Remorseless slaves of a remorseless tyrant,
They shall be mocked with sounds of liberty,
And liberty shall be proclaimed alone

To thee, O Fire! O Pestilence! O Sword!
Till Vengeance hath her fill.—And thou, snatched
hence,

Poor friendless fugitive! with mother's wailing,
Offspring of royal Andreas, shalt return
With trump and timbrel-clang, and popular shout
In triumph to the palace of thy fathers!

[Exeunt.

ZAPOLYA.

PART II.

THE SEQUEL ENTITLED THE USURPER'S FATE."

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS.

OLD BATHORY, a Mountaineer.

BETHLEN BATHORY, The young Prince Andreas, supposed son of Old BATHORY.

LORD RUDOLPH, a Courtier, but friend to the Queen's party.

LASKA, Steward to CASIMIR, betrothed to GLYCINE.
PESTALUTZ, an Assassin in EMERICK's employ.
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.

USURPATION ENDED; OR, SHE

COMES AGAIN.

ACT I.

SCENE I-A Mountainous country. Bathory's dwelling at the end of the stage.

Enter Lady Sarolta and Glycine.

Gly. WELL then! our round of charity is finished. Rest, madam! You breathe quick.

Sar. What, tired, Glycine?

No delicate court-dame, but a mountaineer
By choice no less than birth, I gladly use

The good strength nature gave me.

Gly.

Is built as if an eagle or a raven

Had chosen it for her nest.

Sar.

That last cottage

So many are

The sufferings which no human aid can reach,
It needs must be a duty doubly sweet

To heal the few we can. Well! let us rest.

Gly. There? [Pointing to Bathory's dwelling. Sar. Here! For on this spot Lord Casimir Took his last leave. On yonder mountain-ridge I lost the misty image which so long

Lingered, or seemed at least to linger on it.

Gly. 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 returned

From his high embassy?

Sar.
All the long day, from yester-morn to evening,
The restless hope fluttered about my heart.
Oh we are querulous creatures! little less
Than all things can suffice to make us happy;
And little more than nothing is enough

Thou hast hit my thought!

To discontent us.-Were he come, then should I
Repine he had not arrived just one day earlier
To keep his birth-day here, in his own birth-place.
Gly. But our best sports belike, and gay proces-

sions

Would to my lord have seemed but work-day sights Compared with those the royal court affords.

Sar. I have small wish to see them.

morning

A spring

With its wild gladsome minstrelsy of birds,
And its bright jewelry of flowers and dew-drops
(Each orbed drop an orb of glory in it)

Would put them all in eclipse.

[ment

This sweet retire

Lord Casimir's wish alone would have made sacred:

But in good truth, his loving jealousy

Did but command, what 1 had else entreated.

Gly. And yet had I been born Lady Sarolta,