solely of a collection of attacks and replies, which have already passed between the poet and a whole host of critical assailants. It must be observed also, that one great beauty of the original must be lost in an English version; for it very far surpasses the "Guilt," in the exquisite and complex beauty of its rhymed versification. To imitate this in English verse, would certainly not conduce to a faithful copy of the original, as intended for the theatre; though possibly it might tend to the accomplishment of what some judges may deem superior-a truly interesting dramatic poem. With all its peculiarities, however, we believe that a pretty close translation of Yngurd into blank verse, dissimilar as it will assuredly be, to all the productions of our modern school, will yet bear comparison admirably well with various compositions of our early dramatists, with Massinger, Shirley and Ford, and we may venture guardedly to add, with some insulated portions of Shakspeare. In the tragedy before us, it is obvious that the greatest difficulty with which the author had to contend, consisted in the enormous mass of his materials, the diversity of interest, the complexity of plots, (woven in deed very skilfully one into another), above all, in the crowd of characters, almost all contending for pre-eminency; which last has also been found a source of much perplexity at every theatre, the dramatic corps seldom being sufficiently strong, to supply the requisite number of judicious and effective performers. To compress these mighty conceptions into one simply-intelligible drama for the stage, might indeed seem a task, almost as impossible, as for a bibliographer to pack up his whole library into one portfolio, or for an architect to combine all the materials of a large and princely palace, into one simple Grecian temple. In spite of all these difficulties, however, and the vexatious cavils of hypercriticism," Yngurd," has succeeded nobly in his own country; and we have no doubt that our poetical readers will approve of the farther specimens which we must now hasten to subjoin. It should be remembered, that among the various methods which the mo dern authors of Germany have employed, for the attainment of a wide. and inspiring sphere, in which to move the wings of poetical imagination, nothing has proved more effective than their propensity, to look back into the ancient and fabulous periods of Scandinavian history. The date of " Yngurd's," achievements, (as we remarked in our last number), is about 900 or 1000 years before the Christian Era. Thus, having the veil drawn from the venerable "Bildersaule," we may well expect to find pictures differing, indeed, widely from those of modern artists, but not on that account the less, but the more interesting to the eye of genius. To use a better illustration ;-in reading the compositions of La Motte Fouquè, Werner, Müllner, and Oehlanschläger, we feel as an individual, who for the first time in his life finds himself in the heart of the Swiss or Scottish Highlands, in a dark misty day of October, when every surrounding object, whether living or inanimate, assumes a character new, gigantic, and even supernatural. Contemplated through the magic atmosphere, which involves us in the company of ancient Scalds and Heroes, Braunhilda's Amazonian attributes appear no longer unnatural; and per haps, on these grounds also, may be excused certain freedoms of style (occasionally zu deutlich") which the author has admitted, in describing the amorous propensities of his insane heroine, and even of the pure and gentle " Asla." We must now proceed to our proInised brief recapitulation of the plot. King Yngurd of Norway-now ru ling in right, not of blood, but of marriage having espoused Irma, daughter of Ottfried, the late king-is invaded in his territories by Alf, king of Denmark, accompanied by his sis ter Braunhilda, and the young prince Oscar. Oscar is a posthumous son of the late king Ottfried, who had married Braunhilda, a Danish princess, (for his second wife), only about a year before his death. Consequently, Oscar is now rightful heir to the crown, assumed and for the last sixteen years worn and defended by Yngurd. Various proposals for an amicable compromise have been suggested, which have all proved ineffectual, Braunhilda cherishes an unhallowed passion for Yngurd; which, however, being hopeless, manifests itself in hatred and persecution. An underplot also depends on the visionary attachment of Oscar to Asla, daughter of his half sister Irma, and of Yngurdconsequently, though of equal age, in law his own niece. The heroism of Yngurd, tarnished by crimes the offspring of despairthe firm integrity and constant affection of Irma-the poetical and imaginative character of Oscar, resembling that of Hamlet and of Wilfrid-the wild and visionary devotedness of Asla -and the frenzied passions of Braunhilda, will be sufficiently delineated in our extracts, without any superfluous commentary. The third act opens on the field of battle. The scene exhibits a glade closed up on each side by lofty pine trees. In the middle appears a steep and high rock, partially covered with wild wood. Beyond this a prospect of a level country, illumined by the evening sun, and bordered in the distance with wood. Asla stands on the extreme summit of the rock, her looks turned towards the plain. Durdal is posted in the fore ground, idly leaning against a tree. After some time Erichson appears emerging from the wildwood, and descending the rock. Seven or eight Norwegians are in the background. Durdal, who has been appointed, with a small chosen band, to keep this rocky pass, (intended for the retreat of Yngurd, if he should be defeated) expresses, in a soliloquy, great vexation at being obliged to remain idle while others are busily employed. Erichson, however, joins him in a short time, and beguiles the lingering moments by news of the battle, which Asla meanwhile is stedfastly contemplating from the rock. Jarl soon after comes in severely wounded, and informs Erichson, that, to the astonishment of the Normans, who deemed their leader invincible, Yngurd has on this occasion been (except at the first onset) in every movement completely unsuccessful; and that his troops begin now to fly in all directions. This is confirmed soon after by the appearance of fugitive Normans, and at last of Yngurd-who, though greatly perplexed, is not dismayed; but consoles himself with the belief, that even should the Danes advance and VOL. VII. take possession of his palace of Auslo, he will on a future day, at no distant date, find sure means of regaining all his former power. Meanwhile, however, he orders Marduff to ride posthaste to the queen, and direct her to secure all her jewels and treasure, and fly from Auslo to a remote castle, where she may be in safety. Asla, who has glided down from the rock, overhearing these words, draws near to her father, and assures him that he will yet conquer, and that his alarming embassy to the queen is unnecessary. At this moment, a courier arrives, informing Yngurd that "Irma" has arrived unexpectedly on horseback in the field of battle. Ÿngurd, greatly surprised, awaits her appearance. We regret much that we have not room to insert some part of the preceding dialogue, especially the very spirited and original conversation of the soldiers. To make amends, however, we insert the next scene entire, containing an interview between Yngurd and his queen, in which, by every method of persuasion, she tries to obtain his acquiescence in a compromise with the Danes, and in a scheme of peace, tranquillity, and retirement for their own lives in future. ACT III. Is poison to the soul. Irma. What I have done May Heaven forgive; yet Oscar lives; in him Salute the son of Ottfried; raise him up Yn. How is this? Would'st thou Would it had never been !—Thou didst refuse Braunhilda's proffered friendship; and to this I led thee on; made it appear thy duty My hated rival to oppose and conquer ! Norman with Norman have I made contend, With rumours false my father's bed dishonoured! From mine own work I turn with shudder Then, of its origin, with idle brain, Thenceforward ask no more.-The king may not Return to the condition of a slave. Should there be some among our readers to whom Irma's account of herself and Braunhilda, in the foregoing extract, may appear objectionable, we trust that the unqualified beauty of the following dialogue will afford to them ample compensation. Irma. Love, Yngurd, that first brought thee to the throne, And which of its reward that throne beguiled, Love now demands its sacred rights.—Since thou Hast been a king, thou wert no longer mineBut, like a driving cloud that in its flight Scarce cools with transient wing the meadow flower, Hast thou passed by me in thy path of glory.— Safe for an hour, but through long months in danger, Mine but a day-but torn from me for years, More deeply still impressing on my heart Repentance for irrevocable crime. Then, even to-night, the dream-the thunder stroke, Invading in the grave my father's coffin, And to the light his pale remains unveiling (She pauses.) Have mercy, Yngurd! Look redeemingly On the keen anguish of thy guilty wife, Trembling before the chastisement of Heaven ! Give to my brother then his crown, and I Will love and honour thee for evermore! Must thou COMMAND proud heart?— then look on me! I am of blood imperial-like a slave, Command me! with a fond adhering heart, I like the humblest menial will obey thee! Or, can'st thou, lion-hearted son of conquest, Not live without BOLD DEEDS? Then, as a soldier, Take Irma with thee into distant wars,There duly will she serve thee morn and night; Saddle thy steed, and buckle on thine armour, Sooth thee, and staunch thy blood when thou art wounded, Help on thy shield to bear thee to thy home; And, still unchanging, through the gates of death, To seek Walhalla's towers, will follow thee! So let the love of fame to me restore A loving husband. Let thy proud soul wing Peerless in battle as thou art, to triumph! Yngurd. (With contending emotions.) Demandest thou an undivided heart, While with thy tongue as with a sword thou cleav'st me! "Tis to the kingdom that mine arm belongs, Yet under Ottfried, for thy sake I foughtThere is no throne-right but the call of Heaven. I feel that for a king I was designed, Because in me there dwells both will and power! Yet, ere I wore the crown I was thy husband; And, needful as unto our eyes the sunlight, Is thy long-cherish'd image to my soul. The spring days of mine early love again Mid all the war's wild tumult-all the cares And thankless labours of imperial power Dawn on the clouded heaven of my remembrance, Like morning rays our nightly dreams, dispelling! And as our hours in restless course move on, Oh might I yet retire with thee, and Asla, To heal my heart's old wounds! Irma. (Eagerly.) Do this, dear Yngurd! Give up, without regret, this Northern land, And to new life awake the healthful frame ! Yngurd. Irma! thou hast within my heart set free Wishes that I laboriously suppress'd, Irma, (anxiously) Now Yngurd! Now resolve! Make peace with Denmark, And be it mine, as thine ambassadress, With these words to wreak vengeance on Braunbilda, Is flying hither Irma, (anxiously.) Asla, come to me! Or thou wilt fall a captive to the foe? (She hastens to the rock, and disappears. Asla comes down. In the beginning of the following scene they come forward together.) Yn. (Having drawn his sword, and fallen on his knees.) Oh King of kings, thou Ruier of the world, Thy name is Peace-and warfare is of hell The hated birth.-Thy just and sacred will, Is that the guilty fall, the righteous triumph, Therefore for victory I need not to pray. But sooth, oh Heaven, this boiling of the blood! Methinks the hero's heart with unwrought ore May be compar'd-hard, rugged, and unyielding Gold under dross, evil with good contending- (his hand on his breast) Oh melt this rugged ore, and free my soul From its dire bondage! grant to me the power, Of uncontrolled and voluntary choice! (He rises, and is about to go.) At this moment, when the miserable hero has prayed (or believes that he has prayed)" with pure heart," a messenger arrives, announcing that the tide of fortune has now irrevocably turned against him. With the wild resolution of despair, he then betakes himself to the powers of darkness, and swears allegiance to the devil ;— an event by no means unexampled in the history of similar characters. SCENE VI. Yngurd, Marduff, Irma, and Asia. (The last. Mar. It rends my breast,-but I must speak the truth. All is in vain; for thee the fate of war From this day onward grants no longer hope, Scarce is the path for thy retreat left open. Yn. How's this? Mar. The heights commanded by Count Viorncland, Despite of his brave armament's resistance, thy marrow, And let me gaze into the fires of hell- Delude the Danes, with victory drunk already, That on their own swords they may fall confusedly Come forth, thou SATAN! Whatsoe'er Braunhilda Has offer'd for thine aid, I shall out-bid her! What can that woman prove to thee? Her anger Dies at my death, and she perchance grows pious. I am a man! Come thou to my support, into this vaulted chamber! I am a king, with terror looked upon— |