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To which we tend, for which we're born, | Faggots, pine-nuts, and wither'd leaves,
The labyrinth of mystery, call'd life.
Sard. Our clew being well nigh wound out, let's be cheerful.
They who have nothing more to fear may
Indulge a smile at that which once appall'd;
As was reported: I have order'd there
Sard. You have done your duty faith-
My worthy Pania! further ties between us
Along its golden frame-as bearing for A time what late was Salemenes); search The secret covert to which this will lead you; "Tis full of treasure; take it for yourself And your companions: there's enough to load ye,
Though ye be many. Let the slaves be freed, too;
And all the inmates of the palace, of Whatever sex, now quit it in an hour. Thence launch the regal barks, once form'd
And now to serve for safety, and embark. The river's broad and swoln, and uncommanded
(More potent than a king) by these besiegers. Fly! and be happy! ·
Pania. Under your protection! So you accompany your faithful guard. Sard. No, Pania! that must not be; get thee hence, And leave me to my fate.
Pania. 'Tis the first time I ever disobey'd: but nowSard. So all men
Dare beard me now, and Insolence within Apes Treason from without? Question no further;
'Tis my command, my last command. Wilt
Oppose it? thou!
Pania. But yet - not yet.
Sard. Well, then.
Swear that you will obey when I shall give The signal.
Pania. With a heavy but true heart,
Sard. Tis enough. Now order here
Things as catch fire and blaze with one sole spark;
Bring cedar, too, and precious drugs, and spices,
And mighty planks, to nourish a tall pile;
Sard. I have said it,
Pania. And could keep my faith Without a vow. [Exit Pania.
Myrrha. What mean you?
Anon - what the whole earth shall ne'er forget.
PANIA, returning with a Herald. Pania. My king, in going forth upon This herald has been brought before me, my duty, craving
Sard. Let him speak.
Herald. The King Arbaces— Sard. What, crown'd already ?—But, proceed.
The anointed high-priest—
Sard. Of what god, or demon? With new kings rise new altars. But,proceed; You are sent to prate your master's will, and not
Reply to mine.
Herald. And Satrap Ofratanes—
Herald (showing a ring). Be sure that
In the camp of the conquerors; behold
Sard. Tis his. A worthy triad!
Herald. They offer thee thy life, and
| In any of the further provinces,
Where thou shalt pass thy days in peace ;
Condition that the three young princes are
Sard. (ironically). The generous victors!
Sard. Answer? slave! How long
Sard. Mouthpiece of mutiny!
Thou at the least shalt learn the penalty Of treason, though its proxy only. Pania! Let his head be thrown from our walls within The rebels' lines, his carcass down the river. Away with him!
[Pania and the Guards seizing him. Pania. I never yet obey'd
Your orders with more pleasure than the
Hence with him,soldiers! do not soil this hall
Herald. A single word
My office, king, is sacred.
Sard. And what 's mine?
That thou shouldst come and dare to ask
To lay it down?
Herald. I but obey'd my orders, At the same peril if refused, as now Incurr'd by my obedience.
Sard. So, there are
New monarchs of an hour's growth as despotic
As sovereigns swathed in purple, and enthroned
From birth to manhood!
Herald. My life waits your breath. Yours (I speak humbly) — but it may beyours
May also be in danger scarce less imminent:
Leave that, save fraught with fire unquenchable,
To the new comers. Frame the whole as if "Twere to enkindle the strong tower of our Inveterate enemies. Now it bears an aspect! How say you, Pania, will this pilo suffice For a king's obsequies?
Pania. Ay, for a kingdom's.
Sard. And blame me?
Let me but fire the pile and share it with you.
Myrrha. Tis the soldier's
Pania. "Tis most strange!
Myrrha. But not so rare, my Pania, as thou think'st it.
In the mean time, live thou.-Farewell! the pile
I should shame to leave my sovereign
With but a single female to partake
Sard. Too many far have heralded Me to the dust already. Get thee hence; Enrich thee.
Pania. And live wretched!
Thy vow ;-'tis sacred and irrevocable.
Sard. Search well my chamber,
Upon the trumpet as you quit the palace.
In which they would have revell'd, I bear with me
To you in that absorbing element, Which most personifies the soul as leaving The least of matter unconsumed before And as you sail, turn back; but still keep on Its fiery workings:-and the light of this Your way along the Euphrates: if you reach Most royal of funereal pyres shall be The land of Paphlagonia, where the queen Not a mere pillar form'd of cloud and flame, Is safe with my three sons in Cotta's court, | A beacon in the horizon for a day, Say what you saw at parting, and request | And then a mount of ashes, but a light That she remember what I said at one Parting more mournful still.
Pania. That royal hand!
Let me then once more press it to my lips; And these poor soldiers who throng round you, and
Would fain die with you!
[The Soldiers and Pania throng round
Sard. My best! my last friends!
Else they make an eternity of moments,
Hence, and be happy: trust me, I am not
[Exeunt Pania and the Soldiers. Myrrha. These men were honest: it is comfort still
That our last looks shall be on loving faces. Sard. And lovely ones, my beautiful! but hear me!
If at this moment, for we now are on
To lesson ages, rebel nations, and
A people's records, and a hero's acts;
A problem few dare imitate, and none
MYRRHA returns with a lighted Torch in one
I've lit the lamp which lights us to the stars.
Myrrha. Tis my country's custom to
Sard. And mine
The brink, thou feelst an inward shrinking | Dwells thy mind rather upon that man's name
This leap through flame into the future,
I shall not love thee less; nay, perhaps more,
Myrrha. Shall I light
One of the torches which lie heap'd beneath
As ye bequeath'd it, this bright part of it,
Of arms, and records, monuments, and spoils,
Than on his mate's in villany?
Sard. The other
Purged from the dross of earth, and earthly | And loveliest spot of earth! farewell Ionia!
yet irks me.
Sard. Say it.
Myrrha. It is that no kind hand will gather
The dust of both into one urn.
Sard. The better:
Rather let them be borne abroad upon
And its enormous walls of reeking ruin,
Or kine, for none know whether those
Be for their monarch, or their ox-god Apis:
Myrrha. Then farewell, thou earth!
Was for thee, my last thoughts, save onc, were of thee!
Sard. And that?
[The trumpet of Pania sounds without. Sard. Hark! Myrrha. Now!
Sard. Adieu, Assyria!
I loved thee well, my own, my fathers' land,
Myrrha. Art thou ready?
THE ILLUSTRIOUS GÖTHE
BY ONE OF HIS HUMBLEST ADMIRERS THIS
merely refer the reader to the original story, that he may see to what extent I have borrowed from it; and am not unwilling that he should find much greater pleasure in perusing it than the drama which is founded upon its contents.
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 conception, rather than execution; for the story might, perhaps, have been more developed with greater advantage. Amongst those whose opinions agreed with mine upon this story, I could mention some The following drama is taken entirely very high names; but it is not necessary, from the "German's Tale, Kruitzner," nor indeed of any use; for every one must published many years ago in "Lee's Can-judge according to their own feelings. I terbury Tales;" written (I believe) by two sisters, of whom one furnished only this story and another, both of which are considered superior to the remainder of the collection. I have adopted the characters, plan, and even the language, of many parts of this story. Some of the characters are modified or 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 said 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
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 Пvina,” 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; but as it has not been found, I have re-written the first, and added the subsequent acts.
The whole is neither intended, nor in any shape adapted, for the stage, February, 1822.
Yes, but not to thyself: thy pace is hurried,
Were it a garden, I should deem thee happy,
Werner. 'Tis chill; the tapestry lets through
The wind to which it waves: my blood is frozen.
Josephine. Ah, no!
Thou knowst by sufferings more than mine,
Josephine. To see thee well is much-
Where hast thou seen such?
How many in this hour of tempest shiver
Which hath no chamber for them save
For chambers? rest is all. The wretches whom
Thou namest-ay, the wind howls round them, and
The dull and dropping rain saps in their bones
Werner (smiling). Why! wouldst thou The creeping marrow. I have been a soldier,
have it so?
Josephine. I would
Have it a healthful current.
Werner. Let it flow
Until 'tis spilt or check'd-how soon, I
Josephine. And am I nothing in thy heart?
Josephine. Then canst thou wish for
A hunter, and a traveller, and am
A beggar, and should know the thing thou
Josephine. And art thou not now shelter'd
Werner. Yes. And from these alone.
Werner (approaching her slowly). But for
Thou knowest not: but still I love thee, nor
Needful than to the peasant, when the ebb
is not; we
Have borne all this, I'll not say patiently,
[Werner walks on abruptly, and then Except in thee-but we have borne it.
The storm of the night,
Perhaps, affects me; I'm a thing of feelings,
W ́erner. Something beyond our outward