NATHAN.

SALADIN,

NATHAN.
SALADIN.

NATHAN.

SALADIN.

NATHAN,

(Alone.) Hem! Hem! "Tis strange

What's come to me. What will the Sultan have?

I was prepared for gold, and he requires

Truth Truth! Aye, Aye, and the truth so bright so ready
As if 'twere cash. Aye, were it only cash

Of ancient days, weighed out, and proved by balance,

Then it might pass! But cash like that we have,

That has its value from the impress of it,
That may be counted only,-'tis not that!
May truth be swept into the brain, like cash
Into a bag. Who is the Jew to day?

I or the Sultan? Then suppose he did not
Demand the truth in truth? And yet and yet,
It were too little to suspect that he

SALADIN.

NATHAN.

Well told! I did not promise that.

SALADIN.

Again

So proudly modest! Čome, thy tale, thy tale.

NATHAN. Long ages past, there lived a man in Ind,
That did possess a ring of priceless worth
By a loved hand bestowed. The jewel was

An Opal, that a hundred beauteous colours
Shot forth, and had the secret power, him
To render pleasant in God's sight, and man's
Who wore it in this confidence. What wonder,
That hence this man of Ind. from finger ne'er
The ring put off, and on a plan resolved him
The jewel ever in his house to guard.

This was his trick. He did bequeath the ring

To the most loved of all his sons; and then

This most loved, without respect of birth,

By the sole virtue of the ring he wore

Should be the house's chief and head. Conceive me.

SALADIN. I do conceive thee: on!

NATHAN.

SALADIN.

NATHAN.

SALADIN.

Thus, then, the ring,
From son to son descending, came, at last,
Unto the father of three sons, of whom
All three with equal faithfulness obeyed him,
All three of whom he could not choose but love
With like affection. Tho', from time to time,
Now this one, and now that, and now the third,
As each did chance to be alone with him,
And his out-pouring heart the other twain
Divided not-appeared the worthiest

At last

To own the ring; which hence, with loving weakness,
He did to each, as each was present, promise.
Thus things went on while they went on.
Death was at hand, and the good father felt
His sore embarrassment. It grieved him, two,
From out his sons, that trusted on his word,
To wound so deeply. What was to be done?
He sends in secret for a cunning artist
And bids him, after pattern of his ring,
Two other rings to chase, and neither cost
Nor labour spare, to make the other two
The first resemble, to the veriest shade.

The artist's skill succeeds. And when brought home
The father's eye itself can not pick out

His pattern ring. Relieved and glad he bids
His sons be summoned, each one by himself,
And gives to each his blessing, and his ring,
And so he dieth. Thou dost hear me, Sultan.

For what succeeded needs no words to tell.

Scarce is the father dead; each son stands forth,
Displays his ring and grounds his claim thereon

To be the chief. Examinations, quarrels,

And accusations follow. All in vain.

The true ring could not be identified.

(After a pause, during which he seems to await the Sultan's reply.) 'Twas 'most as hard to be identified

As is to us the true belief.

How? That

Must be the answer to my question,

At least excuse me, if I do not dare
To separate the rings the father made
With the intent to be inseparable.

SALA DIN. The rings! No jesting, Jew! I had believed
That the religions I had named to thee
Were readily, most readily distinguished,

NATHAN.

SALADIN.

Down to the clothing-down to meat and drink.

And only by the grounds they rest on! Not so.
For grounds not each itself on history?
Written or handed down. And must we not
Take history on credit, as a thing

Of faith in truthfulness? Is it no so?

Well, then, whose credit are we least inclined

To call in question. Is it not our friends?

Their's, of whose blood we are their's who from childhood
Have given us proofs of their attachment, who

Have ne'er deceived us, save where it was wholesome.

How can I trust my fathers less than thou

Dost trust thine own. Or, the converse,-this:

How can I ask of thee that thou shouldst hold

Thy fathers sires not to contradict

What mine asssert. Or the converse of this:
The same will hold for Christians. Is it not so ?

(aside.)

Aye, by the Living One! The man is right.
I cannot answer.

NATHAN. Let us to our rings

SALADIN.

NATHAN.

Once more. As I have hinted, the three sons
Accused each other to the judge, and swore
That each obtained the ring from his own father,
As was indeed the case! Obtained it, too,
After a promise given, a long time past,

That he, the son who spoke, should once enjoy
The privilege of the ring-as was the case.

The father, each asserted never would

Have been so treacherous towards him; e'er that he

Would suspect this of such a dear, kind father

He must, though willing to believe the best,
Of his two brothers, hold them guilty both

Of most foul play; and he would soon find means
To lay the traitors bare, and be revenged.

Well? and the judge? O? how I long to hear
What words thou'lt put into the judge's mouth.

The judge said : If I cannot bid your father
Appear before me, I must e'en dismiss you.
Think ye that I sit here to unpuzzle riddles ?
Or do ye wait till the ring opes its mouth?
Yet stay. I'm told the true ring doth possess
The magic power to make its owner loved,
Pleasant to God and man. That must decide,
For the false rings will surely not possess
This mighty power. Well. Which of you three
Is by the other two most loved. Speak! Dumb?
Do the rings work upon their owners merely,
And not on others? Does each love himself

SALADIN.

NATHAN.

Himself alone, the most. O then are ye all three
Deceived deceivers ! and your rings all three
Not genuine. The genuine may be lost,
And to conceal or to replace that loss

Your father made three rings instead of one.
Excellent.

"Therefore”—thus the judge continued,
"If you'll not take my counsel for my sentence,
Go hence. But this my council is-Receive
The matter as it is. If each of you

Obtained his ring from his own father's hands
Let each of you believe his ring the true one.
Perhaps your father would no longer suffer
The lordship of the ring within his house.
'Tis certain that he loved you all three,
And loved you equally, since he'd not press
On two to raise the third. So let it be,
Let each one show his zeal to emulate
Your sire's unbribed, unprejudiced affection ;
Let eace, in generous strife with one another,
Endeavour to display the magic power
That dwells within his ring, and to assist
With gentleness of spirit, heart-felt concord,
Well-doing, giving of himself to God:
And if the power of the jewel then

Do in your children's children show itself,
I summon you before this judgment seat
Once more in ages yet unreckoned; then

A wiser man than I will sit upon it

And give his sentence. Go." Thus and thus spake
The modest judge.

If thou believest thyself to be this man
This wiser judge that should appear,

SALADIN (moves quickly towards him and seixes his hand. )

NATHAN.

SALADIN.

I! Worm!

Dust! nought! O heaven!

What ails thee, noble Sultan?

Nathan dear Nathan! The ages yet unreckoned
That thy judge spoke of, have not come about,
His judgment seat is not the one I own.

Go! go! but be my friend.

SONNETS.

BY GEORGE TWEDDELL, P.G.

TO MILTON.

All-hallow'd Milton! though thine earthly eyes
Were dark as is the unillumined night :

Yet thy rapt fancy spirit soar'd beyond the skies,
Undazzled, e'en by Heaven's all-radiant light :
No earthly objects could impede thy flight;
For unto thee were given visions fair

Of man, fresh from his Maker, ere the blight
Of Sin had fallen on the happy pair
Who dwelt in Eden, God's especial care.

Thou lived in troubled times, immortal bard!

In times when there was need of such as thee

And we rejoice to know thou labour'd hard

For thine own "mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty,"

And now hast gain'd of Fame "exceeding great reward."

TO JOHN CRITCHLEY PRINCE.

Author of "Hours with the Muses."

Hail! prince of modern poets! thou whose song
So oft hath charm'd me in dull sorrow's hour:
To grasp thy honest hand I oftimes long;
For few like thee have gain'd the magic power
Of charming heart and mind; it is a dower
Which Nature only on a few bestows,
For fear that she the honour due should lose
Which from her sons she claims. For poets are
Nature's first fav'rites; and their only care
Is for their mother, knowing well that she
Is no cross step-dame, but a parent kind,

For ever stirring to endow mankind

With peace, and love, and health, and liberty,
Whose pioneers are poets such as thee.