Pledged by his royal mother, and this old man,
(Whose name henceforth be dear to all Illyrians)
We haste to lay before the assembled council.

All. Hail, Andreas! Hail, Illyria's rightful king! And. Supported thus, O friends! 'twere cowardice Unworthy of a royal birth, to shrink

From the appointed charge. Yet, while we wait
The awful sanction of convened Illyria,

In this brief while, O let me feel myself

The child, the friend, the debtor !-Heroic mother!
But what can breath add to that sacred name?
Kiuprili! gift of Providence, to teach us
That loyalty is but the public form

Of the sublimest friendship, let my youth
Climb round thee, as the vine around its elm;
Thou my support and I thy faithful fruitage.
My heart is full, and these poor words express not,
They are but an art to check its overswelling.
Bathory! shrink not from my filial arms!

Now, and from henceforth thou shalt not forbid me
To call thee father! And dare I forget

The powerful intercession of thy virtue,
Lady Sarolta! Still acknowledge me
Thy faithful soldier !-But what invocation
Shall my full soul address to thee, Glycine?

Thou sword that leap'dst forth from a bed of roses,—
Thou falcon-hearted dove !

Zap.

Hear that from me, son!

For ere she lived, her father saved thy life,

Thine, and thy fugitive mother's!

Cas.

Chef Ragozzi!

O shame upon my head! I would have given her

To a base slave!

Zap.

Heaven overruled thy purpose,

And sent an angel to thy house to guard her!

Thou precious bark! freighted with all our treasures!

The sports of tempests, and yet ne'er the victim,

How many may claim salvage in thee!

Take her, son!

A queen that brings with her a richer dowry
Than orient kings can give!

Sar.
A banquet waits!—
On this auspicious day, for some few hours
I claim to be your hostess. Scenes so awful
With flashing light, force wisdom on us all!
E'en women at the distaff hence may see,
That bad men may rebel, but ne'er be free ;
May whisper, when the waves of faction foam,
None love their country, but who love their home;
Nor freedom can with those alone abide,

Who wear the golden chain, with honest pride,
Of love and duty, at their own fire-side :
While mad ambition ever doth caress
Its own sure fate, in its own restlessness!

THE PICCOLOMINI,

OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN.

A DRAMA.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

WALLENSTEIN, Duke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Imperial Forces in the Thirty Years' War.

OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, Lieutenant-General.

MAX. PICCOLOMINI, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cuirassiers. COUNT TERTSKY, the Commander of several Regiments, and Brother-in-Law of Wallenstein.

ILLO, Field-Marshal, Wallenstein's Confidant.

ISOLANI, General of the Croats.

BUTLER, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons.
TIEFENBACH,

NEUMANN, Captain of Cavalry, Aid-de-Camp to Tertsky.
The War Commissioner, VON QUESTENBERG, Imperial Envoy.
GENERAL WRANGEL, Swedish Envoy.

BATTISTER SENI, Astrologer.

DUCHESS OF FRIEDLAND, Wife of Wallenstein.
THEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland.
THE COUNTESS TERTSKY, Sister of the Duchess.
A CORNET.

Several COLONELS and GENERALS.

PAGES and ATTENDANTS belonging to Wallenstein.
ATTENDANTS and HOBÖISTS belonging to Tertsky.
THE MASTER OF THE CELLAR to Count Tertsky.
VALET DE CHAMBRE of Count Piccolomini.