Let it work on! the grave will keep it down! 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 That there were crimes made venial by the occasion? In open day? By his disgrace which stamp'd (It might be) bastardy on me, and on Himself a felon's brand! The man who is At once both warm and weak, invites to deeds He longs to do, but dare not. Is it strange That I should act what you could think? We have done With right or wrong, and now must only ponder Upon effects, not causes. Stralenheim, Whose life I saved, from impulse, as, unknown, I would have saved a peasant's or a dog's, I slew, Known as our foe-but not from vengeance. Was a rock in our way, which I cut through, As doth the bolt, because it stood between us And our true destination-but not idly. As stranger I preserved him, and he owed me His life; when due, I but resumed the debt. He, you, and I stood o'er a gulf, wherein I have plunged our enemy. You kindled first The torch-you show'd the path: now trace me that Of safety-or let me ! SIEGENDORF. I have done with life! He Let us have done with that which cankers life- Am I awake? are these my father's halls? Am plunged into the deepest hell of both! I must be speedy, or more will be shed- [Exit into the turret, closing the door after him. GABOR. I know too wellAnd knew it ere yourself, unhappy sire! Fareweil Where will you go? I would not serd you forth ULRIC. [He leans down upon a stone seat, near the wall Enter ULRIC, with others armed, and with weapons SIEGENDORF. The foresters! With whom the Hungarian found you first at Frank fort? Let us hear no more Of this: he must be found. You have not let him SIEGENDORF. To a demon! That you have given birth IDA (taking ULRIC's hand). The Deformed Transformed; A DRAMA. ADVERTISEMENT. I love, or at the least, I loved you: nothing, BERTHA. This production is founded partly on the story of a Novel, called "The Three Brothers," published many years ago, from which M. G. Lewis's "Wood Demon" was also taken and partly on the "Faust" of the great Goethe. The present publication contains the first two Parts only, and the opening chorus of the third. The That monstrous sport of nature. But get hence, rest may perhaps appear hereafter. Yes-I nursed thee And gather wood! ARNOLD. I will: but when I bring it, As the free chase they follow, do not spurn me: BERTHA. As is the hedgehog's ARNOLD (solus). Oh mother!-She is gone, and I must do 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 My labour for the day is over now. For double curses will be my meed now At home. What home? I have no home, no kin, To share their sports or pleasures. Must I bleed too, [ARNOLD goes to a spring, and soops to wash They are right; and Nature's mirror shows me A burthen to the earth, myself, and shame And make a world for myriads of new worms! STRANGER. Unless you keep company With him (and you seem scarce used to such high ARNOLD. Do you dare To taunt me with my born deformity ? STRANGER. Were I to taunt a buffalo with this [ARNOLD places the knife in the ground, with With thy sublime of humps, the unimals the point upwards. Now 't is set, me, And I can fall upon it. Yet one glance but [As he rushes to throw himself upon the knife, his eye is suddenly caught by the fountain, which seems in motion. The fountain moves without a wind: but shall [A cloud comes from the fountain. He stands Would revel in the compliment. And yet Both beings are more swift, more strong, more mighty And all the fierce and fair of the same kind The gifts which are of others upon man. STRANGER. Not I. Why should I mock What all are mocking? That's poor sport, methinks. To talk to thee in human language (for Thou canst not yet speak mine), the forester To petty burghers, who leave once a-year ARNOLD. Then waste not Thy time on me: I seek thee not. Are not far from me. STRANGER. Your thoughts Do not send me back: I am not so easily recall'd to do Good service. Shapes with you, if you will, since yours so irks you; Or form you to your wish in any shape. ARNOLD. Oh! then you are indeed the demon, for Nought else would wittingly wear mine. |