your source

I will shed blood, not tears! Roland.

Those ancient friends of his? 2d Man.

The general feeling

that!

O' troth, there is some riddle 'bout that man!

Hans. And let whoever sins, 't is we are blamed for 't.

Roland. Speak now of the condition of the city. 24 Man. There is no house that is not filled with mourning

The richest citizens were killed i' th' tumult-
One-third the city is a heap of ruins-
And little children, wandering up and down,
Go wailing for their parents-parents too

And friends, and wives and husbands seek their dead,
Mong heaps of fallen houses-everywhere,
Deep oaths are taken of revenge on Philip.

Mother S. All have their oaths of blood against that man!

Man. The soldiers too are discontent, - 'tis said A horrid massacre i' th' dead o' th' night Has cut off every prisoner.

There is hope!

Roland.
What guard is stationed 'neath the castle rock?
3d Man. The guard has been withdrawn.
Roland.
There's an old pathway,
Think ye we might not get an entrance there?
Thereby it was that Philip made his entrance!

4th Man. I know it well; yet 't will be dangerous, More inaccessible from tumbled crags And fallen masonry than heretofore.

Mother S. Our wrongs can force through rocks of adamant.

Roland. "Twill suit our purpose; now let all disperse,

And when eve comes we will again asemble. [They disperse severally.

SCENE II.

Evening-the gallery of the castle - Philip pacing about, in deep thought.

On, on unto the topmost verge of power;
And, as I yet ascend, still more doth grow
The grasping wish for more; - the aspiring wish
Higher and higher to rise. This petty lordship,
Why not a sovereign dukedom? Wherefore not
The Duke of Maine as good as Duke of Suabia?
And Kronberg dead; the path is right before me.
Ambition and revenge shall have their way!-

Gast. Nay, 't will be tenfold vengeance from thy hand.

Phil. [feeling at his dagger.] "T is sharp and true, but do thou mix a cup

Of subtle poison. I would liefer that-
And if he will not pledge me, why, there's this!
Gast. I'll mix a cunning potion that will do.
Enter the LORD OF MAINE.

My son! my son! hast thou decreed his death?
I have.

Phil.

Lord of M. Nay, do not tell me so.
Phil.
I have.
Lord of M. Didst thou not love his gentle, angel
daughter?

It is thou

Remember her, and do not harm his life.
Gast. And be himself the victim!
Lord of M.
That counsellest my son to these bad deeds!
Philip, she gave me life and liberty.
And, but for her, thy father had been dead!
Phil. Whose hate was 't doomed thee to the gal-
lows-tree?

Hence! hence! thou dost not know, for urgently
The hour calls for his blood!

Lord of M.
I leave thee not,
Till thou hast given his life unto my prayer.
Gast. to Phil. Fortune is slipping through your
hand, my lord,

While you stand dallying thus. Away, old man!
Phil. I'm ready, let's begone.

[They go out together.
Lord of M.
Then, may the Avenger
Take from thee thy ill-gotten power and station!
This is a place of blood and horrible outrage;
I will away; men's hearts are turned to stone.
Better it were to hide with desert-beasts,
Where 't is a natural instinct to be cruel!
[He goes out.

After a short time re-enter PHILIP.

I did not quail, nor did my heart upbraid me,
When thousands lay beneath my conquering step,
And from the helmet-crown unto the heel
I was dyed crimson; why then faints my soul,
Trembling and drooping 'neath a mountain's weight
Of miserable remorse for one man's blood? -
Ne'er till this moment, when my debt is paid,
When I have conquered my great enemy,
Quailed I, or wished undone aught that was done!

Phil. How got they an access?

Gast. Even as thou didst; By the old rock-path. Hundreds more have enteredThe portals have they fired; and hark their cries Vengeance and blood!

Phil. Hence; draw the soldiers out, And man the walls. Strike every villain down That sets his foot within the castle gate.

Gast. They fight with us for every inch of ground; They are within the walls- the place is fired; Accursed knaves, born for the gibbet-tree!

Oh, Ida, vain thy prayer!- they have no mercy -
That old man will not move his cruel son
To save thy father, and we here shall perish!
Oh, can there be Omnipotence in heaven,
Who sees these things, yet sends no angel down
To smite and to deliver!

Enter the LORD OF MAINE.

Ida. Is good Lord Kronberg safe?
Berth.
And what do mean
These horrid sounds of tumult, and these flames?
Lord of M. Come forth, my noble ladies! "Tis
an hour

Of peril and alarm! Will you confide
In an old man? I am no soldier, lady;

the cry of vengeance meaneth!

[He rushes out Gaston follows him. A confused noise, and yelling cries are heard approaching, and a rabble force their way in, with torches in their hands.

Man. Down with the billets! Here! here! Fire these hangings!

[They hurl furniture into the middle of the gallery, tear down pictures and hangings, which they pile together and set fire to.

Enter MOTHER SCHWARTZ, with other women, covered with dust and blood.

Mother S. Spare not for fire! Now for a funeral pile,

To celebrate, my son, thy memory! They shall say, this was for the woman's son ! Out with ye, are ye plundering? Give me blood! He whom I seek is hence! Come, come with me! [She snatches up a firebrand and rushes out of the gallery; the women follow her, bearing off booty. The gallery is filled with smoke and flames.

Ida. I know you, and will trust in you! Oh guide us

Unto Lord Kronberg's cell! Where lies my father?
Lord of M. Your noble father 's free.
Ida.
Your voice is sad,
And yet your words are pleasant. Lead us to him
Lord of M. Quick! follow me!

[They wrap themselves in their cloaks and
follow him.

SCENE IV.

Another part of the castle- citizens stand with Lord Kronberg's body on a bier.

1st Citizen. Name not his faults. I knew him when a boy;

I was his favourite playmate; in those years
Together did we ride, and at the target
Together shoot our arrows. I ne'er thought
Then to have borne him in a plight like this!
2d Citizen. He was a hard task-master!
3d Citizen.
But not harder
Than such be ever. Even from Pharaoh downwards
To this day's idol, Philip!

4th Citizen.

It must be five and forty years agone, When his good mother

3d Citizen.

I remember,

Ay, there was a lady,

Fair as an angel, full of truth and kindness
The Lady Ida much resembles her.

5th Citizen. Haste, haste! the way is clear! The contest thickens

About the northern tower. O woful night —
With fire and blood, wild shrieks and horrid curses,
And crash of falling walls! But forward now!

[They proceed Enter the LORD OF MAINE conducting IDA and BERTHA Lord of M. [hastily retreating.] Ah, not this way!

No, no! a moment's pause. [Aside.] Yon is a sight that must not meet their eyes.

Citizens re-enter with the body.

1st Citizen. It shall not be exposed unto dishonour! Seek out a guard, and stand around the bier! [Soldiers rush in] Ho! soldiers, will ye not defend the dead?

Soldier. We fight for Philip of Maine, not for the dead!

Ida. The dead, said ye? Is good Lord Kronberg dead?

Speak to me, some kind soul, for I'm his daughter! 1st Soldier. [aside.] She doth unman me! 2d Soldier. [aside.] "Tis a noble lady! [Ida perceives the bier, and walks slowly

towards it.

He met his mortal foe, but in the cell

Of the deep dungeon: a fierce, cruel foe!
Ye do not know, soldiers and citizens,
The heartless man of blood whom ye have chosen!
The dead was mild and merciful, compared
With him you call your master! Pious friends,
Carry him hence!-This is a den of crime;
A house of cruelty, and fear, and blood!
Carry him hence into a holy place,
So Heaven preserve you to your children's arms,
And keep your sacred homes inviolate!
Soldiers. We will defend the dead, and Lady Ida!
1st Citizen. Whither shall we support this honoured

bier ?

Ida. Would he had known your loyalty and goodness!

To the Cathedral- 't is a holy place;
And there will I retire: and let all loyal,
All brave and noble hearts around me rally;
And, as the dead would have maintained the right,
So God and all good men assisting me,
We will retrieve this land's forlorn estate!

[The bier is borne forward; and Ida,
overcome by her emotions, is supported |
out by Bertha and the Lord of Maine,
attended by crowds of citizens and

soldiers.

SCENE V.

Past midnight-outside the castle wall-the castle is burning-the roof has fallen in, and immense volumes of flame, wrapped round the towers, pierce through the blackness of the ascending smoke like fiery Alps

Gast. Nay, hang me, if I spoke not Your secret thoughts.-But now the time is precious: Draw off the soldiers who yet true remain; Get to the camp, upon the plain of Sarni, And hold thyself prepared, for on the morrow There will be work to do, than this more bloodyAnd as thou play'st this desperate game, depends Thy waning fortune.

Phil.

Suabia to the field

Hath brought his fresh ten thousand.

How is it with you now?"-The cruellest blow Of my most cruel fortune has been this!

Gast. Nay, take 't not so to heart! I would but urge thee

To try thy fortune against mighty odds,
And conquer fate!

God has been good unto this troubled land,
And given her victory o'er her enemies.
Yet here the noble conqueror entereth not
Save as your good ally, by your consent.
His army, camped without the town remains-
Grant him to lay his good sword at your feet!
Ida. Brave Count, thou lov'dst my father.
the dead

Be honoured with all rites of sepulture,
Before the land rejoice for victory.
For me, a mighty debt is yet unpaid

To grief and filial duty. To some house

Of holy solitude I will retire

Let

A season; and meantime confide to thee,
And such good men as thou, the nation's rule.
Not my own natural strength has borne me through
The great events and awful of this time.
Nature is weak, and now doth need repose:
But let one general thanksgiving ascend
To gracious Heaven, which has restored us peace,
Though at a price so great.

And from the duke 1 crave forgiveness, that I meet him not; The mournful duties of the time excuse me. [Count Nicholas goes out. Lord of M. They said my son had fled. I must away!

He is my son-the evil hour is dark;
And misery and remorse are cruel foes!
Where victory is, is not a place for me -

I was not needed in his hour of pride,
In sorrow and dismay I shall be lacked.
O fare thee well! Be merciful, dear lady:
He loved thee once, and for thy sake he fell!
And if he fall into thy power, have mercy —
Think not upon the dead, but on the time
When he was worthy of thee!
Ida.
Fare thee well-
Go! and may heaven so gift thy words with grace
As to restore him to its blessed peace! -
Farewell, thou kindest, noblest heart, farewell!

[The Lord of Maine kisses her hand, and, folding his face in his cloak, goes out.

SCENE VII.

Three days after the battle-the dusk of the evening — the interior of a cave in a dreary forest - Philip lying asleep; the Lord of Maine bending over him. Lord of M. It is a blessed sleep! It will restore him

To his right mind! Oh that we might abide
In some deep wood, 'mong mountains far away;
Some wilderness, where foot of man ne'er trod;
Some desert island, in an unknown sea,
Where he might wear his life in holy peace,
And I be the true friend that tended on him!
Phil. [opening his eyes.] Where am I? and what
gentle sounds are these?

Lord of M. Sleep yet, my son! Thou know'st how I did watch

O'er thee a child; how sung to thee o' nights-
Recall that time, and sleep!

Phil.

I cannot sleep!

My father, thou hast been a gracious sire,

And I have owed thee duties manifold;

Thou hast been good and kind; yet one more kindness

Do me this day my arm is weak and faint,
Strike thou my dagger in this wretched breast!

Lord of M. What askest thou? It is a sinner's

thought!

Phil. Wilt see me dragged, a spectacle, a show? Wilt hear them sing their ballads in my face? Hark! hark! I hear their steps! Give me the dagger! Lord of M. Nay, 'tis no sound, but the low whispering wind!

Phil. I tell thee they are here! Withstand me

not

There is a strength like madness in my arm-
I will defend myself!

[He starts up and seizes a dagger.
Enter GASTON.

Ha! is it thou!

Gast. Peace be with thee! nay, put thy dagger down!

I am thy friend - and bring a band of friends
To reassure thy fortunes - Give 's thy hand!
Phil. [giving his hand.] I did believe thee bet-
ter than thou seem'st;

My heart was slow to misconceive of thee!

Gast. Now shalt thou know me truly as I am : Now will I bring thy truest friends unto thee! [A band of soldiers rush in and seize Philip.

Phil. Ay now I know thee, thou accursed Judas! Gast. But I've a better price than Judas had A better price for a less worthy man!

ship!

Enter MOTHER SCHWARTZ, with a drawn dagger. Now will I have thy blood for my son's blood! Soldier. Off, woman, off! Alive he must be taken. Mother S. I'll have his blood! I will not break, my oath! [She suddenly stabs him. There's that will send thee howling to my son! Soldier. Thou 'st robbed us of our price! take thy reward!

[He stabs her. Phil. My day is done! Let me lie down and die! Lord of M. Within my arms! the father's arms, my son!

Cast up thy thoughts to heaven! think not of man! Soldier. He's dead, he hears thee not! Give us the body!

Father. Ye shall not part me from this precious clay

Where'er ye bear it, thither will I follow!

ACHZIB, throwing off his disguise, entered the city in his own character. It was a city of mourning, which he had made so; but his evil nature saw in human misery, material rather of mirth than compassion. He would much rather have torn open the wounds of social life, than have seen them healing; but now was the calm after the storm, the reaction after excitement and emotion, and men coveted so much to be at rest, that not even Achzib could have agitated another tumult. He therefore adopted the spirit of the time, and railed against liberty as anarchy, against renovators as anarchs.

It was with malignant pleasure he saw how the holy cause of freedom was thrown back, by the outrages which ambition and the license of evil had committed in her name: he saw how virtuous men and honest patriots, who had joined Philip against despotism, but abandoned him in his bloody and ambitious career, now came forth from their retirements, and rallying round the person of Ida, united heart and hand to re-establish the old order of things, disgusted with liberty, as with a lying priestess, and in despair of renovating social life or social policy: he saw the people sit down, willing to endure patiently whatever evil power might inflict upon them, provided they were protected from rapine and blood, and the pretences of ambition to make them again free; and satisfied that all here was as he could desire, he turned his steps to another scene of action.

attire, all beautiful as separate groups, but more beautiful as forming one great whole of human enjoyment.

There was a poet among them, but with feelings different to those of others;-their's was an individual happiness only, but his was a warm, broad philanthropy, forgetting self, embracing all, loving all,

and pouring out thanksgiving that man was enabled, both old and young, rich and poor, to go forth and rejoice.

Achzib approached, and took the vacant seat beside him. "Considering," said he, "the ill-condition of society, the tyranny of rulers, and the misery of the subordinate classes, there is no inconsiderable measure of human enjoyment even in a space narrow as this."

Man's capacity for enjoyment," said the poet, "even under circumstances unfavourable to general happiness, is one of the most beautiful and beneficent ordinations of Providence. A balmy atmosphere and a fine sunset, common occurrences of nature as these are, contribute immensely to human felicity. Look around us-and of these hundreds, not one of whom but has his own peculiar cares and anxieties, disease or distress of mind, and yet what a universal sentiment of happiness pervades all! A sight like this awakens my spirit to a loftier worship and a more tender gratitude than ten homilies!"

"But," replied Achzib, "the enjoyment of these hundreds consists in exhibiting themselves or their magnificence on so fine an evening. How would the bright sunset exhilarate the heart of yonder Countess, except it shone on her jewelled attire? It is solely the love of self-display that brings out these gay and happy people."

"Shame on thee!" said the Poet, "thine is a cynical spirit. What is the gaze of the many to that young mother and her boy?"

"I grant they are a pretty sight," said Achzib; "the child is passingly fair, and the mother dotes on him.”

"How beautiful," exclaimed the Poet, "is the love which a mother bears to her child! I mean not that yearning, trembling anxiety, with which she regards her grown-up offspring entering upon the cares and temptations of the world; but that hopeful, joyful, unselfish love, which a mother feels for her first-born. She is young; the world has allurements for her, but a stronger impulse is on her heart; she is willing to spend and be spent, to watch and be weary; and the clasping of his little arms round her neck, and the pure out-gushing love of his innocent spirit, are her sufficient reward!"

"It is but the instinct of all animals," said Achzib "Yes; but ennobled by a sublimer principle," re