. (as if ready to run.) Where is he? You were not able to bring him all the way with you; let us re turn, I can help you. [ELDRED shakes his head Eld. He did not seem to wish for life: as I was struggling on, by the light of the moon I saw the stains of blood upon my clothes-he waved his hand as if it were all useless: and I let him sink again to the ground. Elea. O, that I had been by your side! Eld. I tell you his hands and his body were col· how could I disturb his last moments? he strove to turn from me as if he wished to settle into sleep. Elea. But, for the stains of blood Eld. He must have fallen, I fancy, for his head was cut; but I think his malady was cold and hunger. Elea. O, Eldred, I shall never be able to look up at this roof in storm or fair but I shall tremble. Eld. Is it not enough that my ill stars have kept me abroad to-night till this hour? I come home, and this is my comfort! Elea. But did he say nothing which might have set you at ease? Eld. I thought he grasped my hand while he was muttering something about his child—his daughter(starting as if he heard a noise.) What is that! Elea. Eldred, you are a father. Eld. God knows what was in my heart, and will not curse my son for my sake. Elea. But you prayed by him? you waited the hour of his release? Eld. The night was wasting fast; I have no friend; [Listening. I am spited by the world-his wound terrified me-if I Ed. Have you forgot your own troubles when I was the dangeon! E And you left him alive? Ed Alive!-the damps of death were upon himbe could not have survived an hour. El. In the cold, cold night. Eid. (in a savage tone.) Ay, and his head was bare; I a quee you would have had me lend my bonnet to meer - You will never rest till I am brought to a 21's end. 'Tis a poor wretch of an unsettled mind, Eea Is there nothing to be done? cannot we go to Who has a trick of straying from his keepers; Era But let us make the attempt. This old man may have a wife, and he may have children-let us reare to the spot; we may restore him, and his eyes may pea upon those that love him. EM He will never open them more; even when he sovice to me, he kept them firmly sealed as if he had Mind. Id. (rushing out.) It is, it is my father We are betrayed. (looking at IDONEA.) Fica His daughter!-God have mercy! (turning to [Exit Forester. If his own eyes play false with him, these freaks Li. (risking down.) Oh! lift me up and carry me The first hours of last night were rough with storm: A lonesome chapel stands, deserted now: The bell is left, which no one dares remove; For. He leaned upon the bridge that spans the glen, And, when the stormy wind blows o'er the peak, And down into the bottom cast his eye, Org. He listened too; did you not say he listened? It rings, as if a human hand were there And know how busy are the tongues of men; Mar. I believe that there are phantoms, Of our distress and thou art one of them! Eld. My wife and children came into my mind. Mar. O, monster! monster! there are three of us, And we shall howl together. [After a pause, and in a feeble voice. I am deserted At my worst need, my crimes have in a net (Pointing to ELDRED.) Entangled this poor man.— Where was it? where? [Dragging him along. Eld. 'Tis needless; spare your violence. daughter His SCENE changes to the door of ELDRED's collageIDONEA Seated - enter ELDRED. Eld. Your father, lady, from a wilful hand Has met unkindness; so indeed he told me, And you remember such was my report: From what has just befallen me I have cause To fear the very worst. Idon. And doth call out for vengeance. It was most heinous, Do not add, I prithee, to the harm thou'st done already. In joy I met thee, but a few hours past; And perish so. Think not of it, His body is at rest; there was a plot, [MARMADUKE shrinks back. A hideous plot, against the soul of man: It took effect-and yet I baffled it, In some degree. The startled bird quivered upon the wing. Mar. Dead, dead! Eld. (after a pause.) A dismal matter, Sir, for me, Idon. Between us stood, I thought, A cup of consolation, filled from Heaven Mar. Give me a reason why the wisest thing And des in solitude: all things but man, Oh! would that thou hadst perished in the flames! Shall blessings wait upon a deed of mine. Idon. Wild words for me to hear, for me, an orphan, Committed to thy guardianship by Heaven; Ade in solitude. [Moving towards the cottage door. And, if thou hast forgiven me, let me hope, Mysterious God, F'de had never lived I had not done it! J. Alas, the thought of such a cruel death Has overwhelmed him.-I must follow. Lady! EL. cee face. (to himself.) In this deep sorrow, trust, that I am thine All nature curses me, and in my heart Thy curse is fixed; the truth must be laid bare, It must be told, and borne. I am the man, The dead have but Presumptuous above all that ever breathed, And such a man-so meek and unoffending — By obce signal to the world's protection, I (so filled Worror is this world) am unto thee O, miserable father! Thaust command me to bless all mankind; I to any living thing; but hear me, Idon. Perished by what mischance? [He gives her a letter. Idon. (reads.) Be not surprised if you hear that some signal judgment has befallen the man who calls himself your father; he is now with me, as his signature will show: abstain from conjecture till you see me. 'HERBERT. The writing Oswald's; the signature my father's: - Berne, ye Heavens!—(kneeling.)—may vengeance (Looks steadily at the paper.) And here is yours, — or aunt the fiend For this most cruel murder: let him live The roof, self-moved, unsettling o'er his head; thee. Idon. (leaning on MARMADUKE.) Left to the mercy How could he call upon his child!-O friend! My faithful, true, and only comforter. The devils at such sights do clap their hands. |