I did not think that aught was left in me

Of what I have been-yes, I thank thee, Heaven!
One happy thought has passed across my mind.
-It may not be--I am cut off from man;
No more shall I be man-no more shall I
Have human feelings !—(To HERBERT)—Now, for
a little more

About your Daughter!

Her. Troops of armed men, Met in the roads, would bless us; little children, Rushing along in the full tide of play, Stood silent as we passed them! I have heard The boisterous carman, in the miry road, Check his loud whip and hail us with mild voice, And speak with milder voice to his poor beasts. Mar. And whither were you going? Her. Learn, young Man, To fear the virtuous, and reverence misery, Whether too much for patience, or, like mine, Softened till it becomes a gift of mercy. Mar. Now, this is as it should be! Her.

I am weak!— My Daughter does not know how weak I am; And, as thou see'st, under the arch of heaven Here do I stand, alone, to helplessness,

By the good God, our common Father, doomed! But I had once a spirit and an arm

Mar. Now, for a word about your Barony: I fancy when you left the Holy Land,

And came to what's your title-eh ? your claims Were undisputed !

Whom no one comes to meet, I stood alone ;-
I murmured-but, remembering Him who feeds
The pelican and ostrich of the desert,
From my own threshold I looked up to Heaven
And did not want glimmerings of quiet hope.
So, from the court I passed, and down the brook,
Led by its murmur, to the ancient oak

I came ; and when I felt its cooling shade,
I sate me down, and cannot but believe
While in my lap I held my little Babe

And clasped her to my heart, my heart that ached
More with delight than grief-I heard a voice
Such as by Cherith on Elijah called;
It said, "I will be with thee." A little boy,
A shepherd-lad, ere yet my trance was gone,
Hailed us as if he had been sent from heaven,
And said, with tears, that he would be our guide :
I had a better guide—that innocent Babe—
Her, who hath saved me, to this hour, from harm,
From cold, from hunger, penury, and death;
To whom I owe the best of all the good
I have, or wish for, upon earth-and more

And higher far than lies within earth's bounds:
Therefore I bless her: when I think of Man,
I bless her with sad spirit,-when of God,
I bless her in the fulness of my joy !

Mar. The name of daughter in his mouth, he prays!

With nerves so steady, that the very flies
Sit unmolested on his staff.-Innocent!—
If he were innocent-then he would tremble
And be disturbed, as I am. (Turning aside). I
have read

In Story, what men now alive have witnessed, How, when the People's mind was racked with doubt,

Appeal was made to the great Judge: the
Accused

With naked feet walked over burning ploughshares.
Here is a Man by Nature's hand prepared
For a like trial, but more merciful.

Why else have I been led to this bleak Waste?
Bare is it, without house or track, and destitute
Of obvious shelter, as a shipless sea.
Here will I leave him-here-All-seeing God!
Such as he is, and sore perplexed as I am,
I will commit him to this final Ordeal!-
He heard a voice—a shepherd-lad came to him
And was his guide; if once, why not again,
And in this desert? If never-then the whole
Of what he says, and looks, and does, and is,
Makes up one damning falsehood. Leave him here
To cold and hunger!-Pain is of the heart,
And what are a few throes of bodily suffering
If they can waken one pang of remorse?

Mar.
No more of that;
Thou wilt have many guides if thou art innocent;
Yea, from the utmost corners of the earth,
That Woman will come o'er this Waste to save thee.
[He pauses and looks at HERBERT's staff.
Ha! what is here? and carved by her own hand!
[Reads upon the staff.

"I am eyes to the blind, saith the Lord.
He that puts his trust in me shall not fail !"
Yes, be it so ;--repent and be forgiven-
God and that staff are now thy only guides.

[He leaves HERBERT on the Moor.

Spin motives out of their own bowels, Lacy!
I learn'd this when I was a Confessor.

I know him well; there needs no other motive
Than that most strange incontinence in crime
Which haunts this Oswald. Power is life to him
And breath and being; where he cannot govern,
He will destroy.

Lacy. To have been trapped like moles !— Yes, you are right, we need not hunt for motives: There is no crime from which this man would shrink; He recks not human law; and I have noticed That often when the name of God is uttered, A sudden blankness overspreads his face.

Len. Yet, reasoner as he is, his pride has built Some uncouth superstition of its own.

Wal. I have seen traces of it.
Len.

Once he headed

Mar. From which I have freed myself-but 'tis my wish To be alone, and therefore we must part.

Osw. Nay, then-I am mistaken. There's a weakness

About you still; you talk of solitude-
I am your friend.

At any time? and why given now?

Osw.

You are now in truth my Master; you have taught me

What there is not another living man

Had strength to teach ;-and therefore gratitude
Is bold, and would relieve itself by praise.
Mar. Wherefore press this on me?
Osw.

Because I feel

In dim relation to imagined Beings.

our Captain

Of our emasculated souls, the tyranny

Of the world's masters, with the musty rules
By which they uphold their craft from age to age:
You have obeyed the only law that sense
Submits to recognise; the immediate law,
From the clear light of circumstances, flashed
Upon an independent Intellect.

Henceforth new prospects open on your path;
Your faculties should grow with the demand;
I still will be your friend, will cleave to you
Through good and evil, obloquy and scorn,
Oft as they dare to follow on your steps.
Mar. I would be left alone.
Osw. (exultingly).

I know your motives !
I am not of the world's presumptuous judges,
Who damn where they can neither see nor feel,
With a hard-hearted ignorance; your struggles
I witness'd, and now hail your victory.
Mar. Spare me awhile that greeting.
Osw.

It may be,

The Sparrow so on the house-top, and I,
The weakest of God's creatures, stand resolved
To abide the issue of my act, alone.

Osw. Now would you? and for ever?-My young
Friend,

As time advances either we become

The prey or masters of our own past deeds.
Fellowship we must have, willing or no ;
And if good Angels fail, slack in their duty,
Substitutes, turn our faces where we may,
Are still forthcoming; some which, though they bear
Ill names, can render no ill services,

In recompense for what themselves required.
So meet extremes in this mysterious world,
And opposites thus melt into each other.

Mar. Time, since Man first drew breath, has never moved

With such a weight upon his wings as now;
But they will soon be lightened.

Osw.

Ay, look upCast round you your mind's eye, and you will learn Fortitude is the child of Enterprise : Great actions move our admiration, chiefly

Osw.

Murder!-what's in the word!—

I have no cases by me ready made

To fit all deeds. Carry him to the Camp!-
A shallow project ;—you of late have seen
More deeply, taught us that the institutes
Of Nature, by a cunning usurpation
Banished from human intercourse, exist
Only in our relations to the brutes

That make the fields their dwelling. If a snake
Crawl from beneath our feet we do not ask
A license to destroy him: our good governors
Hedge in the life of every pest and plague

Mar. I have much to say, but for whose ear?— not thine.

Idon. Ill can I bear that look-Plead for me, Oswald !

You are my Father's Friend.

(To MARMADUKE).

Alas, you know not, And never can you know, how much he loved me. Twice had he been to me a father, twice Had given me breath, and was I not to be His daughter, once his daughter? could I withstand His pleading face, and feel his clasping arms, And hear his prayer that I would not forsake him In his old age[Hides her face. Mar. Patience Heaven grant me patience!— She weeps, she weeps-my brain shall burn for hours Ere I can shed a tear.

you :

For me, I have business, as you heard, with Oswald, But will return to you by break of day. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE, A desolate prospect a ridge of rocks-a Chapel on the summit of one-Moon behind the rocks-night stormy-irregular sound of a bellHERBERT enters exhausted.

Her. That Chapel-bell in mercy seemed to guide me, But now it mocks my steps; its fitful stroke Can scarcely be the work of human hands. Hear me, ye Men, upon the cliffs, if such There be who pray nightly before the Altar. Oh that I had but strength to reach the place! My Child-my child-dark-dark-I faint-this

Though it were tottering over a man's head,
Than a tight case of dungeon walls for shelter
From such rough dealing.

[A moaning voice is heard. Ha! what sound is that?

Trees creaking in the wind (but none are here)
Send forth such noises and that weary bell!
Surely some evil Spirit abroad to-night
Is ringing it 'twould stop a Saint in prayer,
And that what is it? never was sound so like
A human groan. Ha! what is here? Poor Man-
Murdered! alas! speak-speak, I am your friend:
No answer-hush-lost wretch, he lifts his hand
And lays it to his heart—(Kneels to him). I pray
you speak!

What has befallen you?

Her. (feebly). A stranger has done this, And in the arms of a stranger I must die. Eld. Nay, think not so: come, let me raise you up : [Raises him.

This is a dismal place-well-that is well-
I was too fearful-take me for your guide
And your support-my hut is not far off.
[Draws him gently off the stage.

SCENE, a room in the Hostel-MARMADUKE and OSWALD.

Mar. But for Idonea !-I have cause to think That she is innocent.

Osw. Leave that thought awhile, As one of those beliefs which in their hearts Lovers lock up as pearls, though oft no better Than feathers clinging to their points of passion.

This day's event has laid on me the duty
Of opening out my story; you must hear it,
And without further preface.-In my youth,
Except for that abatement which is paid
By envy as a tribute to desert,

I was the pleasure of all hearts, the darling
Of every tongue-as you are now. You've heard
That I embarked for Syria. On our voyage
Was hatched among the crew a foul Conspiracy
Against my honour, in the which our Captain
Was, I believed, prime Agent. The wind fell;
We lay becalmed week after week, until
The water of the vessel was exhausted;
I felt a double fever in my veins,

Yet rage suppressed itself;-to a deep stillness
Did my pride tame my pride ;—for many days,
On a dead sea under a burning sky,

I brooded o'er my injuries, deserted
By man and nature;—if a breeze had blown,
It might have found its way into my heart,
And I had been-no matter-do you mark me?
Mar. Quick-to the point-if any untold crime
Doth haunt your memory.

;

Osw. Patience, hear me further!One day in silence did we drift at noon By a bare rock, narrow, and white, and bare No food was there, no drink, no grass, no shade, No tree, nor jutting eminence, nor form Inanimate large as the body of man, Nor any living thing whose lot of life Might stretch beyond the measure of one moon. To dig for water on the spot, the Captain Landed with a small troop, myself being one: There I reproached him with his treachery. Imperious at all times, his temper rose ; He struck me; and that instant had I killed him, And put an end to his insolence, but my Comrades Rushed in between us: then did I insist

(All hated him, and I was stung to madness) That we should leave him there, alive!—we did so. Mar. And he was famished?

Osw. Naked was the spot ; Methinks I see it now-how in the sun Its stony surface glittered like a shield; And in that miserable place we left him, Alone but for a swarm of minute creatures Not one of which could help him while alive, Or mourn him dead.

Mar. A man by men cast off, Left without burial! nay, not dead nor dying, But standing, walking, stretching forth his arms, In all things like ourselves, but in the agony With which he called for mercy; and-even so— He was forsaken ?