ページの画像
PDF
ePub

FROM THE MARTYR OF ANTIOCH.

Call.

Ha! look again, then,

There in the East. Mark how the purple clouds
Throng to pavilion him: the officious winds
Pant forth to purify his azure path

From night's dun vapours and fast-scattering mists.
The glad earth wakes in adoration; all
The voices of all animate things lift up
Tumultuous orisons; the spacious world
Lives but in him, that is its life. But he,
Disdainful of the universal homage,

Holds his calm way, and vindicates for his own

Th' illimitable heavens, in solitude

Of peerless glory unapproachable.

What means thy proud undazzled look, to adore
Or mock, ungracious?

Marg.

On yon burning orb

I gaze, and say,-Thou mightiest work of Him

493

That launch'd thee forth, a golden-crowned bridegroom, To hang thy everlasting nuptial lamp

In the exulting heavens. In thee the light,

Creation's eldest born, was tabernacled.

To thee was given to quicken slumbering nature,
And lead the seasons' slow vicissitude

Over the fertile breast of mother earth;

Till men began to stoop their grov'lling prayers,
From the Almighty Sire of all, to thee.
And I will add,―Thou universal emblem,
Hung in the forehead of the all-seen heavens,
Of Him, that, with the light of righteousness,
Dawn'd on our latter days; the visitant day-spring
Of the benighted world. Enduring splendour!
Giant refresh'd! that ever more renew'st

Thy flaming strength; nor ever shalt thou cease
With time coeval, even till Time itself
Hath perish'd in eternity. Then thou
Shalt own, from thy apparent deity

Debased, thy mortal nature, from the sky

Withering before the all-enlightening Lamb,

Whose radiant throne shall quench all other fires.

Call. And yet she stands unblasted! In thy mercy Thou dost remember all my faithful vows,

Hyperion! and suspend the fiery shaft

That quivers on thy string. Ah, not on her,

This innocent, wreak thy fury! I will search,

And thou wilt lend me light, although they shroud

In deepest Orcus. I will pluck them forth,

And set them up a mark for all thy wrath;
Those that beguiled to this unholy madness

My pure and blameless child. Shine forth, shine forth,
Apollo, and we'll have our full revenge!

[Exit.

Marg. 'Tis over now-and oh, I bless thee, Lord, For making me thus desolate below;

For severing one by one the ties that bind me

To this cold world-for whither can earth's outcasts
Fly but to heaven?

Yet is no way but this,

None but to steep my father's lingering days
In bitterness? Thou knowest, gracious Lord
Of mercy, how he loves me, how he loved me
From the first moment that my eyes were open'd
Upon the light of day and him. At least,
If thou must smite him, smite him in thy mercy.
He loves me as the life-blood of his heart;
His love surpasses every love but thine.

JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES.
(1784-1862.).

MR. KNOWLES is a dramatic writer who has attempted to revive the style of the age of Elizabeth and James I. In the effort he occasionally degenerates into bombast, sometimes into puerility; but his writings abound with admirable scenic pictures, and frequently rise into impassioned poetry. His dramas consist of tragedies, and of that semi-comedy denoted by the term "play." His plots and characters are generally interesting and truthful, though the reader often feels painfully the imitation of an "age." The style and theory of the dramas of Mr. Knowles seem fashioned on those of Massinger. He enjoys the honour of being almost the only modern dramatic writer whose efforts in tragedy have been popular. Mr. Knowles was a native of Cork in Ireland; he taught elocution for some time, and latterly was a Baptist preacher. He had a pension of £200 per annum.

FROM CAIUS GRACCHUS.
Act IV. Scene 2.

PARTING OF GRACCHUS AND HIS MOTHER.

Cornelia. I do not like that Flaccus.

Hath more ambition than integrity,

He's a man

And zeal than wisdom. Is he of your party?

C. Grac. He is.

1 Mr. Knowles has perhaps injured his genius by sometimes writing with a view to the representation of a particular actor. Imagination, which "bodies forth the forms of things that are not," must be stinted in her flight by a process which reverses the order of the two departments of the dramatic art.

2 The lady whose Roman pride plumed itself in contemplating her renown as the "Mother of the Gracchi."-We have selected the extract as an example of the "dramatic" power of Mr. Knowles; in "William Tell," "The Wife," etc., will be found beautiful examples of his poetic faculty.

FROM CAIUS GRACCHUS.

Cor. The sooner then you break with him
The better. Send him word you cannot come.

C. Grac. My word's already pledged to go with him
To the Forum.

Cor. On what errand, Caius Gracchus?
Is it about your laws they would annul?
Mind, Caius, you're no longer Tribune!
C. Grac. Fear not!

I shall be prudent.

Cor. Stop, Caius.

495

[Going.

[Takes his hand.

I can almost think you still

The boy did con his lessons at my knee,
And I could rule in all his little moods

With but a look.-Ay, Caius-but a look

Of your mother's made you calm as sunshine, in
Your biggest storm! I would not lose you, Caius !
Caius, I would not lose you !—Go not to

The Forum.

C. Grac. Mother, is it you?

Cor. Ay, son!

It is your mother,1 feels that she is all

The mother-whatso'er she seems.—I would

Be left a son, my Caius !—Go not to

The Forum!

C. Grac. Wherefore, mother?-What is there
That I should fear?

Cor. Your brother's blood,2 my son !
Do I not know you, Caius?

[blocks in formation]

*

*

Does not his blood

Cry for revenge, and is your ear unapt

To hear it?-Caius, that dear brother's death's
The life of all thy acts!-'T was that did plead
For Vettius-ask'd the Tribuneship—revived
Tiberius' laws-defied the Senate-made thee
Like a god to Rome, dealing out fate-and, now
Thou art no longer arm'd with thy great office,
Would lead thee forth to sacrifice-My son,
Go not to the Forum! 'Tis a worthless cause!
Why should you go, my Caius? To defend
Your laws from abrogation? Think of them
For whom you made those laws--the fickle people
Did lend a hand to pull you from your seat,
And raise up them they shake at! Thou art single!
Thou hast no seconds! 'Tis a hopeless struggle !
So sunk are all, the heart of public virtue
Has not the blood to make it beat again!

1 The extract affords several examples of Mr. Knowles' favourite idiom, the omission of the relative.

2 Tiberius Gracchus had, several years before (133 B. C.), fallen a victim in the cause for which his brother was now about to sacrifice himself.

C. Grac. And should I therefore sink with the base times? What, mother, what! Are the gods also base?

Is virtue base? Is honour sunk? Is manhood
A thing contemptible-and not to be

Maintain'd? Remember you Messina, mother?
Once from its promontory we beheld
A galley in a storm; and as the bark
Approach'd the fatal shore, could well discern
The features of the crew with horror all
Aghast, save one! Alone he strove to guide
The prow, erect amidst the horrid war
Of winds and waters raging.-With one hand
He ruled the hopeless helm-the other strain'd
The fragment of a shiver'd sail-his brow
The while bent proudly on the scowling surge,
At which he scowled again.-The vessel struck!
One man alone bestrode the wave, and rode
The foaming courser safe! 'Twas he, the same!-
You clasp'd your Caius in your arms, and cried,
“Look, look, my son! the brave man ne'er despairs ;
And lives where cowards die!" I would but make

Due profit of your lesson.

Cor. Caius Caius !

C. Grac. Mother-I

Cor. My Son !

C. Grac. Well, I'll not go [sits down], I will be ruled by you,
If you please; let men say what they list of me.
I care not if they whisper as I pass,

And point and smile, and say to one another,
"Lo the bold Tribune Gracchus! Lo the man
Did lord it o'er the Senate !" What is't to me!
I know I am your son, and would approve it
If I might—but since you will not have it so,
I'll stay from the Forum, mother; I'll not go
To the Forum.

Cor. Know the people you did promise
To go?

C. Grac. Are they not here with Fulvius Flaccus
Expecting me? But let them go with him;

He'll speak for them.-He'll be their friend-He'll dare
Oppose the Senate.-He'll preserve my laws
If he can. If there's no other man to speak
For liberty, he'll do it! Pray you, mother,
Send Lucius to them-tell them I'll not go
Abroad to-day.

Cor. You must go to the Forum-you must.
C. Grac. Not if you will it not.
Cor. I neither will it nor will it not.
C. Grac. Unless you bid me go,

They go without me!

BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO.

Cor. Why, I think, as it is,

You cannot help but go. I know not what's
The matter. 'Tis perhaps the fears of thy wife
Infect me but I've dark forebodings, Caius.
What will be left me, should I lose thee, Son?
C. Grac. My monument !
Cor. Go to the Forum.
You are Cornelia's Son!

C. Grac. My only use

Of life's to prove it!

Go!

Cor. Go! Go! Go! my Caius.1

497

JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART.

(1794-1854)

MR. LOCKHART's translations of the historical and romantic ballads of Spain have long been esteemed for the spirit and elegance with which the poet has exhibited the peculiar beauties of this literature in an English dress. The chivalrous incidents of the history of Spain, during her eight centuries of Moorish warfare, gave rise to a greater number of these compositions, and of greater excellence, than any other nation has produced. Mr. Lockhart was born in the manse or parsonage of Cambusnethan, Lanarkshire, in 1794. His father afterwards became one of the ministers of Glasgow, and John was educated for the law at Glasgow University, subsequently at Balliol College, Oxford. He was admitted to the Scottish bar, but attached himself to literature; and, after publishing some novels in Edinburgh (Valerius, Reginald Dalton, and Adam Blair), and contributing to Blackwood's Magazine, he married the eldest daughter of Sir Walter Scott. In 1825 he succeeded Mr. Gifford as editor of the Quarterly Review. Mr. Lockhart survived his wife, sister-in-law, brothers-in-law, and his two sons, and died at the age of 60, at AbbotsBesides the above works, Lockhart was author of an excellent little life of Burns, and a life of his illustrious father-in-law, Scott. He was a man of fine critical taste and scholarship, but cold, sarcastic, and reserved in private life.

ford.

BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO.2

WITH some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appear'd Before them all in the Palace hall, the lying King to beard; With cap in hand and eye on ground, he came in reverend guise, But ever and anon he frown'd and flame broke from his eyes.

1 The lights of this passage are reflected from Jul. Cæs. Act ii. Sc. 2, where Calphurnia persuades Cæsar to stay at home.

Bernardo del Carpio, the illegitimate son of Donna Ximena (the sister of King Alonzo or Alphonso the chaste), and of Don Sancho Count Saldana, is supposed to have the interview, described in the ballad, with the king, after Alphonso's treacherous execution, or rather murder, of Bernardo's father. The period is contemporaneous with that of Charlemagne.

« 前へ次へ »