To listen to him! Who proclaim'd to me

That there were crimes made venial by the occasion?
That passion was our nature? that the goods
Of heaven waited on the goods of fortune?
Who show'd me his humanity secured
By his nerves only? Who deprived me of
All power to vindicate myself and race
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 (dares) not. Is it strange
That I should act what you could think? We have done
With right and 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. He
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 !'

This path of safety is to be attained by the sacrifice of a second life; viz. that of the only witness to Ulric's previous crime.

In act iv. scene 1. the dialogue between Ulric and Ida (already mentioned) is scarcely probable, since he is too easily thrown off his guard, and rendered liable to the most weighty suspicions; and in the previous part of the scene we are told that the reign of Werner, alias Count Siegendorf, in his hereditary honors, has hardly a year o'erpast its honey-moon *;' whereas the narrative of Gabor, (p. 170.) act v. scene 1., refers to February last' an incident which occurred before the Count's return to his castle, and does not admit the interval of a year between the two events. On the ground of probability, also, we may remark that the disclosure of Stralenheim's circumstances by his servant Fritz, to Idenstein, is not adroitly elicited, but made with an unlikely readiness, because not called forth by what has just been said, maugre the universal and inalienable tattling rights of valets and footmen.

Werner's wife, Josephine, is the only other female in the drama, and the only example of tried and spotless virtue. A

* A great irruption on the Unity of Time is here made,

true

true woman, she not only well maintains the character of her sex by general integrity, but equally displays the endearing, soft, and unshaken affection of a wife; cherishing and comforting a suffering husband through all the adversities of fate, and all the errors of his own conduct. She is a native of Italy, and thus contrasts the beauties and circumstances of her own country with those of the frontiers of Silesia,' where an instance of petty feudal tyranny has just excited her feelings: I fain would shun these scenes, too oft repeated, Of feudal tyranny o'er petty victims ;

I cannot aid, and will not witness such.

Even here, in this remote, unnamed, dull spot,
The dimmest in the district's map, exist

The insolence of wealth in poverty

O'er something poorer still

the pride of rank
In servitude, o'er something still more servile;
And vice in misery affecting still

A tatter'd splendour. What a state of being!
In Tuscany, my own dear sunny land,

Our nobles were but citizens and merchants,
Like Cosmo. We had evils, but not such
As these; and our all-ripe and gushing valleys
Made poverty more cheerful, where each herb
Was in itself a meal, and every vine

Rain'd, as it were, the beverage, which makes glad
The heart of man; and the ne'er unfelt sun
(But rarely clouded, and when clouded, leaving
His warmth behind in memory of his beams,)
Makes the worn mantle, and the thin robe less
Oppressive than an emperor's jewell'd purple.
But, here! the despots of the north appear
To imitate the ice-wind of their clime,
Searching the shivering vassal through his rags,
To wring his soul as the bleak elements

His form. And 'tis to be amongst these sovereigns
My husband pants! and such his pride of birth
That twenty years of usage, such as no

Father born in a humble state could nerve

His soul to persecute a son withal,

Hath (have) changed no atom of his early nature ;

But I, born nobly also, from my father's

Kindness was taught a different lesson. Father!

May thy long-tried, and now rewarded spirit,
Look down on us and our so long desired
Ulric! I love my son, as thou didst me!'

We shall now extract the scene in which Ulric, who had been for twelve years separated from his parents, accidentally finds them, in sickness, want, and misery, and passing under the name of Werner: just when his father had been induced by

his

his poverty to commit the robbery on his relative and foe, Baron Stralenheim, while the latter was sleeping;

The Apartment of WERNER.

Enter JOSEPHINE and ULRIC.

Josephine. Stand back, and let me look on thee again! My Ulric! my beloved!

After twelve years?

can it be

My dearest mother!

My dream is realized how beautiful.
How more than all I sigh'd for!

Yes!

Heaven receive

a mother's tears of joy!

This is indeed thy work!. At such an hour, too,
He comes not only as a son but saviour.

Ulric. If such a joy await me, it must double
What I now feel, and lighten, from my heart,

A part of the long debt of duty, not

Of love, (for that was ne'er withheld) — forgive me!
This long delay was not my fault.

Josephine.

I know it,

But cannot think of sorrow now, and doubt

If I e'er felt it, 'tis so dazzled from

My memory, by this oblivious transport!

My son !

Enter WERNER.

• Werner. What have we here, more strangers?

Why, then

Ulric. My father, Siegendorf! • Werner (starting).

The walls may hear that name!

• Ulric.

• Werner.

But we will talk of that anon. Remember,
I must be known here but as Werner. Come!
Come to my arms again! Why, thou look'st all
I should have been, and was not. Josephine!
Sure 'tis no father's fondness dazzles me;
But had I seen that form amid ten thousand
Youth of the choicest, my heart would have chosen
This for my son !

6

• Ulric.

And yet you knew me not!

Werner.

Werner. Alas! I have had that upon my soul Which makes me look on all men with an eye That only knows the evil at first glance.

Ulric. My memory served me far more fondly: I
Have not forgotten aught; and ofttimes in

The proud and princely halls of— (I'll not name them,
As you say that 'tis perilous) but i' the pomp
Of your sire's feudal mansion, I look'd back
To the Bohemian mountains many a sunset,
And wept to see another day go down

O'er thee and me, with those huge hills between us.
They shall not part us more.

Werner.

I know not that. Are you aware my father is no more?

Ulric. Oh heavens! I left him in a green old age, And looking like the oak, worn, but still steady

Amidst the elements, whilst younger trees

Fell fast around him.

6

'Twas scarce three months since.

Werner. Why did you leave him?
Josephine (embracing Ulric).

Is he not here?

Can you ask that question?

• Werner. True; he hath sought his parents,
And found them; but, oh! how, and in what state!
Ulric. All shall be better'd. What we have to do
Is to proceed, and to assert our rights,

Or rather yours; for I waive all, unless
Your father has disposed in such a sort

Of his broad lands as to make mine the foremost,
So that I must prefer my claim for form:

But I trust better, and that all is yours.

• Werner. Have you not heard of Stralenheim? • Ulric.

His life but yesterday: he's here.

• Werner.

The serpent who will sting us all!

Ulric.

You saved

You speak

Riddles: what is this Stralenheim to us?

I saved

Werner. Every thing. One who claims our fathers' lands: Our distant kinsman, and our nearest foe.

The Count,

• Ulric. I never heard his name till now.
Indeed, spoke sometimes of a kinsman, who,
If his own line should fail, might be remotely
Involved in the succession; but his titles
Were never named before me - and what then?
His right must yield to ours.

Werner.
Ay, if at Prague:
But here he is all powerful; and has spread
Snares for thy father, which, if hitherto
He hath escaped them, is by fortune, not
By favour.

Ulric. Doth he personally know you?

• Werner.

Werner. No; but he guesses shrewdly at my person, As he betray'd last night; and I, perhaps,

But owe my temporary liberty

To his uncertainty.

• Ulric.

I think you wrong him,

(Excuse me for the phrase); but Stralenheim
Is not what you prejudge him, or, if so,

He owes me something both for past and present:
I saved his life, he therefore trusts in me;

He hath been plunder'd too, since he came hither;
Is sick; a stranger; and as such not now
Able to trace the villain who hath robb'd him :
I have pledged myself to do so; and the business
Which brought me here was chiefly that; but I
Have found, in searching for another's dross,
My own whole treasure you, my parents!
Werner (agitatedly).

Taught you to mouth that name of " villain?"

Ulric.

More noble name belongs to common thieves?

Who

What

Werner. Who taught you thus to brand an unknown being With an infernal stigma?

• Ulric.

My own feelings

Taught me to name a ruffian from his deeds.

Werner. Who taught you, long-sought, and ill-found boy! that

It would be safe for my own son to insult me?

Ulric. I named a villain. What is there in commnon

With such a being and my father?

• Werner.

That ruffian is thy father!

6

Josephine.

Every thing!

Oh, my son!

Believe him not - and yet! (her voice falters).

Ulric (starts, looks earnestly at Werner, and then says slowly,)

And you avow it?

Werner. Ulric, before you dare despise your father,

Learn to divine and judge his actions. Young,

Rash, new to life, and rear'd in luxury's lap,
Is it for you to measure passion's force,
Or misery's temptation? Wait (not long,

It cometh like the night, and quickly) - Wait! ---
Wait till, like me, your hopes are blighted - till
Sorrow and shame are handmaids of your cabin;
Famine and poverty your guests at table;
Despair your bed-fellow then rise, but not
From sleep, and judge! Should that day e'er arrive -
Should you see then the serpent, who hath coil'd
Himself around all that is dear and noble

Of you and yours, lie slumbering in your path,

With but his folds between your steps and happiness,
When he, who lives but to tear from you name,
Lands, life itself, lies at your mercy, with

Chance