A monarch's taste, Old Man. Sorrow, the wise have said, is born of sin; And peace Raym. Alas! thy words are true. The furrows of old age are on his cheeks, Can'st not repent? Of the great mortal struggle! This is another way of getting peace, Raym. [Opening his eyes, which have a glazed, wild ledge; 'Gainst parents disobedience, which shall bring Raym. Cease, cease to trouble me—leave me alone! Raym. [He goes into an inner room. I am an outcast from the face of man Caves are my hiding-places, and my food Cursed for some ancient sin! Why should I live? [He takes a small phial from his bosom. [He drinks. [He lies down, closes his eyes, and remains Raym. Oh, hast thou found me here, mine enemy! That angels mourn for it? My God, my God! Mourn, mourn celestial spirits, One that was meant of your bright host to be, A human soul hath lost its heavenward way, Alas, how art thou fallen! A song of mourning let each one take up! The spirit is gone forth to the unknown, Lost from our company, Oh erring human soul! Take up a song of woe, A song of mourning let each one begin' Stained with mortal sin! In blackness of thick darkness wandering now, Lost, lost, art thou! Oh spirit, vext with fears, by tempests tost, THE cruel nature of Achzib was unmoved by the moral ruin before him; in him was neither pity nor remorse. "As the tree falleth," said he, "so it lieth; and there is no repentance in the grave!" While he thus spoke, the Pastor entered. "Grant me the shelter of thy roof," said he, "for one hour; and when the storm hath abated, I will pursue my journey." "Whither dost thou journey?" inquired Achzib. "I seek a lost sheep of my Father's fold," replied the old man sorrowfully. "Behold!" said Achzib, lifting the cloak from the face of the dead, "him whom thou seekest- Raymond-who hath even now committed self-murder." "My son! my son!" exclaimed the pastor falling upon his knees beside the body. "Alas, my son, hast thou gone forth to the eternal judgment with this mortal sin upon thy soul!" and he buried his face in his hands, and wept like a woman. yet have found pardon with heaven."-And again the aged man covered his face and wept. "I will leave thee to thy meditations," said Ach. zib, and went out. The Pastor combated his emotion, and approached the dead; he lifted the already whitened locks from the young man's forehead. "Oh my son, my son!" exclaimed he, in the words of the royal mourner, "would God, I had died for thee! Father, which art in heaven," said the old man, falling on his knees, "prayer availeth not for the dead; thy justice hath determined what is meet: but oh, by the tears our Lord shed for Lazarus; by the bloody sweat, the trembling spirit, and the mortal agony, I pray thee, if it be possible, pity and forgive! Oh, let the blood shed on Mount Calvary avail somewhat-let the prayer for the murderers avail-Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do! "If there was good in him, though less than an atom, remember it-I know thou wilt, for thou art merciful; and even in the midst of despair, I bless thee. I bless thee, for the remorse which lived in the heart of this sinner-I bless thee, for the suffering he endured-the poverty, the shame, the hunger, the nakedness, which would not let him forget thee!I bless thee, that thou didst not leave his sin unpunished in this world! These grey hairs, this defaced youth; pain of body and anguish of mind, — these, oh Father! I will accept as tokens of mercy. Thou knowest the strength of temptation, thou knowest the weakness of human nature. Oh, pity and forgive!" The Pastor rose from his knees; the cold grey light of the morning struggled faintly through the small window; but Achzib had not yet returned. Without waiting for his coming, the Pastor composed as well as he might, the rigidly convulsed limbs, and prepared the body for interment. Near the hut he found a hollow in the bosom of the mountain, scoped by nature as if for a grave; and made strong by "This man must have been dear unto thee!" said Christian love, thither he bore the dead. No man Achzib, interrupting the Pastor's sorrow. Alas, he was a sinner, but I had hoped the day of grace was not over;" replied the Pastor," he was a great sinner, yet was not his nature evil; remorse followed crime, and heart-stinging repentance. God had not wholly abandoned him, and he who knows how we are tempted, knows also how to forgive!" "Methinks," said Achzib, "thou would'st excuse the sinner; thou would'st destroy the distinction between virtue and vice." "Nay, nay," replied the Pastor, "I know we are all sinners, and this young man the chiefest of them; but I dare not limit the mercy of God. I remember the thief on the cross; the publicans and sinners of the Gospel; and I hoped, that though he should not have found pardon from the justice of man, he might witnessed the deed: and the departing Pastor exclaimed, "I leave thee to man's oblivion, and God's mercy." Achzib was once more among men, looking for a victim. He heard of wars, and rumours of wars. He heard of a tyrannous ruler, and an oppressed people, and he said, "I will go there." PHILIP OF MAINE. PERSONS. PHILIP OF MAINE. THE LORD OF MAINE, HIS FATHER. THE PATRIOT. THE LORD OF KRONBERG. BERTHA, HER COUSIN. ARNOLD, HENRY, CONRAD, AND ROLAND, LEAD ERS OF THE PEOPLE. MOTHER SCHWARTZ, THE FORGE-WOMAN; JAN, Lord of K. What! dost thou ask my daughter as Of such poor service, as a peasant lad Phil. of M. TERS. Lord of K. Audacious rebel, SOLDIERS, AND OTHER SUBORDINATE CHARAC Wouldst beard me to my face! I tell thee, traitor, I have mine eyes upon thee, and thy fatherI know wherefore ye harbour in your walls The disaffected rabble-why thou comest To ask alliance with me, then to beard me! Phil. of M. My lord, this quarrel was not of my seeking. ACT L-SCENE I. A magnificent room in the Castle of Kronberg. Enter the LORD OF KRONBERG, and PHILIP OF MAINE. Lord of Kronberg. Good, good! you seek alliance with my house! Philip of Maine. I do, my lord. Lord of K. Phil. of M. Lord of K. Too long I have forborne! I know I know what your ambition lusteth after: What next, fair sir! Can stir up the fierce spirit of the people; Of your fair daughter's hand I ask, nought more. Lord of K. Nought to maintain her on! no marriage dower No broad lands, as a daughter's appanage? ple! Phil. of M. I came not now as pleader of their cause, Or, to your face, I'd tell you, you're a tyrant! Phil. of M. I asked her, for herself! Broad lands Think but of those poor workers in the loom, and dower Came not within my count. Lord of K. Are not, what once they were-scoff not, my lord, All dying in your streets, who might have earned Demand my daughter first, then rule the state? Whom you refuse a morsel? Your poor burghers, Lord of K. Art worth a sword? canst draw one? canst thou And patch the old man's doublet! Canst hunt? canst hold a hawk? canst read? canst That noble, good old lord, or by the gods, Hence with thee, prating fool! wouldst take a wife, for- Hence with thee, ere I summon one, whose trade Is to chastise young insolence like thine! Phil. of M. A day may come, when we will count Lord of K. And this is he, to whom the people look Upstart fool! Wouldst match thyself with me! Phil. of M. This honour uninvited! Your own mouth Those old dues, Which as my vassals they have long withstood, I will demand, and lay strong hold on them As forfeit of the soil! Go to, I'll do it; SCENE II. Ida's apartment - Ida and Bertha together - Bertha has a bunch of lilies of the valley in her hand. And each decaying vestige of his greatness, My sweet mother Ida. Nay, blame him not! Why need he shun to ask Save Philip's mother; and to her she opened My hand in marriage openly? He's brave, My father knows he is; and his descent Berth. He has avowed, and is a fool for's pains! I told thee how 't would be- I knew my uncle But he swore Ida. He will! he has! Her inmost bleeding heart. Oh, how I loved - As would have kept a fortress through a siege, Berth. Philip hath gone from hence as black as Wherefore I love those flowers. night; I never saw rage look more terrible I met him on the stair. What said he to thee? Ida. Berth. Ida. Well, tell me now. And while his eyes flashed fire, he flung these flowers And when we met, from her maternal heart The reason of his anger. Poured counsel out, and blessing, which sustained Those flowers were mine, and he knew how I loved But the tall, earnest man -so like his mother! Ah, gentle cousin, a little moment's space; us. Ah, was it not unkind to fling them hence? But oh, what bliss grew out of that great sorrow!- He has upon the people; 't were unwise, stillest! SCENE III. A desolate room in the Castle of Maine-the Lord of Maine and stranger partaking refreshment. Lord of M. Yes, sir, three centuries back our house held sway As princes in this land; lineally descended Strang. That was the celebrated John of Maine. every state Had cause to bless him, save the single state For a soul large as his. Hence 't was involved Thou 'dst liken to this thing. Enter PHILIP: he throws down his cap without noticing Philip; I have a guest, thou see'st him not! Phil. Am I a child to have my actions questioned? Hild. Alas, my lord, the horse you have brought in All in a foaming sweat, trembling each joint, Has dropped down dead;-it has been over-ridden-none have we left; And 't is our only horse And 't was so lean; the carcase will bring nothing! Phil. The devil take the horse! Strang. [aside.] A proper youth! I' faith, he does the old man's schooling credit! Lord of M. [aside to Philip.] "T is a strange mood is on thee; all unmeet For stranger eyes to witness! Pray bethink thee, Thou art no brawler in the public streets. Lord of M. [to the stranger.] Pardon me, friend, Of your son's breeding; 'tis a proper youth! Phil. Out with thee, hound! Out, or thou shalt be gagged! Strang. Farewell! But as the ghost spoke unto Brutus, I'll meet with thee again at Phillippi! [He goes out. Lord of M. For shame! He was a poor man, and a stranger! Thou hast abashed thy father; and God knows Phil. I thank thee not, to make a boast of me! Lord of M. My son, I cannot understand thy humour! Phil. Why could'st not breed me up as poor men are ? Teach me to cringe, to stoop, and humbly beg? And been insulted for thy poverty- Lord of M. Then pray what is this arrant foolery? Phil. If thou will hear it-hear it! I have been To ask Lord Kronberg's daughter's hand in marriage! Lord of M. Thou ask the Lord of Kronberg's daughter's hand! |