Cain! what hast thou done? The voice of thy slain brother's blood cries out, Even from the ground, unto the Lord!-Now art thou Cursed from the earth, which opened late her mouth To drink thy brother's blood from thy rash hand. CAIN, No, let me die! ANGEL. It must not be. [The ANGEL sets the mark on CAIN's brow. It burns CAIN. My brow, but nought to that which is within it. Is there more? let me meet it as I may. ANGEL. Stern hast thou been and stubborn from the womb, As the ground thou must henceforth till; but he Thou slew'st was gentle as the flocks he tended. CAIN. After the fall too soon was I begotten; And I lie ghastly! so shall be restored By God the life to him he loved; and taken ANGEL. Who shall heal murder? what is done is done. ADAH.. He's gone, let us go forth; Henceforth, when thou shalt till the ground, it shall not I hear our little Enoch cry within Yield thee her strength; a fugitive shalt thou ADAH. This punishment is more than he can bear. CAIN. Would they could! but who are they the earth. Blood darkens earth and heaven! what thou now art, 'Tis the most desolate, and suits my steps. I know not! but if thou see'st what I am, I think thou wilt forgive him, whom his God Can never meet thee more, nor even dare To do that for thee, which thou shouldst have done But who hath dug that grave? Oh, earth! Oh, earth! [ADAH stoops down and kisses the body of ABEL. ADAH. Lead! thou shalt be my guide, and may our God CAIN. And he who lieth there was childless. I have dried the fountain of a gentle race, Which might have graced his recent marriage couch, ADAH. Peace be with him! CAIN. But with me!—— [Exeunt. Werner; or, The Inheritance; A TRAGEDY. TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS GOETHE, BY ONE OF HIS HUMBLEST ADMIRERS, PREFACE. conception, rather than execution; for the story might, perhaps, have been more developed with greater advantage. Amongst those whose opinions agreed with mine THE following drama is taken entirely from the "Ger- upon this story, I could mention some very high names; man's Tale, Kruitzner," published many years ago in but it is not necessary, nor indeed of any use; for every “Lee's Canterbury Tales;" written (I believe) by two one must judge according to their own feelings. I sisters, of whom one furnished only this story and merely refer the reader to the original story, that he that he may another, both of which are considered superior to the see to what extent I have borrowed from it; and am not remainder of the collection. I have adopted the char- unwilling that he should find much greater pleasure in acters, plan, and even the language, of many parts of perusing it than the drama which is founded upon its this story. Some of the characters are modified or contents. altered, a few of the names changed, and one character (Ida of Stralenheim) added by myself: but in the rest the original is chiefly followed. When I was young about fourteen, I think) I first read this tale, which made a deep impression upon me; and may, indeed, be ud to contain the germ of much that I have since written. I am not sure that it ever was very popular; or at any rate its popularity has since been eclipsed by that of other great writers in the same department. But I have generally found that those who had read it, agreed with me in their estimate of the singular power of mind and conception which it developes. I should also add I had begun a drama upon this tale so far back as 1815 (the first I ever attempted, except one at thirteen years old, called “ Ulric and Ilvina,” which I had sense enough to burn), and had nearly completed an act, when I was interrupted by circumstances This is somewhere amongst my papers in England; b. ~~ · Las not been found, I have re-written the first, www.ed the subsequent acts. The whole is neither intended, nor in any shape adapted, for the stage. February, 1822. Something beyond our outward sufferings (though Then canst thou wish for that which must break mine? | My father's name-been still upheld; and, more WERNER (approaching her slowly). But for thee I had been-no matter what, But much of good and evil; whạt I am, Thou knowest; what I might or should have been, 54 2 L 2 Than those JOSEPHINE (abruptly). My son our son-our Ulric, Been clasp'd again in these long-empty arms. Comfort! We have struggled long; and they who strive Who, in this garb, the heir of princely lands? With fortune win or weary her at last, WERNER. We were in sight of him, of every thing JOSEPHINE. We are not baffled. WERNER. Are we not pennyless? JOSEPHINE, We ne'er were wealthy. WERNER. But I was born to wealth, and rank, and power; The fluttering bird, hath ere this time outstept me, Who, in this sunken, sickly eye, the pride Of rank and ancestry; in this worn cheek, And famine-hollow'd brow, the lord of halls, Which daily feast a thousand vassals? JOSEPHINE. You Ponder'd not thus upon these worldly things, WERNER. An exile's daughter with an outcast son JOSEPHINE. Your father did not think so, though 't was noble; But had my birth been all my claim to match With thee, I should have deem'd it what it is. WERNER. And what is that in thine eyes? JOSEPHINE. Has done in our behalf,—nothing. WERNER. JOSEPHINE. All which it How,-nothing? Or worse; for it has been a canker in Or other civic means, to mend thy fortunes. And been an Hanseatic burgher? Excellent! JOSEPHINE. Whate'er thou might'st have been, to me thou art, Thy birth, thy hopes, thy pride; nought, save thy sorrows® WERNER. My better angel! such as I have ever found thee; This rashness, or this weakness of my temper, Ne'er raised a thought to injure thee or thine. JOSEPHINE. WERNER. JOSEPHINE. I thought so all along; such natural yearnings Play'd round my heart-blood is not water, cousin ; And so let's have some wine, and drink unto [A knocking is heard. Our better acquaintance: relatives should be Hark! Who can it be at this lone hour? we have Few visiters. WERNER. And poverty hath none, Friends. WERNER. You appear to have drunk enough already, A knocking! And if you had not, I've no wine to offer, Save those who come to make it poorer still. [WERNER puts his hand into his bosom, as if to JOSEPHINE. Oh! do not look so. I Will to the door; it cannot be of import In this lone spot of wintry desolation— The very desert saves man from mankind. [She goes to the door. Enter IDENSTEIN, IDENSTEIN. A fair good evening to my fairer hostess And worthy-what's your name, my friend? Alas! we have known Yes, of the monke♥ And the valet, and the cattle; but as yet We know not if his excellency's dead Or no; your noblemen are hard to drown, As it is fit that men in office should be, But, what is certain is, that he has swallow'd Enough of the Oder to have burst two peasants ; And now a Saxon and Hungarian traveller, Who, at their proper peril, snatch'd him from The whirling river, have sent on to crave A lodging, or a grave, according as It may turn out with the live or dead body JOSEPHIFE. And where will you receive him? here, I § pe. If we can be of service-say the word. |