Enter JOSEPHINE and Ida. Jos. What is 't we hear? My Siegendorf! Thank Heav'n, I see you safe! Sieg. Safe! Ida. Ulr. Away! it is father's! And I have loved this man! [Exit ULRIC Oh, great God. [IDA falls senseless—JOSEPHINE stands speechless with horror. THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED. A DRAMA. Arn. [This production is founded partly on the story of a | If there would be another unlike thee, novel called The Three Brothers, published many years That monstrous sport of nature. But get hence, ago, from which M. G. Lewis' IVood Demon was also And gather wood! taken-and partly or. the Faust of the great Goethe. The present publication contains the two first Parts only, and the opening chorus of the third. The rest may perhaps appear hereafter.] Thou incubus! Thou nightmare! Of seven sons Arn. Would that I had been so, I would so too! I will: but when I bring it, Bert. Her bidding;-wearily but willingly 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 stoops to wash his They are right; and Nature's mirror shows me [He pauses. And shall I live on, A burden to the earth, myself, and shame [ARNOLD places the knife in the ground, with the What all are mocking? That's poor sport, methinks. point upwards. Now 't is set, And I can fall upon it. Yet one glance seems in motion. You were the demon, but that your approach Was like one. Stran. Unless you keep company With him (and you seem scarce used to such high Arn. Stran. Were I to taunt a buffalo with this Both beings are more swift, more strong, more mighty In action and endurance than thyself, To talk to thee in human language (for To petty burghers, who leave once a year Arn. Thy time on me: I seek thee not. Stran. Then waste not Your thoughts Are not far from me. Do not send me back: I am not so easily recall'd to do Good service. Arn. Stran. What wilt thou do for me? Change Shapes with you, if you will, since yours so irks you Or form you to your wish in any shape. Arn. Oh! then you are indeed the demon, for Naught else would wittingly wear mine. Stran. I'll show thee The brightest which the world e'er bore, and give thee Thy choice. On what condition? Arn. Stran. There's a question! An hour ago you would have given your soul To look like other men, and now you pause To wear the form of heroes. Arn. I must not compromise my soul. Stran. No; I will not. What soul, Worth naming so, would dwell in such a carcass? Arn. "T is an aspiring one, whate'er the tenement In which it is mislodged. But name your compact: Must it be sign'd in blood? Stran. Arn. Whose blood then? Stran. Not in your own. We will talk of that hereafter But I'll be moderate with you, for I see Great things within you. You shall have no bond But your own will, no contract save your deeds. Are you content? [The Stranger approaches the fountain, and turns te ARNOLD. A little of your blood. Arn. For what? Stran. To mingle with the magic of the waters, And make the charm effective. Arn. (holding out his wounded arm.) Take it all. Stran. Not now. A few drops will suffice for this, [The Stranger takes some of ARNOLD's blood in his hand, and casts it into the fountain. Stran. Shadows of beauty! Shadows of power! This is the hour! Various Phantoms arise from the waters, and pass The black-eyed Roman, with The land he made not Rome's, while Rome became Arn. The phantom's bald; my quest is beauty. Inherit but his fame with his defects! The ancient world for love. It was the man who lost I cannot blame him, Stran. Stran. His brow was girt with laurels more than If but to see the heroes I should ne'er hairs. You see his aspect-choose it, or reject. I can but promise you his form; his fame I will fight too, When love is not less in the eye than heart. Arn. Have seen else on this side of the dim shore Thy Cleopatra's waiting. Hence, triumvir! [The shade of Antony disappears: another rises [The phantom of Julius Caesar disappears. Emanation of a thing more glorious still. And can it More lovely than the last. How beautiful! Arn. Was he e'er human only? Let the earth speak, Of Greece in peace, her thunderbolt in war- Taker of cities. The shan Stran. (addressing the shadow.) Get thee to Lamia'a lap! [The shade of Demetrius Poliocetes vanishes: another rises. I'll fit you still Fear not, my hunchback. If the shadows of That which existed please not your nice taste, I'll animate the ideal marble, till Your soul be reconciled to her new garment. Arn. Content! I will fix here. Stran. I must commend Your choice. The godlike son of the sea-goddess, The unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks As beautiful and clear as the amber waves This is a well-known German superstition-a gigantic shadow proof rich Pactolus, roll'd o 'er sands of gold duced by reflection on the Brocken. [The shade of Alcibiades disappears. |