Take him! And if we be pursued, I charge thee,
Flee thou and leave me! Flee and save thy king!

[Then as going off, she looks back on the palace.
Thou tyrant's den, be call'd no more a palace!
The orphan's angel at the throne of heaven
Stands up against thee, and there hover o'er thee
A Queen's, a Mother's, and a Widow's curse.
Henceforth a dragon's haunt, fear and suspicion
Stand sentry at thy portals! Faith and honour,
Driven from the throne, shall leave the attainted nation:
And, for the iniquity that houses in thee,
False glory, thirst of blood, and lust of rapine
(Fateful conjunction of malignant planets),
Shall shoot their blastments on the land. The fathers
Henceforth shall have no joy in their young men,
And when they cry: Lo! a male child is born!
The mother shall make answer with a groan.
For bloody usurpation, like a vulture,
Shall clog its beak within Illyria's heart.
Remorseless slaves of a remorseless tyrant!
They shall be mock'd with sounds of liberty,
And liberty shall be proclaim'd alone
To thee, O Fire! O Pestilence! O Sword!

PESTALUTZ, an Assassin, in Emerick's employ.

WOMEN.

LADY SAROLTA, Wife of Lord Casimir.
GLYCINE, Orphan Daughter of Chef Ragozzi.

Between the flight of the Queen, and the civil war which immediately followed, and in which Emerick remained the victor, a space of twenty years is supposed to have elapsed.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Mountainous Country. BATHORY'S Dwelling at the

Till Vengeance hath her fill.-And thou, snatch'd hence,

(Again to the infant.) poor friendless fugitive! with

mother's wailing,

Offspring of Royal Andreas, shalt return

With trump and timbrel clang, and popular shout

Took his last leave. On yonder mountain-ridge
I lost the misty image which so long
Linger'd, or seem'd at least to linger on it.

GLYCINE.

And what if even now, on that same ridge,
A speck should rise, and still enlarging, lengthening,
As it clomb downwards, shape itself at last
To a numerous cavalcade, and spurring foremost,
Who but Sarolta's own dear lord return'd

From his high embassy?

Yea, e'en in thy simplicity, Glycine,
A fine and feminine grace, that makes me feel
More as a mother than a mistress to thee!
Thou art a soldier's orphan! that the courage,
Which rising in thine eye, seems oft to give
A new soul to its gentleness, doth prove thee!
Thou art sprung too of no ignoble blood,
Or there's no faith in instinct!

[Angry voices and clamour within, re-enter GLYCINE.

GLYCINE.

Oh, madam! there's a party of your servants,
And my lord's steward, Laska, at their head,
Have come to search for old Bathory's son,
Bethlen, that brave young man! 't was he, my lady,
That took our parts, and beat off the intruders;
And in mere spite and malice, now they charge him
With bad words of Lord Casimir and the king.
Pray don't believe them, madam! This way! This way!
Lady Sarolta 's here.
[Calling without.

SAROLTA.

Be calm, Glycine.

Enter LASKA and Servants with OLD BATHORY.
LASKA (to BATHORY).

We have no concern with you! What needs your pre

sence?

OLD BATHORY.

What! Do you think I'll suffer my brave boy
To be slander'd by a set of coward-ruffians,
And leave it to their malice,-yes, mere malice! -
To tell its own tale?

[LASKA and Servants bow to LADY SAROLTA.

SAROLTA.

Laska! What may this mean?

LASKA (pompously, as commencing a set speech). Madam! and may it please your ladyship! This old man's son, by name Bethlen Bathory, Stands charged, on weighty evidence, that he, On yester-eve, being his lordship's birth-day, Did traitorously defame Lord Casimir :

The lord high-steward of the realm, moreover-

SAROLTA.

Be brief! We know his titles!

LASKA.

And moreover

Raved like a traitor at our liege King Emerick.
And furthermore, said witnesses make oath,
Led on the assault upon his lordship's servants;
Yea, insolently tore, from this, your huntsman,
His badge of livery of your noble house,
And trampled it in scorn.

SAROLTA (to the Servants who offer to speak).
You have had your spokesman!

Where is the young man thus accused?

OLD BATHORY.

I know not:

But if no ill betide him on the mountains, He will not long be absent!

SAROLTA.

Thou art his father?

OLD BATHORY.

None ever with more reason prized a son ;
Yet I hate falsehood more than I love him.
But more than one, now in my lady's presence,
Witness'd the affray, besides these men of malice;
And if I swerve from truth--

My tale is brief. During our festive dance,
Your servants, the accusers of my son,
Offer'd gross insults, in unmanly sort,
To our village maidens. He (could he do less?)
Rose in defence of outraged modesty,

And so persuasive did his cudgel prove

(Your hectoring sparks so over brave to women Are always cowards), that they soon took flight, And now in mere revenge, like baffled boasters, Have framed this tale, out of some hasty words Which their own threats provoked.

SAROLTA.

LASKA (aside).

Yes, now 't is coming.

SAROLTA.

Brutal aggressors first, then baffled dastards,
That they have sought to piece out their revenge
With a tale of words lured from the lips of anger
Stamps them most dangerous; and till I want
Fit means for wicked ends, we shall not need
Their services. Discharge them! You, Bathory!
Are henceforth of my household! I shall place you
Near my own person. When your son returns,
Present him to us!

OLD BATHORY.

Ha! what, strangers here!

What business have they in an old man's eye?
Your goodness, lady-and it came so sudden-
I can not-must not let you be deceived.
I have yet another tale, but- [Then to SAROLTA aside.

Not for all ears!

SAROLTA.

Till thou hast learnt it! Fervent good old man!
Forgive me that, to try thee, I put on

A face of sternness, alien to my meaning!

[Then speaks to the Servants. Hence! leave my presence! and you, Laska! mark me! Those rioters are no longer of my household! If we but shake a dew-drop from a rose In vain would we replace it, and as vainly Restore the tear of wounded modesty To a maiden's eye familiarized to licence.But these men, Laska

[LASKA flings himself into the seat. GLYCINE peeps in timidly.

Is my lady gone?

Is he return'd?

GLYCINE.

Laska! Laska!

LASKA (surlily). Gone.

GLYCINE.

Have you yet seen him?

[LASKA starts up from his seat.

Has the seat stung you, Laska?

LASKA.

No, serpent! no; 't is you that sting me; you! What! you would cling to him again!

GLYCINE.

Whom?

LASKA.

Bethlen! Bethlen!

Yes; gaze as if your very eyes embraced him!

Ha! you forget the scene of yesterday!

Mute ere he came, but then-Out on your screams, And your pretended fears!

GLYCINE.

Your fears, at least,

Were real, Laska! or your trembling limbs
And white cheeks played the hypocrites most vilely!

1 Refers to the tear, which he feels starting in his eye. The following line was borrowed unconsciously from Mr Wordsworth's

Excursion.

Oh! that's a different thing. To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious To his good old father. But for loving himNay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska! Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him; For I sigh so deeply when I think of him! And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes, And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt That the war-wolf had gored him as he hunted In the haunted forest!

For the best account of the War-wolf or Lycanthropus, see DRAYTON'S Moon-calf, CHALMERS' English Poets, vol. iv, p. 13 0.

BETHLEN.

She does not know me! GLYCINE.

Oh that she did! she could not then have spoken
With such stern countenance. But though she spurn mey
I will kneel, Bethlen-

BETHLEN.

Not for me, Glycine! What have I done? or whom have I offended?

GLYCINE.

Rash words, 't is said, and treasonous, of the king. [BETHLEN mutters to himself indignantly.

GLYCINE (aside).

So looks the statue, in our hall, o' the god, The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!