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I felt those unseen eyes were fixed on mine,

That brightness all around thee, that appeared If eyes indeed were there

An emanation of the soul, that loved Forgotten thoughts of evil, still-born mischiefs,

To adorn its habitation with itself, Foul fertile seeds of passion and of crime,

And in thy body was like light, that looks That withered in my heart's abortive core,

More beautiful in the reflecting cloud Roused their dark battle at his trumpet-peal:

It lives in, in the evening. Oh, Evadne, So sweeps the tempest o'er the slumbering desert, Thou art not altered—would thou wert ! Waking its myriad hosts of burning death : So calls the last dread peal the wandering atoms In the same year with Mr Sheil's 'Evadne' (1820) Of blood, and bone, and flesh, and dust-worn fragments, appeared Brutús, or the Fall of Tarquin, a historical In dire array of ghastly unity,

tragedy, by JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. There is no To bide the eternal summons

originality or genius displayed in this drama; but, I am not what I was since I beheld him

when well acted, it is highly effective on the stage. I was the slave of passion's ebbing sway

In 1821 MR PROCTER's tragedy of Mirandola All is condensed, collected, callous, now

was brought out at Covent Garden, and had a short The groan, the burst, the fiery flash is o'er,

but enthusiastic run of success. The plot is painful Down pours the dense and darkening lava-tide,

(including the death, through unjust suspicions, of Arresting life, and stilling all beneath it.

a prince sentenced by his father), and there is a Enter two of his band observing him.

want of dramatic movement in the play ; but some

of the passages are imbued with poetical feeling and Pirst Robber. Seest thou with what a step of pride vigorous expression. The doting affection of Miranhe stalks ?

dola, the duke, has something of the warmth and the Thou hast the dark knight of the forest seen ;

rich diction of the old dramatists. For never man, from living converse come, Trod with such step or flashed with eye like thine.

Duke. My own sweet love! Oh! my dear peerless Second Robber. And hast thou of a truth seen the

wife! dark knight Bertram. [Turning on him suddenly.] Thy hand is By the blue sky and

all its crowding stars, chilled with fear. Well, shivering craven,

I love you better-oh! far better than

Woman was ever loved. There's not an hour Say I have seen him—wherefore dost thou gaze ?

Of day or dreaming night but I am with thee: Long'st thou for tale of goblin-guarded portal ? There's not a wind but whispers of thy name, Of giant champion, whose spell-forged mail

And not a flower that sleeps beneath the moon Crumbled to dust at sound of magic horn

But in its hues or fragrance tells a tale Banner of sheeted flame, whose foldings shrunk

Of thee, my love, to thy Mirandola. To withering weeds, that o'er the battlements

Speak, dearest Isidora, can you love Ware to the broken spell-or demon-blast

As I do? Can—but no, no; I shall grow Of winded clarion, whose fell summons sinks

Foolish if thus I talk. You must be gone; To lonely whisper of the shuddering breeze

You must be gone, fair Isidora, else O'er the charmed towers

The business of the dukedoni soon will cease.
Pirst Robber. Mock me not thus. Hast met him of I speak the truth, by Dian. Even now
a truth?

Gheraldi waits without (or should) to see me.
Bertram. Well, fool-
First Robber. Why, then, Heaven's benison be with In faith, you must go: one kiss; and so, away.

Isid. Farewell, my lord. you.

Duke. We'll ride together, dearest, Upon this hour we part-farewell for ever.

Some few hours hence. For mortal cause I bear a mortal weapon

Isid. Just as you please ; farewell. [Exil But man that leagues with demons lacks not man.

Duko. Farewell; with what a waving air she goes

Along the corridor. How like a fawn;

Yet statelier.-Hark! no sound, however soft
(Nor gentlest echo), telleth when she treads;

But every motion of her shape doth seem
Another Irish poet, and man of warm imagina Hallowed by silence. Thus did Hebe grow
tion, is RICHARD LALOR SHEIL. His plays, Evadne Amidst the gods, a paragon; and thus-
and The Apostate, were performed with much suc-Away! I'm grown the very fool of love.
cess, partly owing to the admirable acting of Miss
O'Neil. The interest of Mr Sheil's dramas is con-

About the same time Conscience, or the Bridal centrated too exclusively on the heroine of each, Night, by MR JAMES HAYNES, was performed, and and there is a want of action and animated dialogue; afterwards published. The hero is a ruined Venebut they abound in impressive and well-managed tian, and his bride the daughter of liis deadliest scenes. The plot of 'Evadne’ is taken from Shir. enemy, and the niece of one to whose death he had ley's Traitor, as are also some of the sentiments. been a party. The stings of conscience, and the The following description of female beauty is very fears accompanying the bridal night, are thus definely expressed :

scribed :But you do not look altered-would you did !

[LORENZO and his friend JULIO.]
Let me peruse the face where loveliness
Stays, like the light after the sun is set.

I had thoughts
Sphered in the stillness of those heaven-blue eyes, Of dying; but pity bids me live!
The soul sits beautiful ; the high white front, Júl. Yes, live, and still be happy.
Smooth as the brow of Pallas, seems a temple Lor. Never, Julio;
Sacred to holy thinking and those lips

Never again : even at my bridal hour
Wear the small smile of sleeping infancy,

Thou sawest detection, like a witch, look on They are so innocent. Ah, thou art still

And smile, and mock at the solemnity,
The same soft creature, in whose lovely form Conjuring the stars. Hark! was not that a noise
Virtue and beauty seemed as if they tried

Jul. No; all is still.
Which should exceed the other. Thou hast got Lor. Have none approached us?




Ju. None.

on that striking incident in Roman story, the death Lor. Then 'twas my fancy. Every passing hour of a maiden by the hand of her father, Virginius, te Is crowded with a thousand whisperers ;

save her from the lust and tyranny of Appius. Dr The night has lost its silence, and the stars

Knowles's Virginius had an extraordinary run of Shoot fire upon my soul. Darkness itself

He has since published The Wife, a Tale of Has objects for mine eyes to gaze upon,

Mantua, The Hunchback, Caius Gracchus, The Bled And sends me terror when I pray for sleep

Beggar of Bethnal Green, William Tell, The Lox In vain upon my knees. Nor ends it here;

Chace, &c. With considerable knowledge of stage My greatest dread of all-detection-casts

effect, Mr Knowles unites a lively inventive imagiHer shadow on my walk, and startles me

nation and a poetical colouring, which, if at times At every turn: sometime will reason drag

too florid and gaudy, sets off his familiar images and Her frightful chain of probable alarms

illustrations. His style is formed on that of MasAcross my mind; or, if fatigued, she droops, singer and the other elder dramatists, carried often Her pangs survive the while; as you have seen

to a ridiculous excess. He also frequently violates The ocean tossing when the wind is down,

Roman history and classical propriety, and runs into And the huge storm is dying on the waters.

conceits and affected metaphors. These faults are Once, too, I had a dreamJul. The shadows of our sleep should fly with sleep; scenes and plots, romantic, yet not too improbable,

counterbalanced by a happy art of constructing Nor hang their sickness on the memory.

by skilful delineation of character, especially in doLor. Methought the dead man, rising from his tomb, mestic life, and by a current of poetry which sparkles Frowned over me. Elmira at my side, Stretched her fond arms to shield me from his wrath, with a gorgeousness that engrosses our attention,

through his plays, 'not with a dazzling lustre-not At which he frowned the more. I turned away,

but mildly and agreeably; seldom impeding with Disgusted, from the spectre, and assayed

useless glitter the progress and development of inciTo clasp my wife; but she was pale, and cold,

dent and character, but mingling itself with them, And in her breast the heart was motionless, And on her limbs the clothing of the grave,

and raising them pleasantly above the prosaic lere

of common life.'* With here and there a worm,

hung heavily. Then did the spectre laugh, till from its mouth Blood dropped upon us while it cried— Behold!

[Scene from Virginius.'] Such is the bridal bed that waits thy lore!'

Apprus, CLAUDIUS, and LICTORS. I would have etruck it (for my rage was up);

Appius. Well, Claudius, are the forces I tried the blow; but, all my senses shaken

At hand? By the convulsion, broke the tranced spell,

Claudius. They are, and timely, too; the people And darkness told me—sleep was my tormentor. Are in unwonted ferment.

App. There's something awes me at

The thought of looking on her father!

Claud. Look
The most successful of modern tragic dramatists Upon her, my Appius! Fix your gaze upon
is MR JAMES SHERIDAN Knowles, whose plays The treasures of her beauty, nor avert it

Till they are thine. Haste! Your tribunal!
Haste !

[Appius ascends the tribunal. [Enter NUMITORIUS, Icilius, Lucius, CITIZENS, VIRGINIUS leading his daughter, SERVIA, and CITIZENS. A dead silence prevails.)

Virginius. Does no one speak? I am defendant here.
Is silence my opponent! Fit opponent
To plead a cause too foul for speech! What brow
Shameless gives front to this most valiant cause,
That tries its prowess 'gainst the honour of
A girl, yet lacks the wit to know, that he
Who casts off shame, should likewise cast off fear-
And on the verge o' the combat wants the nerre
To stammer forth the signal?

App. You had better,
Virginius, wear another kind of carriage ;
This is not of the fashion that will serve you.

Vir. The fashion, Appius! Appius Claudius tell me
The fashion it becomes a man to speak in,
Whose property in his own child--the offspring
Of his own body, near to him as is
His hand, his arm-yea, nearer-closer far,
Knit to his heart-I say, who has his property
In such a thing, the very self of himself,
Disputed—and I'll speak so, Appius Claudius ;
I'll speak so-Pray you tutor me!

App. Stand forth
Claudius! If you lay claim to any interest
In the question now before us, speak; if not,
Bring on some other cause.

Claud. Most noble Appius

Vir. And are you the man

That claims any daughter for his slave-Look at me have recently been collected and republished in three And I will give her to thee. volumes. His first appeared in 1820, and is founded

* Edinburgh Review for 18m2

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Go on,

Claud. She is mine, then:

Sent forth a stream of liquid living pearl Do I not look at you !

To cherish her enamelled veins. The lie Vir. Your eye does, truly,

Is most unfruitful then, that takes the flower But not your soul. I see it through your eye The very flower our bed connubial grewShifting and shrinking-turning every way

To prove its barrenness! Speak for me, friends ; To shun me. You surprise me, that your eye, Have I not spoke the truth? So long the bully of its master, knows not

Women and Citizens. You have, Virginius. To put a proper face upon a lie,

App. Silence! Keep silence there! No more of But gives the port of impudence to falsehood

that! When it would pass it off' for truth. Your soul You're very ready for a tumult, citizens. Dares as soon show its face to me.

[Troops appear behint. I had forgot; the fashion of my speech

Lictors, make way to let these troops advance ! May not please Appius Claudius.

We have bad a taste of your forbearance, masters, Claud. I demand

And wish not for another. Protection of the Decemvir!

Vir. Troops in the Forum ! App. You shall have it.

App. Virginius, have you spoken?
Vir. Doubtless !

Vir. If you have heard me,
App. Keep back the people, Lictors! What's I have; if not, I'll speak again.
Your plea? You say the girl's your slave. Produce App. You need not,
Your proofs.

Virginius; I had evidence to give,
Claud. My proof is here, which, if they can, Which, should you speak a hundred times again,
Let them confront. The mother of the girl - Would make your pleading vain.

[Virginius, stepping forward, is withheld by Vir. Your hand, Virginia!
Stand close to me.

(A side. Numitorius. Hold, brother! Hear them out, or App. My conscience will not let me suffer me

Be silent. "Tis notorious to you all, To speak.

That Claudius' father, at his death, declared me Vir. Man, I must speak, or else go mad!

The guardian of his son. This cheat has long And if I do go mad, what then will hold me

Been known to me. I know the girl is not From speaking! She was thy sister, too!

Virginius' daughter. Well, well, speak thou. I'll try, and if I can,

Vir. Join your friends, Icilius, Be silent. (Retires. And leave Virginia to my care.

[A side. Num. Will she swear she is her child !

App. The justice Vir. (Starting forward.] To be sure she will-a' I should have done my client unrequired, most wise question that!

Now cited by him, how shall I refuse? Is she not his slaveWill his tongue lie for him- Vir. Don't tremble, girl! don't tremble. [Aside. Or his hand steal-or the finger of his hand

App. Virginius,
Beckon, or point, or shut, or open for him?

I feel for you ; but though you were my father,
To ask him if she'll swear! Will she walk or run, The majesty of justice should be sacred-
Sing, dance, or wag her head ; do anything

Claudius must take Virginia home with him!
That is most easy done? She'll as soon swear!

Vir. And if he must, I should advise him, Appius, What mockery it is to have one's life

To take her home in time, before his guardian In jeopardy by such a bare-faced trick!

Complete the violation which his eyes Is it to be endured? I do protest

Already have begun.-Friends! fellow citizens! Against her oath!

Look not on Claudius-look on your Decemvir! App. No law in Rome, Virginius,

He is the master claims Virginia! Seconds you. If she swear the girl's her child, The tongues that told him she was not my child The evidence is good, unless confronted

Are these--the costly charms he cannot purchase, By better evidence. Look you to that,

Except by making her the slave of Claudius, Virginius. I shall take the woman's oath.

His client, his purveyor, that caters for Virginia. Icilius!

His pleasures-markets for him-picks, and scents, Iciliw. Fear not, love; a thousand oaths

And tastes, that he may banquet-serves him up Will answer her.

His sensual feast, and is not now ashamed, App. You swear the girl's your child,

In the open, common street, before your eyes And that you sold her to Virginius' wife,

Frighting your daughters' and your matrons' cheeks W'ho passed her for her own. Is that your oath ? With blushes they ne'er thought to meet-to help Slare. It is my oath.

him App. Your answer now, Virginius.

To the honour of a Roman maid! my child !
Vir. Here it is! [Brings Virginia forward. Who now clings to me, as you see, as if
Is this the daughter of a slave! I know

This second Tarquin had already coiled 'Tis not with men as shrubs and trees, that by His arms around her. Look upon her, Romans ! The shoot you know the rank and order of

Befriend her! succour her! see her not polluted The stem. Yet who from such a stem would look Before her father's eyes !-He is but one. For such a shoot. My witnesses are these

Tear her from Appius and his Lictors while The relatives and friends of Numitoria,

She is unstained.—Your hands! your hands! your Who saw her, cre Virginia's birth, sustain

hands! The burden which a mother bears, nor feels

Citizens. They are yours, Virginius. The weight, with longing for the sight of it.

App. Keep the people backHere are the ears that listened to her sighs

Support my Lictors, soldiers! Seize the girl, In nature's hour of labour, which subsides

And drive the people back. In the embrace of joy--the hands, that when

Icilius. Down with the slaves! The day first looked upon the infant's face,

[The people make a show of resistance; but, upon the ad. And never looked so pleased, helped them up to it, vance of the soldiers, retreat, and leave Icilius, Viro And blessed her for a blessing. Here, the eyes

GINTUS, and his daughter, &c. in the hands of Appius and That saw her lying at the generous

his party.) And sympathetic fount, that at her cry

Deserted Cowards! traitors! Let me free

But for a moment! I relied on you;

Vir. If they dare Had I relied upon myself alone,

To tempt the desperate weapon that is maddened I had kept them still at bay! I kneel to you- With drinking my daughter's blood, why, let there: Let me but loose a moment, if 'tis only

thus To rush upon your swords.

It rushes in amongst them. Way there! Way! Vir. Icilius, peace!

[Exit through the soldiers. You see how 'tis, we are deserted, left Alone by our friends, surrounded by our enemies, Nerveless and helpless.

(From The Wife, a Tale of Mantua.') App. Separate ihem, Lictors!

LORENZO, an Advocate of Rome, and MARIANA. Vir. Let them förbear awhile, I pray you, Appius : Lorenzo. That's right-you are collected and direct It is not very easy. Though her arms

In your replies. I dare be sworn your passion Are tender, yet the hold is strong by which

Was such a thing, as, by its neighbourhood, She grasps me, Appius-forcing them will hurt them; Made piety and virtue twice as rich They'll soon unclasp themselves. Wait but a little As e'er they were before. How grew it ! Come, You know you're sure of her !

Thou know'st thy heart—look calmly into it, App. I have not time

And see how innocent a thing it is To idle with thee; give her to my Lictors.

Which thou dost fear to show-I wait your answer. Vir. Appius, I pray you wait! If she is not Ilow grew your passion ? My child, she hath been like a child to me

Mariana. As my stature grew, For fifteen years. If I am not her father,

Which rose without my noting it, until I have been like a father to her, Appius,

They said I was a woman. I kept watch For even such a time. They that have lived

Beside what seemed his deathbed. From beneath So long a time together, in so near

An avalanche my father rescued him, And dear society, may be allowed

The sole survivor of a company A little time for parting. Let me take

Who wandered through our mountains. A long time The maid aside, I pray you, and confer

His life was doubtful, siynor, and he called
A moment with her nurse; perhaps she'll give me For help, whence help alone could come, which I,
Some tokea will unloose a tie so twined

Morning and night, invoked along with him ;
And knotted round iny heart, that, if you break it, So first our souls did mingle!
My heart breaks with it.

Lorenzo. I perceive: you mingled souls until you App. Have your wish. Be brief !

mingled hearts ? Lictors, look to them.

You lored at last. Was't not the sequel, maid! Virginia. Do you go from me?

Mariana. I loved, indeed! If I but nursed a flower Do you leave? Father! Father!

Which to the ground the rain and wind had beaten, Vir. No, my child

That flower of all our garden was my pride : No, my Virginia--come along with me.

What then was he to me, for whom I thought Virginia. Will you not leave me? Will you take To make a shroud, when, tending on him still me with you?

With hope, that, baffled still, did still keep up; Will you take me home again? 0, bless you! bless I saw, at last, the ruddy dawn of health you!

Begin to mantle o'er his pallid form, My father! my dear father! Art thou not

And glow-and glow-till forth at last it burst My father?

Into confirmed, broad, and glorious day!

Lorenzo. You loved, and he did love ! (VIRGINIUS, perfectly at a loss what to do, looks anxiously

Mariana. To say he did, around the Forum; at length his eye falls on a butcher's

Were to affirm what oft his eyes arouched, stall, with a knife upon it.]

What many an action testified-and yet-
Vir. This way, my child-No, no; I am not going What wanted confirmation of his tongue.
To leave thee, my Virginia! I'll not leave thee. But if he loved, it brought him not content !

App. Keep back the people, soldiers! Let them not 'Twas now abstraction--now a start-anon
Approach Virginius! Keep the people back! A pacing to and fro-anon a stillness,

[ Virginius secures the knife. As nought remained of life, save lite itself, Well, have you done?

And feeling, thought, and motion, were extinct. Vir. Short time for converse, Appius,

Then all again was action! Disinclined But I have.

To converse, save he held it with himself; App. I hope you are satisfied.

Which oft he did, in moody vein discoursing, Vir. I am

And ever and anon invoking honour, I am-that she is my daughter!

As some high contest there were pending 'twist App. Take her, Lictors!

Himself and him, wherein her aid he needed. .
[Virginia shrieks, and falls half-dead upon Lorenzo. This spoke impediment; or he was bound
her father's shoulder.

By promise to another; or had friends
Vir. Another moment, pray you. Bear with me Whom it behoved him to consult, and doubted;
A little—'Tis my last embrace. 'Twont try

Or 'twixt you lay disparity too wide
Your patience beyond bearing, if you're a man! For love itself to leap.
Lengthen it as I may, I cannot inake it

Mariana. I saw a struggle,
Long. My dear child! My dear Virginia!

But knew not what it was. I wondered still,

[Kissing her. That what to me was all content, to him There is one only way to save thine honour- Was all disturbance; but my turn did come. 'Tis this.

At length he talked of leaving us; at length
[Slabs her, and draws out the knife. Icilius He fixed the parting day—but kept it not-

breaks from the soldiers thui held him, O how my heart did bound! Then first I knew
and catches her.

It had been sinking. Deeper still it sank
Lo, Appius, with this innocent blood

When next he fixed to go; and sank it then I do devote thee to the infernal gods !

To bound no more! He went. Make way there!

Lorenzo. To follow him App. Stop him! Seize him!

You came to Mantua?

Mariana. What could I do?

is waiting for him in the Divinity path, alone, and Cot, garden, vineyard, rivulet, and wood,

is terrified. At last he comes; and she sighs outLake, sky, and mountain, went along with him!

Speak ! let me hear thy voice,
Could I remain behind ? My father found

Tell me the joyful news !
My heart was not at home; he loved his child,
And asked me, one day, whither we should go ?

and thus he answers-I said, 'To Mantua.' I followed him

Ay, I am come To Mantua! to breathe the air he breathed,

In all my solemn pomp, Darkness and Fear, To walk upon the ground he walked upon,

And the great Tempest in his midnight car, To look upon the things he looked upon,

The sword of lightning girt across his thigh, To look, perchance, on him! perchance to hear him,

And the whole demon brood of night, blind Fog To touch him! never to be known to him,

And withering Blight, all these are my retainers ; Till he was told I lived and died his love.

How? not one smile for all this bravery?
What think you of my minstrels, the hoarse winds,

Thunder, and tuneful Discord ? Hark, they play.

Well piped, methinks; somewhat too rough, perhapo. The Bride's Tragedy, by Thomas LOVELL BEDDOES, Else I might well be scared. But leave this mirt),

Floribel. I know you practise on my silliness, published in 1822, is intended for the closet rather Or I must weep. than the theatre. It possesses many passages of pure and sparkling verse. • The following,' says a For our carousal ; but we loiter here,

Hesperus. 'Twill serve to fill the goblets writer in the Edinburgh Review, will show the way the bride-maids are without; well-picked, thou'lt say, in which Mr Beddoes manages a subject that poets Wan ghosts of wo-begone, self-slaughterel damsels have almost reduced to commonplace. We thought in their best winding-sheets; start not; I bid them all similes for the violet had been used up; but he

wipe gives us a new one, and one that is very delightful.' Their gory bosoms; they'll look wondrous comely; Hesperus and Floribel (the young

wedded lovers) Our link-boy, Will-o'-the-Wisp, is waiting too are in a garden; and the husband speaks :

To light us to our grave. Hesperus. See, here's a bower

After some further speech, she asks him what he Of eglantine with honeysuckles woven,

means, and he repliesWhere not a spark of prying light creeps in, So closely do the sweets enfold each other.

What mean I! Death and murder, 'Tis twilight's home; come in, my gentle love,

Darkness and misery. To thy prayers and shrift, And talk to me. So ! I've a rival here;

Earth gives thee back. Thy God hath sent me for thee; What's this that sleeps so sweetly on your neck ! Repent and die. Floribel. Jealous so soon, my Hesperus ! Look She returns gentle answers to him; but in the end then,

he kills her, and afterwards mourns thus over her It is a bunch of flowers I pulled for you :

body : Here's the blue violet, like Pandora's eye, When first it darkened with immortal life.

Dead art thou, Floribel ; fair, painted earth, Hesperus. Sweet as thy lips. Fie on those taper Between those ruby lips : no; they have quaffed

And no warm breath shall ever more disport fingers, Hare they been brushing the long grass aside,

Life to the dregs, and found death at the bottom, To drag the daisy from its hiding-place,

The sugar of the draught. All cold and still; Where it shuns light, the Danaë of flowers,

Her very tresses stiffen in the air.

Look, what a face! had our first mother worn With gold up-hoarded on its virgin lap? Floribel. And here's a treasure that I found by His heart, all malice, would have turned to love;

But half such beauty when the serpent came, chance,

No hand but this, which I do think was once
A lily of the valley; low it lay

Cain, the arch murderer's, could have acted it.
Orer a mossy mound, withered and weeping,
As on a fairy's grave.

And I must hide these sweets, not in my bosom ;

In the foul earth. She shudders at my grasp :
Hesperus. Of all the posy
Give me the rose, though there's a tale of blood

Just so she laid her head across my bosom
Soiling its name. In elfin annals old

When first-oh villain! which way lies the grave ? 'Tis writ, how Zephyr, envious of his love (The love he bare to Summer, who since then

Hlas, weeping, visited the world), once found
The baby Perfume cradled in a violet;

Miss MITFORD, so well known for her fine prose ('Twas said the beauteous bantling was the child tales and sketches, has written three tragediesOf a gay bee, that in his wantonness

Julian, Rienzi, and The Vespers of Palermo. They Toyed with a pea-bud in a lady's garland);

were all brought on the stage, but • Rienzi' only met The felon winds, confederate with him,

with decided success. An equal number of dramas Bound the sweet slumberer with golden chains, has been produced by another novelist, Sir EDWARD Pulled from the wreathed laburnum, and together LYTTON BULWER: these are entitled, The Lady of Deep cast him in the bosom of a rose,

Lyons, La Valliere, and Richelieu. The first of And fed the fettered wretch with dew and air.

these pieces is the best, and it seldom fails of drawAnd there is an expression in the same scene (where and romantic play, with passages of fine poetry

ing tears when well represented. It is a picturesque the author is speaking of sleepers' fancies, &c.)

and genuine feeling. “La Valliere' is founded on While that winged song, the restless nightingale

the court and times of Louis XIV., but it wants proTurns her sad heart to music

minence of character and dramatic art. Richelieu'

is a drama of greater energy and power, but is also which is perfectly beautiful.

loosely constructed. Tuomas Noon TALFOURD, serThe reader may now take a passage from the geant-at-law, an eloquent English barrister, has scene where Hesperus murders the girl Floribel. She written two classic plays, Ion, and The Athenian


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