Count.

That was a fearful face I saw!

Mord.

Forget it.

Count.

Mord.

Count.

Let us consult the mirror once again.

[Other Shadows appear. Heaven! 'tis herself, my love, my dear, dear Inez ! She will be mine. After Love's fears and pains, The god sits crowned with roses! What are they? Your children.

Both? How fair! no lily fairer.

See, with what matron smiles the mother bends,
Kissing their veined temples with her lips!

Mine? mine? all mine? O, Fate, why did I swear

Hate everlasting to thee? I abjure

My rashness at thy feet.

Mord. Had you not better

Count.

Dip once again in the dark lottery?

Perhaps this spring may change. But see-what comes?

[The Shadows alter.

A thin shape comes: 'tis like myself; so like,
That, but 'tis younger and more spare and pale,
I'd say 'twas I.

This phantom never lived.

Mord.

Count.

Mord.

Be still! You must not talk

To that which ne'er was flesh.

Unto my ears

Confide your transports: We may talk together;
Though not to them. These pigmies are as proud
As a rich tradesman, or a new-made lord.

Who is the vision? Speak!

Count.

Mord.

It is your son.

Count.

Mord.

Count.

Forbid it, Heaven! Sickness or want hath struck
This pale thin boy with death Must he then bear
Youth without blossom? without age, decay?
After all childhood's ills and pains endured,
(Before life's sweets are blown) 'tis hard to die.
Let him not perish!

Do you pray to me?

I had forgot: methought the thing was real.
But, see, he comes alone! Shew me the rest,
All the fair shapes, and she, the first and fairest,
Whose beauty crowns my dreams, whose heart is minė,
My own! Not all your juggling tricks can shake
My trust in her unmatched fidelity.

I said not she was false: she is most true.

Mord.

Count.

O, my fast friend!

Count.

Mord.

Count.

And what dishonour could not, DEATH has struck!
Ah!

Stand up, Count! What, fall at the first word?
Why, this is but the future. (Aside.) The weak fool!
O, thou false friend!

(He turns his back on me).

Mord.

You need but change your-livery, Count.

You've served one thankless king in camps and councils,

Have got hard knocks, no rank, and little pay;

Have been dishonoured!-What else need be said?

Push him aside, and choose a better master.

Count (pauses). Umph!-he must be a king.

Count.

A great one.

Mord.

He is a king more vast and terrible

Count.

Mord.

Count.

Mord.

Count.

Mord.

Count.

Mord.

Than any one whose cannon shakes the world.

He hath huge hosts, wide realms, and such a power
As the strong tempest hath when it is wroth.

:

Fate cannot awe him: Death is sworn his slave :-
What devil-

Hu-sh! You've guessed well. Hark! his name—

[whispers.

Avaunt! What art thou? Who art thou?
Your friend! [The figure of Mordax changes.]
Your fellow, too, who'll save all those you love :
But, still, you must be prompt. Your vow runs thus-
I will not hear him. Ears, shut up your sense!
Choose and be quick, Count; for you're in some peril.
The Inquisitors have scented out your path,

(They are brave bloodhounds), and will soon be here.
I care not.

But they've racks, which change men's humours.
Then, for the things thou lovest, their graves are open :
Wilt save, or thrust them in?

Turn your red eyeballs from me-O, 'tis fable,

Black, base, unfounded, false-what else? what else?

Yet, if it be,-and I can save them thus-?

[A noise is heard at a distance.

Mord.

No matter; let it come :-I shake like fear!
I still can save thee, thee and all thou lovest:
Quick, speak the word.

Count.

The word! what word? Speak on.

[Voices are heard without. They're at the door. Say thus: "

I give my soul—”

Mord.
Count. Stay! stop! What shall be done? Now, life or death?
The grave for her, or love? God! help me- -Ha!
I'm safe-'twas a wild struggle-but I'm safe.
Fiend! I abjure thee (falls down), loathe thee—

Officer (without). Open the doors,

Mord.

In the name of the most Holy Inquisition!
Ha, ha! the holy rogues!-(whispering)

may choose,

You still

Life, love, and wealth? or the rack and scaffold? Quick! Officer (without). Burst through the doors!

[The doors are broken open, and Officers, &c.

of the Inquisition enter.

Ho! seize upon him.-Ha!

My lord of Ortiz?-Sir, Count Melchior heard
You were beset by some fierce enemy,

And sent us here to save you. Raise him up!

Now, where's your foe? Seize on him!

A Voice laughs. Ha, ha, ha!

Officer. I hear a horrid voice, but nothing see.

Spread yourselves out, and search the vaults with care.
Haste, and let none escape.

Count (faintly). 'Tis vain :-he's gone!

Wherefore he came, or who he is, or was

Officer. We do not ask: Our master bade us say
He'd speak in private with you.

Wise, good, and gentle, as a great man should be.

Bring me before him: I will try to thank him.

I'd go,--but cannot.

Voice laughs again. Ha, ha!

Officer. Lean on me.

Count.

Now let us haste: Methinks strange sin and horror
Tenant these lonely vaults: Perhaps they sit
Watching the couches of the wicked dead!

Come, let us go: to the Count's house, my lord ?
Ay, strait, strait, strait—(Aside) and strait to Inez
bosom

Which was (and must once more be) my sweet home!
[COUNT, &c. exeunt.

NANCIE IRVING.

O, KEN ye lovely Nancie,

Of Annan's fairy water;

O, ken ye lovely Nancie,

John Irving's youngest daughter?

She's peerless when she speaks,

When silent she's a shiner,

There's sorcery in her song,
And her dancing's still diviner.

O were I but the light

Of the morning to awake her,
Ere she rises pure and bright,

In the glory of her Maker.

A.