KING Yngurd, the greatest and most affecting of all the works of Adolphus Mullner, is in form a regular tragedy of five acts; but such is its length, that, in scenic performance, it has generally been split into two parts. This is a thing which we suspect no English audience could ever be brought to tolerate; but a German theatre, instead of containing few except mere lovers of spectacle, effect, and declamation, (as ours too often do) is filled with persons who have bestowed deep and deliberate study on the philosophy of the drama, who place, not only decent attention, but an enthusiastic earnestness, at the free service of any author of genius-and from whom, therefore, such a poet as Mullner can seldom demand, in vain, any measure of indulgence. What renders the indulgence demanded by King Yngurd still greater than might be expected, is this, that the first representation, that of the two opening acts, cannot be said to offer any action of interest, far less to conclude any one: it is merely the preparation for the real life and business of the drama.

We have found, on consideration, that it would be quite impossible for us to do any thing like justice to the whole of King Yngurd in one Magazine-paper; and have, therefore, to request the attention of our readers, for the present, to a sketch and a specimen of the Proæmium merely. Unless we be very greatly mistaken, the skilfulness of Mullner's exposition of the groundwork will sufficiently delight our more critical readers, while the lovers of poetry and passion will find enough of both here to make them amends for all they may miss. It is commonly said, that it is a bad thing to divide a subject in a periodical work; but there are exceptions to every rule. King Yngurd, our readers must be told, is a mere imaginary king; for the poet says, in a sonnet prefixed to the play, that his object has been to embody, not the truth of any actual and determinate set of events, but " the truth that never was and yet is always," the truth of human character

and passion. This hero is a King of Norway, ruling in right, not of blood, for he was born a peasant-but of marriage, for he had espoused the daughter of a preceding monarch; and of covenant-for, on the day of that marriage, he had been publicly associated in the government by his fatherin-law, and recognised by the whole of the people as the rightful partaker and successor of their monarch's empire; and lastly and chiefly, in right of possession-for he has already, when the drama commences, ruled for many years, and nobly supported, by his he roic character, the whole dignity both of the crown and the nation.

There is a formidable claimant, however, for the sceptre, which has so long been placed in the hands of King Yngurd. Ottfried, the fatherin-law of that sovereign, after Yngurd's marriage with his daughter, and the already mentioned solemn and voluntary assumption of the bridegroom into a share of the royal authority-had himself fallen in love with a princess of Denmark. He married her, and, dying within twelvemonths after, left her pregnant. Had she given birth to a daughter, the natural right of Yngurd's wife would have remained of course in full vigour; but she bare a son, and the appearance of the boy might well give Yngurd cause to fear for the durability of his own sovereignty. Yngurd, however, ruled for some time with undisputed sway, because such as thought he had no right to be king of Norway, were compelled to acknowledge that he was the natural guardian of the infant prince, and the natural protector of the kingdom during his minority.

Ere long, Braunhilda, the queen dowager, being afraid that Yngurd would never resign his crown to her son (Oscar), removed with him back to the court of her own father in Denmark, and there the boy grows up to be a man. Yngurd, in the mean time, continues to govern Norway wisely in peace, and to be the successful and glorious leader against her enemies in war. The custom of power has

full leisure to ripen within his breast into a settled passion, and nothing is farther from his thoughts than to divest himself of his sceptre, in order to place it in the hands of his wife's youthful brother, with whose opening character he has had no opportunities of rendering himself personally acquainted. He has no son himself indeed-but one daughter, Asla, whom he of course wishes to reign after him.

At length some symptoms of disaffection towards Yngurd's government, observed in certain districts of his realm, conspire with the natural inclinations of Alf, king of Denmark, in favour of his nephew; and he, with Queen Braunhilda, Prince Oscar, and a numerous train of counsellors and warriors, of a sudden makes his appearance off the coast of Norway. But the extracts which follow might perhaps have rendered all the explanation from us unnecessary.

One leading difficulty with which every dramatic author has to contend, is to explain the ground-work of his plot-the preliminary chain of events which must be known in order that the audience may sympathize with, and comprehend, the action of which the drama properly consists. This is sometimes effected by the introduction of long continued stories ; than which, we well know, although we have already been partly trespassers in that sort ourselves, there is nothing under which both audience and actors are more impatient. Mullner, however, has opened his play in the most skilful as well as effective manner, by the following animated dialogue between two soldiers; which, for the sake of the more full explanation it affords, we insert entire. On account of the character and manners of the two sentinels, however, this dialogue, (as well as the conversation of the rude fishermen in act second) would, perhaps, have been better if translated into prose, rather than into any kind of verse.

ACT I. Scene I.

(A hall in King Yngurd's castle. Tempest and lightning from without. Erichson asleep on a chair; his helmet lying near him on the table. Jarl stands opposite to him at a window, and looks out at the storm. The hall is dimly illuminated by a lamp hanging from the centre.

I have been driven about the world, 'tis true, Like leaves before the chill November's

blast,

Erich. Believ'st thou in such guests?
Jarl. At times-And thou?
Erich. Nay-Heaven forbid ! What
mean'st thou ?
Jarl. One must think

On fire where smoke arises-War, indeed,
Is like a chariot which the devil drives.
Who sits therein knows not if he shall bring
Destruction on his own or foreign fields.
Erich. Thou mak'st me anxious.-Are
there news arrived?

Has the king met already with his foes? Jarl. No: but the summer's heat with frost is blended

It snows and lightens.

Erich. What may this betoken ? Jarl. Please Heaven 'tis nought. Erich. It happens so at times.

Jarl. Was it not so in that unhappy year When Ottfried died?

Erich. Aye, that indeed is true.

Jarl. Now, mark me, when a comet with his train

Sweeps through the chambers of the starry heaven,

I heed it not; yet to myself I say,
It must betoken something not yet ripe:
But when a north-light through the hemi-
sphere

Mounts like a stream of mingling blood and fire,

Then, lo! methinks Heaven threatens us more nearly,

And if misfortune comes, it comes in haste. Erich. Thou art not wise-The northlight brings cold weather,

And this is all.

Then, if he comes, he sends the SNOW before him,

That soft and white, like swans'-down, gently falls,

And settles on the bosom of the land.

The SNOW is OSCAR, who, with influence bland,

Can, like a child's tear, glide into the heart,
In whom our monarch Yngurd only sees
(Or feigns to see) a bastard, while king Alf
Acknowledges in him the rightful heir
Of Norway, Ottfried's son, because he calls
King Ottfried's widow mother.

Then his mother,
Of Danish birth (unwillingly we name her)
Who for twelve months narrow'd the heart

and house

Of good king Ottfried, and a barrier rais'd Between a father's and a daughter's love, Till nature's bonds at last were broke in sunder;

This mother of a strife that rages still She is the STORM who brings the SNOW and FROST.

The LIGHTNING is King Yngurd, whose bright sword

Flashes like fire upon his enemies

Erich. (interrupting him with animation.) Now, this is true!-He is the flame from heaven!

To him who once has fought with Yngurd, fear

Henceforth must be unknown. His is the kingdom

He is our master born, although not sprung From race imperial.

Jarl. There misfortune lowers. "Twere better were it otherwise-One ounce Of royal blood, how much it will avail Thou canst not reckon-tho', 'tis true, the cheek

Wherein it dwells not, is no whit less blooming!

Erich. (warmly.) How ?-Dar'st thou doubt of our King Yngurd's right? Fy, sir, this is not well. Held we not here The watch together, with my sword should I Thine error prove!

Jarl. And so should I, if thou Had'st doubted in thy turn. But for this

On the small island Lesso-not less near
To Denmark than to Norway. I was there,
And knew them well. The good old people
trembled,

If one of princes spoke or princely wars;
Yet Yngurd, born and bred up to the plough,
With watchful ears drank every word!
(He perceives that Erichson has again seat-

ed himself, and seems lost in thought.) Not so

Dost thou-no matter.-I shall talk
Right willingly.-Well, never even in dreams
Had these good people thought that in their