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J'irais loin d'elle encor, tâcher de l'oublier?
Non, non, à mes tourmens je neux l'associer.
C'est trop gémir tout seul; je suis las qu'on nec plaigne,
Je prétends qu'à mon tour l'inhumaine nec craigne,
Et que les yeux cruels, à pleurer condamnés,
Me rendent tous les noms que je leur ai donnés.

In fact we pity Orestes more than we condemn him, and the friendship which unites him with Pylades, gives a sort of interest to his character, and carries us still further in lessening his crime. We think vaguely, that a man who has one friend remaining, may have been guilty, though not absolutely wicked. We are struck when, in the midst of all his sinister projects, he resolved to bear away Hermione; the only soft sentiment which remains, is in favour of Pylades:

Mais toi, par quelle erreur veux-tu toujours sur toi
Detourner un courroux qui ne cherche que moi?
Assez et trop long-tems mon amitié taccable:
Evite un malheureux, abandonne un coupable.
Cher Pylade, crois-moi, ta pitié te séduit.
Laisse-moi des périls dont j'attends tout le fruit;
Porte aux Grecs cet enfait que Pyrrhus m'abandonne.
Va-t-en.

And what is the answer of Pylades? It is not one of those sententious phrases such as we see so often in Corneille. He does not say a real friend should sacrifice every thing to his duty:-or, I know how a true friend would act in such a case: friendship fears no danger, &c. He shows all this in a single word:

Allons, seigneur, enlevons Hermione. One word like this is better than a whole treatise on friendship; in the same manner as the recommendations to virtue, which occur in our good tragedies, surpass what is said by the moralists, One of the great advantages of the drama consists in the superiority of action to discourse.

How affecting is the reply of Orestes!
J'abuse, cher ami, de ton trop d'amitié.
Mais pardonne à des maux dont toi seul as pitié.

Excuse un malheureux qui perd tout ce qu'il aime,
Que tout le monde hait, et qui se hait lui-même.

How different the distress! yet all are interesting, all appeal to the heart, all are tragical.

But Hermione surpasses every thing. This is one of the most astonishing creations of Racine's pen: it is the triumph of a new and sublime art. No one will deny that it belongs entirely to his genius. Where is the model of Hermione? where, before the time of Racine, do we behold such profound developments of the recesses of the human heart: such a flow and reflux so incessant and active of all the passions which can agitate a noble and wounded mind; such prompt and conflicting emotions, crossing each other like lightning; such rapid transitions from the imprecations of hatred to all the tenderness of love, from the effusions of joy to the transports of fury, from indifference and affected disdain to a despair which vents itself in lamentations, reproaches, and menaces; such rage, at one time blind and concentrated, and secretly meditating all the horrors of vengeance, and then furious, declaring the most terrible threats? When Pyrrhus, driven to despair by the disdain of Andromache, is about to es. pouse Hermione, in what manner does she address her confidante!

Pyrrhus revient à nous! Eh bien! chere Cléone,
Conçois-tu les transports de l'heureuse Hermione?
Sais-tu quel est Pyrrhus? t'es-tu fait raconter
Le nombre des exploits!- mais qui peut les compter?
Intrépide, et partout suivi de la victoire,
Charmant, fidele enfin, rien ne manque à sa gloire.

Pyrrhus returns to Andromache: she is silent, and only waits for Orestes, to demand from him the head of a perjured lover. On his arrival he commences with a profusion of protestations. She inrerrupts him:

Vengez-moi: je crois tout. Orestes resolves, though with pain, to serve her, and we see what a struggle it costs him to become an assassin, even when a rival is the object. Notwithstanding his promises, she does not believe herself secure of him.

Pyrrhus n'est pas coupable à ses yeux comme aux miens
Et je tiendrais mes coups bien plus sûrs que les siens.
Quel plaisir de venger moi-même mon injure,
De retirer mon bras teint du

sáng du parjure,
Et pour rendre sa peine et mes plaisirs plus grands,
De cacher ma rivale à ses regards mourans!
Ah! si du moins Oreste en punissant son crime,
Lui laissait le regret du mouvir ma victime!
Vas le trouver: dis-lui qu'il apprenne à l'ingrat
Qu'on l'immole à ma haine et non pas à l'etat.
Chere Cléone, cours, ma vengeance est perdue,
S'il ignore en mouvant que c'est moi que le tue.

She perceives Pyrrhus. Her first emotion is that of hope; her first cry is an order to him to run after Orestes, and prevent him from doing any thing until she sees him. Pyrrhus acknowledges all his wrongs, and avows his determination to espouse Andromache. Hermione at first dissembles her resentment. She thinks that it would be degrading to appear too sensible of his conduct, and we behold the last struggle of pride against love. She even affects to lessen the hero whom she had just before exalted to the skies. His exploits are nothing but cruelties: she reproaches him with the death of the aged Priam. Pyrrhus answers her like a man quite indifferent. He applauds her tranquillity, and believes himself not so culpable as he feared. He flatters himself that their marriage would have been no more than an arrangement dictated by policy. But Hermione will not let him off so easily: irritated love can no longer contain itself, and when Pyrrhus says,

Rien ne vous engageait à m'aimer en effect;

she bursts forth in the following terms:

Je ne t'ai point aimé, cruel! qu'ai-je donc fait?
J'ai dedaigne pour toi les væux de tous nos princes,
Je t'ai cherche moi-même au fond de tes provinces.
J'y suis encor, malgré tes infidelités,
Et malgré tous nos Grecs honteux

mes bontés.

Je leur ai commandé de cacher mon injure;
J'attendais en secret le retour d'un parjure.
J'ai cru que tôt au tard, à ton devoir rendu,
Tu me rapporterais un cæur qui m'etait dû.
Je t'aimais inconstant, qu'aurais-je fait fidelle?
Et même, en ce moment, où ta bouche cruelle
Vient si tranquillement m'annoncer le trépas,
Ingrat, je doute encor si je ne t'aime pas.

Reproaches soon produce tenderness and intreaty: this is the coure of nature. And how is this change of tone marked?

Mais, seigneur, s'il faut, si le ciel en colere,
Réserve à d'autres yeux la gloire de vous plaire,
Achevez notre hymen, j'y consens, mais du moins,
Ne forcez pas mes yeux d'en être les temoins.
Pour la derniere fois je vous parle peut-être;
Différer-le d'un jour, demain vous serez maitre.

There are, in this request, many sentiments, of which an agitated mind does not take notice, and which wholly occupy it without its being conscious of it. She is softened, and does not wish that Pyrrhus, by espousing Andromache, should expose himself to the rage of the Greeks. She asks but one day: this at least defers the greatest of misfortunes, and the delay may perhaps prevent it: hope never abandons love. But Pyrrhus appears insensible to her prayer. She asks but one day, and is refused: nothing then remains for her but despair.

Vous ne répondez point?-Perfide, je le roi,
Tu comptes les momens que tu perds avec moi.
Ton cæur, impatient de revoir ta Troyenne;
Ne souffre qu'à regret qu'une autre t'entretienne.
Tu lui parles du cœur, tu la cherches des yeux-
Je ne te retiens plus, sauve-toi de ces lieux,
Va lui jurer le foi que tu m'avais jurée:
Va profaner des dieu la majesté sacrée.
Ces dieux, ces justes dieux n'auront pas oublié
Que les mêmes sermens avec moi t'ont lié.

Porte aux pieds des autels ce ceur qui m'abandonne,
Va cours; mais crains encor d'y trouver Hermione.

Love and rage united have never been represented more justly and horribly. It would be endless to enter into the detail of all that is expressed in this morsel. The analysis of five or six of Racine's characters of this description, would form a complete history of love. No man ever understood or painted it, in a better

What life there is in this verse!

manner.

Tu comptes les momens que tu perds avec moi. How just is the observation! Nothing escapes the piercing eye of a woman who loves, even in the very tempest of passion. She cannot conceal from herself, that reproaches, since they have become unavailing, render her troublesome; and that he who is the object of them involuntarily compares these irksome moments, with those which might be passed so much more pleasantly in the society of another. And the expression ta Troyenne! what haughty contempt is conveyed by it! These are but shades, if you please; but it is the combination of circumstances, even light in themselves, which forms the illusion of the whole: nothing is little in depicting the passions. The expression tu lui parles du caur, is both happy and new. We are unwilling to quit the scene: we pause, and among so many beauties, we seek in vain for a single superfluous word.

(To be continued.)

LETTER FROM CORTEZ TO THE KING OF SPAIN, ON THE Oon

QUEST OF Mexico.

(Continued, from p. 146.) The next day, we pursued the road over the heights before mentioned, and on our descent discovered the province of Choleo belonging to Montezuma. At the distance of not less than two leagues before arriving at any settlement, we found a very handsome building newly erected, and sufficiently large to lodge all my attendants, notwithstanding I had with me more than four thousand Indians. We here found provisions in abundance, a very good fire, and great quantities of wood, a very necessary

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