Then summon’d, would the cry for the police No more to learn or hide: I know no fear,
Bern left to such a stranger ? Or should I

And have within these very walls men who
Have loiter'd on the way? Or could you, Werner, (Although you know them not) dare venture all things
The object of the baron's hate and fears,

You stand high with the state; what passes here Have fled--unless by many an hour before

Will not excite her too great curiosity : Suspicion woke? I sought and fathom'd you- Keep your own secret, keep a steady eye, Doubring if you were false or feeble; I

Sur not, and speak not ;-leave the rest to me: Perceived you were the latter; and yet so

We must have no third babblers thrust between us. Confiding have I found you, that I doubted

(Erit ULRIS. At times your weakness.


Am I awake? are these my father's balls ?
Parricide! no less
And yon—my son ? My son! mine

who have ever
Than common stabber! What deed of my life, Abhorr'd both mystery and blood, and yet
Or thought of mine, could make you deem me fit Am plunged into the deepest hell of both!
For your accomplice ?

I must be speedy, or more will be shed-

The Hungarian's !--Ulric-he hath partisans,
Father, do not raise

It seems.

I might have guess'd as much. Oh fool' The devil you cannot lay, between us. This Wolves prowl in company. He hath the key Is time for union and for action, not

(As I too) of the opposite door which leads For family disputes. While you were tortured Into the lurret. Now then! or once more Could I be cam? Think you that I have heard To be the father of fresh crimes-no less This fellow's tale without some feeling? you

Than of the criminal! Ho! Gabor! Gabor! Have taught me feeling for you and myself ;

(Exit into the turret, closing the door after him. For whom or what else did you ever teach it?

Oh! my dead father's curse! 't is working now.

Let it work on the grave will keep it down!

The Interior of the Turret.
Ashes are feeble foes: it is more easy
To baffle such, than countermine a mole,

Which winds its blind but living path beneath you.
Yet hear me still!-If you condemn me, yet

Who calls?
Remember who hath taught me once too often

SIEGENDORF. To listen to him! Who proclaim'd to me

I-Siegendorf! Take these, and Ay' That there were crimes made venial by the occasion ? Lose not a moment! That passion was our nature ? that the goods

(Tears off a diamond star and other jewels, an! Of heaven waited on the goods of fortune ?

thrusts them into Gabor's hand. Who show'd me his humanity secured

GABOR. By his nerves only? Who deprived me of

What am I to do All power to vindicate myself and race

With these? In open day? By his disgrace which stamp'd (It might be) bastardy on me, and on

Whate'er you will: sell them, or hoard, Himself-a felon's brand! The man who is

And prosper; but delay not-or you are lost!
At once both warm and weak, invites to deeds
He longs to do, but dare not.

You pledged your honour for my safety!
That I should act what you could think? We have done

SIEGENDORF. With right or wrong, and now must only ponder

C'pon effects, not causes. Stralenheim,

Must thus redeem it. Fly! I am not master,
Whose life I saved, from impulse, as, unknown, It seems, of my own castle--of my own
I would have saved a peasant's or a dog's, I slew, Retainers-nay, even of these very walls,
Kroron as our foe-but not from vengeance. He Or I would bid them fall and crush me! Fly!
Was a rock in our way, which I cut through, Or you 'll be slain by-
As doth the bolt, because it stood between us
And our true destination—but not idly.

Is it even so ?
As stranger I preserved him, and he owed me Farewell, then! Recollect, however, count,
His life; when due, I but resumed the debt.

You sought this fatal interview!
He, you, and I stood o'er a gulf, wherein

SIEGENDORF. I have plunged our enemy. You kindled first

I did:
The torch-you show'd the path: now trace me that Let it not be more fatal still :-Begone!
Of safety-or let me!

I have done with life!

By the same path I enter’d?


Yes; that's safe stil: Let us have done with that which cankers life

But loiter not in Prague ;-you do not know
Familiar feuds and vain recriminations
Of things which cannot be undone. We have

With whom you have to deal.



Is it strange









Where will you go? I would not serd you

I know too well Without protection.
And knew it ere yourself, unhappy sire!

ULRIC. Fareweil

(Exit GABOR.

Leave that unto me.
SIEGENDORF (solus and listening). I am not alone; nor merely the vain heir

He hath clear'd the staircase. Ah! I hear of your domains: a thousand, ay, ten thousand
The door sound loud behind him! he is safe! Swords, hearts, and hands, are mine.
Safe!-Oh, my father's spirit!-I am faint-

[He leans down upon a stone seat, nero the wall

The foresters! of the tower, in a drooping posture. With whom the Hungarian found you first at Frank Enter Ulric, with olhers armed, and with weapons

fort ? drawn,


Yes-men-who are worthy of the name! Go tell Despatch!-he's there !

Your senators that they look well to Prague;

Their feast of peace was early for the times;
The count, my lord ! There are more spirits abroad than have been laid
ULRIC (recognising SIEGENDORF). With Wallenstein!

You here, sir !

Enter JosEPHINE and Ida.
Yes: if you want another victim, strike!
ULRIC (seeing him stript of his jewels).

What is 't we hear? My Siegendorf'
Where is the ruffian who hath plunder'd you ? Thank Heaven, I see you safe !
Vassals, despatch in search of him! You see

SIEGEN DORF. 'T was as I said, the wretch hath stript my father

Of jewels which might form a prince's heirloom!
Away! I'll follow you forthwith.

Yes, dear father! (Exeunt all but SIEGENDORF and ULRIC.

What's this?
Where is the villain ?

No, no; I have no children: never more

Call me by that worst name of parent.
There are two, sir ; which

Are you in quest of ?

Means my good lord ?
Let us hear no more

Of this: he must be found. You have not let him

That you have given birth
Escape ?

To a demon!

IDA (taking Ulric's hand).

Who shall dare say this of Ulric?
With your connivance ?

Ida, beware! there's blood upon that hand.


IDA (stooping to kiss it). My fullest, freest aid.

I'd kiss it off, though it were mine!

Then fare you well!

It is so!
(Ulric is going.
Away! it is your father's !

(Exit ULRIC. Stop! I command-entreat-implore! Oh, Ulric ! Will you then leave me?

Oh, great God!

And I have loved this man!
What! remain to be
Denounced-dragg'd, it may be, in chains; and all

[Ida falls senseless—JOSEPHINE stands speechless

with horror.
By your inherent weakness, half-humanity,
Selfish remorse, and temporising pity,
That sacrifices your whole race to save

The wretch hath slain A wretch to profit by our ruin! No, count,

Them both !-my Josephine! we are now alone! Henceforth you have no son!

Would we had ever been so !--All is over

For me!-Now open wide, my sire, thy grave;

I never had one; Thy curse hath dug it deeper for thy son And would you ne'er had borne the useless name! In mine !—The race of Siegendorf is past !

He's gone.







The Deformed Transformed;




I love, or at the least, I loved you: nothing,

Save you, in nature, can love aught like me.
This production is founded partly on the story of a You nursed me—Jo not kill me.
Norel, called " The Three Brothers," published many
years ago, from which M. G. Lewis's “Wood Demon"

Yes, I nursed theo was also taken—and partly on the “Faust” of the great Because thou wert my first-born, and I knew not Goethe. The present publication contains the first two If there would be another unlike thee, Parts only, and the opening chorus of the third. The That monstrous sport of nature. But get hence, rest may perhaps appear hereafter.

And gather wood!



STRANGER, afterwards CESAR.


Spirits, Soldiers, Citizens of Rome, Priests,

Peasants, etc.




I will: but when I bring it,
Speak to me kindly, Though my brothers are
So beautiful and lusty, and as free
As the free chase they follow, do not spurn me:
Our milk has been the same.


As is the hedgehog's
Which sucks at midnight from the wholesome dam
of the young bull, until the milkınaid finds
The nipple next day sore and udder dry.
Call not thy brothers brethren! call me not
Mother; for if I brought thee forth, it was
As foolish hens at times hatch vipers, by
Sitting upon strange eggs. Out, urchin, out!

(Exil Bertha
ARNOLD (solus).
Oh mother! - She is gone, and I must do
Her bidding ;-wearily but willingly
I would fulfil it, could I only hope
A kind word in return. What shall I do?

(ARNOLD begins to cut wood: in doing this he

wounds one of his hands.
My labour for the day is over now.
Accursed be this blood that flows so fast;
For double curses will be my meed now
At home.-What home? I have no home, no kin,

No kind-nor made like other creatures, or
To share their sports or pleasures. Must I bleed 100,
Like them? Oh that each drop which falls to earth
Would rise a snake to sting them as they have stung me!
Or that the devil, to whom they liken me,

Would aid his likeness! If I must partake
His form, why not his power? Is it because
I have not his will too? For one kind word
From her who bore me, would still reconcile me
Even to this hateful aspect. Let me wash
The wound.

(Arnold goes to a spring, and scoops to wash

his hand: he sturts back.
They are right; and Nature's mirror shows me
What she hath made me. I will not look on it
Again, and scarce dare think on 't. Hideous wretcn
That I am! The very waters mock me with

My horrid shadow-like a demon placed
Deep in the fountain to scare back the cattle
From drinking therein.

(He pauses And shall I live on,

[blocks in formation]


I was born so, mother!

Thou incubus! Thou nightmare! Of seven sons
The sole abortion!


Would that I had been so, And never seen the light!


I would so too!
But as thou hast-hence, hence—and do thy best.
That back of thine may bear its burthen; 't is
More high, if not so broad as that of others.

It bears its burthen ;—but, my heart! will it
Sustain that which you lay upon it, mother?




A burthen to the earth, myself, and shame

Ento what brought me into life? Thou blood,

Unless you keep company
Which flowest so freely from a scratch, let me With him (and you seem scarce used to such high
Try if thou wilt not in a fuller stream

Society), you can't tell how he approaches;
Pour forth my woes for ever with thyself

And for his aspect, look upon the fountain, On earth, to which I will restore at once

And then on me, and judge which of us twain This hateful compound of her atonis, and

Looks likest what the boors believe to bo
Resolve back to her elements, and take

Their cloven-footed terror.
The shape of any reptile save myself,
And make a world for myriads of new worms!

Do you dare your
This knife! now let me prove if it will sever To taunt me with my born deformity?
This wither'd slip of nature's nightshade--my
Vile form-from the creation, as it hath

Were I to taunt a buffalo with this
The green bough from the forest.

Cloven foot of thine, or the switt dromedary
(ARNOLD places the knife in the ground, with With thy sublime of humps, the unimals
the point upwards.

Would revel in the compliment. And yet

Now 't is set, Both beings are more swift, more strong, more mighty And I can fall upon it. Yet one glance

In action and endurance than invself, On the fair day, which sees no foul thing like

And all the fierce and fair of the same kind
Myself, and the sweet sun, which warm'd me, but

With thee. Thy form is natural: 't was only
In vain. The birds—how joyously they sing ! Nature's mistaken largess to bestow
So let them, for I would not be lamented :

The gists which are of others upon man.
But let their merriest notes be Arnold's knell ;

ARNOLD. The falling leaves my monument; the murmur

Give me the strength then of the buffalo's fool, of the near fountain my sole elegy.

When he spurns high the dust, beholding his
Now, knife, stand firmly, as I fain would fall!

Near enemy; or let me have the long
(As he rushes to throw himself upon the knife, and patient swiftness of the desert-ship,

his eye is suddenly caughi by the fountain, The helmless dromedary :—and I 'll bear

which seems in motion. The fountain moves without a wind: but shall

Thy fiendish sarcasm with a saintly patience.
The ripple of a spring change my resolve ?

I will.
No. Yet it moves again! the waters stir,
Not as with air, but by some subterrane

ARNOLD (with surprise).

Thou canst ? And rocking power of the internal world.

STRANGER. What's here? A mist! no more?-

Perhaps. Would you aught else! [A cloud comes from the fountain. He stands

gazing upon it: it is dispelled, and a tall
black man comes towards him.

Thou mockest ine.

What would you ? Speak!

Not I. Why should I mock
Spirit or man?

What all are mocking? That's poor sport, methinks.

To talk to thee in human language (for
As man is both, why not

Thou canst not yet speak mine), the forester

Hunts not the wretched coney, but the boar,
Say both in one?

Or wolf, or lion, leaving paltry game
Your form is man's, and yet

To petty burghers, who leave once a-year
Yo'i may be devil.

Their walls, to fill their household caldrons with

Such scullion prey. The meanest gibe at thee, –

Now I can mock the mightiest.
So many men are that
Which is so call'd or thought, that you n.ay add me


Then waste not To which you please, without much wrong to either. But come : you wish to kill yourself;—pursue

Thy time on me: I seek thee not. Your purpose.


Your thoughts
You have interrupted me.

Are not far from me. Do not send me back :

I am not so easily recall'd to do

Good service.
What is that resolution which can e'er

ARNOLD Be interrupted? If I be the devil

What wilt thou do for me? You deem, a single moment would have made you

STRANGER, Mine, and for ever, by your suicide;

Change And yet my coming saves you.

Shapes with you, if you will, since yours so irks you; ARNOLD.

Or form you to your wish in any shape.

I said not
You were the deinon, but that your approach Oh! then you are indeed the demon, for
Was like one.

Nought else would wittingly wear mine.










Such his desire is, [Pointing to ARNOLD.
I'll show thee

Such my command!
The brightest which the world e'er bore, and give thee Demons heroic-
Thy choice.

Demons who wore

The form of the Stoic
On what condition ?

Or Sophist of yore-

Or the shape of each victor,
There's a question !

From Macedon's boy
An hour ago you would have given your soul

To each high Roman's picture, To look like other men, and now you pause

Who breathed to destroy
To wear the form of heroes.

Shadows of beauty!

Shadows of power!
No; I will not.

Up to your duty-
I must not compromise my soul.

This is the hour!

(Various Phantoms arise from the waters, anel What soul,

pass in succession before the Stranger and

Worth naming so, would dwell in such a carcass ?

What do I see?
'T is an aspiring one, whate'er the tenement
In which it is mislodged. But name your compact :

The black-eyed Roman, with Must it be sign'd in blood ?

The eagle's beak between those eyes which ne'er

Beheld a conqueror, or look'd along
Not in your own. The land he made not Rome's, while Rome became

His, and all theirs who heir'd his very name.
Whose blood then?


The phantom 's bald; my quest is beauty. Could I
We will talk of that hereafter.

Inherit but his fame with his defects ! But I'll be moderate with you, for I sce

STRANGER. Great things within you. You shall have no bond

His brow was girt with laurels more than hairs. But your own will, no contract save your deeds.

You see his aspect-choose it or reject.
Are you content ?

I can but promise you his form ; his fame
I take thee at thy word.

Must be long sought and fought for.
Now then !-

I will fight too.

But not as a mock Cæsar. Let him pass;
(The Stranger approaches the fountain, and
turns to ARNOLD.

His aspect may be fair, but suits me not.

A little of your blood.

Then you are far more difficult to please

For what? Than Cato's sister, or than Brutus' mother,

Or Cleupatra at sixteen--an age
To mingle with the magic of the waters,

When love is not less in the eye than heart.
And make the charm effective.

But be it so! Shadow, pass on!
ARNOLD (holding out his wounded arm).

[T'he Phantom of Julius Cæsar disappears. Take it all.

And can it
Not now.

Be, that the man who shook the earth is gone
A few drops will suffice for this.

And left no footstep?
[The Stranger takes some of ARNOLD's blood in
his hand, and casts it into the fountain.

There you err. His substanca
Shadows of beauty!

Left graves enough, and woes enough, and fame
Shadows of power!

More than enough to track his memory;
Rise to your duty-

But for his shadow, 't is no more than yours,
This is the hour!

Except a little longer and less crooked
Walk lovely and pliant!

['the sun. Behold another !
From the depth of this fountain,

(A second Phantom passen
As the cloud-shapen giant
Bestrides the Hartz mountain.'

Who is he?
Come as ye were,
That our eyes may behold

He was the fairest and the bravest of
The model in air

Athenians. Look upon him weli.
of the form I will mould,
Bright as the Iris

He is
When ether is spann'd-

More lovely than the last. How beautiful!

RTRANGER. I This is a well-known German superstition-a gigantic eta low produced by reflection on the Brocken.

Such was the curled son of Clinias ;-Woulast thau







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