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SAtto Lt.A.
Thou hast hit my thought !

All the long day, from yester-morn to evening,
The restless hope flutter'd about my heart.
Oh, we are querulous creatures! Little less
Than all things can suffice to make us happy;
And little more than nothing is enough
To discontent us.-Were he come, then should I
Repine he had not arrived just one day earlier
To keep his birth-day here, in his own birth-place.

GLY cine.
But our best sports belike, and gay processions
Would to my lord have seem'd but work-day sights
Compared with those the royal court affords.

SAfto Lt.A.
I have small wish to see them. A spring morning,
With its wild gladsome minstrelsy of birds,
And its bright jewelry of flowers and dew-drops
(Each orbed drop an orb of glory in it),
Would put them all in eclipse. This sweet retirement
Lord Casimir's wish alone would have made sacred :
But in good truth, his loving jealousy
Did but command, what I had else entreated.

And yet had I been born Lady Sarolta,
Been wedded to the noblest of the realm,
So beautiful besides, and yet so stately——

SAR di.t.a.
Hush' innocent flatterer!


Nay! to my poor fancy

The royal court would seem an earthly heaven,
Made for such stars to shine in, and be gracious.

saftolt A.
So doth the ignorant distance still delude us!
Thy fancied heaven, dear girl, like that above thee,
In its mere self a cold, drear, colourless void,
Seen from below and in the large, becomes
The bright blue ether, and the seat of gods!
Well but this broil that scared you from the dance 2
And was not Laska there: he, your betrothed 1

Glycin e.
Yes, madam' he was there. So was the maypole,
For we danced round it.

SAtto LTA.

Ah, Glycine! why,

why did you then betroth yourself:

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Yes, at my lord's request, but never wish'd,
My poor affectionate girl, to see thee wretched.
Thou know'st not yet the duties of a wife.
* G i.v. Ci N. F.
Oh, yes! It is a wife's chief duty, madam,
To stand in awe of her husband, and obey him;
And, I am sure, I never shall see Laska
But I shall tremble.
& A not.T.A.
Not with fear, I think,
For you still mock him. Bring a scat from the cottage.
|Exit Glycine into the cottage, SARolta continues
her speech looking after her.
Something above thy rank there hangs about thee,
And in thy countenance, thy voice, and motion,

Yea, e'en in thy simplicity, Glycine,
A fine and feminine grace, that makes me feel
More as a mother than a mistress to thee!
Thou art a soldier's orphan' that—the courage,
Which rising in thine eye, seems oft to give
A new soul to its gentleness, doth prove thee!
Thou art sprung too of no ignoble blood,
Or there 's no faith in instinct

[Angry voices and clamour within, re-enter Glycine.

Glycine. Oh, madam there's a party of your servants, And my lord's steward, Laska, at their head, Have come to search for old Bathory's son, Bethlen, that brave young man!'t was he, my lady, That took our parts, and beat off the intruders; And in mere spite and malice, now they charge him With bad words of Lord Casimir and the king. Pray don't believe them, madam . This way! This way! Lady Sarolta's here. [Calling without. SAtto LTA. Be calm, Glycine.

Enter LAskA and Servants with Old BATHoay.

LAsKA (to BATHoRY). We have no concern with you! What needs your presence 2 old B.Athony. what! Do you think I'll suffer my brave boy To be slander'd by a set of coward-ruffians, And leave it to their malice,—yes, mere malice!— To tell its own tale 2 [LAskA and Servants bow to LADY SAnolta. sAR OLt.A. Laska What may this mean? LAsk A (pompously, as commencing a set speech). Madam ' and may it please your ladyship ! This old man's son, by name Bethlen Bathory, Stands charged, on weighty evidence, that he, On yester-eve, being his lordship's birth-day, Did traitorously defame Lord Casimir : The lord high-steward of the realm, moreover—— SA no Lt.A. Be brief ? We know his titles' LASKA.

And moreover Raved like a traitor at our liege King Emerick. And furthermore, said witnesses make oath, Led on the assault upon his lordship's servants; Yea, insolently tore, from this, your huntsman,

His badge of livery of your noble house,

And trampled it in scorn.
sanolra (to the Servants who offer to speak).
You have had your spokesman
Where is the young man thus accused
old BAT hott Y.
- I know not :
But if no ill betide him on the mountains,
He will not long be absent
Thou art his father ?
old is Athi to RY.
None ever with more reason prized a son;
Yet I hate falsehood more than I love him.
But more than one, now in my lady's presence,
Witness'd the affray, besides these men of malice;
And if I swerve from truth——

GLY cine. Yes! good old man My lady! pray believe him 8A Ro Lt.A. Ilush, Glycine ! Be silent, I command you. Speak' we hear you! oi, to bathony. My tale is brief. During our festive dance, Your servants, the accusers of my son, Offer'd gross insults, in unmanly sort, To our village maidens. Ile (could he do less?) Rose in defence of outraged modesty, And so persuasive did his cudgel prove (Your hectoring sparks so over brave to women Are always cowards), that they soon took flight, And now in mere revenge, like baffled boasters, Have framed this tale, out of some hasty words Which their own threats provoked. SAR olta. Old man! you talk Too bluntly" Did your son owe no respect To the livery of our house? old B.Attu on Y. Even such respect As the sheep's skin should gain for the hot wolf That hath began to worry the poor lambs' L'Ask A. Old insolent ruffian' Give in e. Pardon pardon, madam I saw the whole affray. The good old man Means no offence, sweet lady!—You, yourself, Laska know well, that these men were the ruffians! Shame on you ! sarolta (speaks with affected anger). What! Glycine? Go, retire [Exit Glycine, mournfully. Be it then that these men faulted. Yet yourself, Or better still belike the maidens' parents, Might have complain'd to us. Was ever access Denied you? Or free audience? Or are we Weak and unfit to punish our own servants? old batti on Y. So then . So then Heaven grant an old man patience! And must the gardener leave his seedling plants, Leave his young roses to the rooting swine, While he goes ask their master, if perchance His leisure serve to scourge them from their ravage LASkA. Ho! Take the rude clown from your lady's presence! I will report her further will ! SA Rol.T.A. Wait then, Till thou hast learnt it! Fervent good old man : Forgive me that, to try thee, I put on A face of sternness, alien to my meaning ! [Then speaks to the Servants. Hence! leave my presence! and you, Laska! mark me! Those rioters are no longer of my household ! If we but shake a dew-drop from a rose In vain would we replace it, and as vainly Restore the tear of wounded modesty To a maiden's eye familiarized to licence.— But these men, Laska–

[Then to Bathony.

laska (aside). Yes, now "t is coming. s.A holt A. Brutal aggressors first, then baffled dastards, That they have sought to piece out their revenge With a tale of words lured from the lips of anger Stamps them most dangerous; and till I want Fit means for wicked ends, we shall not need Their services. Discharge them You, Bathory ! Are henceforth of my household I shall place you Near my own person. When your son returns, Present him to us! old e A Thott Y. Ha! what, strangers' here ! What business have they in an old man's eye? Your goodness, lady—and it came so sudden— I can not—must not—let you be deceived. I have yet another tale, but— [Then to Sanolta aside. Not for all ears' sA Rolt A. I oft have pass'd your cottage, and still praised Its beauty, and that trim orchard-plot, whose blossoms The gusts of April shower'd aslant its thatch. Come, you shall show it me! And while you bid it Farewell, be not ashamed that I should witness The oil of gladness glittering on the water Of an ebbing grief. [BAT hoax bowing, shows her into his cottage. LAsk A (alone). Wexation baffled' school'd Ho! Laska! wake! why? what can all this mean? She sent away that cockatrice in anger! Oh the false witch! It is too plain, she loves him. And now, the old man near my lady's person, She'll see this Bethlen hourly! [Laska flings himself into the seat. Glycine peeps in timidly. GLY cine. Laska Laska' Is my lady gone? laska (surlily). Gone. Glycine. Have you yet seen him? Is he return'd? [LAskA starts up from his seat. Has the seat stung you, Laska: l, AskA. No, serpent! no; "t is you that sting me; you! What! you would cling to him again! glycine. Whom 2 LASKA. Bethlen ' Bethlen." Yes; gaze as if your very eyes embraced him Ha! you forget the scene of yesterday ! Mute ere he came, but then—Out on your screams, And your pretended fears! GLY cine. Your fears, at least, Were real, Laska! or your trembling limbs And white checks played the hypocrites most vilely

'Refers to the lear, which he feels starting in his eye. The following line was borrowed unconsciously from Mr Wordsworth's Eacursion.

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I fear! whom? What?
- I know, what I should fear,
Were I in Laska's place.
GLY cine.
My own conscience,
For having fed my jealousy and envy
with a plot, made out of other men's revenges,
Against a brave and innocent young man's life! -
Yet, yet, pray tell me!
laska (malignantly).
You will know too soon.
would I could find my lady! though she chid me—
Yet this suspense— [Going.
Stop! stop! one question only –
I am quite calm–
Ay, as the old song says,
Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove.
Nay now, I have marr'd the verse: well! this one ques-
Are you not bound to me by your own promise?
And is it not as plain–
Halt! that's two questions.
Pshaw! Is it not as plain as impudence,
That you're in love with this young swaggering beggar,
Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused,
why press'd you forward why did you defend him?
GLY cine.
Question meet question: that's a woman's privilege.
Why, Laska, did you urge Lord Casimir
To make my lady force that promise from me?
So then, you say, Lady Sarolta forced you?
GLY ci N.E.
Could I look up to her dear countenance,
And say her nay? As far back as I wot of
All her commands were gracious, sweet requests.
How could it be then, but that her requests
Must needs have sounded to me as commands?
And as for love, had Î a score of loves,
I'd keep them all for my dear, kind, good inistress.
Not one for Bethlen 1
Oh! that's a different thing.
To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious
To his good old father. But for loving him—
Nay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska'
Poor youth ! I rather think I grieve for him;
For 1 sigh so deeply when I think of him!
And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes,
And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt
That the war-wolf, had gored him as he hunted
In the haunted forest!

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You dare own all this?
Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.
Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I'll make you
Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odds, my fingers
Tingle already! [Makes threatening signs.
Glycine (aside).
Ha! Bethlen coming this way!
[Glycine then cries out as if afraid of being beaten.
Oh, save me! save me! Pray don't kill me, Laska!
Enter BethlkN in a Hunting Dress.
What, beat a woman'
laska (to Glycine).
O you cockatrice!
Beth Len.
Unmanly dastard, hold!
laska (pompously).
Do you chance to know
Who-I–am, Sir?—(S'death! how black he looks!)
Betti Len.
I have started many strange beasts in my time,
But none less like a man, than this before me
That lifts his hand against a timid female.
Bold youth! she's mine.
GLY cine.
No, not my master yet,
But only is to be; and all because
Two years ago my lady ask'd me, and
I promised her, not him; and if she'll let me,
I'll hate you, my lord's steward.
Beth Len.
Hush, Glycine!
GLY cine.
Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought
False witnesses to swear away your life:
Your life, and old Bathory's too.
Beth Len.
where is my father? Answer, or——Ha! gone!
[Laska during this time slinks off the Stage, using
threatening gestures to Glycine.
GLY cine.
Oh, heed not him " I saw you pressing onward,
And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth,
It is your life they seek
My life?
GLY cine.
Lady Sarolta even—
deth LEN.
She does not know me!
GLY cine.
Oh that she did! she could not then have spoken
With such stern countenance. But though she spurn me,
I will kneel, Betlilen–
both Len.
Not for me, Glycine!
What have I done? or whom have I offended ?
GLY cine.
Rash words, "t is said, and treasonous, of the king.
[Bethlen mutters to himself indignantly.
Glycine (aside).
So looks the statue, in our hall, o' the god,
The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!

BETulen (muttering aside).

Glycine. •
Ah, often have I wished you were a king.
You would protect the helpless every where,
As you did us, And I, too, should not then
Grieve for you, Bethlen, as I do; nor have
The tears come in my eyes; nor dream bad dreams
That you were kill'd in the forest; and then Laska
Would have no right to rail at me, nor say
(Yes, the base man, he says) that I–I love you.

Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed—
But in good truth I know not what I speak.
This luckless morning I have been so haunted
With my own fancies, starting up like omens,
That I feel like one, who waking from a dream
Both asks and answers wildly.—But Bathory?

Hist! t is my lady's step. She must not see you!

[Bethlen retires.

Enter from the Cottage SAnolta and Bathony.

SAno Lt.A. Go, seek your son I need not add, be speedy— You here, Glycine? gi, Yoine. Pardon, pardon, Madam : If you but saw the old man's son, you would not, You could not have him harm'd. SAROL ta. Be calm, Glycine! GLY cine. No, I shall break my heart. SAnolta (taking her hand). Ha! is it so? O strange and hidden power of sympathy, That of like fates, though all unknown to each, Dost make blind instincts, orphan's heart to orphan's Drawing by dim disquiet! GLY cine. Old Bathory— SAn olt A. Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears. Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen Seems a most noble and deserving youth. GLY cine. My lady does not mock met SAR olt A. Where is Laska? Has he not told thee? GLY cine. Nothing. In his fear— Anger, I mean—stole off—I am so flutter’d— Left me abruptly— SA Rolt.A. His shame excuses him He is somewhat hardly task'd; and in discharging His own tools, cons a lesson for himself. Bathory and the youth henceforward live Safe in my lord's protection. GLY cine. The saints bless you! Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear Lady Sarolta could be cruel!

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SAR out A. Come, Be yourself, girl! Glycine. O, "t is so full here! [At her hea, ". And now it can not harm him if I tell you, That the old man's sonSARG1.T.A. Is not that old man's son: A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his. For all I know of thee is, that thou art A soldier's orphan: left when rage intestine Shook and engulf'd the pillars of Illyria. This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake, This, so mysteriously inscribed by nature, Perchance may piece out and interpret thine. Command thyself! Be secret! His true father—— Hear'st thou? Glycine (eagerly). O tell– Bethlen (who had overheard the last few words, now rushes out). Yes, tell me, Shape from heaven! Who is my father sabolta (gazing with surprise). Thine? Thy father? Rise - GLY cine. Alas! He hath alarm'd you, my dear lady! SAROLTA. His countenance, not his act! GLY cine. Rise, Bethlen: Rise! Bethlen. No ; kneel thou too ! and with thy orphan's tongue Plead for me! I am rooted to the earth, And have no power to rise! Give me a father! There is a prayer in those uplifted eyes That seeks high Heaven! But I will overtake it, And bring it back, and make it plead for me In thine own heart : Speak! speak! Restore to me A name in the world! sArto Lt.A. By that blest Heaven I gazed at, I know not who thou art. And if I knew, Dared I–But rise! Bethlen. Blest spirits of my parents, Ye hover o'er me now! Yeshine upon me ! And like a flower that coils forth from a ruin, I feel and seek the light, I cannot see! SAtto Lt.A. Thou see'st yon dim spot on the mountain's ridge, But what it is thou know's not. Even such Is all I know of thee—haply, brave youth, Is all Fate makes it safe for thee to know! B Erh iE N. Safe: safe! 0 let me then inherit danger, And it shall be my birth-right! SA Rolt A (aside). That look again!— The wood which first incloses, and then skirts The highest track that leads across the mountains— Thou know'st it, Bethlen? Beth Len. Lady, 't was my wont

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To roam there in my childhood oft alone,
And mutter to myself the name of father.
For still Bathory (why, till now I guess'd not)
Would never hear it from my lips, but sighing
Gazed upward. Yet of late an idle terror——
Madam, that wood is haunted by the war-wolves,
Wampires, and monstrous——
saaolra (with a smile).
Moon-calves, credulous girl!
Haply some o'erbrown savage of the forest
Hath his lair there, and fear hath framed the rest.
[Then speaking again to Bethlen.
After that last great battle (O young man!
Thou wakest anew my life's sole anguish), that
Which fixed Lord Emerick on his throne, Bathory
Led by a cry, far inward from the track,
In the hollow of an old oak, as in a nest,
Did find thee, Bethlen, then a helpless babe:
The robe, that wrapt thee, was a widow's mantle.
lsetti Len.
An infant's weakness doth relax my frame.
O say—l fear to ask——
And I to tell thee.
Betil i.e. N.
Strike '0 strike quickly! See, I do not shrink.
[Striking his breast.

I am stone, cold stone.

SAn olt A.

Ilid in a brake hard by,

Scarce by both palms supported from the earth,
A wounded lady lay, whose life fast waning
Scem'd to survive itself in her fixt eyes,
That strain'd towards the babe. At length one arm
Painfully from her own weight disengaging,
She pointed first to Heaven, then from her bosom
Drew forth a golden casket. Thus entreated
Thy foster-father took thee in his arms,
And, kneeling, spake: If aught of this world's comfort
Can reach thy heart, receive a poor man's troth,
That at my life's risk I will save thy child'
Her countenance work'd, as one that seem'd preparing
A loud voice, but it died upon her lips
In a faint whisper, . Fly! Save him! Hide—hide all!"

Bertile N.
And did he leave her? What! had Î a mother?
And left her bleeding, dying? Bought I vile life
With the desertion of a dying mother?
*0h agony!

GLY cine.
Alas! thou art bewilder'd,

And dost forget thou wert a helpless infant!

bettit, en. What else can I remember, but a mother Mangled and left to perish


Hush, Glycine!

It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct:
Let it but lift itself to air and sunshine, -
And it will find a mirror in the waters,
It now makes boil above it. Check him not!

|o that I were diffused among the waters
That pierce into the sccret depths of earth,
And find their way in darkness! Would that I
Could spread myself upon the homeless winds!

And I would seek her! for she is not dead She can not die! O pardon, gracious lady; You were about to say, that he return’d— SAROLTA. Deep Love, the godlike in us, still believes, Its objects as immortal as itself! Bethlen. And found her still— SAnot.T.A. Alas! he did return : He left no spot unsearch'd in all the forest, But she (I trust me by some friendly hand) Had been borne off. Bethlen. O whither? GLY cine. Dearest Bethlen? I would that you could weep like me! O do not Gaze so upon the air! sanolra (continuing the story). While he was absent, A friendly troop, "t is certain, scour'd the wood, Hotly pursued indeed by Emerick. setti Len. Emerick. Oh Hell! glycine (to silence him). Bethlen! Bethlen.

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This gracious lady must hear blessings only.
She hath not yet the glory round her head,
Nor those strong eagle wings, which made swift way
To that appointed place, which I must seek:
Or else she were my mother!
sa Bolt A.
Noble youth!
From me fear nothing! Long time have I owed
Offerings of expiation for misdeeds
Long pass'd that weigh me down, though innocent!
Thy foster-father hid the secret from thee,
For he perceived thy thoughts as they expanded,
Proud, restless, and ill-sorting with thy state'
Vain was his care! Thou 'st made thyself suspected
E’en where Suspicion reigns, and asks no proof
But its own fears! Great Nature hath endow'd thee
With her best gifts! From me thou shalt receive
All honourable aidance! But haste hence!
Travel will ripen thee, and enterprise
Bescems thy years! Be thou henceforth my soldier!
And whatsoe'er betide thee, still believe
That in each noble deed, achieved or suffer'd,
Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth!
And may the light that streams from thine own honour
Guide thee to that thou seekest'
Must he leave us?
forth Len.
And for such goodness can I return nothing,
But some hot tears that sting mine eyes? Some sighs
That if not breathed would swell my heart to stifling?
May Heaven and thine own virtues, high-born lady,
Be as a shield of fire, far, far aloof
To scare all cvil from thee! Yet, if fate
Hath destined thee one doubtful hour of danger,
From the uttermost region of the earth, methinks,

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