sentatives of wealth in a demand for reform, and a reform was secured. But by sad experience the people have learned, that the tyranny of the nobility was freedom, compared with the exactions of a tyranny of wealth. When it is too late, they have been taught the hollow-heartedness of their pretended friends. While they have secured some more apparent and undoubted rights, other and more indispensable ones are yet retained by their new masters, as a security for their future and implicit obedience to arbitrary power. If the pernicious political influence of wealth has thus soon been exhibited in England, where it was called upon to contend with time-honored institutions; with a body of men, many of whom have been justly called "nature's noblemen," we need not be surprised that in our country its course has been more direct, its advance more rapid. The boldness of those, its advocates, who openly avow the principle that the government can only be administered under their direction, attests the confidence which they have in their own strength, and the number of their disciples furnishes sad proofs that many are too ready to obtain quiet, at whatever sacrifice. Should this quiet ever come, we fear it will be but that which precedes dissolution; a calm soon to be broken by a convulsion of the political elements, which will not leave a relic of our former greatness. That would be the state of lethargy against which Washington in his farewell address to his countrymen warned them; that the state which the experience of all former ages, which common sense dictates that we should shun.

But while there is much reason for despondency, and many are ready to give up all as lost, we cannot but indulge the hopes, which a more favorable view of our subject creates. The excitement that lately prevailed, was the result of causes which, ever existing among a free people, are liable to be misdirected, but which, if properly controlled, will lead to prosperity, and to happiness. We believe the mass of the people yet retain a holy reverence for the institutions established by the toil, and consecrated with the blood of their ancestors. Virtue yet exists amongst us, and its genial influences will soon be witnessed in the restoration of confidence, and the increased devotion of our countrymen to that constitution, which is justly deemed the great charter of all our religious, as well as civil, rights and privileges. But yet, while the enterprise of our country should be encouraged, while individual wealth and. prosperity should be protected and advanced, every patriot should watch with anxious diligence any attempt on the part of ambitious but reckless men, to convert our free institutions into an engine for the oppression of the people, by the establishment of an odious monied tyranny.

Therese.

Silence, girl!

Thou prat'st of folly. Were my heart like thine,
So pulseless, cold, I'd swear I was not woman.
Has Heaven to thy dull brain omniscience giv'n
To grope amid the formless, darkling future
And tell me what's hereafter? Aye, 'tis true
That fate ne'er writes again her writ decrees,
But woman's love is second fate,-less wise,
Yet still omnipotent. And thou hast lov'd!
Some roving eye perchance hath met thine own,
And op'd a fount of blushes on thy cheek,-
Or soulless flatt'ry, in thy willing ear,

Hath breath'd a witching word it did not mean,
Until a sickly thrill came o'er thy heart,

And this thou thought'st was love! Dreamer! live on
Till folly make thee wise. Listen! To love,
And to be lov'd! plain words, yet eloquent;

To gather up each strong affection, hope,
Desire, and plant them in another's bosom,-
To bid the soul grow warm with thought,-engrave
Upon the heart an envied name 'round which
The fadeless flowers of memory are wreath'd,-
To hear the hours trip by, and on the ear
Leave sounds like angels' whisperings,―to see
Nor blot nor shadow on the page of life,-
To live two lives in one,-oh! this is love.

(Enter De Lacy, disguised as a minstrel.)
De Lacy.

Who speaks of love, an airy word that comes
And goes with every breath?-something, nothing—
Manhood's plaything—woman's bauble.

Therese.

Minstrel,

What mean these words, and why thy presence here?

Thy calling is a holy one. "Tis thine

Together we have fought, together sung—

Edessa, Gaza, Jaffa, bear our names

Enstamp'd in blood upon their walls. He bade Me seek Therese with words like these.

(Sings.)

As the moonbeams on the river

In the mimic ripples quiver ;

Like the storm-cloud's misty wreathings;-
Like the zephyr's fitful breathings;—
As the painted flush of morning,
When a summer's day is dawning ;-
Transient as a comet's streamings;—
Idle as our childhood's dreamings;—
Thus is woman's love alluring,
Bright at first yet ne'er enduring.

Therese.

Poor heart!

Thou need'st not flutter thus and strive to choke
The life blood in thine agony. Think on,
My stricken brain, and in thy secret cells
Weave out some fond excuse to plead for him.
De Lacy cannot sin; his guileless soul
Would change the ill to good ere yet it liv'd,
And stamp upon each coinage of his heart
The seal of purity. Aye, come ye tears,
And course your way till vanish'd in the air,
Then speed to Ascalon and fall in drops
Of mercy on De Lacy's head, and say
"Therese is still thine own.'

By busy day and lonely night,

By land, by sea, I've sought a gem,
That I might set its flashing light,
To crown affection's diadem.

"Twas vain! and every new-born hour
First found then left me sad-alone ;-
The bud ne'er blossom'd to the flower;-
Maiden, the minstrel's lay is done.

Elvina.

Therese, what means that look,

That stifled sob and heaving breast?-those tears,
The paleness of thy cheek, and trembling lips?—
Nay, gaze not wildly thus. Hath some foul sprite
Benumbed thy soul with spells of witchery?

Therese.

"Tis all a dream. The while the minstrel sung
Methought I stood amid the dead and dying.
A sea of blood was surging at my feet,
While the air groan'd with horrid imprecations.
The trampling of a steed,—and like a storm
On ocean waves, De Lacy hurried by ;-
One chilling frown and he was gone. Again
I trod these halls; the mellow light of eve
Was painting earth and sky with lines of beauty.
The breeze was hush'd, and a lone star was out
To catch the streamlet's murmurings.

The future's dreamy hours were 'round my soul,
Culling each treasur'd beauty from the past,
And shad'wing out a lovely scene. A voice
Rang on the air and he was at my side,

And pointing to his shield on which was sketch'd
A blasted bud, he sigh'd and pass'd away.