DRAMATIC SELECTIONS. DESCRIPTION OF JANE DE MONTFORT. AGE.-Madam, there is a lady in your hall Who begs to be admitted to your presence. Is it not one of our invited friends? Page. No; far unlike to them. It is a stranger. Lady. How looks her countenance? Page. So queenly, so commanding, and so noble, I shrunk at first in awe; but when she smiled, Methought I could have compassed sea and land To do her bidding. Lady. Is she young or old? Page. Neither, if right I guess; but she is fair, Lady. The foolish strippling! She has bewitched thee. Is she large in stature? I thought at first her stature was gigantic; Page. I cannot well describe the fashion of it: Lady. Thine eyes deceive thee, boy; Or it is Jane de Montfort. D Do the green woods dance to the wind? the lakes Send winding up to heaven their curling smoke Do the flocks bleat, and the wild creatures bound Wing the mid air in lightly skimming bands? JOANNA BAILLie. THE GROWTH OF MURDEROUS HATE. [Scene from De Montfort.] De Montfort explains to his sister Jane his hatred of Rezenvelt, which at last hurries him into the crime of murder. The gradual deepening of this malignant passion, and its frightful catastrophe, are powerfully depicted. We may remark, that the character of De Montfort, his altered habits and appearance after his travels, his settled gloom, and the violence of his passions, seem to have been the prototype of Byron's Manfred and Lara. E MONTFORT. No more, my sister; urge me not again : My secret troubles cannot be revealed. From all participation of its thoughts My heart recoils: I pray thee, be contented. I turn aside to weep? O no, De Montfort! De Mon. Ah, Jane, forbear! I cannot e'en to thee. De Mon. So would I now-but ask of this no more. All other troubles but the one I feel I have disclosed to thee. I pray thee, spare me. Jane. Then secret let it be: I urge no further. OTH the bright sun from the high arch of heaven, In all his beauteous robes of fleckered clouds, And ruddy vapors, and deep-glowing flames, And softly varied shades, look gloriously? I have so long, as if by nature's right, Thy bosom's inmate and adviser been, I thought through life I should have so remained, For in my breast a raging passion burns, Jane. Say not so: I never can despise thee, gentle brother. De Mon. Oh, Jane, thou dost constrain me with A lover's jealousy and hopeless pangs Would I could tell it thee! Jake. Thou shalt not tell me. Nay, I'll stop mine No, it is hate! black, lasting, deadly hate! ears, Nor from the yearnings of affection wring Which thus hath driven me forth from kindred peace, What shrinks from utterance. Let it pass, my To be a sullen wanderer on the earth, brother. I'll stay by thee; I'll cheer thee, comfort thee; Till thou, with brow unclouded, smilest again; De Mon. It will not pass away; 'twill haunt me still. That, though I wrestle darkling with the fiend, De Mon. Thou most generous woman, Avoiding all men, cursing and accursed. Jane. De Montfort, this is fiend-like, terrible! Who art thyself his fellow? Unknit thy brows, and spread those wrath-clenched hands. Some sprite accursed within thy bosom mates Curse it, and bid it part. De Mon. It will not part. I've lodged it here too long. With my first cares, I felt its rankling touch. I loathed him when a boy. Jane. Whom didst thou say? De Mon. Detested Rezenvelt! E'en in our early sports, like two young whelps Of hostile breed, instinctively averse, Jane. What sayest thou, Montfort? Oh! what words Each 'gainst the other pitched his ready pledge, are these! They have awaked my soul to dreadful thoughts. I do beseech thee, speak! By the affection thou did'st ever bear me ; Ha! wilt thou not? De Montfort, do not thus resist my love, De Mon. [Raising her, and kneeling.] Thus let him kneel who should the abased be, And at thine honored feet confession make. I'll tell thee all-but, oh! thou wilt despise me. And frowned defiance. As we onward passed I could endure it; even as we bear The impotent bite of some half-trodden worm, It drove me frantic. What, what would I give What would I give to crush the bloated toad, Jane. And would thy hatred crush the very man To aim at his? Oh, this is horrible! De Mon. Ha! thou hast heard it then! From all the world, But most of all from thee, I thought it hid. Jane. I heard a secret whisper, and resolved Upon the instant to return to thee. Didst thou receive my letter? De Mon. I did! I did! 'Twas that which drove me thither. I could not bear to meet thine eye again. Jane. Alas! that tempted by a sister's tears, I ever left thy house! These few past months, These absent months, have brought us all this woe. And then, as says report, you parted friends. In better days was wont to be my pride. De Mon. I am a wretch, most wretched in myself, And still more wretched in the pain I give. O curse that villain, that detested villain! He has spread misery o'er my fated life; He will undo us all. Jane. I've held my warfare through a troubled world, And borne with steady mind my share of ill; For then the helpmate of my toil wast thou. But now the wane of life comes darkly on, And hideous passion tears thee from my heart, Blasting thy worth. I cannot strive with this. De Mon. What shall I do? JOANNA BAILLIE. My Alvar loved sad music from a child. Once he was lost, and after weary search De Mon. When he disarmed this cursed, this worth-We found him in an open place in the wood, less hand Of its most worthless weapon, he but spared Until that day, till that accursèd day, I knew not half the torment of this hell Which burns within my breast. Heaven's lightnings blast him! Jane. Oh, this is horrible! Forbear, forbear! Lest Heaven's vengeance light upon thy head For this most impious wish. De Mon. Then let it light. Torments more fell than I have known already What all men shrink from; to be dust, be nothing, De Mon. Let me but once upon his ruin look, Ha! how is this? Thou'rt ill: thou'rt very pale; I meant not to distress thee-O my sister! De Mon. I have killed thee. Turn, turn thee not away! Look on me still! Oh! droop not thus, my life, my pride, my sister! Look on me yet again. Jane. Thou, too, De Montfort, To which spot he had followed a blind boy, His head upon the blind boy's dog. It pleased me Yet still he wore it. Alvar. My tears must not flow! I must not clasp his knees, and cry, My father! [Enter TERESA and attendanTS.] Teresa. Lord Valdez, you have asked my presence here, And I submit; but-Heaven bear witness for meMy heart approves it not! 'tis mockery. Ord. Believe you, then, no preternatural influence? Believe you not that spirits throng around us? Ter. Say rather that I have imagined it A possible thing: and it has soothed my soul As other fancies have; but ne'er seduced me To traffic with the black and frenzied hope That the dead hear the voice of witch or wizard. [To Alvar.] Stranger, I mourn and blush to see you here On such employment! With far other thoughts Alv. O high-souled maiden! and more dear to me Than suits the stranger's name ! I swear to thee I will uncover all concealed guilt. Doubt, but decide not! Stand ye from the altar. Hark! the cadence dies away On the yellow moonlight sea : The boatmen rest their oars and say, Miserere Domine! [A long pause. Ord. The innocent obey nor charm nor spell! [Here a strain of music is heard from behind the scene.] My brother is in heaven. Thou sainted spirit, Alv. With no irreverent voice or uncouth charm I call up the departed! Soul of Alvar! Hear our soft suit, and heed my milder spell : Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow, [Music. [Music expressive of the movements and images Ye, as ye pass, toss high the desert sands, Hear the mild spell, and tempt no blacker charm! So shall the church's cleansing rites be thine, Song behind the scenes, accompanied by the same instrument as before.] Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell, Burst on our sight, a passing visitant ! Once more to hear thy voice, once more to see thee, O'twere a joy to me! Alv. A joy to thee! What if thou heardst him now? What if his spirit Val. These are unholy fancies! Ord. [Struggling with his feelings.] Yes, my father, he is in heaven! Alv. [Still to Ordonio.] brother, But what if he had a Who had lived even so, that at his dying hour Val. Idly prating man! Thou has guessed ill: Don Alvar's only brother Stands here before thee-a father's blessing on him! He is most virtuous. Alv. [Still to Ordonio.] What if his very virtues Had pampered his swoolen heart and made him proud? And what if pride had duped him into guilt? [Music again. Ter. 'Tis strange. I tremble at my own conjectures! But whatsoe'er it mean, I dare no longer Be present at these lawless mysteries, This dark provoking of the hidden powers! Already I affront-if not high HeavenYet Alvar's memory! Hark! I make appeal Against the unholy rite, and hasten hence To bend before a lawful shrine, and seek That voice which whispers, when the still neart listens, Comfort and faithful hope! Let us retire. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. SCENE FROM "BERTRAM." A passage of great poetical beauty, says Sir Walter Scott, in which Bertram is represented as spurred to the commission of his great crimes by the direct agency of a supernatural and malevo ient being. P PRIOR-BERTRAM. RIOR. The dark knight of the forest, So from his armor named and sable helm, He dwells alone; no earthly thing lives near Save the hoarse raven croaking o'er his towers Shall make them through their dark valves rock and Pri. Thou'rt mad to take the quest. memory One solitary man did venture there Within my Dark thoughts dwelt with him, which he sought to Unto that dark compeer we saw his steps, Pri. The manner of his end was never known. So calls the last dread peal the wandering atoms In dire array of ghastly unity, To bide the eternal summons I am not what I was since I beheld him- [Enter TWO OF HIS BAND observing him.] Thou hast the dark knight of the forest seen; Bert. [Turning on him suddenly] Thy hand is Bert. That man shall be my mate. Contend not Wave to the broken spell-or demon-blast with me Horrors to me are kindred and society. Or man, or fiend, he hath won the soul of Bertram. [Bertram is afterwards discovered alone, wandering near the fatal tower, and describes the effect of the awful interview which he had courted.] Bert. Was it a man or fiend? Whate'er it was, It hath dealt wonderfully with me— All is around his dwelling suitable; The invisible blast to which the dark pines groan, gloom, How spoke the eloquent silence of its motion, Forgotten thoughts of evil, still-born mischiefs, |