LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ilap.'^-^-^liqt^rig]^ f n. 
 
 Shelf. .Usz-r] 
 
 CNITED STATES OF AMEEICA. 
 
RoiER, King of Norway, 
 
 OTHER DRAMAS, 
 
 ADAIR WELCKER, 
 
 Copyright, 1885, by Adair Welcker. 
 
 SACRAMENTO: -!*''^'''^ ' 
 
 PRESS OF LEWIS & JOHNSTON. 
 
 1885. • 
 

 i^' Notice. — These l)ooks will be sent by the writer, postage pre- 
 paid, to any address, upon the receipt, by postal note or otherwise, 
 of 75 cents; and v.hen five or more copies are ordered, will be sent 
 to booksellers for ")0 cents per copy."^ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 w'^HESE works are placed in book form, in order that 
 'SP the people of a future age may have the opportunity 
 to open their mouths with wonder, at the utterances of a 
 very ordinary dead man; and that commentators in that 
 day may have a method of making a living. If what so 
 many say of these works is true, this must be the result. 
 
 The Preface is written for the benefit of that large por- 
 tion of mankind who are led by the nose in making their 
 judgments; and for those who, upon reading this remark, 
 will swear that they are not to be so led. 
 
 The plays are written for the few in this age who are too 
 great for prejudice; and for the people of an age in the 
 future, when the past is not envied : — when envy of the 
 writer sliall have ceased with his death. As it is an unpar- 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 donable crime against the vast mass of men for one person 
 in his own lifetime, to excel the rest in anything, although 
 others will excel him in other respects, I expect to meet 
 with strong condemnation! for these works. So let it be — 
 it is the law of nature. 
 
 As for myself, I believe that my experience in the world 
 has freed me from the effects of condemnation — has cured 
 me of a care for praise; for I know that both are as often 
 misplaced as they are justly bestowed. Were commenda- 
 tion to be bestowed upon the dramas, it would be but the 
 repetition of an old story ; for one of them has been printed 
 in pamphlet form for six years, another for three, and dur- 
 ing that time they have been read by many persons, and 
 have been, by almost as many, pronounced to be of the 
 highest form of literature. 
 
 By a strange unanimity of opinion, they have been pro- 
 nounced to be made of the same material as the writings of 
 the greatest of dramatists. 
 
 As for censure, if it be bestowed upon the works, and 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 they cannot stand it, let them die; and if it is bestowed 
 upon myself, I can stand it; for as I have said before, the 
 hour is passed when I could have been affected by the 
 world's censure or its blame; and whether the judgments of 
 the world are various, or unanimous; for, or against, I am 
 satisfied. 
 
 The works, however, are written for another purpose. 
 Whatever their merits, or demerits they have in them 
 some of those sentiments that belong to our race ; and the 
 humble hope of the writer is that they have been put into 
 such a shape that they will take part against wrong and 
 wage war for the right — for this should be the end and aim 
 of all writing. 
 
 Sacramento, Gal. Adair Welcker. 
 
^^^i^:^ 
 
 The BirrER End. 
 
 ^«tv 
 
THE BITTER END. 
 
 A DRAMA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — A little garden in the rear of a neat but small cot- 
 tage, in San Francisco. The cottage l, c. in the background. A 
 gate R. C. that opens upon a pathway that leads round to the 
 front. A door c. opening into the back part of the house. 
 
 Lily and Josephine discovered. 
 
 Lily. Yes, Josephine, my kindest, dearest friend, 
 Misfortunes came like birds of prey upon us. 
 First came my brother's death. When last I saw thee, 
 We little thought he'd take so soon the wings 
 Of Death, and fly away to Heaven. 
 
 Jos. Ah, Lily! 
 
 My poor, poor friend ; my heart is bleeding for thee ! 
 
 Lily. The burning fever first did scorch his brow ; 
 Then sickness racked him with her cruel pains ;— - 
 I hear him now, with his poor, piteous wail, 
 Call out for help, in his delirium. 
 A soothing sleep at last drove off his pain, 
 And while he slept, all stood around his bed 
 With anxious faces, waiting till he waked. 
 
10 THE BITTER END. 
 
 And then he ope'd his eyes, and smiled on us, 
 And ask'd that we would raise him up, and then 
 He sang a hymn, and said good by, and died. 
 
 Jos. Oh, Lily ! Lily ! I know 'tis hard — 'tis very hard ! 
 It seems a ruling of some power beyond us 
 That woe shall follow woe. 
 But Lily, look you up ; this nature of ours 
 Being grandly harmonized, brings us oblivion 
 For all our woes when they are overpast. 
 And when to-day is grown a yesterday 
 New turned events dislodge these woes within us. 
 
 Lily. But often when my memories fly 
 Back to my childhood's home, like swallows that still seek 
 Their nests torn down by cruel Winter's storms. 
 Can I forget the old back stairs, where oft 
 My little brother's feet came, step by step? 
 The little room, where, watching his worn face, 
 We saw him die? And then there was a vine 
 Where all the birds of Summer came to woo: 
 It was a honeysuckle vine, and oft 
 The sun's rays stealing came, through its soft leaves. 
 To wake me i' the morning. 
 
 [Bell rings at front of the house. 
 Who can it be % 
 
 Jos. My aunt. 
 To take me home. But list ! — yes, 'tis her voice. 
 
 Mrs. Stone. Vwithin.^ This change to poverty robs them 
 of life 
 And chills each germ of action. 
 Ha, now! not yet? but I will bring them up. 
 
 \^Rings violently. 
 
THE BITTER END. \ \ 
 
 Jos. 1 know not why it is; my aunt does seem 
 To have a strange dislike for my sweet friend. 
 
 Enter through gate r. c. Mrs. Stone and Black well. 
 Mrs. Sto. Well, niece, 
 Did you grow weary while you waited for me 1 
 
 Jos. No, aunt; here, with my friend, the fleeting hours 
 Were gilded o'er with golden happiness ! 
 
 Mrs. Sfo. A gentle friend, indeed ! So sweet is she 
 That all the baby stars will press their faces 
 Against the windows in the vault of heaven. 
 To gaze down on her lovely innocence ! 
 And I know one (thy cousin and my son). 
 Whose eyes were captured by her innocence : 
 He listens to her soft and cooing words, 
 Which chased each other out her snowy throat. 
 As soft and innocent as doves' notes are — 
 And all the world does know, the dove does coo 
 Only for innocence: 
 
 Black. Hell's innocence ! 
 
 Jos. The mind swift to imagine guilt in others, 
 Is rotten in itself. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Now stop that magpie chattering; come. 
 To our home. 
 
 Jos. Good by, sweet Lily, 'till we meet again. 
 3Irs. Sto. [Aside to Black well.] A tender morsel 'tis of 
 pleasure, when 
 We have a power, that wand-like, we can wield 
 
 To make men tremble ! — you make a waste of time 
 
 Come Josephine! 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Stone, Blackwell and Josephine r. c. 
 Lily. And some there are whose lives are never at ease 
 
12 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Until they have the power to command. 
 One hath a frowning face to wither smiles ; 
 The other smiles — will they be withered ? 
 
 \_Exit through door c, into the house. 
 Enter through gate R. c. Mr. and Mrs. Arden, and they 
 sit together on a bench l. under some trees. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. The little left of what we once did have 
 Is going fast ; soon will it all be gone — what then 1 
 
 Ard. Ay, that I'd ask my wife — what then ? . 
 
 Mrs. Ard. I'll tell thee what ; then will starvation come, 
 And cling upon us 'till the flesh is gone. 
 
 A rd. I've done my best to gain a livelihood ; 
 From morn to night have wandered round these streets ; 
 Asked oft for work, but did receive rebuffs, 
 And met cold looks, that silent insult bore ; 
 My clothes jeered at ; forgot by former friends 
 Who knew me well when I was prosperous. 
 Ah ! I have dragged through many a dreary day, 
 Until the heart did weary grow and sick, 
 And 'till I wished to lay me down and die, 
 Like some poor dog I've seen lie i' the gutter ! 
 But then the thought of thee, and of my child. 
 Came to my mind, and urged me on again ; 
 And now, for this, you taunt me with the pain — 
 The poverty I've wrought — Oh ! 'tis too much ! 
 
 Mrs. Ard. I taunt thee *? No ! I cast no taunt at thee ; 
 But still, I think our daughter might have deigned 
 To drop her selfishness, and think of us. 
 But, like a queen that had a thousand fortunes. 
 She coldly did reject her lover. 
 Because, forsooth, she thought she ne'er could love him ! 
 
THE BITTER END. 13 
 
 Arcl. All this is strange — I never heard of this ! — 
 And is it long that he hath woo'd my daughter 1 
 
 Mrs. Ard. As long as Summer is, with Winter placed 
 behind it, 
 Has he been wooing her beneath your eyes. 
 
 Ard. I knew that, like another visitor, 
 A few short evenings had he spent with her. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Why, e'en as sure as came the night, of late, 
 This wooer came, and in our Lily's ear 
 Did whisper — but she put rough barriers there — 
 Yet still he poured his soft words in her ear 
 Until the hour grew late, and the poor lights 
 Did grow a-weary guarding off the dark. 
 But she had not an answer for this love, 
 In all her pride, and all her selfishness ! 
 
 Ard. Oh, wife ! let not these thoughts arise in you. 
 Selfish, say you? A thought of selfishness 
 Ne'er dared to wander in her gentle heart ! 
 And pride 1 — Oh, think not that ! These hardships 
 Harden your thoughts. For sweetest natures 
 When chafing beneath the weight of heavy woes 
 Grow for the time unjust. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. And he does give a golden reason for 
 His wooing ! 
 
 Ai'd. And would you make a bargain of our child 1 
 O, no, my wife ! When not oppressed by care, 
 You had not thought like this; and soon again. 
 When better times have brightened up before us, 
 Your thoughts will take again their former course. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. When fortune comes, fools only will not know 
 How dainty are her favors. 
 
14 THE BITTEB END. 
 
 But thus it is through all the length of life : 
 Fortune we use not when 'tis in our power, 
 And when it has escaped, we rue it's loss ! 
 
 [Enter Lily through house door c] 
 Tell me now, Lily, why like you not your wooer 1 
 He has good looks — such looks had pleased me well, 
 When I was of your age — a manly form, 
 A gallant bearing, and a sparkling eye, 
 That speaks an unheard language, sweeter far 
 Than the soft-tongued nightingale could speak. 
 And he would give an ample fortune to you. 
 
 Lily. I have a reason that I may not give ; 
 A reason that would make me rather work 
 Until the flesh is worn from off these arms. 
 Before I would consent to be his bride ! 
 
 Ard. Nor shall my darling, forced against her will, 
 Give up her hand to one she does not love, 
 While lives her father, with a breast so broad. 
 That it may yet brave off life's beating storms ! 
 
 [Exit Arden into the house c. 
 
 Mrs. Ard, Again, I ask, why can you love him not? 
 
 Lily. And still, I say, I have a reason^ mother, 
 That I would keep a prisoner in this brain, 
 Till death draws back the bolts to let it free ! 
 
 Mrs. Ard. But I'm your mother, child; should not your 
 secrets 
 Be known to me, as well as to yourself 1 
 
 Lily. Since, mother, then, you still wish that 1 should 
 Give you my secret; know that this man's mother. 
 Without a cause, has so insulted me, 
 Up to the top of all her malice ! 
 
THE BITTER END. 15 
 
 With cruel, bitter sneers, hid in a smile. 
 
 At first she did insinuate that I 
 
 Was but a poor, low wretch, that sought, with wily arts, 
 
 To steal away th' affiections of her son, 
 
 Who, though I did look coldly on his wooing, 
 
 Still will persist. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. And I suppose that something she hath said, 
 Which, though her words no masked meanings bore, 
 Did so appear to your suspicious mind. 
 
 Lily. Ah, yes, my mother, they bore meanings sharp 
 As knives, with which they pierced me to the heart ! 
 At times, when she did say some bitter thing, 
 She smiled the while, with that hard, chilling smile, 
 That speaks in every tongue. 
 Ah, no; I cannot ever marry him, 
 For then she'd smile upon my very dreams ! 
 
 Mrs. Ard. If she's a woman, are you not another ? 
 Poor, timid thing, I fain must pity you ; 
 You were not made for such a world as this 
 
 Lily. I tell you mother, a bitter life's before me 
 If I should take his hand ; none of life's joys 
 Will ever reach my heart; dark shadows only 
 Will fall from off the years that, like to trains 
 Of funerals, will slowly cross the heaven. 
 There is a voice deep down within my heart 
 Proclaims this doom to me. Whether this be 
 A spirit speaking with a voice from heaven, 
 1 do not know; but know the voice speaks truth. 
 Tell me now, mother. 
 Shall I surrender up my hand to him 1 
 
 Mrs. Ard. I am too old, my child, to be deceived 
 
16 THE BITTER END, 
 
 By these thy youthful fancies ; since you ask 
 For my opinion, in such rounded terms, 
 Know that I would accept. 
 
 Lily. Mother, it shall be done ! 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Lily, say not 
 Hereafter, that I have advised thee to it. 
 I only say, that I would marry him. \^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — An open place in front of Mrs. Stone's house in Berke- 
 ley: the full moon rises over the hills. 
 
 Enter Godfrey, k. 
 
 God. Before the night came here was she to meet me ; 
 Either some strange mischance hath fallen her. 
 Or else kind hearted Night has drawn her veil. 
 Before the time, to keep the hot-rayed sun 
 From oft' her face. Now come the little stars ; 
 Through every crack of heaven do they peep down 
 To catch a view of her o'er lovely face ! 
 But now she comes ! I hear her steps 
 Making sweet music for th' enraptured air ! 
 Enter Josephine,' l. 
 
 Jos. And did you think that I would never come 1 
 
 God. The hours did truly seem stretched out so long, 
 I might have named them never ; but since now 
 I see you here, the evil of that time 
 Does serve but as a contrast to these moments. 
 That, like to sunbeams, frightened by the night, 
 Do swiftly flee away ! 
 
 Jos. I had been here. 
 But that some envious demon held me back, 
 Now placing this, now that, across my path ! 
 
THE BITTER END, 17 
 
 God. 'Tis strange, then, that the mighty fairy legions 
 Sallied not forth to guard you 'gainst this demon ; 
 For I know that these fairies love you well ; — 
 I've seen them oft, wrapt in a cloak of sunbeams, 
 Coming, unknown to you, to steal sweet kisses 
 From off thy rosy lips ; at other times 
 Bearing the hue from off thy lovely cheek 
 To paint their home, the cloud-placed rainbow, with ! 
 
 Jos. You seem to be acquainted well with these 
 ^ame tiny beings from another world. 
 'Tis only through the gate of midnight dreams. 
 Be it now known, that we may enter in 
 The fairy kingdom. 
 
 God. Speak you of dreams, my lovely Josephine ? 
 Then I tell you that has reality 
 
 Stamped on it's face. You know I've loved you long ; — 
 Deny it not with those hard frowns ; and yet 
 They are but masks and prove unnatural 
 On such a face as thine. 
 I've loved you long and well, and now I ask 
 A mighty boon indeed — your hand sweet one : — 
 No answer now ? Ah ! in thy eye I see 
 The hard word " No " look forth ; O, banish it 
 From that sweet place, where heretofore 
 Kind smiles alone a dwelling had ! 
 
 Jos. Perhaps it was not there ; or, if it was, 
 T'is banished. 
 
 In answering thus, it may have seemed tliat I 
 Have been too soon in so surrendering 
 My hand to you ; if so, this my excuse — 
 
 God. You give excuse 1 No, no, 'twere better far 
 
18 THE BITTER END. 
 
 To end all laws and customs. Oh ! now is all 
 My happiness complete ! 
 
 Jos. And in the center of this happiness 
 I'm forced to tear myself away from you ! 
 But blessings rest 
 Within the thought we soon shall meet again ! 
 
 God. O, go not yet ; the hour is not yet late ! 
 
 Jos. Nay, but the moon is sinking o'er the hill ; 
 See how her poor, wan face looks thin and pale. 
 I wonder hath she lost some one of those 
 Her myriad, star-browed children, that 
 She weeps while she majestically moves 
 Through night's blue heaven 1 
 
 God. If she is weeping, then I'll pity her ; 
 For, while I feel the sweetness of thy love, 
 I cannot think but all the world is sad ! 
 
 Jos. The tide of night hath nearly reached the top; 
 Now must I tear myself away from you. 
 For there is one who watches all my conduct, 
 Searching some place that slander may creep in 
 To bring me ruin. 
 
 God. But not yet, Josephine! the stars 
 That mark the minute places in the sky 
 Have not been three times rounded by the hand 
 Of silence that doth mark the hour of night ! 
 
 Jos. Were I to mark the hours upon this clock. 
 The morning light would guide me to my home. 
 
 God. The hours of time have shorter grown of late. 
 
 Jos. Oh, Godfrey, would that I might yet remain ! 
 But I must tear myself away from you ! 
 Good by, my love, good by ! [Exit Josephine, r. 
 
THE BITTER END. 19 
 
 God. Groiie ! And is she gone 1 O, evening breeze, 
 Bear these my blessings after her. [Exit Godfrey l. 
 
 Enter l. Mrs. Stone and Blackwell, cautiously. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. You have already sworn an oath so strong 
 That it would bind the fleeting clouds together, 
 And tie the w^inds from north and east and south, 
 Until the earth did rest in drowsy stillness ! 
 
 Black. Aye, I am bound to bind up in this brain 
 Your every word, and ev'n your smallest whisper. 
 If this be not enough, I swear again — 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Nay, hush — 
 An' I had not a stronger hold on you, 
 I would not give an unsubstantial shadow 
 For all thy oaths. But to the business — 
 You know the father of my niece is dead 1 
 
 Black. Of Josephine ? — aye, dead 
 As skeletons dead in the deep, dead sea ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And more than this, you know her father had 
 A fortune that — 
 
 Black. He lost in speculation. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. No ; there's our point ; he never lost it. 
 But when he lay upon the bed of death. 
 Then, with his trembling hand he wrote his will. 
 And gave that will to me. 
 By its wording, I was executor : — 
 Her father died upon the Atlantic shore ; 
 Some relatives she still hath living there, 
 Of whom she knows not, nor shall ever know 
 While thought burns in this brain. 
 
 Black. \(islde.'\ There thought will dwell, 
 
20 THE BITTER END, 
 
 'Till hell hath smoked it out ! 
 
 But why hold out such secrecy o'er this ? 
 
 Mrs. Sfo. Be not impatient ; 
 For I would have you wed this Josephine. 
 
 Black. Me wed the girl 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. You wed the girl? — methinks a mighty honor — 
 
 Black. Aye, honor, yes ; but if 'tis but for honor, 
 I never marry only for honor. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. But if I add a small-sized fortune to it 1 
 
 Black. Aye, there you speak ! my ear ope's wide his door 
 To let that sound come tripping gayly in ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Hark, then, to me : If you will marry her. 
 And take her off to some far distant land 
 Where none will ever hear of her again, 
 Then you shall have a third of all her fortune. 
 Are you agreed 1 
 
 Black. Am I agreed ? Will you not give me more 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Nothing. 
 
 Black. Then surely I'm agreed. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Then so it is arranged. 
 
 Black. Nay, not so quick ; am I to ne'er return. 
 With this sweet bride, to my own native land 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Not with thy bride ; but if she dies, 
 Of pestilence, or by the ague chill. 
 Or if, perchance, some reptile tastes her blood ; 
 Or if some wild beast tears her limb from limb ; — 
 Then you may come back to your native land ! 
 
 Black. I'll not accept such terms as you have made. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Did you not say you would accept my terms'? 
 
 Black. Did I, i' faith, then will I change them now. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. For twenty yearsyou've served me as a friend, — 
 
THE BITTER END. 21 
 
 Perhaps, at first, I did not think on this, — 
 Considering then, your many years of service, 
 I'll make your fortune half as great again. 
 
 Black. Now, like a Stoic, I must perforce accept. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Then is our business over. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — A dining-room in Mrs. Stone's house in Berkeley. 
 Enter Servants. 
 
 1st ServH. How long will't be before they have returned 1 
 
 2d ServH. From church ? About one hour. 
 
 1st ServH. [to servant girl.^ You saw the marrying, 
 Nell ; how went it off 1 
 
 Nell. How went it off? It went off like a hearse 
 Over a precipice. 
 
 ^d Serv^t. I take you not : — 
 
 You know, good Nell, your wit does shine so bright 
 That ours is blinded by it. Then tell us 
 How looked the bridegroom, and how looked the bride ? 
 
 Nell. I'll not tell that ; I'll tell how looked the bride, 
 And then how looked the bridegroom. 
 
 2d ServH. As you will. 
 
 Nell. Aye, as I will ; then listen now to me : — 
 When all were gone I hurried to the church, 
 And, as I entered in, wild echoes rushed 
 From out their hidiiig places — then, like fiends 
 Cried out to one another ! 
 Then came the minister. 
 
 And they stood up : the bride like a sweet lily. 
 On which black night doth scowl with her dark face — 
 And all the while the minister did read. 
 The dreary winds in deepest sorrow moaned; 
 
22 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Now loud and wildly moaning, 'till his voice 
 Was drowned : then, when they ceased, we heard his voice 
 again. 
 
 Sd ServH. Last night I woke about the midnight hour, 
 To hear wings fluttering in the darkened air. 
 And then I heard the howl of dogs without, 
 Come riding down upon the fearful gale ! 
 I have not dared to speak of this before, 
 But now I speak, since cause for it is found. 
 
 1st Serv't. And I was waked from out a horrid dream 
 By that same sound ; — then trembled all the house. 
 Against the window-panes each heavy blast 
 Led on the rain, and when the heavy gale 
 Dragged off a cloud, caught on the pointed moon. 
 By her dim light I saw, from cloud to cloud, 
 Strange white-faced spirits one another chase ! 
 
 Ndl. Ah, sadly do I fear me for this wedding ! 
 
 \Boar of carriages. 
 But here they come ! — then quickly to your j^osts ! 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A room in Arden's cottage in the outskirts of San 
 Francisco. 
 
 Enter Josephine and Lily. 
 
 Lily. Yes ; I am spending at my father's house 
 A few short days, the first in many months. 
 
 Jos. Now I am glad to see that face of thine, 
 That long hath been o'erspread with gloomy sadness, 
 Covered again Avith Summer sunned joy ! 
 
 Lily. It is a mother's love, with smiles beginning 
 
THE BITTER END. 23 
 
 Watching the tender innocent young flower, 
 
 Just springing up to meet life's pelting storms ; 
 
 Then does the mother take it to her breast 
 
 And guards it with a love that's greater far than death. 
 
 But tell me Josephine, is it then true 
 
 Jhat you must leave for New York City soon 1 
 
 Jos. Would it were not ; alas, it is too true ! 
 
 TAly. But you will soon return *? 
 
 Jos. I think we will be gone about three months. 
 
 Lily. Goes Blackwell with you ? 
 
 Jos. Yes ; he will go ; — I fear that man ; 
 For he has got a smooth and oily tongue. 
 And eyes to freeze the blood. 
 His skin has, too, a sleek and oily look. 
 That is not seen upon an honest man. 
 
 Lily. And how is it your aunt has such a friend 
 In such a man ? 
 
 Jos. That I know not ; 
 Nor does her only son, your husband, know. 
 
 Lily. 'Tis strange ! 
 
 Jos. Ay, strange it is ; but, Lily, I have here 
 Some letters which my father gave to me, 
 That time he lay upon the bed of death, 
 Which he told me to open when I reached 
 My twentieth year. I ask that you will keep 
 Good charge of them 'till I return again. 
 
 Lily. Let not a thought in fear arise for them. 
 Enter Mr. and Mrs Arden. 
 
 Ard. And so you must so soon depart from us 1 
 Would I could now bestow a fortune on you 
 Before you go ; for you deserve it well ; 
 
24 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Deny it not with those sweet maiden blushes, 
 
 They are the overflowings of a soul 
 
 More to be prized than all the gold of earth. 
 
 Since I have not a fortune to give thee, 
 
 Receive that which I have — an old man's blessing ! 
 
 Though I would give it, if I had it now, 
 
 I will not wish your wealth were made of gold. 
 
 Which loved, destroys the beauty of maidenhood. 
 
 And could these shining things have tongues and speak, 
 
 'Tis my belief they'd tell more darkened tales 
 
 Of weary heart pains, guilty consciences, 
 
 Than deeds that we should pattern ; 
 
 But I would have your breast free from those cares 
 
 That keep men waked o' nights ; — that on the heart, 
 
 Do sit and brood, 'till but a nightmare's left — 
 
 And, with my blessing, do I say farewell ! 
 
 Mrs. Ard. And let my blessing be aside of his ! 
 
 Jos. Farewell ! My fondest hope's to soon return again ! 
 
 [Exit Josephine. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. How swiftly Time, upon unwearied wing, 
 Is ever fleeing back into the past ; 
 The monster future slowly creeps on towards us, 
 While that poor sparrow. Time, afirighted flies 
 Into the Past, that prison cage, which, closed, 
 There's none so strong can ever open it. 
 It seems but yesterday that Lily, here. 
 Gave up her hand to her young, loving husband ; 
 And then seemed Josephine but still a child. 
 That now is turned into a full-grown woman. 
 
 Ard. Life's but a breath, borne ofl" by meanest winds ; 
 Or word, that, writ upon the Ocean's shore. 
 
THE BITTER END. 25 
 
 The waves will wash away; 
 
 A fleeting thing, that sleeps and wakes and dies ; 
 
 A dream that is dreamed and is over ! [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A bedroom in a hotel in New York. A door l. 2 e,, 
 through which enter Black well and Mrs. Stone. A door r. c. , 
 which opens into a room behind the first. R. 2 e., a window with 
 curtains hanging on either side. 
 
 Black. Thy niece looks colder on me every hour ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Ha ! is it so ? and hath 
 Thy love not prospered 1 
 
 Black. Prospered 1 I'd sooner woo the porcupine 
 Than woo thy niece ; for when I moved near her, 
 She shot her scornful glances, 
 As swift as flames from out a mitrailleuse, 
 And when I called here "rose," she called me "villain !" 
 Then, when I spoke of love, she said my tongue 
 Had stained that word, so that she ne'er again 
 Could hear it uttered, patiently ! 
 I then sent out my thoughts o'er all creation 
 A-wandering, to gather pretty names, 
 Which, garnished with sweet accent, I did call her ; 
 But, all the while, she stamped with her small foot. 
 Nor would she lend attention to my speech. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And, like a craven, you gave up the fight ! 
 Oh that I were a man but for an hour. 
 Then I'd make such a wooing for these maidens. 
 As they had never dreamed of heretofore. 
 Not with a mournful look would I gaze at them. 
 But with a glance that reached their very souls, 
 And they did tremble till their knees waged war 
 With one another ! 
 
26 THE BITTER END. 
 
 For every soft and silly sigh they gave, 
 
 I'd give a curse, that so would frighten Love, 
 
 That, trembling, he would hide behind their tears ! 
 
 Bub come, poor coward, at your work again ; 
 
 I'll be at hand to give you my protection. 
 
 If you are vanquished for a second time. 
 
 I'll go call Josephine, and bring her here, 
 
 That you may woo, and then I'll slip behind, 
 
 This hanging curtain, there to note your progress. [Exit. 
 
 Black. Were I now one of these warm-hearted fools, 
 This Josephine I'd call a flower, and send up tears 
 To weep in my two eyes ; for she, unlike the oak. 
 Has no protection 'gainst the howling storms. 
 I'd harp upon her child-like innocence, 
 And then, perchance, some burning tears of mine 
 Would scald my feeble eyes. 
 But should I marry her, at first she'd weep. 
 And pale her face would grow ; but then we cannot 
 Forever look upon the blushing rose ; 
 At times 'tis best to see the cold-faced lily. 
 [Enter Josephine through door r. c, followed by Mrs. 
 Stone, who steps behind the window-curtain unper- 
 ceived by her.] 
 But here she comes ! 
 
 Jos. My aunt told me you had some weighty matter 
 To tell me. 
 
 Black. The matter is of such weight 
 My thought can hardly lift it unto you. 
 Oh now, my sweet, my bright-eyed Josephine — 
 
 Jos. Again this insolence ! — and has my aunt 
 
THE BITTER END. 27 
 
 Given her consent to this — my degradation ? 
 It cannot be ! Ah, no, it cannot be ! 
 
 Black. Why, look on me, is it a degradation 
 That I have asked you for your hand — your love 1 
 But this is but a mockery of anger 
 That's in your eyes ; a shadow of a frown 
 That's on your brow ; come let me take that hand 
 To see if anger trembles in it too ! 
 
 Jos. Stand oft', you villain ! 
 
 Black. Now you grow cruel, lovely Josephine, 
 And in your eye a tear — a little tear — 
 It well becomes that pretty f-ace of thine ! 
 Thou'lt not say "no," that word would be my dooms-man ! 
 
 Jos. With all my strength I hurl then " No ! " at you ! 
 
 Black, And I hurl " Yes ! " for, be it known to you, 
 It is decided you shall be my wife ! 
 
 Jos. It is decided 1 Who has made decision 1 
 
 Black. Your aunt and I myself have done it. 
 
 Jos. In her 'twas generous thus to give away 
 Another's hand ! 
 
 Black. Ay, it was generous. 
 And, for the gift, I thank her heartily ! 
 I ne'er received so sweet a gift before. 
 There is a pleasing variation in 
 Your character ; now 'tis all fire, and now 
 As calm as is a silent Summer's morn ! 
 
 Jos. But I will find a judge to guard me 'gainst — 
 
 Mrs. Sto. [entering from behind the curtain.'] I am 
 your judge, and you shall marry him, 
 Or, by the heaven, we'll say that you're insane. 
 Or that he is your lawful husband now ;-- 
 
28 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Jos. And, ere I marry him, I'll find a judge 
 That is called Death, who cannot hear your tales ! 
 
 [Sp7'ings to the dooj' L. 2 E. and rushes out. 
 
 Black, [starts after her.'] I'll follow her ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. [holdinc/ him back.] No, still, be cool and 
 think; — 
 She will return when leech-like hunger 
 Begins to suck her blood ! 
 
 Black. But she may plunge into the bay's deep waters — 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Then is the fortune made. 
 
 Black. 'Tis true ; then is fortune assured to us — 
 
 Mrs. Sto. To us, say you? and is your mind gone wrong? 
 
 Black. To us, I say ; did you not make agreement 
 With me, that I should have a sum denoted 
 If I should marry with this niece of yours 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Ay ! if you marry her. 
 
 Black. And would you have me marry her dead body ? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. If 'tis your pleasure to ^o marry her dead body, 
 Go marry it ; but I'll not pay you for it. 
 
 Black. Then, if she dies, you will not pay the sum 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. No ! 
 
 Black. Then I'll expose such deeds of yours as will 
 Make men's flesh creep ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And I'll expose 
 
 A deed of yours — a morsel delicate 
 To feed a hungry halter on ! — Have you 
 Been then so foolish as to think me so ? 
 
 Black. May curses on you fall from heaven like rain ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A fit one thou to call upon high Heaven ! 
 But think not on her body being dead, 
 For, 1 predict that, ere a week \)Q past, 
 
THE BITTER END. 29 
 
 Will she return, and then, by marrying her. 
 
 You shall obtain reward. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III — Time, night. A M^harf at the end of a street in New 
 York. Snowing. 
 
 Enter Josephine. 
 
 Jos. Howl ! howl ! howl ! ye chilly Winter winds ! 
 Tear off this poor, weak flesh of mine ! 
 And you, 
 
 Cold, cruel Winter, bring still your vast hordes on 
 Of snowfiakes, armed with a shield of white, 
 That pierce me with their lance of chilliness : 
 Yet, even they have pity ; for, when they strike 
 Upon my cheek, they melt into soft tears. 
 Each hurrying cloud of Heaven grows black wdth anger, 
 To see me here ; a poor, weak thing. 
 That never wished them harm ! And, in 
 Each corner of these stony buildings, winds 
 Do howl and hiss at me. Oh, all the world 
 Has grown my enemy. How cold ! how cold it is ? 
 Three days ago — three icy, freezing days — 
 Was it three days '? But I will see : it now 
 Is night, and then there was another night, 
 And then there were three cold, cold days. 
 When never a sun did deign to smile on me ! 
 Three days 1 three days 1 and then two chilly nights — 
 No ; how was it 1 [Counts on her fingers, 
 
 I fear my weary brain 
 
 Is hushed to sleep by this hard Winter's wind ! 
 But now I'm free ! oh free ! free ! free ! But what is free ? 
 Tell me, ye pretty things — white-breasted snows. 
 And are you free 1 Methinks, then, it is wrong 
 
30 THE BITTER END. 
 
 To let all things be free ; — there's one thing, though : 
 There is a tyrant governing in the world — 
 Whose name is Hunger. Oh ! I'm hungry, and 
 So cold ! yet I will try to drag me on ! 
 
 [Gets up and moves on. 
 Perhaps there is humanity in the world yet — 
 {Stojos sitrprised atfindi7ig herself at the end of the wharf. 
 And is this now the end 1 
 
 Where goest thou, thou deep and rushing tide 1 
 And canst thou lead me where there is no pain 1 
 No chilling snows, no cruel, stinging pains % 
 What ! no answer here but stillness deep 1 
 Were I to take this leap, a muddy bottom 
 Would I deep down rest on. And then I'd die, 
 And my poor, useless hands would sway about 
 To every motion of the silent water ; 
 And then the fish would come to gape down at 
 And see themselves in my wide, staring eyes. 
 And then, affrighted, would they dart away! 
 The moving tide would take me, inch by inch, 
 'Till all alone I rested in the ocean : 
 And there, perchance, 
 I'd lay me 'twixt two whitened skeletons 
 Of sailors dead long centuries ago; 
 And there we'd lie, and rattle our dead bones 
 Until the judgment day. Yet this is better 
 For men and Winter are cold. I'll take the leap ! 
 Enter l. u. e. Catherine, who creeps up and lays her hand 
 on her shoulder. 
 Cath. Nay, what is this? Have you a thousand lives. 
 To cast one off at every childish fancy? 
 
THE BITTER END. 31 
 
 Look up at me, my cheeks are sunk, like yours, 
 
 And hunger, too, has sunken in my eyes, 
 
 'Till they seem resting in two open tombs. 
 
 Come now with me ; nay, think no more on death ; 
 
 ril pity you^ and / will be your friend. 
 
 I have no food, nor kindly shelter for thee ; 
 
 But, still, I have a heart, from which all warmth 
 
 Is not yet driven by this icy Winter ! 
 
 Come, let your thoughts of death be banished ! 
 
 Jos. Thou art an angel, sent from Heaven down 
 To save me from this rashness ! 
 You spoke but now of hard misfortunes that 
 Had happened to you ; tell them now to me, 
 That we may gently bear with one another. 
 
 Oath. You'd hear my tale 1 'tis not a pretty tale, 
 Of how a lover woo'd, and prospered ; but how, with cruelty, 
 He crushed the rose when broken from the stem ! 
 I had a home once, like those you may see 
 When, hungrily, you wander Christmas nights, 
 From the cold streets, to see the happy faces 
 That past the windows flit with looks of joy. 
 That home is gone, for on a fated night 
 I did present this hand to one who ne'er 
 Laid aught of value on the gift I gave ; 
 But ever grew to hate me more and more. 
 I know not why — I never did know why ; 
 But oft I noticed when his face was turned 
 From me away, and bore a smile upon it, 
 That smile swift vanished if he looked towards me, 
 And angry hate sprang quickly to his eyes ! 
 And then, at times, he'd strike me in the face. 
 
32 THE BITTER END. 
 
 And laugh to see the darkened spot coDie there ! 
 
 One night he took me to a gloomy street, 
 
 And pierced me with his chilly-bladed dagger ! 
 
 Nay ; — but when he did think the breath was gone, 
 
 He called me back, and wept so piteously, 
 
 That though my mouth could not, my heart forgave him. 
 
 Jos. Forgive the man, that in his cruelty, — 
 
 Cath. Ay, for my love was such a love, that it 
 Did call a thousand small excuses up, 
 That plead for him, with words so hlled with music 
 That they did calm my frowning soul, that judged 
 Until it gave the sentence of forgiveness ! 
 
 Jos. And where is he, thy cruel husband, now ? 
 
 Cath. My ear has grown a- weary, waiting long 
 To have some bird-like message light on it. 
 To whisper to me of his whereabouts. 
 O, I do fear that we will never, never meet again ! 
 
 Jos. How strong is woman's love; — O, God, how freezing 
 Is grown this dark night's wind ; — in listening to 
 Your sorrows, I had e'en forgot the wind. 
 
 [^Storm increases. 
 
 Cath. I know a place that lends far better shelter 
 Than this one does ; then come and let us thither ; 
 We'll lie together, and may both keep Avarm. 
 
 ACT. III. 
 
 Scene I. — A valley back of Berkeley. 
 
 Mrs. Stone discovered. 
 Mrs. Sto. A life of hate ! the morn does lead in hate, 
 Until at night 'tis crushed off by sleep. 
 
THE BITTER END. 33 
 
 But I have tried to change this life of mine ; 
 And often I have wept. Oh, how they'd laugh 
 To hear me say I'd v/ept. 
 But if they laugh, I have a laugh of mine, 
 And such a laugh as rings in tombs at night. 
 A strange queer world is this ; here all is war. 
 Here men, with eager eyes, strive on to get 
 The bread from others' mouths ; 
 Big animals do eat the smaller kind, 
 And men each other. Then I'll sharpen up 
 These teeth of mine. — But here my poor fool comes. 
 Enter Godfrey. 
 
 God. Oh, tell me quickly now of Josephine. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. I fear that you will never see her more. 
 
 God. What, never see her % 
 
 Mrs. Sfo. Not in this world, but in that better world. 
 
 God. But I will seek her. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Ah'? and how will you"? 
 
 God. First will I ask of you, where has she gone % 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And I know not ; for, in an angry mood, 
 She parted from me. 
 
 God. Oh, now have all the hardest strokes of life, 
 At one fell swoop come down upon my head. 
 Ah, now no more for me the morning breeze 
 Will play sweet music on the stringed sunbeams, 
 Nor lark sing out his sweet accomp'nyment ; 
 But only melancholy, hearse-like tunes. 
 No hope, say you, that I may find her yet ? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Here does my son's wife walk at even-time, 
 Come here then in one hour, and ask of her : 
 For letters came to her from Josephine. 
 
34 THE BITTER EXD. 
 
 God. Ten thousand thanks to thee, my dearest friend. 
 
 \^Exit R. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A poor, poor fool. 
 Now for my son, with his suspicious mind : — 
 And I have poured suspicions in his ear, 
 Until such tumults raged within his breast, 
 That he was like a frothing madman, — 
 But here he comes, and much before the time. 
 Enter Stone. 
 
 Sto. Who told you, mother, that they had met here ? 
 [Mrs. Stone and her son hide behind a large rock, L. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. My son, these eyes have seen it, gazed on it, 
 And sorrowed. Oh I so deeply, at the sight. 
 
 Sto. Often, say you, that they have met together ■? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. As oft as twilight blinds the eyes of day. 
 
 Sto. Oh, God, what sorrows, mingle in with life. 
 But yesterday I loved a gentle wife 
 That then seemed pure, but now is stained as black 
 As hell with infamy ! But I'll not believe it ! 
 You are not sure'^ Oh, say you were not sure — 
 Say that — Was it not dark 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Yes, it was dark ; but through that darkness 
 pierced 
 These eyes as keenly as the new-waked sun. 
 
 Sto. And then he clasped her hand ? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A saddest truth ; he then did clasp her hand. 
 
 Sto. And did address her from his bended knees ? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And sued, and sighed, and called her "angel:" 
 Wept when she did, and smiled to see her smile. 
 
 Sto. , Then she was pleased to hear this villain's suit 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. She did not scorn it. 
 
THE BITTER END. 35 
 
 Sto. Now, by the heavens ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Nay, wait and see these gentle lovers meet, 
 And hear them speak through sighs and lazy glances. 
 'Tis a sweet place to see them meet, my son. 
 From all the world, fairies here meet o'niglits, 
 And hold their merry meetings. Here Summer 
 So loves to dwell, that, when she needs must go, 
 She shrouds the sky around with clouds of crepe. 
 Here the best songsters, from earth's choir of birds, 
 Do flood the air with music — a lovely valley. 
 Sto. It has no signs of loveliness for me, 
 But only bleak, high-rising mountain tops, 
 And sadness here is king. 
 Ha! 
 
 Enter Lily Avalking in meditation. 
 Lily. Like some still stream, in which the oak-galls rest. 
 Her hate more bitter grows with every day ; 
 And like a dagger moving in the dark, 
 Her words have meanings, that I see alone. 
 And I believe that this grandam, of late, 
 Would teach my boy to hate his mother, too. 
 Enter Godfrey, r. 
 God. Oh, use, kind lady, now, that charity 
 Which all the world has long charged to your goodness — 
 I ask that thou wilt tell me where is she. 
 The gentle maiden that's called Josephine ? 
 
 Lily. Why, then, has some misfortune fallen her 1 
 God. Nay, seem not now as if you v/ere astonished. 
 Lily. But in pure truth it does astonish me ; 
 I know of no mishap; — 
 Oh, tell me quickly who has injured herl 
 
36 THE BITTER END. 
 
 God. I know of none ; but tell me now which part 
 Of the round world is blessed with her sweet presence % 
 
 Lily. I know not. 
 
 God. \_Aside.^ By heavens she carries it out well ! 
 But I must urge more strongly. [Kneels at Lily''s feet. 
 
 Sto. Death I 
 
 Mrs. Sto. There's more to come. 
 
 God. Now do I cast me at your very feet, 
 And thus shall all my word be bended down 
 While they are pleading anxiously before you. 
 Oh, lady, hear, my love for her is strong 
 As is the knot which joins the day to night. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. His love must needs be strong — did you hear 
 him 1. 
 
 Sto. Yes, I did hear him doom my life to devils ! 
 But T will hence ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Sweet son, be not so hasty — there's much to 
 come. 
 Calmly await its coming. 
 
 Sto. Fool that I w^as, to take her to this breast, 
 When she, perchance, has oft lain on another's. 
 Oh, that the sun would now scorch out her eyes. 
 That lustfully looked love upon his face ! 
 See how the wretch now gently smiles again ! 
 Oh God ! why am I thus so greatly cursed % 
 But I will hence ; it pains these eyes of mine 
 To look upon her devilish guiltiness. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Nay, stay, sweet son, and see the end of it. 
 
 Sto. I'd blind these eyes, dared they to look upon it. 
 
 [Exit Stone, followed by his mother. 
 
THE BITTER END. 37 
 
 Lily. I swear to you, by yonder heaven above, 
 I know not where she is. 
 
 God. Then I have been deceived. 
 LUy. Deceived ? no, I 
 
 Have not deceived you. 
 
 Grod. But another has. 
 
 Lily. And who, that other ? 
 God. That I cannot tell you now ; 
 But I will find her, and I'll have revenge 
 Upon her foe. 
 
 For, if I am not wrong in my suspicions. 
 Some threat'ning cloud now hangs o'er Josephine. 
 Oh that I had quick lightnings for my coursers. 
 A chariot, whose wheels were wrought of thought, 
 To speed me quickly to my loA^ed one's side. 
 Oh, that the stars which look on both of us 
 Could send me messages down on their rays 
 About my love —my Josephine. 
 
 Would while I slept, my thoughts would steal without 
 This brain of mine, and wander o'er the earth 
 In search of her. 
 
 And on the surface of a dream write of her. 
 Re-enter Stone. 
 Lily. And have you come for me, my husband 'I 
 Sto. Aye, I have come. 
 God. Good evening, sir. 
 Sto. Good evening, sir. I'll meet you at another time. 
 
 Good night. 
 Lily. Oh, why that brow so dark ] 
 Has aught of evil happened to you ? 
 
38 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Oh let me share your sorrow as your joy [Exit Godfrey. 
 They say a gentle wife can cure a pain. 
 
 Sto, Soft sounds to come from such a sepulcher — 
 Oh, would that now my swelling heart would burst ! 
 
 Lily. Speak not, sweet husband, such hard words to me — 
 You never spoke so harshly heretofore. 
 
 Sto. Oh, what a wretch ! so hardened, and so young. 
 A face, that takes the lily's whiteness on. 
 To hide a basest purpose. Then she hath 
 Two eyes that mock the sky's blue innocence. 
 And yet they look from out a soul so dark. 
 
 Lily. Oh, cease your cruel words ; if I've done wrong, 
 I'll drown that wrong in tears. 
 
 Sto. If you had tears, as many as the ocean, 
 'Twould ne'er be wept away. Nay, come not near 
 Me in your guiltiness. 
 
 Lily. And is it thus ? 
 
 Oh Heaven, have mercy on me! 
 But I'm not guilty ; Oh, I am not so, 
 Oh listen now to me ; hear me, sweet husband, 
 Alas, I have no more than these two eyes 
 And this poor tongue to plead my innocence. 
 
 Sto. And they are false ! 
 
 Lily. None, none to speak for me ! 
 Oh that the winds had tongues, and silent night, 
 That creeps in every place ; but all are dumb ; 
 Dumb, dumb, dumb. 
 
 Sto. Ay, they are dumb, and hold their tongues in pity, 
 Lest, speaking, they would tell your guiltiness. 
 
 Lily. When I am lying on the bed of death. 
 Come to me, husband ; then w^ill you believe me. 
 
THE BITTER END. 39 
 
 Sto. Not even then ; but I'll not parley longer ; I'll be 
 divorced ; 
 Would I were dead ; for I have seen your guilt. 
 And now depart, no longer stain my sight 
 With your cursed presence ! 
 
 Lily. And where then shall I go *? 
 Into the night ? 
 
 Sto. Into the night. 'Tis well you have a night 
 To hide your shame. 
 
 Lily. Kiss me, sweet husband, ere we part forever, 
 And if you pass my grave, when I am dead. 
 Know that the dead one there forgives you all. 
 
 Sto. I'll never more pollute my lips on yours. 
 
 Lily. Good-bye, my husband. Now my heart is broke. 
 
 \^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Night-time. Ardex and wife sitting at a table c. in 
 a room in their little cottage. A lounge r. 
 
 Ard. Methinks, at last, that fortune's tide has ta'en 
 An upward turn. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. I'll not believe it till that tide doth run 
 As swift as slides, far up the ocean's beach. 
 The thund'ring wave. 
 
 Ard. Our Lily hath, as you do know, a husband 
 Gentle and kind ; 
 And fortune has, of late, glanced kindly on me — 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Heard you aught, then? 
 
 Ard. No, 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Listen I 
 
 Ard. I hear no sound. 
 
 Mrs. Ard: Perhaps 'twas but a false imagination 
 That did deceive me. 
 
40 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Ard. What was it 1 
 
 Mrs. Ard. I surely thought I heard a woman's wail, 
 Which half was hushed up by this sad night's wind. 
 
 Ard. Oft doth imagination act truth's part 
 Even as an echo. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Hush ! [Low vxiil heard. 
 
 Ard. Surely that was a woman's voice. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. So I thought. 
 
 Ard. Then I'll go out and see who it may be. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. 'Tis some poor beggar, perchance, 
 That mocks a groan to gain our charity. 
 Enter Arden with Lily leaning on his shoulder for support. 
 
 Lily. Make up the little bed for me. Oh mother, now ; 
 There let me die, for I am grown a-weary of this world. 
 
 [Arden leads her to a lounge on which she lies down. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Why, w^hat's the matter, Lily, what's the 
 matter ? 
 
 Ard. Tell your old father, Lily ; are you sick ? 
 
 Lily I'm sick of living— sick of living now ! 
 
 Mrs. Ard. But speak out and be plain. 
 
 Lily. Hard thoughts of sadness crush my rising words. 
 
 Ard. Has living being dared to hurt my child ? 
 By Heaven, and if they have, I'll tear them limb from limb ! 
 
 Lily. Nay, father, ask the question not of me ; 
 But let me die, and leave the bitter world ; 
 For since that day, when I was born, it seems 
 That I have been the cause of strivings here — 
 Then let me quietly lay down to die. 
 And leave this world to peace. 
 
 Ard. Nay Lily, let not your thought be overcome 
 By this down-heartedness — here is your mother, 
 
THE BITTER END. 41 
 
 That loves you, daughter, as none else can love, 
 Your father, too, and then your gentle child. 
 
 Lily. I have no child ! oh God, I have no child ! 
 
 Mrs. Ard. What ! is he dead 1 
 
 Lily. For me, death's hands upon him. 
 Oh heaven, look pity down upon a poor. 
 Pained soul, and, with that glance, melt these hard bonds 
 That hold it here to earth; oh heaven! oh heaven! oh heaven ! 
 And is it dark, my father 1 is it dark 1 
 What are those bright things, shining in my face 1 — 
 Oh now I. see, red glaring demons' eyes ! 
 And is it dark 1 — oh now I do remember — 
 The stream of recollection, flowing back. 
 Will overcome me — oh 'twill crush me now — 
 Oh save me father, save me, save me, save me ! — 
 See, there they come! 
 
 Ard. I'm here, my darling child ; what is it 1 
 
 Lily. Sweet beings tell me — tell me that again — 
 Like flower-spirits sleeping on a moonbeam, 
 Are your sweet whispers — no pain is there say you 1 
 Sleep, sleep — hush mother, hear — what does — [shfyps. 
 
 Ard. Earth's harshest troubles have tormented her 
 Till reason was then spirited away, 
 But now she sleeps — in sleep let her be dead. 
 Until she wakens with renewed life — 
 Did she not say her child was dead to her 1 
 
 Mrs. Ard. My memory does tell me that she did. 
 
 Ard. I cannot work its meaning out. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. A dead child, yet he lives — and is he lost 1 
 
 A rd. Nay, that would not have raised this mighty te mpest 
 In her poor mind. 
 
42 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Lily, {dreaming.) "Xot even then." 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Hush ! listen to her words. 
 
 Lily. Where 1 — but who goes by my grave — ■ 
 You still will love me, Willie 1 — divorced — 
 
 Ard. Divorced ! then has he broke the law of mighty 
 God ?— 
 I'm an old man, wife ; that ne'er did injure 
 A man or beast on earth ; and when God looks 
 Upon my memory, 
 
 Life's sweet recording Angel, he will find 
 That I ne'er tried to harm a butterfly. 
 Where in the sky, of this my heart, white clouds 
 Of love did only reign ; has anger come. 
 In darkened clouds, swift rising o'er th' horizon — 
 But ah, that anger is of no avail ; 
 What shall I do 1 if I should take the law, 
 The law loves not to look on poverty. 
 And did I take the law in my own hands 
 These grey hairs would be called a murderer's. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. His mother, though, hath kindness in her 
 heart, — 
 She will wipe off the opinion that her son — 
 For some false reason — hath gained of our Lily. 
 
 Ard. I love the Avoman not ; but it may be 
 That I do her injustice. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. That you surely do ! 
 
 Ard. God only knows ; if I am wrong may he 
 With pity glance on one of those poor worms ; 
 Which he does deign to see, through worlds of stars ; 
 Apast the mighty sun, and past the moon, 
 Below the mountain tops, and by an ant-hill, 
 
THE BITTER END. 43 
 
 Crawling along, down in some new born wrinkle, 
 Upon this small earth's face, 
 
 Lily, lyoakes.^ Where am I now'? methought the night 
 was round me. 
 And by a horrid dream, was i chased through it. 
 
 Mrs, Ard. How feel you, Lily? and are you better now? 
 
 Lily. Then all is true ! oh, that I'd slept for aye, 
 Then had it been naught but a child of sleep, 
 A thing so small, it ne'er could do me harm. 
 Better 1 yes, mother, I am better grown, 
 For there is a physician that is now 
 Fast healing all my pains — his name is death. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Speak not so, Lily, for you make me weep. 
 
 Ard. Cheer up, my child, time yet hath garnered for us 
 Full many happy days in the near future : — 
 And what could we do, darling, without you ! 
 
 Lily. When I am gone do not grieve for me, father. 
 One that was ever in the way while here, 
 Will in a better dwelling be ; then grieve you not, — 
 And it may be, that while you sleep, your souls 
 Will leave their daytime home 
 To wander with me o'er the earth at midnight. 
 Now, father, lift me from this resting place, 
 And help me mother, to my little room. 
 To-morrow bring my Willie here to me, 
 To see his mother ere her soul has fled. 
 [She leans one arm on her father's shoulder., and one on her 
 mother's, and so is helped out.^ 
 
 Scene III. — A room in Stone's bouse in Berkeley. 
 
 Stone discovered. 
 Sto. Oh, this anxiety does strain the nerves, 
 
44 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Until a breath might break them ; 
 Another to-morrow ! Then I'll to court, 
 And have this bond of marriage broke in twain. 
 Enter Arden. 
 
 A rd. Young man, I've come to ask a favor of you — 
 Of you, my daughter's and my injurer, 
 But were she not now at the door of death 
 I'd never ask the smallest favor of you. 
 No ; not if thou didst own this breath of mine, 
 And, by the gift, could save me from black death. 
 
 Sto. She now is dying, say you 1 no, she will not die. 
 
 Ard. How, sir, do you know that '? 
 
 Sto. Because I know whereof is her disease. 
 
 Ard. And I know, that 'tis from the hard effect 
 Of a long course of studied cruelty. 
 
 Sto. Nay, it has not been of a long duration. 
 With one hard blow it came, unto my knowledge ? 
 
 Ardj. What came unto thy knowledge? 
 
 Sto. Her guilt. 
 
 Ard. What, wretch ! 
 
 \_raises his cane to strike, hut drops it on second thought, 
 [aside.'] But down wild anger ! 
 For I must hold these passions well in check, 
 Or all her hope for happiness is ruined. 
 \to him.] But, sir, I'll try to speak more calmly to you, 
 And, if my voice does tremble, lay't to age. 
 Long years have brought me troubles in this world. 
 
 Sto. Old man, I have a great respect for you ; 
 I know thou lov'st thy daughter, and 'tis well. 
 Perhaps, that thou shouldst never know the truth, 
 Did trutli brins thee such sorrow as is mine. 
 
THE BITTER END. 45 
 
 A rd. I know how it is, as you, too, do know ; 
 You, who have ruined my poor, gentle child ! 
 
 Sto. An' you will have it that way, have it so. 
 Now tell me^ what is that same favor, which 
 You spoke of? 
 
 Ard. It is no favor that I ask of you ; 
 It is that which 1 have a right to demand : — 
 My daughter's child. 
 
 Sto. Your daughter's child is mine. 
 
 Ard. It now belongs to both; ere long, it will 
 Belong to you alone. 
 
 Sto. What would you with him 1 
 
 Ard. I now would take him to his mother's breast, 
 For 'tis her wish to see him ere she dies. 
 
 Sto. I grant her wish ; but this you too must know, 
 That when she does recover from her sickness, 
 The child remains not with her ; — by the law 
 He will belong to me. 
 
 Ard. I know not that, for it does all depend 
 On circumstances of the case in hand. [Exit Arden. 
 
 Sto. Where am I now 1 and is this place the earth 1 
 And are there stars, and is there night and day ? — 
 Or is it that from which we soon will wake '? 
 A fleeting, half-seen thing — dream 1 [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. — New York State. Open country, mountains sur- 
 rounding. 
 
 Enter Catherine and Josephine, who stop by a stream. 
 Cath. Come, let us rest here on this mossy bank ; 
 This long day's walk has made my liml)s grow weary. 
 Jos. A. pretty spot is this. Methinks that here 
 
46 THE BITTER END. 
 
 The busy bee must spend his holidays ; 
 
 The humming-bird, that drinks from flower-made cups ; 
 
 The ant, that does build up his mighty cities, 
 
 Come here to rest. And then, perchance, they feast : 
 
 For tables having a white lily's leaf. 
 
 For napkins, white rose leaves, and for their plates 
 
 The golden buttercups. 
 
 Cath. A broken sunbeam for their knives and forks. 
 
 Jos. Aye, that was well ; and for their food, the bee 
 Would fetch his honey. 
 
 And when the dinner was removed, they'd have 
 A silver cloud, brought from the sky above, 
 To dance upon. 
 
 Cath. And for a sky, they'd have 
 A maiden dream of love, to hang o'erhead. 
 
 Jos. A pretty way is this to bid the hours 
 That are unwelcome, to depart from us. 
 This silver cloud you'd have them dance upon, 
 Brings back to mind the falling clouds of snow — 
 When first we met ; — thank God that I do now 
 Feel its cold chill but in imagination : — 
 Sweet Catherine, do you recall the hour % 
 
 Cath. Ah, well do I, and two conflicting feelings, 
 Like night and day, do meet in memory : 
 The one — the bright one — tells me then I meet you, 
 The other, dark, does tell me of the storm. 
 And as the night is but a shadow of the day, 
 So is the suffering of that dreary hour 
 A shadow only to the joy of thee ! 
 
 Jos. Sweet friend, J thank you ; would that all my thanks 
 Did bear a thousand blessino;s on their backs : — 
 
THE BITTER END. 47 
 
 We have been friends in dark misfortune's hour — 
 Let us be friends forever. 
 
 Cath. Though we have 
 
 No other food, will live on that till death. 
 
 Jos. Last night I dreamed of those far off at home — 
 At home, said I *? — I never had a home — 
 Of that far land, upon the Western shore. 
 Of which I told you. 
 
 Cath. Nay, you did not tell me. 
 
 Except that once you had a few friends there ; — 
 But tell me now, while we are resting here, 
 About those friends. 
 
 Enter Godfrey and a Detective. 
 
 Jos. But who are these, that come with eagerness 
 Peering out through their eyes. What ; can it be 1 
 
 Cath. Who 1 
 
 God. Now are you found at last, my heart's sweet 
 treasure ! 
 
 Jos. Found, found, found ! 
 
 God. Ay found, my darling, after searching long 
 And wearily for you. 
 
 Jos. Now is the odor of life's flowers of joy 
 Borne to me by the breath of happiness. 
 Oh 'tis too sweet to be a thing of earth ! 
 This happiness is far too sweet for earth. 
 Some envious thing will soon be creeping in 
 To murder it. 
 
 God. Oh that I had a pen, the which could write 
 The rose's breath, the drooping lily's hue ; 
 Then would I place, 'mid breath of flowers that die 
 Upon the lonely prairie, while awaiting 
 
48 THE BITTER END. 
 
 For the return of its long absent mate ; 
 Or birds that wept out songs of melody, 
 And in a prison died — the tales of these 
 Sweet moments. 
 
 Jos. Now let me make known to you, Godfrey, 
 My only friend, except yourself, on earth. 
 
 God. As you have been the friend of Josephine 
 I know that you are gentle, loving, kind. 
 And I do covet back the years now gone 
 In which I might have known you. 
 
 Cath. And all joy. 
 
 That you have felt at meeting have I shared, 
 And now may time, with each year, reap 
 A harvest of her greatest blessings for you — 
 Farewell ! {starts to go. 
 
 Jos. Nay, but you shall not go ! 
 You have 
 
 Been sister to me in adversity, 
 By your own wish ; and now, by my command, 
 You shall be sister in prosperity. 
 
 God. There, Josephine did speak my thought for me. 
 
 Jos. Then let us quickly to the sunset State. 
 
 God. [Aside to detective.] And your reward shall be 
 in a proportion 
 To this our joy. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Same as Scene II, Act III. 
 Mrs. Arden discovered, r. Lily discovered lying on a bed, l. 
 Mrs. Ard. And are you better, Lilly 1 
 Lily. Far better, mother. 
 Mrs. Ard. Better, my child? 
 
THE BITTER END. 49 
 
 Lily. Yes, mother, for the hour of death is gliding 
 Swift o'er my life as black clouds o'er the land. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Oh, don't speak so despondingiy, my child ! 
 
 Lily. My spirits now are sunken deep down in 
 The prison of despair. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Nay, think not so ; now have I news for thee, 
 'Twill make thy spirits like to sun-lit clouds 
 That move through Summer's sky. 
 
 Lily. What is it, mother 1 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Thy child is here. 
 
 Lily. Then God hath given an answer to my prayer. 
 Oo call him, mother. [Exit Mrs. Arden. 
 
 Lily. Oh life, thou'st been a cruel master to me, 
 But I forgive thee for this latest boon. 
 Enter Willie. 
 
 Lily. Sweet boy, at last you've come to bless these eyes ; 
 Kiss me, my darling, kiss again poor mamma. 
 
 Will. What makes your face so white, my mamma 1 
 
 Lily. Sickness, Willie. 
 
 Will. But what has made you sick 1 
 
 Lily. Sorrow and pain. 
 
 Will. 'Twas a cruel pain to make your face so white ; — a 
 very cruel pain i — but 'twill away, will't not 1 
 
 Lily. Yes, Willie ; soon, soon now — 
 Do you remember, my boy. how, long ago, I told you of a 
 bright city beyond the clouds 1 — beyond the little stars 
 you see peering through the dark at night? 
 
 Will. Where the gold-winged angels are 1 
 
 Lily. Yes ; mamma will soon go there. 
 
 Will. And will you be an angel, too, and play sweet 
 music on a golden harp 1 
 
50 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Lily. I know not, Willie ; but there will be the music 
 
 of rest ; for there is no more pain ; no aching hearts, 
 
 Willie. 
 The poor, poor soul, that's been weary here, does there find 
 
 rest. 
 There the still river of peace flows ever on ; no darkness 
 
 enters there ; they need no night to sleep ; but all is 
 
 day, ay, day forever there — 
 Oh happiness ! and there is ever rest ; 
 There rest the weary, and there the broken hearted. 
 
 No pain — no pain — no pa [dies. 
 
 Will. Don't look that way, sweet mamma — oh now wake 
 
 up— 
 Stare not so hard at me ; wake, wake, wake ! 
 Enter Mrs. Arden. 
 Mrs. Ard. Do you feel better now, my child? — What"? 
 
 —dead 1 
 Oh now is all the beauty in the earth 
 A dead thing on my heart, a desert there ; 
 Oh now are all the sorrows of the earth 
 In one great climax here ! — Thou art not dead 1 
 Oh say, with those white lips, thou are not dead ! 
 Great Heaven, have pity on a poor, sad thing. 
 From whom rough death has torn her only child 1 
 Enter Arden. 
 Ard. Why do you weep 1 — Great God she is not dead — 
 Nay, Lily, thou'rt not dead 1 — speak to thy father — 
 Thy poor old father, Lily ! — What, no words 1 — 
 Dead, dead, dead ; 'tis cruel word ! 'twill murder 
 All reason that is left ! Forever gone ! 
 Oh, Heaven in pity kill me ; release me ! 
 
THE BITTER END. 51 
 
 For now is all my life of nothing worth ; 
 
 Take it, ye winds, and blow it o'er the earth ! 
 
 Dead ? say you 1 Nay, but that's too hard ! Change it : 
 
 Some gentler word put there. Dead % Hush my child ; 
 
 Weep not so hard ; your mother only sleeps. 
 
 Will. And will she wake again *? 
 
 A{rs. Ard. Aye, angels in Heaven have already lifted 
 The sleep from off her eyes. 
 
 Ard. But sixty-live ? they say men live to seventy : 
 And these, my years, have each borne on his back 
 His weight of sorrow ; but none like to this ! — 
 Kind death release me, too ! Oh, how I loved her ! 
 And in a moment — a poor piteous moment, — 
 It was all done ! 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Grieve not so hard, good husband • 
 The shadow black of death, while rounding earth. 
 Must sometimes fall on all ; — a lightning flash, 
 And then this life is swallowed up by death. 
 
 A rd. Then, sorrow, stand back, I will not grieve; I'll keep 
 You closed up in this heart until it burst. 
 Now I am calm. Come, wife, I will, with you, 
 Prepare her burial. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — A room in Arden's cottage. 
 Mrs. Stoxe discovered l. Enter R. 2. e. a Minister. 
 Mill. And the poor child's gone. 
 Mrs. Sto. Aye, gone ! 
 
 Mill. As gentle as the soft-breathed morning breeze. 
 But this great world, is a rough school indeed. 
 
52 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Where all are sent to learn. 
 
 Being wearried of her task. 
 
 The mighty master freed her, ere the rest. 
 
 Freed from the petty intrigues of the world, 
 
 Its harrassments, its cares and jealousies. 
 
 From strife for place ; th' ingratitude of office ; 
 
 From secret foes masked with the smiles of friendship 
 
 And hope deferred and hopes that are delusions ; 
 
 From seeing honor jeered and vice triumphant. 
 
 The world's applause so many times misplaced, 
 
 Given to the self assured ; 
 
 Its long forgetfulness of modest merit. 
 
 From the rich man's bloodless cold suspicion 
 
 That we would borrow whene'er we say good day. 
 
 The poor man's pride ; 
 
 And from the anxious struggle on for bread, 
 
 The galling fate that makes us servitors 
 
 To some fat brained tyrannous accident 
 
 Who lords it well while in authority ; 
 
 The tardy-coming justice of the world ; 
 
 From seeing interest take the place of judgment 
 
 And blind the eyes of reason. 
 
 The birds ceased singing their sweet hymns of praise 
 
 To hear her voice. 
 
 Methinks the flowers will wear a robe of mourning 
 
 For this poor Lily dead. 
 
 And all men loved her. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. I say, one did not. 
 
 Min. I cannot believe it. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. I know it well ; a cruel, cursed wretch, 
 That ever sought to do her injury. 
 
THE BITTER END. 53 
 
 Min. Nay, be not harsh ; this is no time for that ; 
 The sicjht should make us charitable. 
 
 Mrs. Sio. Would'st be charitable to a devil 1 
 A very cursed devil ! Great God ! have mercy on me ! 
 
 Min. On thee ? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Aye, man ; on me ! 
 Does not hell shine out through these eyes of mine ; 
 And in my heart can'st thou not see hot hell ? 
 Methinks 'twould make a very beacon flame 
 To light the world ! Oh, cursed, cursed wretch 'I 
 
 Min. Nay, calm thyself. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A dagger alone might calm me ! Oh, oh, oh! 
 1 never thought that it would come to this ! 
 And dead ^ back, horrid word ! 
 A poor thing, that never did me wrong, 
 And, in requital, I have caused her death — killed her ! 
 
 Min. What? you killed her"? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Not with a dagger, fool ; 
 But with a far w^orse instrument — 'twas hate ! 
 
 Min. Perchance you do deceive yourself ; be calm ; 
 We all at times have said some bitter things. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Bitter ! bitter ! Were all the clouds in heaven. 
 Of vapory, nut-gall juice, they'd be shame-faced 
 By this strong bitterness that mingled with my hate. 
 
 Mill. Speak not so loud. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Think you that she will hear, who's dead in 
 there I— 
 
 Min. And if you hated her, what cause had you ? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Ay, that is right, 
 A demon whispered in my heart of hate. 
 
 Min. . Be not disturbed — 'tis your imagination 
 
54 THE BITTEB END. 
 
 That hath been worked on by your deepest sorrow : — 
 Lily did never speak a v/ord of you but in a voice of kindnes>s. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. You knew her not, and I knew her to well ; 
 She never did complain beneath my practice, 
 That gained success by using cruel arts, 
 But when I saw her lie so still and dead, 
 Her cold lips seemed so sadly to rebuke me — 
 Not harshly, as I oft had wounded her. 
 But with the voice of death so silently ; 
 Oh, then did memories swift flash on me 
 As the wild hurricane ; and each did have 
 For me a well-deserved curse in 's mouth. 
 Her poor, \vhite cheek — and I made it so — 
 Oh, God, how then stood out each scene before me, 
 Where I had injured her, like fiends that torment ; 
 You are a man of God ; say, is there comfort 
 For murderers 1 
 
 Min. Repent. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. I have repented in hot flames of fire ; 
 For when I walk about, the echoes of 
 My footsteps scream out murderer ; 
 The breeze of heaven does steal up to my ear. 
 To leave their whispers ringing murderer ! 
 Enter Stone. 
 
 Sto. Long have I sought you, for T just have learned 
 That she is dead, whom once I loved so well. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And yet 
 
 Should have loved well, but that cursed jealousy 
 Did blind your silly eyes ! 
 
 Sto. Nay, but I saw. 
 
THE BITTER END. 55 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Saw her that was as pure as light of heaven, 
 Most foully wronged. 
 
 Sto. But did you not show me how that they met ; 
 How his advances did she all accept ; 
 How she rebuked not when he knelt to her, 
 But, with a smiling face accepted all ; 
 
 Mrs. Sto. When he was asking her to tell him where 
 His Josephine had gone. 
 
 Sto. And was't that way % 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Ay, that it was. 
 
 Sto. And you did known it then ? 
 
 Mrs. Sto. I did. 
 
 Sto. Accursed wretch ! may heaven — 
 
 Min. Curse not ! to God alone be punishment. 
 
 Sto. Oh it is hard, and then I was so cruel. 
 Heaping hard names upon her gentle head. 
 While she bore all, ancl said " I do forgive you." 
 And then, unlike a man, more like a fiend, 
 I sent her out into the chilly night. 
 So true a heart ! and yet so injured. 
 Oh mother, mother, why have you done this 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. The answer that I once had given — is gone, 
 Her poor, dead face did drive it far from me. 
 
 Sto. You injure me, and cannot tell me why ? 
 Bitter my life and murder all its joy ! — 
 8tain a sweet angel with thy most foul words, 
 And cannot tell the why 1 oh 'tis too much ! 
 Would I had died before I injured her ; 
 Would had the lightnings torn my limbs apart. 
 And the great thunder crashed the heavens above 
 Till they did fall a shattered heap upon me. [jSxif. 
 
56 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And now I ask of you at what 
 Hour shall we bring her for the burial ? 
 
 Min. At ten o'clock, for in the following hour — 
 But no, 'tis needless ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And then, perhaps, you'll say a few short 
 prayers, 
 And sing a hymn ; a little weeping, and 
 Some earth thrown in ; and then 'twill all be over. 
 
 Min. All over here ; but I must leave thee, for I've 
 work to do. [Exit. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And I will give you more, ere time be old. 
 There's mercy in a dagger's point, and I will taste it ! 
 Or, better fate there may be found in drowning : — 
 Cold-blooded fishes, would you greet me then ? 
 Perhaps a shark would take me 'twixt his teeth, 
 And munch, and munch, and munch — a murderer ! 
 
 [Enter Black well.] 
 And you too, here 1 Come you death's courier 
 To tell the death of Josephine 1 
 
 Black. Dead 1 no. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Then I have naught to do with you. Leave me ! 
 
 Black. What ! is her mind estranged 1 
 I bring you joy. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Joy lives not now ; it hath died long ago. 
 
 Black. To-morrow Josephine is to be married 
 
 Mrs. Sto. I know it well ; to-morrow Lily's buried. 
 At eleven, said he 1 yes, truly, that he said. 
 
 Black, I said not that — good heaven, is Lily dead 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Dead 1 Yes, she is dead. 
 
 Black. I know not of it. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. You might have known it for a year that's past. 
 
THE BITTER END. 57 
 
 Black. Her mind is ill ; in truth a lunatic. 
 I ever thought her mind might come to this. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A lunatic, ha ! ha ! I may be one. 
 Enter Mr. and Mrs. Arden. 
 
 Ard. How went the long night with you ^ 
 
 Mrs. Ard. I could not sleep ; 
 My thoughts of Lily were so wide awake, 
 That from my staring eyes sleep fled affrighted. 
 At times I did half doze, and then I thought 
 I heard our Lily's spirit hovering near ; 
 And then I'd wake, and find myself a-listening, 
 But I could hear naught but the sound of stillness. 
 That in my ear did ring its dreary tone. 
 And then again I wept myself to sleep ; 
 And, in that sleep, I heard a voice speak to me, 
 And, as I listened, I knew that the voice 
 Was Lily's voice, as years ago I heard it. 
 The lilies came this morning. 
 
 Ard. Ay, that is right; the white, white lilies. 
 Plucked from their stem of life like our own Lily ; 
 Lay them upon her. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. While I laid on the lilies, one by one, 
 I thought the heart that beat in me would break. 
 For she seemed sleeping, only that she breathed not, 
 And her poor eyes were gazing up to Heaven, 
 As if, with them she told life's sorrows there ; 
 And, oh, her cheek, so thin it was, and pale, 
 And her white lips were ope'd just wide enough 
 To let an unsaid prayer pass through. 
 
 Ard. Do you remember, wife, how kind she was, 
 Sharing all danger, that she might help those 
 
 ExiL 
 Exit. 
 
58 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Who were oppressed ; loving whom none else loved ; 
 Smiling on all with that sweet smile of hers, 
 Which taught us how the sunlight shone in heaven "? 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Inside of a church. Godfrey, Josephine, brides- 
 maids, etc. , sitting in the front pew. A wedding march is played 
 on the organ, and the marriage party go forward and arrange them- 
 selves in front of the altar. Two sextons standing at a door inside 
 of the church l. 1. e. The minister enters at the vestry door l. c, 
 and at the same time enter through the door l. 1. e. pall-beraers 
 carrying Lily's coffin. Not perceiving the marriage, party, at first, 
 they walk about half way up the aisle, followed by the mourners. 
 Curtain falls. End of Act IV. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene 1. — A churchyard. Time, evenmg. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Stone, with her face heavily veiled. 
 Mrs. Sto. I've grown a very baby since her death, 
 Kneeling and praying that perchance sometime 
 When does her spirit wing its way to earth, 
 'Twill have compassion on its murderer. 
 But to the world, that mimicry of hell, 
 I'll act my devil's part. A poor fool I, 
 That when my mind was charged with distraction, 
 I rushed out to a meek-faced minister. 
 But time's returned me back my mask again; 
 The same cold brow, the cold as iron eye. 
 To stare a fiend out of his countenance. 
 Come down, sweet night, throw thy light garnient o'er me, 
 
 [Kneels at Lily's grave. 
 For I would not that man should see me pray. 
 
THE BITTER END. 59 
 
 Enter Blackwell. 
 
 Black. And you a praying ; ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. [losing.'] Even here, too, are you then, fiend 
 of fatel 
 
 Black. Ambition hath not raised me up that high. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Why do you, then, so follow me of late ? 
 Were I to hide me in yon ghastly vault 
 Methinks you'd find me there. 
 
 Black. Ay, I would cast 
 The rotting bones at thee; and hollow skulls, 
 'Till echoes shrieked beneath each coffin lid. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Have you no fear to speak thus in this place ! 
 Here where pale ghosts do walk these nightly hours. 
 Wailing for sins once done upon upon this earth. 
 Enter Catherine, who hides unperceived behind a tombstone 
 
 Black. Come there a legion of white ghosts here now 
 I'd dare them all to pass this dagger's point. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A dagger, ha ! to murder dead men with ? 
 
 Black. Dead corpses, no ; but living ones, perhaps. 
 Nay, does your face turn white, your face ? ha ! ha ! 
 
 Cath. Ha! ha! 
 
 Black. Did you hear that 1 
 
 Mrs. Sto. 'Tis but a ghost, to dare your dagger's point. 
 But w^hy flees all the blood from out your face 1 
 Methinks 'tis white and milky as the moon. 
 Nay, call now back that sentinel of health. 
 The blood, into your cheek ; thou art too bold. 
 
 Black. I do ; I dare the fiercest fiend of hell ! 
 'Twas but an echo. But no more of this. 
 I've followed you because 
 
60 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Of weighty purposes, that in the mind 
 
 Have wandered long, like your unresting spirits. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And what may be your weighty purposes ? 
 Tell them to me. I long have been your partner 
 In secrecy; I'd be your partner still. 
 
 Black. Then this is it : I would have from you 
 The fortune which you once did promise me. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Is this an hour to ask such things of me ? 
 
 Black. I know not by what name you call the hour ; 
 But this I know, I love its look full well, 
 For in it does a fortune wait for me ! 
 Or else there is a death that waits for you. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A death, say you ? nay, you cannot mean that ! 
 You would not have these lips, that now speak to you. 
 Closed up for aye ? Your only friend on earth. 
 The one that's known you for these twenty years. 
 To lie here weltering in the blood you spill ? 
 
 Black. But, then, I will, if you have not the money 
 That patiently I've waited for so long. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Think well of it ; have my deeds been such 
 to you 
 That you should pay in terms of enmity ? 
 And if I have not money, can my death 
 Have value as a payment when 'tis made 
 Think of the deed ; 'twill haunt you when you sleep ; 
 And while you wake, 'twill be a horrid shadow, 
 That conscience says all men do look upon. 
 
 Black. Conscience, or fiends, or hell, or what you will : 
 If you have not the money, then you die. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. If it must be, take this, ray answer ! 
 
 [Do'aivs a dagger from her bosom and stabs him. 
 
THE BITTER END. 61 
 
 Mack. Curse you ! you've killed me ! 
 
 Cath. Murder ! murder ! murder ! 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Ha ! are the bloodhounds on my track 'so soon? 
 But I was never made to run from them. \_Exit waJking. 
 
 Cath. \_K71eels down hy BlackweWs side.^ Met once 
 again, but only met too late ; 
 Alas ! he's dead ; but on his lips I'll lay 
 This cheek of mine ; perhaps some lingering breath 
 Cs hovering still where it has lived so long. 
 
 Black. Stand back, she-v/olf ! great heaven, art thou a 
 spirit 1 
 An airy mockery of my murdered wife 1 
 But I will fear thee not, thou horrid sprite, 
 Though thou put on thy look of coldest horror ; 
 Torment — 
 
 Cath. But I'm no spirit ; I'm thy wife. 
 
 Black. So the dead lie, as well as do the living — 
 
 Cath. Oh waste not 
 That breath more precious than this life can tell : 
 Think quickly, for the time of thought is short ; 
 And let each thought be bearer of belief. 
 I am your own, and still your loving wife. 
 
 Black. Your voice does have a natural ring. But no. 
 With a cold-hearted dagger did I pierce 
 Her harmless breast. 
 
 Cath. Not from my body fled the breath away. 
 
 Black. How came you in this place, if you are a living 
 being? 
 
 Cath. A providence 
 That shapes man's course on earth hath lead me to 
 This land. To tell the why to you. 
 
62 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Would be to make a silly waste of time. 
 But this, in briefness, will I tell thy ear ; 
 To-day I saw you walking in the street, 
 And knew you well ; for long has memory 
 Kept watchful guard upon that face of thine. 
 And, when I saw you, at a distance, followed, 
 Trembling in fear of this my new-found joy ; 
 And, ere you stopped, the sun drew otF the day. 
 And sent refreshed night to guard the earth. . 
 When I came up I saw you speaking to 
 A women, that was half hid by the night ; 
 And then, because of fear to taste my joy 
 Too soon, I sat me dow^n behind a tombstone. 
 
 Black. One sin, then, less to drag me down to hell. 
 
 Cath. Now will I ask that which, for long, long years, 
 I've hoped to ask, until the heart did grow 
 Hope-sick : 
 
 If it is true (which I cannot believe). 
 That you did have intent to murder me 1 
 
 Black. Nay, ask me not, for life is ebbing fast ; 
 But think that I did not intend to kill thee. 
 Oh, how hard pains chase swiftly through my body ! 
 Ah, pain, thou are a music brought from hell ! 
 
 Cath. Oh, would that I might bear you pain for you ! 
 In sharing it the time would be recalled 
 When everything between us two was shared. 
 Then would come back those happiest hours of life, 
 When first I gave my love, my all, to thee. 
 Do'st thou remembej' how the morning breeze 
 Was telling the birds what pretty tales to sing, 
 And how they sang, and only sang of love ; 
 
THE BITTER END. 63 
 
 And how the brook did music play upon 
 
 The pebbles, that were ever rolling on ; 
 
 And how you laid your head upon my breast, 
 
 And said that you would love me then and ever % 
 
 Black. Yes, I remember all ; but these harsh pains 
 Do make a target of my memory. 
 
 Cath. Alas, that I cannot a sharer be 
 In this thy pain, as then I shared thy love. 
 But lay thy head upon this breast of mine, 
 And then I'll weep a flood of chilly tears 
 To cool thy burning pain. Now say to me. 
 And ease my anxious mind ere you depart, 
 You had not wished to kill me ? 
 
 Black. My life is short ; my breath is failing fast — 
 
 Cath. Oh, tell me quickly, then. 
 
 Black. I did ! Curse on 
 Thy woman's curiosity. Oh, this has ended me ! 
 
 [Groans and dies, 
 
 Cath. Gone, gone, gone, yet I will love you still ; 
 For once those arms did clasp me round with love ; 
 Those dead lips kiss me once — I love them yet. 
 And those poor eyes did look so lovingly. 
 Oh dead, dead, dead ! 
 
 Scene II. — A room in Godfrey's house. Mr. and Mrs. Arden, 
 Catherine, Josephine, and relatives assembled. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. We should beware in judging Josephine, 
 For, through mistake, I once did wrong poor Lily. 
 We think not when we have our loved ones round us. 
 And pain them with a bitter sneer or word. 
 That it may be before the hour of midnight, 
 Or, ere the sun be sunken down in darkness, 
 
64 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Their souls may pass out on that face of night, 
 Or, wing their way adown the sun's last ray ; 
 And then 1 The pale lips cannot answer then. 
 
 Jos. I do not seek to injure any one, 
 But hope to prove my aunt has done no wrong. 
 These letters, that I left in Lily's charge. 
 That, since her death, you have returned to me, 
 State, in my father's writing, that he left 
 A fortune for me with this aunt of mine, 
 W hich on my twentieth year she was to give me ; 
 But she has never spoken to me of it. 
 And I know now that she is very poor ; 
 So here before her relatives I'd charge her 
 With keeping from me that which is my own. 
 Enter Godfrey. 
 
 God. And did you hear the horrid news last night? 
 That friend of Lily's mother-in-law is murdered. 
 The man called Blackwell. 
 
 Mrs. Ard. Murdered "? Who murdered him ? 
 
 God. 'Tis only known a woman did the deed. 
 
 Mrs, Ard. How was that known, and yet the murderer 
 not? 
 
 God. A woman, once his wife long years ago. 
 Who had not seen him for these many years, 
 Saw him, and knew him, on the day he died ; 
 And, when she saw him, followed after him. 
 The time was evening, and beneath its shade 
 She saw him go in through a grave-yard gate ; 
 A woman there spoke to him for a time, 
 Then murdered him, and turned and fled away. 
 
 Jos. My husband, what have you heard of my aunt? 
 
THE BITTER END, 65 
 
 God. Soon she will be here, and will tell you then. 
 
 Mrs Ard. And does she know why you have called her 
 here? 
 
 God. She does not know. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Stone. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. This has resemblance to a merry meeting, 
 So bright the faces of this company ; 
 You should know, Josephine, such things I like not, 
 Then why have you made me partaker of it % 
 
 God. I fear 'twill be as a sad merry making 
 As men do make upon a funeral. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A funeral 1 what 1 but it cannot be. 
 
 Jos. Aye, but it is ; and sad the heart of mine, 
 That forces out the words, to tell it you. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. A funeral, but who is't now that's dead ? 
 
 Jos. My love for you. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Your love for me 1 ha ! ha ! and is it so ? 
 Then be it known I feed not on your love ; 
 And did I wear it for a garment on 
 This back of mine, I would not feel it there ; 
 Nor will it raise a fortune up to me — 
 
 Jos. It was lost through your guilt. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Guilt 1 
 
 Jos. Nay, put no injured look upon your face ; 
 Your actions are stamped all with guiltiness, 
 Turn your eyes backward over twenty years ; 
 Canst thou see back, upon the plain of time, 
 A dying father and his orphan child ? 
 There canst thou picture, too, a guilty woman 
 Who robbed that orphan of its earthly all 1 
 Nay, hold not back ; lay out the truth before us. 
 
66 THE BITTER END. 
 
 Mrs. Sto, And 'twas for this you trapped me to this place •? 
 To injure me with wrongful slanders ? 
 But think you I will meekly play the lamb ? 
 Make way there ; let me pass. 
 
 [fries to go out through a locked door 
 
 God. The door is locked. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. I'd crush the lock were it of adamant. 
 
 God. Thy hand, methinks, is far too soft for that ; 
 But calm thyself ; here are you brought for judgment ; 
 These are thy judges that are seated here. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And can they bear the angry tigress' glance 1 
 
 God. They will bear thine. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Nay, but this all is only some foolish jest 1 
 
 God. Would that it were no more ; but, as I live — 
 
 Mrs. Sto. But as you live — and all the life you have 
 Might by a tiny sparrow's brain be bounded — 
 Then judge ahead, and you, you moon-faced judges. 
 Put now a look of weighty wisdom on ; 
 Be wise in looks, if you be not in thought. 
 Keep your ears stretched to catch the slightest sound ; 
 Nay, never look amazed, 
 Now that I'm done, you may proceed to work. 
 
 God. Then, be it known, full evidence is found. 
 That you have made what was once Josephine's — 
 A fortune left her by her father dead — 
 Your own; and were you man, and not a woman. 
 You should be named a thief. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. And were you man, and woman not, false liar, 
 I'd throttle you!- -now judge, wax faces, judge ! 
 
 Jos. The time has not yet come for judgment on you. 
 Another tale 'gainst you I'm forced to tell ; 
 
THE BITTER END. 67 
 
 Long was it locked a secret in my breast, 
 
 'Till I did share that secret with my husband ; 
 
 Then, be it known to all this company, 
 
 That this, my aunt, who ever was so loving. 
 
 On a false plea, did take me from my home 
 
 To far New York, and there did strive to wed me — 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Nay, you do draw all patience from my breast 
 By your slow speech. I'll tell your tale. 
 Then will the end come quickly. Grave judges : 
 My niece would say I wished to marry her 
 To some poor devil who would take her hand. 
 Being well paid for it ; and would take her where 
 She would be from my sight, while I here spent 
 The money that her father left her. 
 Now judge me daughter of the devil, or 
 A fiend, or what you will. But speak 
 A word to ease my ears, that itch to hear 
 A word from lips so grave. [Knocking at the dom\ 
 
 God. Who knocks 1 
 
 \^Vithin^ Police. Two officers of law. 
 
 Mrs. Sto. Ha ! stands it so ? The blessing of the devil 
 I leave to all of you ! Such friends, such piteous friends ! 
 Curse all of you — like sparks of midnight fire 
 May curses fall on you ! 
 
 The glistening gold and death are all man's earthly friends ; 
 The last I love the best. Come kiss me, death ! 
 
 \^Draios a dagger from her bosom and stabs herself. 
 Now on ! now on ! ye hounds, upon the dying hare ! 
 
^^^^ 
 
 FLAVIA 
 
 ^^^:^ 
 
F L AV I A. 
 
 A DRAMA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I.— Time, night. A room, through a window in which 
 the Coliseum is seen, with the moonlight falling upon it. 
 
 Flavia — Basilius. 
 Flav. How calm and peaceful seems this hour of 
 night ; — 
 See how the moon's soft rays come gently downward, 
 As if the watchful angels up in heaven 
 Had sent these cooler rays down from the sky 
 To rest so softly where the hot sun blazed, 
 That then the tumults of the angry day 
 Are soothed to silence. The cries of pain are hushed ; 
 The soldiers' tread ; the rattling car of war 
 Break not the silence of the peaceful night; 
 The loud discordant jarrings of the day 
 Seem ever present where there is injustice; 
 But all the healing elements of the night 
 In silence \vork unseen. 
 
 Bas. 'Tis but a respite; 
 To-morrow surely comes, and like a nightmare, 
 
72 FLA VIA. 
 
 Takes on itself the dreary shape and visage 
 
 Of what was yesterday; and so each day 
 
 Has in it pictured forth scenes of oppression: 
 
 The hideous inequality of rights; 
 
 The self-same picture of a tyrant's power; 
 
 The merciless greed peculiar to mankind ; 
 
 And I to-morrow am driven to th' arena, 
 
 To fight with beasts, and murder other men. 
 
 I one time thought this world of ours was human. 
 
 But by the mass of wrong I see around me. 
 
 The cruel cowardice by which the strong o'ercome the weak, 
 
 I see that each man has within his nature 
 The passions of all beasts upon the earth; 
 I've seen the serpent coiled within his eye, 
 The fox, the tiger, and the murderous shark; — 
 I've seen them all in men. — 
 Such is humanity, with this exception. 
 There's something seldom used that's God-like, 
 To curb this world within him. 
 
 Flav. One time it would have made me weep to hear 
 you; 
 For then I lived where were the woods and plains. 
 I thought then all was kindness in the world, 
 For there the passing winds would kiss the flowers; 
 The flowers in turn would load the winds with sweetness; 
 The birds with gentle note would wake the morning; 
 And then the winds, that wandered through the trees. 
 Would murmur soft applause to their sweet music, 
 The while the smiling sun beamed down on all. 
 In memory now I see the rugged hut, 
 Close by the Danube, where my father dwelt. 
 
FLA VIA. 73 
 
 I see my mother, with her soft blue eyes, 
 
 And all the people of that sweet old home 
 
 Seemed gentle — noble as the scenes around them, 
 
 Not harsh like grating Rome: — 
 
 'Tis like a vision now half past away. 
 
 For one day came the Romajis to our land, 
 
 To burn our homes, enslave and murder us. 
 
 They brought my father, mother and myself with them: 
 
 But soon my mother pined away, and died ; 
 
 And since that time, a slave and gladiator, 
 
 My father fights with beasts, that gaping crowds 
 
 May laugh to see his danger. 
 
 Bas. True, Flavia, true; justice lives on the Danube. 
 Wherever men are found in largest numbers, 
 Man's greed makes jails and dungeons to be found. 
 His fellov.^-man he locks from light and air, 
 And treats him as no dog would treat another. 
 Where men in largest numbers come together, 
 They join together in vast bands for murder. 
 And shed more blood than all the beasts on earth. 
 And where the largest mass of men have joined, 
 Reigns most inharmony; nature is most defaced. 
 Here in this Rome 
 
 Murder is cradled ; here luxury and crime 
 Stare honesty swift out o' countenance. 
 Some laugh while others die; and some must die. 
 Because this reasoning being murders all justice. 
 Cowards in state sit in the Coliseum, 
 And that their leaden hours may be spurred onward 
 By ghastly scenes, have bold men murdered. 
 And watch them die, to start a Roman laugh. 
 
74 FLA VIA. 
 
 Flav. When first they brought my father here to Rome 
 He had a giant's strength ; but seeing blood 
 Come warm from human fiesh, while the eye glazed, 
 Made him most sick at heart ; and often he, 
 While telling how a friend fell by his hand, 
 Has sighed most piteously to tell me of it ; 
 And often, were it not for me, he'd say. 
 He would have dropped his sword and shield, that he 
 Might fall in death, and end this barren life. 
 
 Bas. And still we cling to life through all our years, 
 As if this hell were heaven. Since every day 
 Is made of disappointments, pain, and rebuffs. 
 It seems most strange that we should cling to it ; 
 In all the worlds naught can be found that's worse. 
 
 Flav. 'Tis said that some one sought the life of Nero 
 While he went to the baths. 'Twas yesterday; — 
 And is it true 1 
 
 Bas. 'Tis true; and all Rome trembles, 
 Fearing the tyrant's wrath; for various classes 
 Have been suspected as the instigators. 
 And now the current of his suspicion 
 Flows strong towards us, and we are most suspected. 
 
 Flav. The gladiators 1 
 
 Bas. 'Tis so; for 'tis believed we wait but for the day, 
 And such a time as does invite, 
 To strike for freedom. 
 
 Flav. Why is't this way imagined ? 
 
 Bas. I know no reason. 
 
 Flav. Why was it that the one who sought his life 
 Was not then taken in the murderous act 1 
 
 Bas. Because unseen, and th' uncertain arrow 
 
FLA VIA. 75 
 
 Came from a roof above. Through all the day 
 The Emperor kept his palace, and all day 
 His spies have dogged our steps : 
 
 Flav. Oh, what uncertainty dwells in the air ! 
 How I have longed that this uncertain life 
 Might have an end ; how hopelessly have hoped 
 This bloody panorama of each day 
 Might cease sometime to pass before my eyes ; 
 That yet a time might come when with each day 
 I would not fear the death of those I loved. 
 
 Bas. That time will come ; — 
 Aye, Flavia, that time is near at hand ; 
 For though some cowards still are found amongst us 
 Who, though they risk their lives each day 'gainst men or 
 
 beasts, 
 Yet fear the merest whisper of this Nero ; 
 Still there are those with courage that knows no fear— 
 And with such men we'll cut our way to freedom. 
 
 Flav. And then, i know not how it is, I see a time, 
 Far, far away, and dimly in the future. 
 When all men will be free ; for in the past 
 I see that this has oft been so before. 
 For thoughts, like men, have died and risen again ; 
 And all the things our eyes can look upon 
 Have died but to be born a million times ; 
 And through the hoary ages of the past 
 There such a time I see repeated over 
 As oft as there are grains of sand upon 
 The edges of the sea. I see that war 
 Has often left the earth ; pain and disease 
 
76 FLA VIA. 
 
 And poverty have often fled from it. 
 
 And so they will when that time comes again. 
 
 Bas. (A pretty dream. With such sweet thoughts as these 
 The brain of man 's a heaven above the body 
 Where thoughts in starry constellations move. 
 And over them the spirit guides their way, 
 Leading the brightest upward. 
 
 Flav. Why should it not come ? The universe is justice; 
 And when men learns to read the laws around him, 
 Should he not learn to cure his curious madness ? 
 When he has learned to read that deeper language 
 That has no words — which gods speak each to each ; 
 When from the dasies, the lilies of the field, 
 He learns to speak a language made of wisdom, 
 He'll leaiii the laws by which men should be governed ; 
 And from the teachings of the smallest flower 
 Learn w^hat in justice all our laws should be. 
 Learn that the winds go equally to all, 
 The rain on all falls equally alike, 
 The sunlight on them all does fall the same; 
 What each takes from the earth, that is his own : 
 To take from out the earth its sustenance 
 Each has a right — so the air's denizens 
 And all the savage beasts ; but men are mad 
 And have forgotten these sv/eet rules of justice. 
 But when they take their laws from out the earth, 
 As they now get their very life from it. 
 Then will the age of peace come back to them. 
 The earth from pole to pole is but a book 
 Whose marvelous tales are written by the light 
 Upon it's thousand pages ; its words are perfumed 
 
FLA VIA. 77 
 
 By sweetest essence from the rose's breath ; 
 
 Its letters colored by the violet's hue, 
 
 While diamonds cast their light upon its pages. 
 
 The midnight stars have read it in the dark ; 
 
 And all the winds of heaven learn there their music ; 
 
 And all the beings of the universe 
 
 Read there for truth. But man, being dull of learning, 
 
 Has never read aright, 
 
 And got the chords of nature out of tune. 
 
 But when this lyre of heaven plays sweet again 
 
 Mountains will change to air, 
 
 The earth become a vapor, and all things 
 
 Float softly on the music of God's love 
 
 Back to the realm of justice. 
 
 Bas. Ah ! Flavia, 'twere well to still dream on, 
 And with such fancies kill reality. 
 
 Flav. Although my father now lies sick abed 
 From his most cruel wounds, and though I have 
 Sat by him through the hours of all the day, 
 He has not spoke to me of this uprising, 
 Nor have I heard from any one but you 
 A whisper of it. 
 
 Bas. The secret is well kept. Though we are feared, 
 No floating rumor has passed from us 
 To tell how we have joined ourselves with others 
 And of our deed. And when our hope is reached. 
 Oh, Flavia, then we begin to live, 
 And I again call myself a man. 
 
 Flav. Oh, happy time ! 
 
 Bas. For me, even then, the sunlight of that time 
 Would all be lost by overshadowing clouds, 
 
78 FLA VI A. 
 
 And all my thoughts be like the sun's bright rays 
 
 When murdered in that darkness 
 
 If Flavia would not become my bride. 
 
 Oh, Flavia ! again I ask your hand, 
 
 And for that boon for life T am your slave. 
 
 Flav. How many men desirous to be slaves 
 Have turned their slavery to tyranny ! 
 
 Bas. I would be tyrant, then, to all my acts, 
 Until they lived to serve you. 
 
 Flav. But— 
 
 Bas. Nay, speak not yet, but hear me to the end ; 
 For though your words to you may be as light 
 As the light breath that lifts them, they have power 
 To shatter all my life. 
 
 For since the time when first I saw your face 
 My thoughts of you have stood out to the front. 
 And have since then held sway o'er all my others. 
 And have built up my fondest hopes in me. 
 To crush these hopes were like to blot the stars 
 From out the night 
 And leave black midnight reigning in my mind. 
 
 Flav. I cannot love you now; for all my love 
 Is gone, beyond recall, out to another. 
 
 Bas. Oh ! call those words back to the mouth that spoke 
 them ; 
 For now they seek an entrance to my brain 
 To murder all my peace. Hear me, sweet Flavia ! 
 How can you be so cold ! Why, all my life 
 Stands trembling on the threshold of this hour 
 To wait your judgment. 
 
FLA VIA. 79 
 
 Oh ! if you were but mine, how I would live, 
 My only end to make your hours grow bright ! 
 
 Flav. My love is like the past — beyond all power 
 To call it back. It pains me much, indeed, 
 To speak these words, if they have wounded you. 
 
 Bas. Wounded ! The end of this is worse than wounds : 
 Your words, like funeral flowers, will deck the grave 
 Of hopes all dead. My life from this time forth 
 Grows but a barren waste ; 
 
 A lifeless desert, stretched out to where the sun 
 Sinks into night. Oh, Flavia ! how I loved you ! 
 And then to end in this — in nothing ; 
 And now those pictures that my fancies wove 
 Fade like the leering, mocking shapes of midnight ! 
 Oh, speak one gentle word ! 
 Send it as a sweet medicine to soothe 
 My tortured mind. Is there no place for hope ? 
 
 Flav. What shall I say 1 What is there left to say ? 
 My only answer can be but what I'veanade — 
 I have no other. 
 
 Bas. Then farewell, Flavia ; now I go forth ; 
 My years in youth grown old; for all the w^orld 
 Bears to these eyes the shriveled look of Winter, 
 And all my hopes fall downward to the earth 
 Like the white snowflakes of that bitter time. 
 
 [Exit Basilius. 
 
 Flav. Oh, what a world is this ! — most tyrannous. 
 A world that makes us cruel when we would be kind, 
 Without a wish, or any favoring desire. 
 But 'gainst my wish, and quite against my will, 
 I have been forced 
 
80 FLA VIA. 
 
 To speak those words which build up disappoinment 
 Most bitter. Yet the while is in my bosom 
 Pity most deep. What is it I have done? 
 Re-enter Basilius, 
 
 Bas. Nay, speak no more ; the bitterness is past. 
 I have been most unmanly in complaining ; 
 'Twas but a moment ; again I am a man ; 
 And as a man, from that point am your friend ; 
 And that great honor you've conferred on him, 
 That you make master to control your love 
 Binds him to me in closest bonds of friendship ; 
 One look, sweet Flavia, and I am gone. \_Exit. 
 
 Flav. Oh, but this sight to me is piteous. 
 To see him, with all his mighty strength. 
 Bowed down with grief. And yet indeed 'twas sweet 
 To hear such words of love; but then such love 
 Makes pity more; 'tis true his love was true; 
 But when he spoke of friendship — his love being hopeless, 
 I saw that in his eye which makes me fear ; 
 Something that spoke of future enmity; 
 And yet 'twas pitiful ; most pitiable — 
 How sad the orbs of heaven seem to mine eyes! 
 Methinks they look most sadly on the world, 
 Noting how all things end in sorrow here; 
 Why, 'tis enough to make the heavens look sad, 
 And all the twinkling wanderers of the night 
 Keep on their way in silence ; 
 And yet he bore himself most like a man, 
 Uttered most noble sentiments of this. 
 Our state. Talked of our present servitude, 
 
FLA VIA. 81 
 
 And with a soldier's tongue did talk of freedom; — 
 Yet still I fear him. 
 
 Enter Gotharva. 
 
 Goth. Flavia! 
 She hears me not. Her mind is dwelling on 
 Some gentle deed, some kindly charity; 
 Some act which will accord 
 
 With that kind look which dwells upon her face. 
 Flavia! 
 
 Flav. Oh, Gotharva ! 
 
 Goth. Sighing, sweet one! 'Tis not your wont to sigh; 
 That gloomy brow looks not like Flavia. 
 But often have I seen a sparkling laughter 
 Dance in those eyes, like sunbeams in a stream; 
 While peals of merriment, a most sweet music. 
 Sprang from your lips. What, tears ? 
 
 Flav. No woman ever yet heard that I've heard, 
 Saw that which I have seen, and did not weep. 
 
 Goth. Has some one dared 
 
 Flav. Because the fault was mine, therefore I wept; 
 Ask me no further. 
 
 Goth. If it would give you pain I'd ask for nothing, 
 Were't even my life. 
 
 Flav. O, kind Gotharva! 'Tis thus you ever speak, 
 
 Goth. Because I have no power to speak but in that way, 
 When I speak of you. 
 
 Flav. Oh, sweet, sweet words! 
 To hear them makes me dread the coming future 
 Lest they should change. 
 
 Goth. Flavia, they could not change; 
 
82 FLA VIA. 
 
 For in those eyes a more than magic spell 
 Holds me against all change. 
 
 Flav. But still I fear; let me not think of it; 
 For when that time has come, then I would die. 
 There is a dread within me now of such a time; 
 This cruel fear came to me first to-night. 
 For as I gazed upon the vault of heaven, 
 The stars seemed trembling ; and vague images 
 Of hideous shapes, gazed at me through the dark ; 
 Hush ! Who was't that spoke 1 
 
 Goth. Fear not, sweet one ; 'twas nothing ! 
 
 Flav. See there ! A face ! 
 
 [GoTHARVA goes and returns. 
 
 Goth. 'Twas but a picture painted on the air. 
 Drawn by your fears. 
 
 Flav. My mind is filled with a most cruel dread , 
 Should we be parted, think you when we are dead, 
 There is a world where we will meet again 1 
 
 Goth. One time I thought that all would end with death, 
 For then I'd read but man's imperfect nature ; 
 But when I saw in you how God made woman, 
 I knew there was a world beyond the stars ; 
 That all this gentleness, all this perfection, 
 Was never doomed to die. 
 
 Flav. It seems but just 
 That when this weary life of hopes unanswered, 
 This most delusive dream of passing shadows, 
 This weary and tumultuous life were ended, 
 A world of peace would come 
 Where all the jarring acts and sounds of life 
 Would never enter. 
 
FLA VIA. 83 
 
 'Twere most unjust that we should turn to dust 
 Like the inanimate rock, that never knew a sorrow. 
 
 Gotk. Most sweetly reasoned. 
 
 Flav. And there will be no change ; then you will love 
 me 
 Through all the time to come. 
 
 Goth. As I do now; — then will we still love on 
 Until the myriad years have flooded the future, 
 And yonder glittering lamps that light the heavens 
 Burn dim, and all the hoary-headed years 
 Pass halting by. 
 
 Flav. And now good night. While such thoughts dwell 
 within me 
 Let me now seek for sleep, that that sweet angel 
 May whisper in my dreams again, 
 And yet again, those words that I have heard. 
 
 Goth. Good night, my love. Good night. 
 
 [They go out, after which Basilius enters. 
 
 Bas. Oh Fate ! thou'rt cruel to some : but most to them 
 In holding me to listen to their words ; 
 For every word they spoke but added to 
 The deep revenge I'll take. Am I not injured 1 
 The mightiest wrong a woman does a man 
 Is when she loves another. So shall my vengeance 
 Be mightiest in my power ! 
 It is a rule of time that I have seen. 
 That all things we desire will come to us ; 
 If we are most intent to have them and will wait, 
 Why I will wait and then will wait, 
 And still will wait, until I've murdered all 
 The happiest hopes they have, and thinking me 
 
84 FLA HA, 
 
 The dearest friend of all they have on earth, 
 
 Their every act shall lead them on to ruin ! 
 
 Sweet Flavia ! Most gentle Flavia ! 
 
 How easy 'twas to spurn my worthless love ! 
 
 I, that was made to head all other men, 
 
 You rate so low. But one day you shall bleed ! 
 
 ACT IT. 
 
 Scene I. — Laarchus and other gladiators in a room in Laarchus^ 
 house. The doors and windows, which are heavy, are barred. 
 Laarchus, who is sick, is resting in a chair. 
 
 Laar. I feel, yes know, that ere the hours are late 
 I'll reach that milepost on the path of time 
 Where death, with visage grim, awaits my coming ; 
 And that the world, with all its many scenes, 
 Its jealousies, its petty strifes and hatred. 
 Will, like a passing scene, fade from my eyes. 
 Hence, have I called you here 
 
 That we may take this remnant of my life • 
 
 To study out the road that leads to freedom. 
 Would that these walls, this place, 
 Were safer than it is; for as I've learned 
 The keen eyes of our foes, like stars of fate, 
 With evil portents shine upon our acts. 
 But as it is my wounds have held me fast ; 
 Therefore those words that I have harvested, 
 If they be said at all, must be said now. 
 And first of all let me unload myself 
 Of that which in my heart of all stands foremost — 
 Of Flavia. \ Flavia sobs. 
 
FLA VIA. 85 
 
 My child, weep not. There is no cause for this. 
 
 Have I not told you 
 
 Death's but the evening hour of rest, when all the stars 
 
 And all the glories of an unseen world 
 
 Oome out to greet th' enraptured wanderer. 
 
 When I was but a child^ then like a child 
 
 I feared the foolish dark; that as youth 
 
 Tumultuous fear gave place to lesser storms; 
 
 That in the calmer, bolder hours of manhood 
 
 I scorned such childish fear; for at that time 
 
 I saw naught in this dark to make me fear. 
 
 When in full blooded youth, my careless eyes 
 
 Saw in this gilded, tinsel show of life 
 
 What made me love to live — and loving life 
 
 Is all that makes this childish fear of death. 
 
 But now I'm old, I've learned that in this death 
 
 Is but one of full many longer sleeps. 
 
 With dreams that pass beyond these earthly limits. 
 
 And those who've learned t' interpret that sweet language 
 
 Wrote by the sunbeam on the wild rose leaf, 
 
 Scrawled by the wintry blast on mountain tops, 
 
 Or bellowed by the loud resounding thunder, 
 
 Will learn to laugh because they have feared death 
 
 As children fear the dark. 
 
 For you, dear Flavia, I leave you what is more 
 
 Than wealth or jewels — these, my oft-proved friends;. 
 
 And when I ask them — as my last request 
 
 To stand your friend, they'll turn to warriors 
 
 In your behalf. 
 
 Gladiators. Ay, that we will ! 
 
 Goth. Let never a fear for her disturb your thoughts. 
 
86 FLA VIA. 
 
 While ill this arm is strength and life to move it, 
 Myself and all my life lives in the thought 
 To be of service to her. 
 
 Bas. In that quick speech you first have seized the words 
 I'd use to tell how by your side I'll stand 
 Through all my life, still her protector. 
 
 GotJi. 'Tis spoken as I know you, and as my friend. 
 
 Laar. Oh, gentlemen, those words come to my heart ; 
 They overcome all else, and crowd away 
 The words I'd use to thank you. Hear them, my daughter, 
 And let the pride to know you have such friends 
 Assuage all grief. Here, in this box, my child. 
 You'll find some things that were your mother's once ; 
 And when I'm gone, take them and make them yours ; 
 Besides, you'll find in^this some words of counsel ; 
 The fruit grown from a life of many years. 
 Study them, Flavia, as I have done, 
 In getting them for you. 
 
 Flav. Oh ! my dear father, I shall study them, 
 Not once, but yet a thousand times again, 
 Till each purticular word charms back to life 
 Some memory of yourself. 
 
 Laar. And then, my child, 
 (While I wish not to chain you to that course,) 
 In some small points you'll find wrote there my wishes 
 How you should act. 
 
 Flav. 'Twill be my dearest purpose 
 To make those words the fate that leads my life. 
 
 Laar. Go now, my child, and leave us to this matter 
 That's yet before us. [Exit Flavia. 
 
 I have heard late rumors 
 
FLA VIA, 87 
 
 That Nero, liis mind tilled by his fear with madness, 
 Has the thought fixed most certain in his mind 
 That he who sought his life was one of us. 
 
 Byrsa. Such is report ; and fixing fast this rumor 
 Comes now the order of the Emperor 
 That either he who sought to take his life 
 Or else some other of our company 
 Be given up to die for this offense. 
 
 Laar. What reason 's given for this unjust suspicion ? 
 
 Byrsa. None. 
 
 Laar. Aye ! so ; 'twas ever so. For have we yet 
 Seen reason given, or justice done by him % 
 Oh, if the evil deeds of those that do them 
 Must still be seen by them, when they are gone 
 Wandering and circling through this world of ours 
 By most fixed laws, creating inharmony, 
 And they must hear it, throughout all time to come, 
 Listening from out a world of harmony; 
 How will he suffer ! 
 But in this lack of reason on his part 
 Stands now the stronger reason for your action. 
 I long have cherished the thought, ever sweet, 
 To be your leader in this crowning act ; 
 For still is in these veins a soldier's blood. 
 And still my thoughts, that never a tyrant touched, 
 Did urge me to that end. But 'tis too late. 
 For in an hour or two, or ere the night, 
 I'll pass beyond this earth where slaves are made 
 Free from the slavery of the poor to the rich ; 
 Of weaker to the strong ; of dust to dust. 
 Yet though I am not here, still there are others ; 
 
88 FLA VIA. 
 
 In some that blood, tinged but by unchecked nature, 
 Which in their cheeks had wrote eternal shame, 
 If they'd become less free than heaven's winds; 
 Has any action 
 Amongst you yet been taken, to choose a leader ? 
 
 Byrsa. We had a meeting in the Catacombs, 
 And by the vote we took we choose Gotharva. 
 
 Laar. That was well done ; you could have made no 
 better. 
 Come close to me; my eyes are growing dim ; 
 My time draws close at hand ; yet one word more — 
 When th' all important moment comes, let courage 
 Fill every heart. Beware a moment's fear. 
 For fear so often takes the look of guilt. 
 The foe will feel that right must be with them, 
 And come against you with redoubled fury. 
 Fear 's at the bottom of all earthly woe 
 And does invite all those who would oppress ; 
 Gives a temptation to a thousand wrongs ; 
 While dauntless courage bears a charmed life 
 Against all dangers. My eyes are growing dark. 
 Courage, my friends ! I see with other eyes 
 A grander time that's moving towards the earth. 
 Sages will laugh to hear it ; and then fools. 
 Using their natural language, will deny, 
 But still it comes ! The heavens push it on ; 
 A million movements of the earth sing of it ; 
 Far in the future I see the glorious day 
 When peace will reign again upon the earth. 
 The colored lights that made our atmospheres 
 Have faded one by one ; the grander light. 
 
FLA VIA. 89 
 
 Which is the sum, and more than that of all ; 
 That melts all pain, shines on the world within us, 
 Which shows that love and wisdom both are one ; — 
 The earth is moving onward towards that light 
 To glide beneath its flood of soothing rays, — 
 As beauteous as the snowflakes ; even now 
 Its broken rays begin to fall on earth 
 In each good deed that's done. 
 
 Byrsa. Dead ! 
 
 Others. Dead ! 
 
 Goth. Our strongest fortress fallen 1 Here was a mind 
 That towered above us all 1 
 The first time ever I saw his face it pleased me, 
 Marking what he has been at all times since. 
 Why, now he's dead. 
 
 Full many counsels sage that he has uttered, 
 Scarce heeded proofs of all his nobleness. 
 Come crowding in to tell me what he was ; 
 And yet I've often marked this thing in him — 
 He seemed unconscious of the truths he spoke. 
 But now he's gone ; the gates of speech are barred ; 
 The doors of hearing closed against the world ; 
 And even the sun's ray could not pass those eyes 
 To watch where he is gone. 
 Ah ! but we all shall come to this at last ! 
 Here on this border line shall all grow equal. 
 Infants we come to earth ; till middle age 
 Brings out the things within us ; then we die; 
 Till in old age infants become again. 
 And pass beyond. But then some nobler minds 
 Move upward on the circle ere they die, 
 
90 FLA VIA. 
 
 Into that life which most men find hereafter ; — 
 And he was one. 
 
 Byrsa. Why, now he's gone, 
 I see his nature as I never saw it ; 
 And now recall his many noble counsels. 
 I most remember what he said one night, 
 While the sun sank in clouds of fire and gold. 
 He chid me then for quarreling with my fate, 
 Showing that to the wise wisdom is in all things ; 
 That as each thought touched our remotest parts, 
 Changing our bodies, so opinions change ; 
 That those who suffer most, but take swift strides, 
 To find a mightier compensation for it ; 
 For all things in the universe are balanced. 
 That men on earth. 
 
 In those relations which they bear to each, 
 Are moved by laws as fixed as those same laws 
 Which sway the planets and the stars of night ; 
 That each man had a power to perform. 
 Some act no other man on earth could do ; 
 For each man has his own superior part 
 That all the road to heaven lead there through silence, 
 And by as many paths as there are men. 
 That as the tides were lifted by the moon 
 So was the tide of life in each raised up 
 By a sweet power that ruled the acts of men ; 
 And then he gave a thousand mighty proofs 
 That showed to me a life beyond this one. 
 Beyond all doubt. 
 
 Goth. It seems as if a well-fixed law of nature 
 Hides all the greatness of the noblest minds 
 
FLA VIA. !J1 
 
 Until they are no more ; but tlien the thoughts passed 
 
 through them 
 Must live though spoken not, while petty minds 
 Sport in the sunlight of the passing time. 
 [Enter Flavia.] 
 [She falls on the body of her father and loeejys. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Basilius. 
 Bas. A hypocrite ; yet who could prove it in me 1 
 'Twould take a giant to throw me off my guard ; 
 I've play'd the virtuous man so long a time, 
 My inward self should make my outward form ; 
 A soft and easy-going gentleman 
 That moves on tiptoe through this rugged world, 
 And by a smile makes other men his friends, 
 And so moves to his end. Ah, but 'tis sw^eet 
 To smile on those we hate — and I have some. 
 Because their kindness passed beyond endurance, — 
 And by that smile to make them slaves to us. 
 Ah ! How th' unseen superior powers around us, 
 If such there be, must smile to see our acts ! 
 How they must laugh to see these would-be gods 
 Blown up by their conceit ; 
 Frowning like Jove upon a world of worms ! 
 Now this Gotharva has a noble bearing ; 
 His eyes placed on the line that makes perfection. 
 The latest round found in the ladder of nature ; 
 No stormy brow to mark an angry mind. 
 Nor nothing likened to a chopping sea. 
 Not the dead level of a barren w^aste ; 
 
92 FLA VIA. 
 
 There's nothing oblique and nothing treacherous, 
 
 But all is harmony, 
 
 And therefore Flavia loves him and loves me not ; 
 
 Yet over all this greatness will I reach. 
 
 And, smiling to the end, make Flavia mine. 
 
 [Enter Gotharva.] 
 Good day, Gotharva ; what news 1 
 'Tis odd ; the moment ere you entered, my thoughts 
 Were on you. 
 I warrant you were thinking evil of me. 
 
 Goth. You ask for news 1 You ask a heavy load 
 From off my shoulders. 
 
 Bas. How so 1 
 
 Goth. Why, in this ; that my best friend, as I thought, 
 Has proved to be my bitterest enemy. 
 It seems most bitter that these many years 
 My warmest love has been all cast away 
 Upon a barren soil. 
 
 Bas. 'Tis truly so ; and I have known such times, 
 When learning those I'd ever called my friends, 
 Had trampled on the love which I had given, 
 It shook my faith in man, 
 
 And all the world seemed jarred and out of tune ; 
 And then being thus disturbed, a bitterness 
 AVould work an entrance like a deadly vapor 
 Murdering my peace. 
 
 Goth. And that which made this sudden coming know- 
 ledge 
 Seem harsher still was in the news it brought. 
 This long-loved friend seems not my foe alone. 
 But proves a foe 
 
FLAVIA. 93 
 
 To all my plans, to my most cherished wishes ; 
 
 And worse ; for he that I had thought 
 
 Possessed all the highest attributes 
 
 Proves even a coward, working in the dark; — 
 
 To gain his murderous ends, lies through his smiles; 
 
 Speaks sweetly to us, with murder underneath ; 
 
 Most bitter news, for mark me closely, 
 
 A traitor is amongst us ! 
 
 Bas. I had so feared. 
 
 Goth. And mark this, too, ev'n if he was my brother, 
 Aye, did my mother's blood course through his veins, 
 I'd be the first to run a dagger through him. 
 'Tis one thing 
 
 To act the open foe ; and in that case 
 The rules of war would lead a soldier's mind 
 To give the very brutes their benefit ; 
 But to the secret method of the serpent 
 There is no rule but death. Mark me again ; 
 The one v/ho falters when the time has come. 
 Or dares to act the traitor, 
 Should hope for nothing ! 
 
 Bas. This is most true, most excellent, 
 And to my mind. But why this tone 1 These words 
 Would seem to bear with them something besides 
 That which you speak. 
 
 Goth. Why, this, indeed, is strange — this innocence 
 With which you come upon the meaning of it ; 
 And yet I thought it was no mighty matter 
 For one so skilled in all the cause of it 
 To see my meaning. 
 
 Bas. Now, as you are my friend, withdraw those words— 
 
94 FLA VIA. 
 
 But no, I will be gentler in my tone — 
 
 Yet to withdraw them were kindness to yourself ; 
 
 For now I see it all ; an enemy 
 
 Has whispered in your ear some slanderous tale, 
 
 Growing from out his own malicious nature, 
 
 Or founded else upon unjust reports ; 
 
 And then have you, (justly suspicions in our noble cause,) 
 
 Grown colder in your friendship ; at those foul words 
 
 Forgot that through these many years gone by — 
 
 But no, 1 will not speak — since you mistrust me 
 
 I have no heart to speak in my defense ; — 
 
 But yet I'll say you do me wrong in this, 
 
 For if you have forgot your love for me, 
 
 Mine is of stronger stuff, and not that kind 
 
 Which starts with credulous ears at every tale. 
 
 Have you not called me bold full many a time *? 
 
 'Tis cowardice that makes us weak in friendship. 
 
 Has not my friendship stood through many a year. 
 
 Oft in the face of death, 
 
 Offering my life a shield 'twixt you and danger — 
 
 A¥as it not so 1 Perhaps this is my fancy, 
 
 For now my mind is grown disturbed indeed. 
 
 Yet once you w^ere my friend ; therefore for that 
 
 Let me forgive this wrong, though from this on 
 
 We grow most bitter in our enmity. 
 
 Goth. This is most true ; that you have many a time 
 Endangered ev'n your life to save my own. 
 
 Bas. Now that you say 'twas so 
 I see that it was most unkind in me 
 In such a way to be a traitor to you ; 
 Let me forget such baseness. 
 
FLA VIA. 95 
 
 Goth. It was the highest act a friend could do. 
 
 Bas. Mention it not ; consider these things undone : 
 For my part I am willing to forget them, 
 Seeing 'twould show my hatred was not honest; 
 For in my foe I'd think of naught that's good. 
 
 Goth, (aside) Either I've wronged him, or there's in 
 doing right 
 Some power and quality that's so divine 
 That the mere shadowy semblance of itself, 
 Serves ev'n for villains as their mightiest weapon. 
 
 Bas. Aad if I stood with all my life, most willing 
 To offer it a sacrifice for yours ; 
 What thing is there esteemed of greater value 
 Than my own life, to prove me traitor, 
 Since I have offered that to prove my friendship] 
 If there is consequential logic in these acts 
 To prove me base, lower than man's degree. 
 Why, then I am the man for open war. 
 You'll find me then as steady to that end 
 As I was once in friendship. 
 
 Goth. Were you not seen to enter, late at night, 
 The Emperor's gardens 1 
 
 Bas. I was ; and I saw those who watched me, 
 
 Goth. Why did you go ? 
 
 Bas. I rather would be called a traitor still 
 Than tell you why. 
 
 Goth. Then I demand it from you. 
 
 Bas. Since you demand, I suppose you must have it, — 
 To place before the Emperor the proof 
 That he who sought his life was not yourself. 
 I did not wish to speak of this unkindness. 
 
96 FLA VIA. 
 
 But you have forced me. Now, lest again 
 My words be doubted, I shall bring the proof, 
 And fetch up witnesses to prove that true 
 Which I have spoken. 
 
 Goth. It shall not be, [seizes his arm. 
 
 Oh, how our suspicions lead us to rashness. 
 Forgive me if you can ; forgive this rashness. 
 'Tis I who have been false beyond forgiveness 
 To one who proves indeed my truest friend ! 
 The weight of my unkindness hangs upon me 
 Heavier than lead. 
 
 Bas. In justice to myself I would bring proofs, 
 So you may know that what I've said is true, 
 Nor doubt me more ; for as I was your friend 
 I'm willing now to bolster up my statements 
 With evidence to show I am not false. 
 
 Goth. Oh, speak no more ! And let me now atone 
 For my injustice, by, from this henceforth, 
 Stopping my ears against the slightest breath 
 That blows against you. 
 Let me add interest now in acting right 
 By way of payment for the wrongs I've done. 
 Having such proofs before of your great friendship, 
 How I believed you false I cannot tell, - 
 Unless that doubts admitted to the mind 
 Breed by the million, and by their disquiet 
 Make us grow mad. 
 
 Bas. But lest your mind should change its present state, 
 (For men will change their minds, and that most queerly,) 
 It is but just that I should furnish proof 
 That I am honest. 
 
FLA VIA. 5)7 
 
 Goth. It shall not be. Myself I'll not dishonor 
 Another time by making such a contrast 
 Between your noble deeds and my own baseness. 
 
 Bas. [aside] Oh, excellent stubbornness ! For without 
 this 
 I might have fared less well. 
 You would have had all my forgiveness 
 In such a cause if you had still condemned me ; 
 For in this matter every act of caution 
 (iVy, if its vigilance must touch our friends) 
 Deserves our highest praise, and to condemn it 
 Were base in any one. 
 
 Goth. Most nobly spoken, 
 And yet this nobleness of yours 
 Reproves me more. 
 
 Bas. 'Twas not yourself ; 
 'Twas that unjust suspicion that did speak, 
 Wrought by th' insidious whisperings of another. 
 The more I've seen the more this truth appears. 
 That we should not condemn the acts of others, 
 But pity only ; therefore did I pity, 
 For 'twas no act of yours, but your misfortune. 
 I knew your mind, tljat justice steered its course ; 
 Your mind was built upon a nobler plan 
 Than to condemn me. No, it was that madness 
 That enters us when slander drugs our reason. 
 But let these thoughts be buried to rise no more. — 
 What news of Flavia 1 
 
 Goth. Why, she seems better, though her father's death 
 Bears hard upon hear. 
 
98 FLA VIA. 
 
 Bas. But then the words of counsel he has left her 
 Must serve somewhat to comfort her sad hours 1 
 
 Goth. She has not seen them yet, fearing to see 
 The last of that which was so dear to her. 
 
 Bas. There speaks the woman's nature. She keeps 
 them 
 I doubt not, ever close beside her. 
 
 Goth. Yes. In the room I've seen her stand for hours 
 Gazing upon the casket with sad looks ; 
 And then she'd go and touch it with her hands, 
 Thinking, perchance, to raise sometime the lid, 
 And then would shake her head and walk away, 
 Leaving it still unopened. 
 
 Bas. Still womanlike in this. Poor Flavia ! 
 
 Goth. Oh, it was pitiful ! But now good-bye. 
 There is a matter that must call me hence. [Exit. 
 
 Bas. Unsuspicious, forgiving, daring, generous ! 
 And for these traits so easy is to lead 
 To his own ruin. I have seen rougher work. 
 Now, had he but been skilled in the ways o' the world, 
 I had not got so free from his suspicion ; 
 But now he lies disarmed of all his weapons. 
 He's but a plaything, to spurn whene'er I wish. 
 Poor fool ! This weakness of a generous nature 
 Would make him stand my friend against all proof. 
 Thinking he wronged me once. 
 And then, sweet Flavia, though you are odd. 
 One touch upon the spring of vanity -•- . 
 Opens your woman's nature and shows all. 
 And now my well laid scheme is ripe for action, 
 I'll have that casket ; write in that same hand 
 
FLA VIA. 99 
 
 Her father used, as his most solemn request, 
 
 That Flavia shall unite herself to me, 
 
 And that as his last dying request 
 
 She shall not speak of this to any one. 
 
 Why, I will act the part ev'n of a dead man. 
 
 Enjoining on his daughter his last wish, 
 
 And from the tomb call to my bride that will be. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SOEXE I. 
 
 Basilius — Demetrias. 
 
 Bas, Demetrias, what is't you wish '] 
 
 Dem. It may seem odd — but nothing; 
 I've come to bring you news. 
 
 Bas. 'Tis nothing new. Of that commodity 
 There's but an ounce in twenty centuries ; , 
 
 And our wiseacres but repeat to us 
 The stale remarks of dead men. 
 
 Dem. 'Tis nothing new, and yet 'tis something old 
 Which you know not. 
 
 Bas. It stirs the bile that's in me 
 To hear men talk of genius — their inspirations ! 
 They're but compilers ; thieves from old books, 
 Acting upon the principle that to all men, 
 But those who're in the secret, things are most strange. 
 They rob us of the offspring of our minds — 
 Eternal rej)etition's nature's law — 
 Yet slowly reaching upward, adding to it. 
 'Tis an odd world of contradictions, this. 
 Demetrias. Why, I have often laughed to see 
 Scoundrels call others scoundrels for those acts 
 
100 FLA VIA. 
 
 They itched to do themselves ; 
 
 And our receptive opposites condeDining others 
 
 While deeply envying their cruel misfortune. 
 
 The folly of mankind oft sickens me : 
 
 The lies of history that call those great 
 
 Who 're pigmies atop the roaring waves of nature, 
 
 Riding in terror till there's calm again, 
 
 Then boasting her deeds their own; 
 
 Then for the mightiest men tlie world has known 
 
 The laws of nature governing the time 
 
 Use them as dusty pipes through which to speak. 
 
 Dem. The slime of ocean, from which we first emerged. 
 Still clings to us : and like the growths of ocean 
 We're most unstable in our movements. 
 The creatures of a million accidents, 
 Against our wills moved by a million laws. 
 Coming, we know not whence, without our wills, 
 And whirled against our wills we know not whither : 
 And we are to ourselves 
 The greatest puzzles of this odd creation ; 
 The penalty for solving it being death, 
 We spend our lives seeking its solution. 
 
 Bas. Yet man is vain ! 
 And in his vanity he calls the wisdom 
 Found in the lower orders of creation — 
 Because the bee outstrips him 
 In architecture, the bird in music ; because 
 The smallest insect here is more courageous. 
 'Tis instinct ! Instinct ! It is my belief 
 That there are grains invisible in rocks of granite 
 Moving and circling as the bodies of heaven ; 
 
FLA VIA. 101 
 
 That there are nations of beings upon each one 
 Governed by laws as perfect as are man's. 
 Man is the rust through which this world of ours 
 Is wearing away ; his spirit a careless word 
 Spoken by this world to some world beyond — 
 But fodder in the monstrous jaws of death 
 To be digested to some other state. 
 
 Dem. I see philosophy has got her hold upon you : 
 'Twere best to leave her. 
 
 Bas. When the sun stops then will we cease to think. 
 What is it you would tell me ? 
 
 Be ill. That yesterday — 
 
 Bas. Tell me the future — that cornucopia 
 Filled with the solid prizes yet to grow 
 Upon our oddest fancies of to-day. 
 
 Dem. I saw Lucillus ; told him our plans were laid 
 To take the traitors, and he left me then 
 To see the Emperor and tell him of it. 
 
 Bas. Demetrias. 
 
 Dem. Well ? 
 
 Bas. You'll find that Flavia has a certain casket, 
 In which are kept concealed some writings 
 Wrote by her father in his latest hours. 
 
 Dem. I have seen it. 
 
 Bas. She keeps it in her room. 
 Here is a writing ; if you could place this in it 
 Without her knowledge, unseen by any one, 
 And keep this secret covered by the dark 
 That hides the inmost recess of your heart, 
 Why, that same act would bind me to your service 
 
102 FLAVJA. 
 
 For all my life to come. I would myself attend this, 
 But that the strongest reasons urge me 'gainst it. 
 
 Dem. Flayia goes to-day 
 (Following her usual custom) to weep again 
 Over the grave wherein her father lies. 
 While she is gone. I'll do it. 
 
 Scene II. 
 - ' Basilius — Claudius. 
 
 Ba^. You must see the Emperor about this matter. 
 Being so near to him, and trusted by him in so many 
 points, you should be able to induce him to grant more 
 time in which to perfect my plans. 
 
 Claud. I have spoken to him ; but it is dangerous to 
 repeat the matter, for he is subject to sudden and violent 
 anger, which takes all reason from him. But for the 
 friendship I bear you, which led me still to urge delay upon 
 him, the ringleaders would have been converted into 
 peaceful corpses long ere this. But I promised that you 
 would furnish proof against all who had been engaged in 
 the conspiracy, and urged that in the present state of Rome 
 it were best not to act without some show of proof with 
 which to deceive the people. To this he assented, and 
 said that he had noticed that strong governments were 
 maintained chiefly through the practice of deceiving the 
 governed ; and then he said that he would wait until they 
 could be deceived on this point. He says that h<^ mistrusts 
 you much, for he has a strong antipathy to red-headed 
 men ; and he has heard also that you are a bastard. There 
 must, therefore, be no more delay, for he changes his deter- 
 mination with every new passion that springs to his mind. 
 
FLA VIA. 103 
 
 You have told me that they meet again to-night. They 
 must be taken at that time. 
 
 Bas, Since it must be so, why, so it must. You know 
 ■where the body of our old friend Scylla lies buried in the 
 Catacombs ? I doubt not that when a boy you have often 
 pkyed hide-and-seek in the neighboring tombs. 
 
 Claud. I have ; and the hair of my youthful head has 
 often sprung up in alarm when some companion came creep- 
 ing through the dark passage-ways behind me. 
 
 Bas. Turning to the right when you have passed his 
 grave, you will find, if you have a light with you, a heavy 
 slab leaning against the wall, which looks as if it had not 
 been moved for ages. Upon opening it you will find what 
 resembles a miniature temple, in which my friends meet 
 to-night. Let your men be there at midnight, for by that 
 hour they all will have gathered there ; but do not have 
 them there before that time, for my friends will come to 
 the place one by one, according to previous agreement. 
 
 Gland. Now, for these services so valuable to the Em- 
 peror you must name your reward. 
 
 Bas. Oh, that T were a citizen of Rome, that I might 
 make a fitting reply ! I would then use my holiday words 
 to say that I scorned a reward for patriotic services ; and 
 for these noble sentiments I would reap the applause of 
 my countrymen, and they would elect me to some public 
 office which had annexed to it the power to tax them, 
 blood-suck them, and sell my honor high ! Alas ! that I, 
 being born equal with other men, and coming here a pau- 
 per like the rest, should have become entangled so soon in 
 the customs made by those who went before me, while 
 
104 FLA VIA. 
 
 others are permitted to travel the smooth highway of life ! 
 No, in common language, I will take no reward. 
 
 Claud. Fear not to make the sum too large, for the 
 Emperor values your services most highly. 
 
 Bas. I fear his gold might soil my spotless hands : 
 Wealth makes us cowards, for loving it. 
 It grows next to our life, a part of us. 
 And being a part of us, the fear to lose it 
 Does make us timid in each thing we do. 
 And makes us fear both friends and foes alike. 
 No, I would still be poor and charitable. 
 And having naught to lose, outface the devil. 
 Like all truly good men, I would find my reward in my 
 own just acts ; for through all ages, history tells us, the 
 noblest patriots have ever expressed a profound disgust 
 when gold was oftered for their services. But, like a 
 drunken man, I am speaking of trifles as matters of im- 
 portance. Good acts come from the inward unseen ray 
 launched by angels through the sunbeam, whose light alone 
 can reach the soul within us. 
 
 Claud. You're proved a man of honor by your words. 
 
 Bas. And yet words should not be trusted. I thank 
 you, though, for this sweet, sweet flattery ; it is most dear 
 to me. 
 
 Claud. And yet before in all this life of mine I never 
 knew a noble act but came from base desires, if we would 
 but be honest with ourselves, and dare to acknowledge it. 
 
 Bas. Claudius, we're lice upon the back of earth ; 
 A most disreputable set indeed ; 
 Therefore w^e should be sanctimonious. 
 The hog has reached a high development in us ; 
 
FLA VIA. 105 
 
 Tlie vulture and the cormorant nest in us ; 
 
 By our fierce greed we 'mpoverish those who're weak, 
 
 Tramp down the sick, the halt and blind. 
 
 And when our puffed up skins are filled with blood 
 
 Death pricks us. 
 
 Claud. Then why not receive a reward for your services 1 
 li 'tis revenge you seek, the receipt besides of gold will 
 never mar your purpose ; and if love prompts you, if you 
 were as hideous as the Gorgon, you could buy it where you 
 would ; and as women are surely at the bottom of all our 
 earthly acts, you had better get it. If you seek fame, it is 
 sold in all quantities in the market to the exclusive few 
 who have the money to purchase it, and it is better to buy 
 it than to wait until after you are dead to have it. 
 
 Bas. I were a child if I did not see the profundity of 
 your thought ; but it were best to avoid wisdom, as a 
 friend of mine was kind enough to inform me ; for the 
 more we get of it the more melancholy we grow, and our 
 friends who are not affected by the disease might take us 
 for lunatics, which would be a pity. I would rather be a 
 lively ass than to make the profound discovery that all is 
 vanity, and be a wise man. 
 
 Claud. You will be at the place of meeting ? 
 
 Bas. Is my presence so essential that it cannot be done 
 without it 1 
 
 Claud. It might be done, but there's no cause for fear. 
 
 Bas. There are times for each thing ; and many times 
 When nature's laws, seizing those things we do, 
 Will drag them to success against all odds. 
 As this is of them, there 's no need for me. 
 Besides it is unpleasant to kill one's friends. — 
 
106 FLA VIA. 
 
 Do not attribute this in me to fear : 
 
 I learned this long ago — 
 
 When danger is opposed, its hideous form 
 
 Shrinks from our view and fades away to nothing. 
 
 But there are matters of sentiment in this 
 
 Which holds me back. 
 
 Claud. So be it then. We'll find them 
 By your directions. [Exit Basilius. 
 
 There's villiany ! But they who deal in wrong 
 Ever make this mistake : to underate 
 Those they would play upon. In their schemes 
 There's still some trifling matter left unnoted 
 Ev'n by the shrewdest, which siding Avith justice 
 Will yet defeat their ends ; and in this case 
 He sees in me the servant of the Emperor 
 Most trusted by him. Yet if I'm not wrong 
 I see the signs of Nero's overthrow. 
 The soldiers of the legion in the North 
 Are in that wavering state when feathers change them. 
 The outlook is rebellion. In the East 
 I mark the self-same sign. Th' oppressed of Rome, 
 The slaves and gladiators, if they rise. 
 Will find success and victory for their eftbrts : 
 Why, then like other men I'll imitate 
 To find the safest road ; 
 And in this world of traitors I'll be one ; 
 But first I'll learn the secrets of Basilius, 
 Of which I have a glimmering, and I'll use them 
 To my best ends. 
 
FLA VIA. 107 
 
 Scene III. 
 Flavia— Diana. 
 
 Diana. And still I hear your sorrows make wintry 
 weather ; 
 That with each day you still weep o'er your loss. 
 There is a proper time for every grief, 
 But when it is prolonged, it grows a judgment 
 Which doth cor -.emn the act and will of heaven. 
 
 Flav. 'Tis not in me to raise my feeble thought against 
 the high and mighty will of heaven. 
 Since I am but a dot ; my time is nothing 
 Where worlds have lived and died to mark the moments 
 And mighty systems swept the far beyond. 
 And lived and died, and died and lived again, 
 To mark the seconds in the hours of God. 
 'Tis not an impious mind that makes me sad. 
 And if it were the being I humbly dream of 
 Is so far up beyond condemning us 
 For our poor thoughts there is no measure for it. 
 But I being human 
 
 Still think upon my father's words of guidance, 
 His gentleness and his unwavering kindness 
 And weep that this is ended. 
 
 Diana. But, Flavia, you should make this your comfort, 
 Your father's life was one prepared for death. 
 We should not weep when good men die, but rather 
 Bid them God-speed to leave this world of woe. 
 We've not yet lived while in this womb of earth. 
 But when we are delivered, then we live. 
 Then, when the good are born, why should we weep, 
 Since they are nobly built for some new world, 
 
108 FLAY I A. 
 
 To learn the wonders of it. 
 
 When loved ones die, we have the reason still 
 
 To grieve a year from now, as grieve to-day. 
 
 Flav. 'Tis not the icy reason. There's something else 
 That grieves when we have lost the ones we love. 
 
 Diana. But may not those who have departed from us 
 Grow sad to see our sorrow 1 
 
 Flav. It may be so, 
 And I will strive to tear from out my mind 
 The bitter, yet sweet, memories of the past. — 
 But no, I cannot, for it seems each thing 
 My sight falls on at once grows eloquent 
 Of all that's lost, 
 
 Diana. Then to the truths of this, fancy adds more, 
 False in its essence. 
 
 Flav. Who knows 'tis false 1 
 I have suspected that imagination, 
 Ev'n in its wildest flights, still looks in truth. 
 That in imagination 
 We see disjointed parts of things to be. 
 The reason why I have not ope'd this casket 
 Is that these vague imaginings of mine 
 Have made me dread some fearful secret in it. 
 
 Dia7ia. Presentiments turn true to cowards ; 
 But courage o'ercomes them all, 
 And for that reason 
 The sooner it is opened then the sooner 
 Can you prepare your mind to leave this sorrow. 
 Besides, sweet Flavia, it seems to me 
 That this does argue that you lack respect 
 Touching your futher's wishes. Whv, 
 
FLA VIA. 109 
 
 Tis like a child to be so timid. 
 
 You dream too much. Though you believe them 
 
 Dreams are the sportive children of the dark, 
 
 Grown in the brain, when closed up, shrunken, deformed, 
 
 Lacking that sunlight which is the food of thought. 
 
 Flav. But I've known other dreams, and in these dreams 
 My eyes grew keen ; and to my poor live senses 
 A thousand new etherial ones were added^ 
 Which now are being developed in mankind ; 
 And through a light as white as driven snow, 
 I saw the secrets of the world : 
 I saw the human race had all moved westward, 
 Crossing the seas, rounding the globe a thousand times and 
 
 more ; 
 I saw the object of mankind on earth 
 Was to discover their next resting place, 
 That till they'd found each secret of the earth 
 They would not find that higher realm beyond, 
 But love could lead them to it. 
 
 I saw a force that swept and eddied o'er this world of ours, 
 As the winds move, creating waves of thought. 
 I saw my former self seeing a thousand things. 
 Yet seeing not ; feeling a thousand things 
 That swept against me as they eddied onward, 
 Yet knowing not. As in the realms of nature. 
 So in the undiscovered country of man's thought 
 I saw a latent power 
 
 To quell the anger of the lightning's flash, 
 To soothe the hurricane ; 
 I saw men groping in the dark for that 
 Which they saw in the light, and yet saw not, 
 
no FLA VIA. 
 
 And in these dreams I've seen that all is life, 
 
 And that this life moves all of nature round us. 
 
 But what I'd known as death was no more death, 
 
 But only one of many a longer sleep 
 
 To follow after many a day of life. 
 
 Till all the secrets of the earth are learned. 
 
 And death and ignorance at last were left ; 
 
 As age would follow age in all the past, 
 
 I saw new rays of light grow to the sun ; 
 
 And by the hues withiii the lights of heaven 
 
 I measured all their ages ; : 
 
 I saw things now to us invisible 
 
 Dwelling within a different form of light. 
 
 And saw a form of light by which this earth 
 
 Is made invisible to other senses. 
 
 And then in dreams I've gone from star to star, 
 
 And on I went, treading the paths of space, , 
 
 And saw the many worlds where we must dwell 
 
 And must subdue, and by a centripetal force 
 
 Make all th^r knowledge grow a part of us. 
 
 And then I saw the Worlds that were asleep. 
 
 And others waking from their midnight dreams. 
 
 Then everywhere I saw that human love 
 
 Was the same force that dragged the planets onward. 
 
 Dimia. Why, wliat a fancy dwells within your mind ! 
 
 Flav. All truths are fancies when we hear them first- - 
 First laughed at, then denied — at last believed. 
 
 Diana. And^^Avill we all then reach this realm of fancy % 
 
 Flav. All in their time. 
 For heaven's love forgives and draws us upward. 
 The mighty universe is linked in chains, 
 
FLA HA. ni 
 
 And the signs of the times are tlie strongest signs 
 Of the times in the future, 
 And angels above us drag us onward still. 
 Have you not seen that thoughts, theories, societies, govern- 
 ments ; things animate, and called inanimate ; earths and 
 suns, the worlds above us, pass through the same paths and 
 stages ; are built on the same plan and by the same laws ; 
 begin and end alike 'i Yet every hour lifts them still up- 
 ward, the tide being on the flood. 
 
 Diana. Why, yes, it seems as though it might be so. 
 
 Flav. All thoughts, all acts, all worlds, 
 Are on the homeward march ; 
 
 Their roads being backward on the beams of light ; 
 Those rays once so diverged their light was lost 
 Dimly begin to shine. 
 
 Diana. Now, Flavia, I must leave you. 
 But strive to rid yourself of gloominess. 
 And to that end go out among your friends : 
 Walk often in the sun ; 
 
 See things whose shining pictures in the mind 
 Will leave no place for gloomy ones to hang. 
 And when you can, then come and visit me. 
 
 Flav. Farev/ell, sweet friend. [Exit Diana. 
 
 And is it true ■? Has she correctly chidden me in this ? 
 Do I, like some, make goblins of every passion 1 
 And does my sluggish nature, held back by fear, 
 Prove disrespectful to my father's wishes [^She yoea 
 
 to a casket and takes out some trinkets and a wrltin'j. 
 
 (Reads) ^^ My Dearest Child — While you read these 
 words the hand that tvrote iheni is moulderi'iig in dust ; 
 and yet., even ivhen I am- gone, it is my loish that these 
 
112 FLA VI A. 
 
 words which J have left behind me shall he for your good. 
 I have studied, the thoughts aiul acts of those who icere our 
 friends with most exact care; and knowing that in the 
 stormy days to come some one shoxdd he your close j)ro- 
 tector I have selected as most worthy of your choice one 
 against ivhom. no slur can he cast^ no slander sj)oken. Hav- 
 ing justice and honesty in him, he is without fear. I have 
 seen him proved noble in his attributes a thousand times. 
 Knoicing that it would be to your own great good if yov 
 were to marry him, if he should ash your hand my dying 
 wish is that you will not refuse this request from Basilius. 
 Sjicak not of this to any one. Your Loving Father^^ 
 
 What % My father % are these his words to me % 
 Oh, that these words had powder to end my life ! 
 And yet it seems not like him. 
 Yet here's his words. I'll show it to Gotharva — 
 No ; that, too, is forbidden. 
 How heavy is my fate ! Yet I must bear it 
 Nor murmur at my lot, for he was ever 
 My only friend — a thousand times my friend ; 
 And then my father. Oh, but yet 'tis hard ; 
 But in this wish must be some hidden purpose ; 
 And knowing him so just, must trust him here. 
 But, oh, how hard ! 'Tis more than I can bear. 
 Must I give up the one I love so well. 
 When all my woman's nature is founded on love, 
 Which is the fountain head of all our deeds, 
 And am denied to tell him how I loved ? 
 If I could die, 'twere not to disobey ; 
 Would I were dead — at rest within the grave. 
 
FLA VIA. 113 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene 1. 
 Diana — Nurse. 
 
 Dicuia. You say that Flavia is still abed, kept there by 
 some strange sickness, of whose cause the doctors give no 
 account ? 
 
 Nurse. In all my days I liave never seen its like and it 
 is many the sick bed I have watched since I was young ; 
 but none like this. Oh, it was pitiful indeed, most sad, to 
 see the poor child in such a state of mind ; for she will not 
 hear you till you speak to her many times over again, and 
 then it would make your heart ache to hear her. The doc- 
 tors shake their heads gravely when by themselves ; call 
 her sickness by strange names, and when with her, feel her 
 pulse often, look long in her face, question her, but can do 
 nothing to help her. 
 
 Diana. And can do much by such looks to make her 
 worse. More than one patient that might have lived have 
 been murdered by the long-drawn countenances about their 
 beds. 
 
 Niu'se. And what is worse, 'tis my belief they know 
 nothing about her trouble. 
 
 Diana. Does she sleep well ? 
 
 Nurse. No ; that's the worst of it, too ; and during the 
 long nights she lies like a monument of marble, with her 
 eyes staring wide, and as rigid as in death ; and they never 
 move, except at times, when a shudder passes over her, and 
 then she looks with staring eyes to see I know not what; after 
 which she moans most pitiably, but will not speak. Some- 
 times I ask the darling what she sees. She only shakes 
 
114 FLAVIA. 
 
 her head from side to side, moves her lips as if she were 
 swallowing, sighs, and still says nothing. 
 
 Diana. Let some one go to her who knows how to 
 make her laugh ; for there's more medicine in a laugh than 
 in a whole apothecary's shop. How long is't now that she 
 has lain abed 1 
 
 Nurse. ' Why, let me see. It was Tuesday my brother 
 came. The day before was Monday ; yes, Monday. I came 
 on Satnrday, and three days before were to be added to 
 that, and this makes nine in all. The strange thing is that 
 she told me this morning that she would get up to-day, for 
 Gotharva was coming, and she must speak to him, as per- 
 haps it would be the last time. Laws a-mercy, child! says 
 I, you must not. No indeedy. It would he the death of 
 you. She looked me straight in the face a moment, and 
 then says she : Would it loere so Martha; for she always 
 called me by my first name ever since I used to sing her to 
 sleep in my arms when she was a child. The young people 
 in my day never got into such a way over a little love mat- 
 ter ; but times have changed, times have changed ! Then 
 she called me again. What^ honey love ? said I. When Fm 
 dead, nurse, said she, take these trinkets and these locks of 
 hair and these letters, says she, and take good care of them, 
 for they were dear to me. When she got up she seemed as 
 strong as ever, only she was pale. 1 asked her what she 
 was going to do, and she replied, as if she were talking in a 
 dream, that she would obey her father's wishes, even if she 
 must die for it. They talk about men being stubborn, but 
 women are stubborn, and will have their way. Tut! tut! 
 tat! said I, sweet one, donH take on so; and the tears 
 came to my eyes, for I couldn't help it. She has dressed 
 
FLA VIA. 115 
 
 herself ail in white, and is sitting in her room. Ah me ! 
 what a mighty tempest a little love can stir up. 
 
 Diana. Did Gotharva know of her sickness 1 
 
 Nurse. No ; for he has been away. 
 Enter Flavia. 
 
 Flav. I hear his step. He soon will be here now. 
 
 Diana. What, Flavia "? Do you not know me 1 
 ■ Flav. Know you 1 Could I so soon forget a friend. 
 Enter Gotharva. 
 
 Goth. Your face is pale ; Flavia, you have been sick ? 
 
 Flai7. But now seem well. Indeed, am almost well. 
 
 Diana. She needs more chiding for her fearful fancy, 
 Which seems to be a cure to all her life. 
 Then medicine to cure her of her trouble. 
 
 Goth. What seems like fear in her is something more. 
 
 Diana. Well, if it is not fear, 'tis melancholy, 
 A\\& you should scold her for this gloominess ; 
 For when not checked it will take root in us 
 And gain a stubborn hold upon our natures, 
 Yet sweet and hard to part with. 
 Therefore, I'll leave you, for I know you'll chide her, 
 And cannot bear to hear your cruel words. 
 
 Goth. Would that I had the power by my chiding 
 To drive away this paleness from her cheek, 
 And then, by gentle words, to woo again 
 The bloom back to her face. 
 
 Diana. Try, then, your magic ; 
 It may be that, unknown to you, you have it. 
 
 Goth. It may be so. She tells me there is magic 
 Of such a kind the world dreams not of it. 
 Ay, magic that would lift a block of granite, 
 
116 FLA VIA. 
 
 Hid in one form of love. That common magic 
 Dwells in all things of beauty on the earth, 
 If we but knew it. 
 
 Diana Apply this subtle magic, then, to make her well. 
 
 [Exeunt Diana and Nurse. 
 
 Goth. Now, Flavia, what is the cause of this *? 
 
 Flav. There is no cause that I can name to you. 
 
 Goth. Has it arisen from any act of mine ? 
 
 Flav. No. 
 
 Goth. What is the cause of all this sickness, then % 
 
 Flav. Oh, do not ask me ! Would I not tell you 
 If it was in my powder 1 
 
 Goth. Why, this is strange ! 
 And have I grown unworthy your confidence 
 In such a matter 1 
 
 Flav. How I have dreaded this in thinking of it. 
 Oh, speak of something else, if you still love me ! 
 
 Goth. Love you 1 I love 1 Why, this is yet more strange. 
 And can you doubt 1 You know how much I love ! 
 Could telling it again add to the strength 
 Of all the love I have 1 'Tis of that kind 
 That must be dumb ; speaking no more with words 
 Which have no strength to name the shadow of it. 
 
 Flav. And as you love me, so has been my love : 
 But as you love me, speak no more of it ; 
 For every time you speak a more than death 
 Strikes at my heart. 
 
 Goth. What are these words I hear ? 
 This is most odd. Have I, then, heard you truly 1 
 You, who have sworn to me an hundred times 
 
FLA VIA. 117 
 
 That you would love me through all time to come, 
 Like a spoilt child, now say you'll hear 't no more. 
 
 Flav. And if you loved me now you would not speak, 
 For strongest love stands up above distrust. 
 So highly honored is the one that's loved. 
 
 Goth. Give me your reasons, though, for this odd conduct. 
 
 Flav. I have no power to give you any reason. 
 Would I not if I could 1 
 
 Goth. Against me nothing should withhold your reasons. 
 I have the right a}30ve all others on earth 
 To have a reason for your action toward me. 
 
 Flav. I am not well enough to hear you now. 
 It may seem that I am unkind in this, 
 But there are reasons, all for some good end. 
 More bitter far than death, that make me dumb. 
 Speak of the meeting that was had last night. 
 Or anything but this. 
 
 Goth. I will obey, and drop this trifling matter. 
 There was no meeting, for the Emperor's soldiers 
 Were very skillfully placed there to take us ; 
 So our good judgment kept us from the place. 
 
 Flav. What hope is there, as things look at the present, 
 For your success % 
 
 Goth. Why, a cloudy outlook. 
 Our strongest allies, taken with sudden fear. 
 Have been afflicted by a certain quaking ; 
 Their muscles grown so woefully relaxed, 
 They would prove useless at a hint of danger. 
 I look to see their nostrils widened out. 
 Their eyes stare wide, 
 And see them shiver as if they had the ague 
 
118 FLA VIA. 
 
 When danger comes, indeed. Forgetting now 
 They once mistook themselves for men of honor, 
 They break their oaths, and slip away from us. 
 There's news that's Avorse, or better far than this : 
 The Emperor has settled it to-day 
 (Believing still th' attempt to murder him 
 Was done by us) that from our band 
 One shall be chosen within two days 
 To die for this offense, or all be by him 
 Considered guilty of it. Therefore, to-night 
 We will cast lots to see who is to die. 
 
 Flav. Oh, cruel ! cruel ! And there's no other way 1 
 
 Goth. Unless some one of us offers himself 
 The victim for the rest. 
 
 Flav. Is there no way to lift this odium 
 Of guilt that rests upon you by proving it false 1 
 
 Gofh. The mightiest proof is still no proof to him 
 That has his mind fast set the other way. 
 His fears usurp his judgment ; therefore, no proof 
 Could ever reach him. There still is left to us 
 The choice to fight for freedom till we're dead, 
 Or, having our rights all dead, live on \vithout it. 
 But then against a struggle for our rights 
 Stand forth our timid friends, and ev'n Basilius, 
 With smooth, persuading words, argues against it. 
 
 Flav Basilius 1 
 
 Goth. Basilius. What of Basilius 1 What of him 1 
 
 Flav. Nothing. 
 
 Goth. There's that within your tone speaks more than 
 nothing, 
 
FLA VIA. 119 
 
 And in your eyes I read unspoken words 
 That tell me more. You love him ! 
 
 Flav. Gotharva, you shall not speak thus to me. 
 
 Goth. Tell me ; you love him ! 
 
 Flav. You shall not ; you shall not speak 
 
 Goth. Then do not speak, but listen to my words : 
 Mine is no common love. 
 
 My life was built to grow with wars around it. 
 Though now a slave, I was a soldier once, 
 And nothing on earth so strengthens the love of honor 
 As life amid tumultuous scenes of war. 
 My love is not that kind that women trifle with. 
 When I gave you my love, without reserve, 
 I gave you all of it. 
 
 And in your hands, that then I deemed most pure, 
 I placed a sacred trust — more than my life. 
 And when I told you of it, you took an oath 
 Before the face of heaven to hold it sacred. 
 
 Flav. And is it so ? And must it come to this "i 
 Oh, Gotharva, and have you even a dream 
 How deep a wound is made by every word 1 
 And do you know that words can murder women, 
 As well as points of steel, where they have loved 1 
 Will you not trust me but a little more 1 
 You know my word once given, nothing could break it, 
 If I must die a thousand times to keep it. 
 Gofh. You love me, then 1 
 
 Flav. Love you 1 Love you 1 No, no ; 'tis more than 
 love; 
 'Tis something that would make me still cling to you 
 Through ill report, or 'gainst a world in arms. 
 
120 FLA VIA. 
 
 And through your own unjust beliefs against nie, 
 Had they no end, on to the end of time. 
 Thus would I love, were there no reason as strong 
 To hold me back. 
 
 Goth. Still, then, you will be mine '] 
 
 Flav. It cannot be. 
 
 Goth. Then why is this '? 
 
 Flav. I told you that I've lost all power to tell you. 
 
 Goth. There's contradiction 'twixt your words and acts, 
 And I am but another sacrifice, 
 The fool to woman's insatiate vanity. 
 If Basilius would ask you for your hand, 
 Your answer would be yes. Deny me that *? 
 
 Flav. Oh, that my heart would break ; that I might 
 drop ; 
 That these, my nerves, were dust, to feel no pain ! 
 As you once loved me, do not ask me that. 
 By the sweet hours that we have had together, 
 Oh, do not ask me ! 
 
 Goth. I will not ask, for you have answered me. 
 Perhaps the sweet delusion, though, has served some purpose, 
 In that it seemed to gratify your fancy. 
 I see, though, now, that you mistook my nature. 
 You knew not how I lov^ed ; for had you known, 
 Your pity would have stop'd you long ago. 
 And had you kaown that with the love I gave 
 Went all the earnest part of this my nature, 
 Went my ambition, all my earthly hope, 
 All there was of me — then had you known 
 That, this love ended, all the rest would go, 
 And leave me all undone. 
 
FLA VIA. 121 
 
 Flav. Am I not human 1 
 Cannot these words — I will not ask you this ; 
 But, from the God in heaven, I ask for death. 
 Oh, Father, look upon my heart and see my prayer, 
 And knowing alone what's there, grant me relief ! 
 
 Goth. Sweet Flavia, how I have loved you ! 
 Let me look in those eyes — a woman's eyes. 
 Did ever man yet read such eyes aright ? 
 Gentle as heaven in all their outward view ; 
 Yet it has been my rule throughout my life 
 To believe no word that's spoken against a woman, 
 Whether 'tis true or false — and yet, and yet I 
 The past is dead, and all my mirrored future 
 Broke with the mirror that did picture it. 
 Therefore, to save some life still damned with hope, 
 I'll give myself up to the Emperor. 
 
 Flav. Oh, God ! You will not ! 
 
 Goth. And wherefore should I live, 
 Since Flavia, while playing with my love. 
 Has snap'd the chords that answered to its toucli. 
 And all my life has lost its former savor, 
 And I am now the man I was no more. 
 
 Flav. Since you will have it so, my prayer 's for death ; 
 I cannot live, since you will trust me not, 
 And will not pity me. 
 
 Goth. Why, yes, I will. 
 I do not think the deed was charged with malice ; 
 Therefore, I'm sad that you should grieve for it. 
 
 Flav. But say you'll not give up your life 'i 
 
 Goth. Why sliould I live 1 You do not need my friend- 
 ship ; 
 
122 FLA VIA. 
 
 For as Basilius loves you, he's your friend. 
 And for those others, who have been my friends, 
 I am no more the one to lead them on. 
 The soldier 's dead within me, and to lead. 
 One must have hopes as high as heaven itself ; 
 Ambition that would mount up to the stars, 
 Searching for fame. All that I had has left me. 
 Why, I am nothing now, 
 
 But something different from the rest of men, 
 Seeming all out of place — 
 A shadow only, falling from what I was, 
 And all my future glides into shadow now. 
 
 Flav. And must it be 1 And is your love like smoke, 
 To fade away with every wind that blows *? 
 Ah, me ! How wretched is my woman's fate 
 That clings to this inconstant love of man — 
 A love that knows no reason, once 'tis disturbed. 
 Will 3^ou not trust me but a little more ? 
 
 Gofh. What is there left to trusts Your very words 
 Tell me you love another. If you love him. 
 You cannot love me. I have served the plaything 
 That ferried your thoughts across some tedious hours ; 
 And is this not enough 1 
 I will not tell you that this was unkind, 
 For that, at once, would end my long-held dream ; 
 And then I am too weary grown of late 
 To utter aught that seems reproaches 
 'Gainst anything. 
 
 Flav. Oh, if it must be so, God pity me ! 
 Why, could I but speak now the words, I would — 
 
 Gofh. Speak no excuse ; 'twere only heavier still. 
 
FLA VIA. 12a 
 
 'TNv^as only a maiden's fancy, thoughtless as air ; 
 
 'Tis all forgiven. Farewell, Flavia ! [i:xit. 
 
 Flav. What fearful sin is this that I have done 
 That such a punishment must follow after 
 To fix this balance in my growing state 
 'Till it be ripe to live 1 
 I cannot live with this ! 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Aristeus, Cephias and Hippias. Enter Aristeus, meeting 
 
 the other two. 
 
 Aris. What, my old friend Cephias? Hippias, too? 
 
 Hip. Why, as I live, 'tis Aristeus. 
 
 Aris. No other. And it is good for sore eyes to look 
 on you both, for it makes real to me the belief that I am 
 home again. It pleases me, also, to see in your case, Hip- 
 pias, the signs of coming success in life. 
 
 Hip. How so % 
 
 Aris. Fatness and a bald head. 
 
 Cep. When did you arrive ? 
 
 Aris. But an hour ago, and know nothing of what has 
 occurred in my absence. Tell me the news. 
 
 Hip. Why, everything is new ; the Avhole world has 
 changed and turned about since you left. Basilius is to be 
 married, Laarchus is dead, and Gotharva has become so 
 benevolent that he has presented himself to the Emperor in 
 order that that august functionary may have the pleasure 
 of hanging him. 
 
 Aris. And so Basilius is to be married 1 And Nvho i& 
 his particular folly 1 
 
 Hip. He is to marry Flavia. 
 
124 FLA VIA. 
 
 Aris. Why, I thought Gotharva stood in the way of 
 that 1 
 
 Ce}). He thought so himself, but having learned his 
 mistake, he became a madman, and commenced traversing 
 the streets with his hair uncombed and his stockings down; 
 smiling to himself bitterly, like a man with a grievance ; 
 repeating snatches of odd phrases. Afterwards he became 
 a philosopher, and became a burdensome nuisance by spout- 
 ing philosophy to every man that he met. 
 
 Aris. Sit down here and tell me all. How is it that he 
 has come under the Emperor's displeasure ? 
 
 Ceix Why, not long since the Emperor's life was at- 
 tempted by some piece of the earth's scum, and the Em- 
 peror took the unpleasant notion into his head that the 
 piece of scum referred to was one of our Order. He there- 
 fore ordered us either to give up this individual or some 
 other member of the Order (he did not seem to be particular 
 which) to be punished for this offense by death. We held 
 a secret meeting, and looking upon the matter as inevitable, 
 were about to cast lots to determine who was to play Jonah, 
 when Gotharva stept forward and would hear of nothing 
 but he should be the man. As it seemed to be an en- 
 joyable prospect to him, we were generous enough to give 
 way. 
 
 Ar'is. But what was the cause of this in Gotharva ? 
 
 Hlj). Love did the most of it, and then his vanity was 
 wounded that we would not be as mad as he, and rise up 
 against all odds to strike for freedom. And then it seemed 
 as if the thoughts within him were shaken up and cast a 
 thousand ways by some great grief. 
 
 Cep. What would you think to hear 
 
FLA VIA. 125. 
 
 That one who was so rough once in his nature 
 
 Had spent an hour talking of charity ; 
 
 That he had seen 
 
 A thousand new things of this charity; 
 
 That lack of it but grew from ignorance ; 
 
 That mightier wisdom made it mightier still, 
 
 Till charity was God. 
 
 And that if all men on the earth but had it, 
 
 Each had a power to heal another's wounds, 
 
 And others his. 
 
 That if we all and each had charity, 
 
 The laws that swayed and ruled the worlds of stars 
 
 Would rule this baser earth. 
 
 So would we live as brothers, man to man. 
 
 Equal in all things then through charity ; 
 
 An equal right to earth ; 
 
 For this is but another form of air ; 
 
 An equal right to air ; 
 
 For this is but another form of light ; 
 
 An equal right to light ; 
 
 For all these three are one. And then he said, 
 
 Having within our hearts this charity. 
 
 Laws would be needless and those governments 
 
 Would cease to be, which, by their harsh divergence. 
 
 Make things unequal. 
 
 Thus having brought peace to the minds of men, 
 
 The body's ills would pass away forever; 
 
 For hatred, envy, anger, evil thoughts. 
 
 Each stamp a host of ills upon the flesh ; 
 
 But heaven's light of charity let tlu'ough 
 
 Will cure us of diseases. 
 
126 FLA VIA. 
 
 Aris. These words speak not of him as I have known 
 him ', 
 Yet man is oddly odd, and is each moment 
 Changed by each movement in the universe, 
 And every sound he hears changes his nature. 
 Each year he lives he leaves his former self 
 A stranger to himself, 
 And is another man each year he lives. 
 And he that was a villain yesterday 
 May change to be the noblest of his kind. 
 And so, when he has reached the end of life, 
 He sees himself a curious race of men, 
 Resembling the world around him. 
 
 Hip. And has died many deaths — 
 When grown a boy, the infant that once he was, 
 That, shedding no tears from out its half-closed eyes. 
 Strained its young throat in violent, rapid cries ; 
 That clenched its little fists, wrinkled its brows ; 
 That squared its mouth, and uttered its angry cries, 
 Is dead to him, as if it ne'er had been. 
 When grown a youth, the boy he one time was. 
 Whose open look concealed a world of mischief, 
 Who now had grown into that other state. 
 When all his acts are aping deeds of manhood. 
 Wading the pond, with pants rolled to his knees, 
 He sails his ships to distant foreign ports ; 
 Or, like a youthful engineer, builds bridges ; 
 Or builds miniature mills by waterfalls ; 
 Or, in his father's boots and father's coat, 
 An ancient sword, that drags upon the ground, 
 Beats on his drum, that swings from side to side ; 
 
FLA VIA. ]2] 
 
 A hillock is a battlefield to him. 
 
 And then his youthful, uncurbed imagination 
 
 Imports him foes enough. He see their weapons, 
 
 Hears in the wind a thousand sounds of war, 
 
 Yet marches onward. 
 
 Then, when a man the youth that once he was, 
 
 With all his dreams, as yet so trusted in ; 
 
 With all his glowing fancies, his sudden loves; 
 
 iSince every woman is a goddess to him ; 
 
 His hopes of rescuing them, by gallant deeds, 
 
 From desperate straits ; from foes imaginary ; 
 
 His love of dress cut by the latest fashion ; 
 
 His hours spent at the glass ; the care bestowed 
 
 Upon his curled moustache, his perfumed hair ; 
 
 His chafing beneath advice from older heads, 
 
 As though it were reflection on his manhood, 
 
 His wondrous conceit of youth and knowing air ; — 
 
 This being is dead to him of middle life, 
 
 When this conceit is crushed out by rebuff's, 
 
 And coming wrinkles experiences do mark 
 
 Not all o'ercome. And so, through all these deaths, 
 
 These miniature deaths. 
 
 These perfect emblems of the death to come, 
 
 We still live on. 
 
 Ce}). One of the oddest freaks of all his madness 
 Is the belief he's found the fabled stone 
 Of which the world has dreamed these many years. 
 He says 'tis buried in each one of us. 
 That if we only would obey its laws, 
 We would not need to use our earthly senses ; 
 For then those senses, that are growing in us, 
 
128 ^^^4 VIA. 
 
 Would show the inmost secrets of all worlds, 
 
 And much more madness did he talk to me. 
 
 He told me how it was, and why it was, 
 
 Two beams from out the ray sent from our sun 
 
 Kept the world whirling ever on its axis ; 
 
 The manner all worlds are moving, and whither they move. 
 
 He said that noble thoughts, born in the heart, 
 
 AVill wander from it out into the world. 
 
 And, like sweet spirits, then tempt other men 
 
 To feed and clothe the naked and the poor ; 
 
 While evil thoughts rush out into the world 
 
 To laugh at right, to make men proud of wrong, 
 
 To sneer at good, 
 
 And fill men's mouths with windy words against it. 
 
 For in one way (the world will one day learn) 
 
 This mighty universe is built by faith, 
 
 And mountains grow from it. 
 
 That day all sects will pass away. 
 
 And none be left to pray for us and damn us ; 
 
 And all our creed be charity and love ; 
 
 That in that day the prisoned would be freed, 
 
 And cages used for savage beasts alone. 
 
 That yet the time will come 
 
 When every man will help the fallen up, 
 
 Nor preach to them about the wrongs they've done. 
 
 Hip. He seems, indeed, to have mingled some sense 
 Avith his madness ; but the odd thing is that he says that it 
 is madness to us, because it is beyond our comprehension — 
 which is a curious freak for his madness to take. 
 He says, as well, he had begun t' observe 
 The wondrous mysteries, passing belief, 
 
FLA VIA. 129 
 
 Inscribed within the commonest acts of nature ; 
 
 That from the basest folly wisdom came ; 
 
 That in our dreams we oft recalled events — 
 
 Scenes in our lives these thousand years ago. 
 
 There is no man on earth but can be great — 
 
 As great as any that the world has seen — 
 
 If he would but do right each hour he lived. 
 
 This was, indeed, the royal road to learning. 
 
 I told him, then, the gods did rule our acts ; 
 
 He laughed to hear of them, and said 
 
 That God was far beyond. 
 
 The suns, themselves, were particles of light 
 
 In a ^rand stream of light that still flowed onward. 
 
 That all the worlds of heaven were atoms only 
 
 Of the one form through which this life-stream flowed ; 
 
 Still, this was but one of a world of beings 
 
 That had their acts, their duties, to perform, 
 
 And they formed but the atoms of a God 
 
 Still far beyond. And he had his companions 
 
 Looking still upward. Then he took an hour 
 
 To tell me how the winds that swept the earth, 
 
 The waves of thought, that ruled earth's mental state, 
 
 The waves upon the ocean, and all force, 
 
 Grew from dividing up the rays of light 
 
 That came from our sun and the other suns ; 
 
 That all this universe 
 
 Was but a mass of struggling, shattered light : 
 
 That all these things, by love, were drawn together 
 
 Back to their source ; 
 
 And that our sun moved on its axis, too, 
 
 From west to east : 
 
130 FLA VI A. 
 
 That there are laws of gravitation for 
 
 Our souls, laws of attraction for our spirits, 
 
 In heaven and earth, on to the end of time. 
 
 And more he added, which proved him clearly mad. 
 
 Aris. Well, for that matter, each one of us is mad 
 To some other, and he to us is so, 
 The only diff'rence 'tvvixt the sane and mad 
 Being in the parts they play. And who can tell 
 But that the mad are wisest of the two ? 
 The fancies of one age, its laughing stock, 
 Becomes fixed science the next. 
 Yet nothing 's fixed — not ev'n the granite rock. 
 All will be overturned. 
 
 And what was fancy, then science, must turn to fancy again. 
 Some mighty thoughts have come to drunken men. 
 To youth old age seems ever stuffed with folly. 
 And in the eyes of age youth seems the same. 
 Who knows but that 'tis so 1 
 To those who went before this age were mad, 
 And that which is to be to us were madness. 
 All down the centuries, there 's some one still 
 To tell us times have changed. 
 Tell me, how did this madman act 
 In off'ring up his life *? 
 
 Hip. He said he gav't because 'twas worthless to him ; 
 That once he loved it ; but now tliese toys of life 
 Seemed stale and most unsavory to his nature. 
 Therefore, he wished to die and step beyond 
 To view the mighty wonders yet undiscovered. 
 Cep. The qualities of his courageous nature 
 Stood all unshaken in the face of death. 
 
FLA VIA. 131 
 
 When the guards came and placed their chains upon him, 
 
 He asked for our good thoughts to swell the sails of death ; 
 
 Our thoughts of charity, to calm the ocean ; 
 
 Our loving thoughts, to quell the storm he met. 
 
 And for his body he asked, when he was dead, 
 
 We'd lay 't away in silence, 
 
 And let the memory of the deeds he did. 
 
 If they be good, be all his monument ; 
 
 If evil, then, in pity for his folly, 
 
 He begged us not to raise a stone to him, 
 
 Lest it should mark them. 
 
 Since, in the prison, some fits of violence 
 
 Have further showed the nature of his madness. 
 
 Aris. When is 't the sentence is executed 1 
 
 Hip. To-morrow. 
 
 Aris. Why, I must see him, then, at once ; 
 For though lie has met with this great misfortune, 
 Yet shall not this (as is the common case) 
 Make me forget that he and I are friends. 
 
 Scene 3.— The Palace of Nero. Flavia before the Emperor's 
 throne. 
 
 Flav. And is my urging, then, all without hope ? 
 
 A^ero. Hopeless it is, and will not serve your end. 
 You might beseech, you might still implore, 
 Adding more to these many arguments ; 
 My nature is unbending as is iron, 
 Not to be moved. When I have once decreed 
 All hope then ends; Nothing would change me. 
 
 Flav. And yet my love adds fuel to my hope, 
 Knowing that greatness does not fear to bend ; 
 For those I love 1 know no end to hope. 
 
132 FLAVIA. 
 
 As 'twas not known Gotharva did this deed, 
 Cannot I die as well 1 Oh, take my life instead ! 
 
 j\^ero. This is the raving madness of your despair. 
 What purpose were there in taking such a life 1 
 
 Flav. If nothing more, it were a loving deed. 
 Oh, if you knew what magic medicine 
 Comes from good deeds to soothe tumultuous lives, 
 Then would you hear me ; 
 For every good deed soothes away our fears. 
 Brings gentle dreams to calm our night's repose. 
 And smoothes the pathway of our after years. 
 Have you not felt the tortures of ambition 1 
 That bitter wormwood 's the rounding up of fame, 
 Howe'er 'tis sought. Then must you know 'tis true 
 That loving deeds bring grandest recompense ; 
 For love is the sweet music of the spheres. 
 Our highest attribute. That proudest deeds 
 Are done through this. And having love in him, 
 Man sees beyond these petty bounds of earth, 
 Learns all philosophy ; for, being in this state, 
 His nature harmonizes with high moves. 
 And flashes of truth fall on the w^orld within him. 
 Having this love, unknow^n ev'n to himself, 
 And by an undreamed of chemistry of nature. 
 His thoughts go to the other ends of earth. 
 Soothing the broken-hearted, lifting the fallen. 
 Cheering the weary traveler on his way ; 
 Still teaching men the cowardice of Avrong ; 
 For love itself is up above all fear. 
 This being so, were 't not a sweet revenge, 
 Then, to forgive him ? 
 
FLA VIA. 133 
 
 i\"ero. I see no point to such an argument. 
 
 Flav. Since having this sweet love, each deed we do 
 Lives after us on to the end of time 1 
 For never a deed of love was done on earth 
 But somewhere is remembered, 
 And love will make all men on earth our friends, 
 Strengthen us in those offices we hold 
 While yet we live, and write our names, when dead, 
 Upon the very walls of heaven itself ; 
 While rule by force does but excite the strong 
 To open war ; the weak to secret hatred. 
 
 Nero. Yes ; I have heard such things ; and therefore I 
 Have heard enough of them, without once more 
 Hearing them told again. Therefore, leave oft*, 
 For 'tis a waste of time. 
 
 Flav. And when I plead before you for a life, 
 A human being, moulded like yourself. 
 That thinks and feels as you, that loves his life, 
 And finds it sweet to live ; — 
 
 Ay, as your life were sweet, were you where he is. 
 Can you not hear me 1 
 
 Has he not friends in whom his love is placed. 
 And, when he dies, must they not sufter, too 1 
 Oh, think of this, and do not punish those 
 So near to him, yet innocent of wrong ! 
 Oh, that I had some higher language still 
 Then these poor halting words. 
 
 Nero. Since women love a grievance above all things^ 
 And you have that, what more, then, would you ask 1 
 For if you had the power of Orpheus 
 'Twould never serve you. 
 
134 FLAVJJ. 
 
 Flav. jNIy lord, consider how shojt is this brief life ; 
 But a few summers and a few short winters added, 
 And then comes death. 
 
 Our enemies die with the breathing moment, 
 But our good deeds are friends that go with us 
 On to the end of time. 
 
 Who knows but ere the night, we all nuist die, 
 And leave behind all wealth, all power and state 1 
 And if our evil deeds must follow us. 
 What friend will there defend us, 
 If we have here been friend to none on earth ? 
 See how death glides on through the world around us ; 
 Touching the plowman, as he holds his plow ; 
 Taking the miser, counting, with smiles, his gains ; 
 The maiden, her dream of love all but accomplished ; 
 The great inventor, with some miglity scheme, 
 Would end one-half the sufferings of the world, 
 Dies with the secret buried in his ashes. 
 To see ourselves ; how petty our date of action. 
 Look back at all the ages of the past, 
 Lost, as a bubble broken ; and the march of life, 
 And all the beings, more numerous than the sands. 
 Faded away. No more substantial now 
 Than all their fears, their hopes, their deeds, their judgments; 
 And those who stand where we stand, ages hence, 
 Ignoring themselves, and curious of distant things. 
 Will wonder what we thought, we said, we acted, 
 And see in us 
 
 Some fancy that passed through the brain of earth ; 
 Some midnight dream of war, of hate and strife. 
 Oh, since our time 's so brief, let us, then, use it well ! 
 
FLA VIA. 135 
 
 JVero [to guards]. Bear her out. 
 
 Flav. And yet he shall be freed ! 
 
 Nero. And, if he is, your head shall answer it. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene 1. 
 
 CePHIAS HiPPIAS. 
 
 Cep. Hippias, do you know what 1 think 1 
 
 Hip. No ; your head is too impenetrable. 
 
 Cep. I do not remember in all my life an occasion on 
 which I 've done such violent thinking. 
 
 Hip. I sympathize with you, as it must have been ex- 
 cessively painful to you. And what do you think that you 
 thought % 
 
 Cep. Why, that we have a mutual friend Avliose eyes 
 are so nervous that he cannot look one square in the face 
 for two continuous moments. If this were all, it would 
 not matter ; but I have discovered that he has the habit of 
 gazing long and critically at the back of my head. As my 
 head was not made to be the especial object of his criticism, 
 this is unpleasant. And though I do not see him, I feel 
 conscious that there must be an expression of contempt on 
 his features — and it disturbs my bile to think so. 1 notice, 
 too, that when I talk to him, he seldom speaks, but listens 
 with a silent, contemptuous smile on his face, that seldom 
 leaves it — a most aggravating smile. And on one occa- 
 sion, while I was explaining to a friend, and was reciting 
 the rules of the critics, to show that epic poetry is superior 
 to dramatic — for so it has been held by the Greeks, those 
 
136 FLA VIA. 
 
 honored judges — he surveyed me from head to foot, with a 
 vile smile on his features. 
 
 Hip. Why don't you jerk him under the ribs with a 
 knife, and make him smile aloud 1 
 
 Cep. Some day I will. 
 
 Hip. Some day, that is another word for never. The 
 man of action wastes none of his energy in words ; but 
 closes his mouth, his muscles are tightened, his energy is 
 summoned and the act is performed ; and then if he speaks of 
 it, it is after the deed is done, and with modesty ; but, my 
 dear Cephias, when you tell us that you will perform a 
 deed, you warn us that you will not. And so it is with 
 the w^oman who tells you that she is going to kill you ; by 
 assertion she denies it. 
 
 Gep. Well, but I must wait to find cause for my quar- 
 rel ; for a bare smile is hardly a provocation. He is the 
 most difficult man to pick a quarrel with ; for he never 
 loses his temper ; so answers your words of abuse, that it 
 seems as if he had interpreted them to be compliments ; 
 and for your abuse he returns civility. And yet his smile, 
 in the meantime, would stir a saint's bile. 
 
 IIi2). Tweak his nose, and ask him how he came to have 
 the impudence to point it at you. That's cause enough. 
 
 Cep. You have relieved me at last of a heavy burden. 
 I shall obey you in every particular. 
 
 Hip. Whose nose is it 1 
 
 Cep. Basilius'. 
 
 Hip. I might have known it by instinct. 
 He's the most perfect model 
 To shape all villains by — the world before 
 Has never seen his like. \Sho'tUs wlfMn. 
 
FLA VIA. 137 
 
 Though without proof, 
 
 Yet I am sure he plays the traitor to us. 
 
 I feel it in my bones ; that never do deceive me. 
 
 He sighs too oft, as if his inward nature 
 
 Were weeping for the wicked, wicked world. 
 
 He has no love for children ; scowls upon them ; 
 
 Has no compassion towards the weak and helpless ; 
 
 And then his smooth, insinuating language 
 
 Comes sw^eetly through his cruel, murderous mouth. 
 
 He lightly ridicules what's honorable ; 
 
 Says there's no rule but has an opposite 
 
 As reasonable as it. 
 
 And then he has not left — no, not a fixed conviction — 
 
 His voice, his gait, his looks, and all his acts. 
 
 But chiefly his eye, bespeaks him treacherous. 
 
 Cep. There you bear me out in my own judgment of 
 him. He is so intensely selfish, that he must be a scoun 
 drel. And there 's no mistaking the nature of this cyni- 
 cism, which I have experienced at his hands. There are 
 men who seem half ashamed of a generous nature, and use 
 cynicism to conceal it ; but our friend Basilius cannot be 
 measured by this method, for there is too much of the 
 devil's own venom in his satire. 
 
 Hip. 'Tis odd that Flavia would choose him ; 
 But there 's no way, and never will be one, 
 To mark the lighting of a woman's fancy ; 
 'Tis governed by no law of heaven or earth. 
 
 Cep. Women and death are two odd characters, 
 And hard to comprehend, 
 
 Enter Demetrias. 
 
 Dem. What, idle at such a time as this? 
 
138 FLA VIA. 
 
 Hip. At what a time 1 
 
 Dem. Then have you not heard of the glorious news 
 That shakes the air of Rome 1 
 
 Cep. What new^s is this ? 
 
 Dem. Why, all the air was pregnant with pent-up 
 danger, 
 And that deep silence of all determined states 
 Broke, like a hurricane, an hour ago ; 
 The poorer citizens, soldiers and slaves 
 Are in a riot. The Emperor fled this morning. 
 And I have learned from soldiers just returned 
 From following him, he died by his own hand. 
 The Senators have fled in terror, 
 And many of the rich, bearing their goods, 
 Were chopped down in their flight. 
 
 Cep. Now is the time. 
 Then, to release Gotharva from his prison. 
 
 Dem. It is too late ; he has been freed already. 
 I've seen him in a dozen quarters of the city. 
 Talking, with words of fire, to crowds about him, 
 Who list, wdth breath held close, to catch his words. 
 He has already got a thousand men 
 Who'll follow him to any purpose. 
 Why, here he is. and hundreds crowding after. 
 
 Enter Gotharva, followed by citizens, 
 
 Goth. I pity you, but not to make you weep 
 Like children pitied for some trifling matter, 
 But for the reason that throughout all time 
 The poor are over-judged and over-punished, 
 Seldom are pitied, and over and over betrayed. 
 I love the poor, the criminals and outcasts 
 
FLA VIA. lag. 
 
 Because they have the harder share of life 
 Without being worse than those who live in state- 
 Religions are taught the poor by purchased priests, 
 And in the name of God and charity 
 They are instructed Heaven protects the rich 
 In robbing and in pillaging the poor ; 
 And that the poor must all be humble still, 
 For God gave them no rights. 
 All governments have been made by the rich, 
 And with the taxes taken from the poor 
 Have hired their myrmidons, who do protect them 
 In property they've stolen from the poor. 
 The rich man breaks no law, having no cause, being rich^ 
 But does a thousand crimes not in the books 
 More damaging than all those written there 
 To get his wealth. 
 
 I love the poor because they have no friends. 
 It being my nature in this war for life 
 To sympathize with every dog that 's down. 
 I love all outcasts, since the world condemns them. 
 Because the world is all a monstrous lie, 
 I love all outcasts — women being of their number ; 
 And since the thousand good parts in their natures 
 Are not erased by one sole act of wrong. 
 I'm chiefly their friend because they have no friend ; 
 Because here, too, the rule is still the same — 
 From ignorance does come our condemnation. 
 Because I've seen a thousand good things in them. 
 And dare maintain it ; 
 
 And that the rich commit the selfsame acts, 
 And are called good and honorable still. 
 
140 FLA VIA. 
 
 I love all those who 're clown, being down myself ; 
 
 And know my strength, 
 
 And have no chance to use it, while yet fools 
 
 Having the accidents of birth to help them ; 
 
 Or having that wealth without which they were nothing, 
 
 Stand in high places where they 're out of place ; 
 
 And all the silly world, being trained to parrot judgment, 
 
 Shouts there is room atop for all the great. 
 
 And such like catching, idiotic phrases ; 
 
 So asses are changed to gods, who spend their time 
 
 In studying how they can conceal their folly. 
 
 I love the poor because their suffering 
 
 Is that alone which is no lie on earth ; 
 
 Since I have seen that all laws are so made 
 
 (Under some phrase that hides their hidden purpose) 
 
 By those in power, having intelligence. 
 
 That those who have earth's goods will have more added ; 
 
 While those who have but little have it torn from them 
 
 By the self-acting power of these laws. 
 
 Oh, heaven, if you are men, shall this go on — 
 
 On to the roll of doom 1 
 
 Will you permit the clogs and stops of habit 
 
 To hold you back from seeing what are your rights ? 
 
 And will you stand still in the catalogue 
 
 Marked with dumb brutes, the common property 
 
 Owned by some other dust 1 
 
 Must it be still a truth that ev'n the brutes 
 
 Assert their rights more quickly than do men ? 
 
 But man's odd nature 
 
 Does picture ills that are imaginary. 
 
FLA VIA. 141 
 
 While real clangers pass him unobserved. 
 Now calmly, silently, as worthy men 
 Be led by me to ask what is your own, 
 And you shall have it. 
 
 Cits. Lead us, and we will follow. 
 
 Others. Lead on, Grotharva. 
 
 Goth. Nay, not too fast ; 
 But let me press upon you this is a time — 
 One of the kind made by the laws of nature — 
 For some great purpose. 
 
 This day our acts shall change men's sentiments, 
 From whence changed laws will grow. But if you fail, 
 Full many a day will pass ere comes another 
 Of such a golden nature. What! Is't possible 
 That all these faces that I see before me 
 Are those of slaves and bondsmen ! I'd rather be a dog 
 And have the freedom dogs give each to each 
 Than be what we are. 
 
 Cit.s\ Lead on ! 
 
 Goth. I'd rather far be blotted out forever 
 Than have within me an immortal soul 
 Held at the beck and call of things that rot. 
 
 Cits. Lead on ! Lead on ! 
 
 Goth. Why, this sounds sweetly ! 
 Let danger then make friends of enemies 
 And strike like men. The very elements 
 Flee when the brave advance. 
 Now will we quickly join us with the soldiers, 
 And then elect an Emperor who shall agree 
 To give us all those rights which we demand. \Exeunt. 
 
142 ^'^^4 VIA. 
 
 Scene II. Flavia sitting, with her head down. Gotharva and 
 a physician in another part of the room, consulting together, 
 
 Fhy. You say that she but seldom speaks to any, 
 Seems to observe none of the things around her, 
 Holds her hands clasped, and like a marble image, 
 Shows naught of animation in her face ? 
 
 Goth. Except at times she sighs. At intervals 
 (Though looking to the front, her eyes unmoved) 
 She '11 talk of things, and disconnectedly, 
 That are not present, and bear no connection 
 To things around her. If she speaks of them, 
 'Tis of some trifle, and she talks of it, 
 Touching most carefully on foolish details, 
 Commenting on those points of little note 
 With serious air ; 
 Using no judgment 'twixt trifles and higher matters. 
 
 Fhy. Who was it that was w^th her through the night ? 
 
 Goth. Her friend Diana. I will bring her here. [Uxit. 
 
 Flav. [Rises and goes to the doctor?]^ So, your lordship, 
 you have concluded to hear me % But I am weary, weary, 
 weary with long waiting, and never hear. 
 
 Fhy. Poor child, you want but a little rest, and you 
 will get over it. 
 
 Flav. No, not here, for they are my enemies ; and I 
 heard them speaking in the next room of some Avay to get 
 rid of me. Have you lieard the to^\^l crier — I mean dur- 
 ing the night. 
 
 Fhy. No. 
 
 Flav. Oh, do not say no ; you know that you must 
 have heard him. 
 
 Fhy. What did lie say ? 
 
FLA VI A. 143 
 
 Flav, The town crier 1 
 
 Phy. Yes. 
 
 Flav. Why, who spoke of him % Has any one men- 
 tioned him ? 
 
 Phy, Poor child ! 
 
 Flav. Have you heard the news ? More war, more 
 war ! Blood, blood, blood ! Do you think they like it % 
 Do you, now ? Tell me truly. Can you define the mean- 
 ing of that cruel word love % It's hard. I mean the true 
 definition. I mean the exact definition — the exact — the 
 exact — the exact — what did I say ? 
 
 Enter Gotharva and Diana. 
 
 Phy. Madam, good morning. 
 
 Flav. Good morning. 
 
 Phy. [to Diana^ 'Twas my wish to see you 
 To ask of you each thing you 've noted in her, 
 Since first this sickness seemed to come upon her. 
 
 iJiana. Why, she was ever harping on the theme 
 Of cruel wars, which she called barbarous 
 And most degrading to the name of man ; 
 And of the cruelty of massing riches 
 Beyond the power of using a tithe of them, 
 Were we as wasteful as the waves of ocean, 
 Making ten thousand poor ; yet seeing want. 
 And with our mass of wealth still all untouched, 
 Letting them suffer still. 
 
 Phy. But M'hen was 't first 
 You saw th' approaching signs of madness ? 
 
 Diana. Why, I was with her during th' exciting day 
 When Nero fled, and riot was wild in Rome. 
 With her I watched the houses that were tired, 
 
144 FLA VIA. 
 
 And saw the angry Hames leap up to heaven, 
 The black and curling smoke dropping its sparks, 
 Shoved in huge volumes by the moving wind ; 
 And when some beam or roof fell to the ground 
 With sound like thunder, dashing upward 
 A shower of sparks, she 'd turn her head away. 
 
 Fhy. But in this was nothing showed an unreasoning 
 mind. 
 
 Goth. The end will be the sooner reached by us 
 Letting her have her way. 
 
 Diana. 'Tis necessary 
 To tell it in this way to show you all, — 
 And then it seemed to terrify her most 
 To see the senseless crowds rushing along, 
 Trampling to death those that fell in their way ; 
 To hear their groans, to see th' inanimate dead ; 
 To hear the distant clash of swords, and all the sounds 
 That go with such a time. Late in the night. 
 While sitting with her, first I noticed this : 
 Her mind was filled with fears, doubts and misgivings, 
 With dreadful apprehensions. Then I saw, 
 IVlingling with all the terror thus produced. 
 There was some heavy matter on her mind 
 Of which she would not speak. 
 
 I^hy. What was the first unreasonable act 1 
 
 Diana. Thinking that she was faint, I spoke of food : 
 But she replied it was a foolish waste 
 To give her food, for she had been unkind 
 To all her friends throughout a life of wrong, 
 And 'twas ordained that as a penalty 
 She now should die. 
 
FLA VIA. 145 
 
 Ph//. How has she slept 1 
 
 Diana. But at odd moments, and then uneasily, with 
 her eyes partly open, as if to see half that was going on 
 around her. 
 
 Ph)/. Has she talked much or little 1 
 
 Duma. At first her thoughts were uttered without break 
 or hindrance, in a constant stream, and without any accom- 
 paning expression on her face to explain them. 
 She 'd rattle on of wars and bloody scenes, 
 Then stop, and with most fixed and eager eyes 
 Would gaze upon imaginary foes. 
 And, threat'ning, shake her fist at the void air ; 
 Then would she speak some disconnected phrase, 
 A part of something spoken years ago. 
 Then what struck me as oddest of it all 
 She 'd swear at me and utter thoughts obscene ; 
 Then, swinging around as sudden as the wind, 
 She 'd say she saw naught but unkindness 
 In every one ; and thereupon she 'd weep 
 In low, deep s:>l)s, I thought would break her heart. 
 Then came a time she dropped into this state 
 Of woeful dejection, 
 Of gloomy and fixed silence that seldom breaks. 
 
 Phy. She has been overstrained by some great sorrow. 
 There is some secret that she cannot tell 
 Wliich has a hand in this. Her's is a nature 
 That has some cords as fine as spider's w-ebs, 
 As sunbeams in an undisturbed lake. 
 That cannot Ijear hard words from any one. 
 And still live on. Her nerves were drawn too fine 
 To bear the shock giv'n by unkindness. Look what she does. 
 
146 FLA VIA. 
 
 [Flavia draws a paper from her bosom, looks ooi it vacant- 
 ly and then drops it to the floor. The physician takes it 
 up and reads. ] 
 
 Phy. Why, this is a writing from lier father in which 
 he commands her to marry Basilius, and not to mention 
 to a mortal soul this request. [To Diana.'] What are her 
 relations towards Basilius 1 
 
 Diana. She is engaged to Ijecome his wife. 
 
 Phy. Do you know whether prior to this engagement 
 she seemed attached to any other 1 
 
 Goth. May God forgive me ! I can see it all, 
 And see that in my wretched action lies 
 The greater cause of it. Cursed be the day 
 When I was born to grow to such a purpose I 
 Here is, indeed, a mystery of nature 
 Such piteous things must happen on the eartli, 
 And I be born to play the blindfold part 
 Which draws the climax. What's the hope of cure ? 
 
 Phy. Since the disease has not been running long 
 New grooves of thought have not grown fixed in her 
 Against the ways of reason. This gives hope. 
 Her mind is like the earth in Winter time 
 After some heavy cloud burst over it ; 
 The waters follow a thousand new-made channels, 
 Which will be followed in after stormy days 
 If this storm lasts too long and digs them deep. 
 But man himself can, when they first commence, 
 Guide them with ease back to their natural course. 
 There's something in her life before this time, 
 Her sunny nature, her gentle disposition. 
 And (though this cannot be depended on,) 
 
FLA VIA. 147 
 
 There's something in the perfect mould of feature 
 That helps my hope of cure. 
 
 Got/i. Is there no way for me to act *? 
 Oil, why is it we cannot judge ourselves 
 And on ourselves inflict a punishment 
 Which by a self-retaliation cures 
 Those \\4io are injured by our deeds 1 
 Oh, that I might bring suffering on myself, 
 Were it ten times her madness, that would cure her ! 
 What can be done ? 
 
 Fhy. Nothing is to be done but only this : 
 Change not the things around her — only those 
 Which are connected with the cause of it. 
 Thwart not her wish but when it must be done ; 
 Give her those things that seem to please her most ; 
 Divert her mind in all ways from her trouble ; 
 And if she likes it, play low music to her, 
 That beats in perfect time, this way to soothe 
 The vital streams back to their natural course. 
 
 ScExNE 111.— A graveyard. Two gravecUggers boring a hole. 
 
 Ls'^ Dig. Brutus ! — Brutus, I say ! 
 
 2d Dig. Speak louder, man ; your voice is getting 
 weaker every day. I see signs of mortalitycoming over you. 
 
 1st Dig. My voice is strong as it was when I was 
 twenty. The trouble is that your ears are wearing out. I 'd 
 tee willing to stake the best coin that I have that when you 
 come to die your ears will go first. 
 
 2(1 Dig. It's a bargain, and the bet 's made. Remem- 
 ber, I '11 have no backing down ; you must stand up to it 
 like a man, and down with the dust. 
 
 15/ Dig. I'm a man of my Avord, and the bet stands, 
 
148 FLA VIA. 
 
 unless you call it oft'. Never fear me. But the trouble is 
 you '11 never live long enough to claim the stakes. 
 
 2d Dig. Don't yon fret about that. All of my family 
 were long lived, and none of them have died under a hun- 
 dred, except my youngest child, the cause of it being that 
 he had black hair, and not auburn hair like the rest of us. 
 
 \st Dig. Ts that a sign of long life '? 
 
 2d Dig. A sure sign, written in the medicine books. 
 
 \st Dig. I think that is no sign, though the books do say 
 it ; for I 've planted many a young corpse with light hair. 
 
 '2d. Dig. What an audacity you have, Cicero, to deny 
 what's wrote in books. They contain all the knowledge. 
 and can't be wrong. 
 
 \st Dig. It don 't matter ; the color of the hair is noth- 
 ing. I always go on the shapes of the skulls. Look at 
 my skull, and feel it. There's the shape to last. I 'd be 
 Avilling to stake a fortune on it for long living. 
 
 2d Dig. There's nothing in skulls ; and therefore 
 there's nothing in yours. 
 
 \st Dig. I suppose because it's not found in books, 
 Brutus. Books are but graveyards for stinking thoughts. 
 But real graveyards are the places to learn. 
 
 2d Dig. I say, Cicero, where do you suppose the breath 
 goes when their toes turn up 1 
 
 \st Dig. Well, Brutus, there seems to ))e a good num- 
 ber of different opinions on that subject. 8ome say it takes 
 shape and goes up to live with the gods. Others that it 
 slips into the belly of an infant, or a dog, or a horse, and 
 grows up to be a man or a woman ; though you don't seem 
 to know that you have been here before. 
 
 2d Dig. Then Pompey and Caesar, who afterwards 
 
FLA VIA. U9 
 
 fought like cats and dogs, may have dug graves , and you 
 and I may become great warriors one of these fine days, and 
 fight each other— and oh, won't I wallop your greasy pate 
 when it comes ! But I think it can hardly be. For look at 
 these weak-minded skulls about here— what a booby grin is 
 on them ! How mum they are— how helpless in expres- 
 sion ! I don't think they could ever amount to anything. 
 1st Dig. There is certainly a very solemn expression about 
 a skull's face; but I speak of the mind, which is in the head. 
 2d Big. But where's the man can prove it's in the 
 head 1 At times I've thought it was all over ; at other 
 times I've thought it was in my belly ; and then again I've 
 felt it in the fore toe of my left foot. So the question to 
 be settled, Cicero, is, where am 1 1 
 
 1st Dig. You're but an ass, Brutus, without book- 
 learning. When you cut your toe ofi' does your mind go 
 Avith it ? No ; you go on talking just the same. Cut your 
 head ofi' and you stop talking, which shows the mind to be 
 ill the head. 
 
 '2d Dig. Cut the tongue ofi; and you stop talking ; 
 which, by your rule, would show it to be in the tongue. 
 
 \st Dig. It's a well settled rule, by the books, that in 
 arguments you are not to come down to fine points, for if 
 you did it would knock all learning into a cocked hat. If you 
 come down to fine points, I can prove there is no mind at all. 
 But no one has a right to be too fine in such matters. 
 2d Dig. Well, show us there 's no mind. 
 1st Dig. Chop a man's arms ofi"; he still lives'? 
 2d Dig. Yes. 
 
 \sf Dig. Cut his two legs oft\; he might still livel 
 2d Dig. Yes. 
 
150 FLA VIA. 
 
 1st Di(j. Put plugs in his ears; he can't Iiear ? 
 
 M Dig, Yes. 
 
 1^^ Dig. Put his eyes out ; he can't see ? 
 
 '2d Dig. Yes. 
 
 \st Dig. Cut his tongue off; he can't taste i 
 
 '2d Dig. Yes. 
 
 \st Dig. Spoil his nose ; he can't smell i 
 
 '2d Dig. Just so. 
 
 \st Dig. Then, as he can't taste, hear, smell or see, he 
 can't think. As he don't think, he don't hav^e a mind. 
 But yet he lives. See 1 
 
 2d Dig. It do look reasonable — ^but here they come 
 with the body of Flavia. 
 
 \st Dig. Flavia 1 Is that the name? How did she die T 
 
 2d Dig. Of madness. 
 Enter funeral train, a priest, Gotharva, Basilius and others. 
 The coffin is placed on rests. 
 
 Fries L Here lies the end of love, of hope, of all things 
 earthly. 
 In this poor picture of the one we loved. 
 Lies the deep mystery men will never solve;- — 
 Beyond all scrutiny and prying looks. 
 Here in the awful silence of a life that's ended ; 
 Of sweet affections frozen dumb by death ; 
 Of ears that will not hear us when we speak ; 
 Of all the things of yesterday stopped in their course ; 
 Man's intellects rebuked, and dares no further. 
 Or going further, ends in \vorse than nothing. 
 Here lies a syllable 
 
 From the high eloquence of heaven itself. 
 That's spoke in words too high for man to know : 
 
FLA VIA. 151 
 
 Here, on this Ijorcler line where all turn dust, 
 
 Is God's own lesson of equality ; 
 
 And in this lastest scene of all the acts, 
 
 Symbols are found most wonderful of all— 
 
 The grandest mysteries of the universe — 
 
 To be gazed on and still unlearned forever 
 
 In this one-sided life. 
 
 Oh, poor dumb lips ! Would you would speak to us 1 
 
 But, no, those lips must never move again ; 
 
 Yet they were sweet interpreters of heaven. 
 
 Oh, why is it that in this world of woe 
 
 The good and bad die equally alike '? 
 
 Seeing the good might help the ignorant ; 
 
 Yet death may touch them through a breath of wind, 
 
 So shadowy are the last of earthly things. 
 
 Oh, poor cold eyes ; the heaven that shone through them 
 
 Withdraws its light, and leaves them staring at earth 
 
 As if they knew 't no more. I will not speak, 
 
 As is the common custom, of her virtues. 
 
 For they were such as needs no one to tell them ; 
 
 And as all knew her, loved her, none will deny them. 
 
 Therefore remains but one thing to be done ;— 
 
 To place this faded flower gently away ; 
 
 And from that on, it is my firm belief 
 
 That all the gentlest things found on earth. 
 
 Obeying nature's laws, will tend her grave. 
 
 If sweetest flowers grow not upon it, gentle winds 
 
 Will be drawn there to murmur over her ; 
 
 And sweetest birds will sing their carols there. 
 
 Yet, when I think how much we all have loved her. 
 
 How cold and icy seem these words of mine — 
 
152 FLA VIA. 
 
 For she was one of wliom no words can speak ; 
 Nobler than words can tell — a subject, rathei-, 
 That like the t^rander stars yet undiscovered, 
 Have beauties unseen, beyond our present description, 
 She had that deep, that higher charity 
 Founded upon a deep insight of nature, 
 On higher wisdom than common mortals have- 
 She saw that link that bound all things together, 
 And saw that man depended on the worm 
 That he might still exist. Therefore was she 
 Most gentle to each creature on the earth. 
 But then her sorrows came too heavy on her, 
 And all the million things she was but yesterday, 
 Is now turned to dust. Oh, place her with the dust, 
 Give her back to the earth from whence she came— 
 For I can speak no more. 
 Silent herself, let silent lilies grow, 
 The daisies and the violets above her, 
 With their sweet faces ever looking upward : 
 Sweet monuments, pointing where she is gone : 
 The varied hues the sunlight writes upon them, 
 Being nature's words, telling by loveliest symbols 
 The qualities once in her. [Cq^n is loioered info the grave. 
 
 Goth. [Sjyrings at Basiliios and stabs him.] 
 But for that smile he might have still lived on. 
 Now let him die, and may his agony 
 Be greatest ever suffered by man yet. 
 
 Priest. My son I My son ! What fatal act is this ? 
 
 Goth. Speak to me not. I go to my account. 
 The drug that acts within me, playing the jailor, 
 Hurries me on to that dark tribunal — [Falls dead. 
 
-w^1?x- 
 
 DREAM OF REALMS REYOND US 
 
 A'**!^^^^^^^ 
 '^^^'^^f^^^ 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 A DRAMA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene. — A level space on the evening clouds over the Golden Gate. 
 Tents of clouds of gold and silver are seen on the plain. A throne 
 composed of the hues of the rainbow on which rests a spirit named 
 Elmo. Other spirits around the throne. 
 
 Etheria. Beloved, commanding spirit, I have obeyed, 
 In all respects, your dear commands. 
 Seizing my silvery staff, and placing therein 
 Sweet thoughts to be attracted westward, 
 Around the world, back to some other thoughts 
 Held by you here, I sped upon my mission. 
 The day I left behind me, outrunning the sun, 
 And entered the towering palace of the dark, 
 That through all time stands opposite the sun. 
 I then swept through its curious moonlit halls. 
 And there I met those hideous impish sprites 
 That ever dw^ell within the tow^er of night, 
 That circles the earth as shadow of the sun. 
 I found them ever mingling the elements. 
 Making compounds to thwart the course of nature. 
 From them 1 learned but little of these beings 
 
ioG -< DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 That (]w63ll in contact with the earth below us : 
 
 But when 1 overtook the blue of the morning, 
 
 I found some beings from a distant sphere, 
 
 Larger than mountains, resting in their ships, 
 
 That ride the seas of space ; observing these beings 
 
 With curious magic instruments they had prepared, 
 
 By mixing good and evil in certain prof'ortions, 
 
 From them I learned, these beings crawling the earth 
 
 Did seem to have a certain intelligence : 
 
 And seemed (though roughly), governed by some laws. 
 
 While gazing on these insects of the earth, 
 
 They said they noted oft they moved in masses; 
 
 At times in order ; at other times without it. 
 
 At times they saw two masses move toward each 
 
 Slowly and as determinedly as insects, 
 
 Yet, there appeared no object in these acts. 
 
 But as the blue of dawn changed to that hue. 
 
 In which the latter day does dress herself. 
 
 These beings could no longer stop near earth ; 
 
 Therefore unmoored their ships, and on a rising storm 
 
 Swept off through space back to their home agaiji. 
 
 Elmo. Learned you no more? 
 
 Efheria. Twas all I learned. 
 
 [Enter Ethron.] 
 Here comes a gentle spirit whose bright face 
 Bespeaks more knowledge. 
 
 Ethron. To learn if these odd beings on the earth 
 Were living creatures and intelligent, 
 I called a mighty host of brighter spirits 
 From all the corners of the universe. 
 And found amongst them some could see this earth. 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 157 
 
 They told me tliat these beings ne'er rose from it, 
 
 But moved through shade and light upon its face. 
 
 That all their actions shov^-ed fantastic thoughts ; 
 
 Showing these beings 
 
 As very infants in the grades of life, 
 
 With little thoughts and monstrous prejudices, 
 
 That they were blind and dumb to other worlds, 
 
 And kneAv but monstrous little of themselves. 
 
 They said they'd seen small spirits of the light 
 
 Dancing around them to the rythmic motion 
 
 Of undulating heat on summer days. 
 
 Yet men were blind and could not see them ; 
 
 And then they told me that the genii of caverns 
 
 Would light strange lights, whose flickering flames 
 
 Wer(^ made by trembling to play melodies ; 
 
 Yet they seemed deaf and did not hear these sounds. 
 
 They said that tliose who sailed across the deep. 
 
 Seemed not to see th' ocean's inhabitants. 
 
 Who, rushing through the air, created storms, 
 
 Xnd left their white tracks foaming on it's face. 
 
 Men seem like fishes dwelling in the deep ; 
 
 Oblivious to those beings that are above them. 
 
 Tliat by the deeper concentration on 
 
 The faces of some, they thought they all were deaf. 
 
 This much 1 learned : — no more. 
 
 Elmo. Is there no other that has studied them % 
 Blanta. This day I seized on the returning ray 
 
 Of the revolving light from sun to earth. 
 
 1 passed the point these opposite rays do cross, 
 
 And sitting along upon 
 
 The foremost promontory of the sun, 
 
158 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US, 
 
 1 watched the silvery earth as it revolved, 
 Gazed on its star-like pointed atmosphere, 
 iVnd yet learned nothing of them. 
 
 Ehno. Since this is then a real race indeed. 
 And not, as once we thought, but moving plants, 
 'Twere well for us to better their condition, 
 By whispering them of higher things. 
 Has any other of this company 
 Brought knowledge of this new discovered race ? 
 
 Arno. I have for fifteen circlings of the sun, 
 Dwelt opposite to him in midnight darkness. 
 And being unable to go close to earth, 
 Have forced the beings of night t' obey my orders, 
 And fetch me information of these creatures. 
 And first and foremost of their news, 
 They told me that these beings throughout the night 
 Seem in a state of death ; but come to life, 
 Awaking with the wave of harmony, 
 The sun plays on the rolling lyre of earth. 
 I then learned that they're often much tormented 
 By these same beings that I forced to serve me, 
 And still other devilish sprites. 
 That, like the skates and mudfish of the ocean, 
 I>well near the bottom of the seas of air. 
 Still other's, too, 
 
 Oft tempt them from high cliffs ; and often lead them 
 To their own ruin, placing in their way 
 Most deadly tempting things. And then, besides. 
 Hideous small goblins dwelling in the moon, 
 Distill into her rays things poisonous. 
 Which madden them, or give them curious dreams. 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 159 
 
 i^wA so it is the harassments of earth 
 
 Stamp haggard looks, and marks of care upon them, 
 
 TJiey scarce are born before the \s'ants of earth 
 
 Mark wrinkles on their working infant brows; 
 
 And so begins a life of groans and sighs, 
 
 Caused by their pains, their wracks and their diseases. 
 
 Although 'twas hard to learn, I have discovered 
 
 Through pictures shown to me of these mortals, 
 
 There's something good in them ; 
 
 They seem superior in some trifling points 
 
 Over the other animals of earth. 
 
 Some acts of theirs, instinctive of their natures, 
 
 Those balance points which dot the face of nature 
 
 Are exponents of higher qualities. 
 
 I saw with them, that love outlasted death ; 
 
 The strength of mother's love, that's not of earth, 
 
 That those who had the least were charitable ; 
 
 And being the nearest to their state of nature, 
 
 Most charitable. 
 
 I saw an infant suck its mother's teat, 
 
 Oazing up at her face with loving eyes. 
 
 I saw that they wept more o'er other's sorrows, 
 
 While their own ills they bore with smiling patience ; 
 
 Methinks 'twould be a pleasant thing indeed, 
 
 To start this seed of good to growing in them. 
 
 Elmo. It shall be done. Now, for the present time, 
 We'll have our workmen in the shops of air, 
 So to combine and forge the elements 
 That the bright song of twilight shall be for»ned 
 Ere sinks the sun to his cloud-curtained bed, 
 And to that end 
 
160 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOM) US. 
 
 Let them combine the light that's shot from \^enu8. 
 
 The color of the ocean's wave by moonlight, 
 
 The light reflected from the ocean's teeth, 
 
 While angrily she gnaws the edge of the earth. 
 
 The dancing atmosphere of summer evenings, 
 
 The dizzy moving Ijorealis light, 
 
 The weird shadows of gloomy ancient forests. 
 
 Whose moss-grown limbs seem like the coffined dead. 
 
 The lulling sound of dripping unseen waters, 
 
 The grander roar of mighty cataracts. 
 
 The sounds like human voices in the woods ; 
 
 Then all the movements of the hurricane, 
 
 And wind up Avith tli' odor of summer's air. 
 
 When every flower is dressed in glittering dew ; 
 
 Its gaudy dress worn on that grand occasion, 
 
 When comes the bow of promise, the storm being o'er — 
 
 To these sights will we dance. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene. — A California forest high up in the mountains. A small 
 stream is winding through the woods. 
 
 Enter De Petzy and Blauvelt. 
 JJfau. Here let us rest and make our camp to-night : 
 And let our tired limbs and aching bones 
 Be patients for a time to sucli attendants 
 As nature sends in shape of cooling winds, 
 Which, to the patients placed beneath their care, 
 Bring balmy odors from the waving pines. 
 Fetches medicinal breaths from ferns and mossc'S, 
 And many an herb till we an^. healed again. 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 161 
 
 De Pet. I think we could not better our condition 
 By going further on. Besides the night 
 Now smothers up the glowing light of day, 
 And ere an hour will quench his light, 
 And blot this day from off the calendar. 
 
 Blau. Drop then your gun and rest upon this bank. 
 How sweet this air ; the gurgling of the stream ! 
 There's something soothing and refreshing to me 
 To find myself afar from human cares. 
 Far oft beyond the sounding of an echo 
 Of giant mills, and cities soot begrimmed ; 
 Our sole companions these dumb trees that stand 
 Holding behind their grim and solemn aspects 
 The secrets of a thousand passing years, 
 Known to themselves alone ; the antlered deer, 
 Owls whose wise looks tell of their secret knowledge, 
 And other beasts spell bound ; made dumb by nature, 
 To hold the wondrous things that they have seen. 
 Why here's a country to be new discovered ! 
 One of earth's many realms but brushed by dreams. 
 
 De Pet. Ofttimes, my mind being in a curious mood, 
 Life seems more like a dream, than ever a fancy 
 That strode the stage of sleep. Is it not odd, 
 Our being fast upon this piece of earth, 
 That floats a bubble on the seas of space 1 
 This being our lot, seems a disordered dream ; 
 A state of odd enchantment that of earth, 
 While real things are all unknown to us. 
 
 Blau. I've often thought something more worthy men, 
 Was hid beyond this childish race for wealth ; 
 This most absurd expending of a life ; 
 
162 ^ DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 That in the world was something beyond its sights, 
 
 And in the forest something beyond the wolf, 
 
 The panther stepping with his cautious tread 
 
 O'er crackling twigs in this grim forest ; 
 
 The gurgling streams, the silver trout 
 
 Whose backs rebuff the kindness of the sun ; 
 
 The feathered carpenter, who at his work 
 
 So oft deceives th' unwary traveler ; 
 
 The grizzly striding here with kingly tread ; 
 
 Why, we've but touched the surface of earth's secrets, 
 
 Wonders astonishing and unimaginable 
 
 Being yet unknown. 
 
 De Pet. There's surely pleasant contrast in these woods, 
 For, being alone, we have no enemies. 
 Being far away from all the race of men : 
 But having none to hate us, we have not 
 A mark for gentle thoughts to draw them forth. 
 Therefore, a life apart from all mankind 
 Is one that's selfish and unnatural — 
 The refuge of cowards ; 'gainst love and reason both. 
 
 Blau. List to the cooing of the unseen dove ; 
 I wonder if they, too, have woes of love — 
 Heave mighty sighs ; then, with disturbed visage 
 And eyes grown mournfully large, do gaze upon 
 Those whom they love, with passionate, pleading looks 1 
 I wonder, too, 
 
 Does she then cast her eyes down with disdain, 
 And he then misinterpreting this act. 
 With foolish haste fall a-despairing ; 
 Then, seeing his deep despair, does she grow kind 
 But for a time, to end his present grief, 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 163 
 
 A little later to seem cold again, 
 
 And so the action and reaction go 
 
 On to the end 1 And are they jealous like men ? 
 
 With glittering, feverish eyes and visage wan, 
 
 Disturbed by trifles, beneath a madman's notice ; 
 
 And have they friends, or foes, or foolish customs, 
 
 To break sweet nature's course and make love hopeless 1 
 
 Be Pet. Why sure it is they have their share of woes, 
 Wrought chiefly by fear. 
 Being subject to a life of false alarms : 
 Mourn for their friends, and in their sweetest songs 
 Repeat their grief into each other's ears. 
 But I will leave you now to lonelier musings 
 And wander ofii" t' explore the woods around us. 
 
 [Exit De Petzy. Blauvelt lies down and goes to sleep. 
 [Enter Wavra and Ellock, two spirits of the woods.] 
 
 Wav. He lies asleep. I'll breathe upon his face, 
 And by my breath infuse my nature in him, 
 As lovers do, when breathing each on each ; 
 Creating such fancies and such odd conclusions 
 As never yet were lodged in mortal mind. 
 Then shall he sweep the universe with thought. 
 And stand amazed indeed to see the things 
 Pierced by his eye of reason. 
 
 Elmo. Is 't not against Etheria's commands — 
 Who, for the part she takes in that great work 
 That now is brewing in the higher heavens. 
 To help the world on, 
 Would bring these two together 1 
 
 Wav. jSTot if such thoughts are placed Avithin his brain 
 That they are higher than human. 
 
164 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 And yet 'twere pleasant, if we had our way, 
 
 To make his mind grow drunk with hideous fancies : 
 
 But as we are commanded otherwise, 
 
 I'll let him in his dreams tread upward, 
 
 And being the hero of his deeds of sleep, 
 
 Go onward through full many a wondrous realm. 
 
 Where waking mortals could not be and live. 
 
 I'll show a thousand varied scenes in hell. 
 
 And there the laughter in a woman's eyes 
 
 Shall end his peace forever. 
 
 I'll show the green and monstrous angular sprites 
 
 That in the chilly southern seas of ice, 
 
 Where shines the southern cross, control the waters 
 
 And make the choppy sea dash icy waves 
 
 Against the mighty towers and domes of ice, 
 
 Full many feet in air ; 
 
 That drag the howling winds from point to point. 
 
 Shrieking as if in pain ; 
 
 That lead these deadly winds against the ships. 
 
 Icing the rigging, freezing the sailors' thumbs ; 
 
 Then drops the white fogs on the waste of waters. 
 
 And all the while so various are the sounds : 
 
 The loud reports, the rattling of Hoating ice ; 
 
 That hell itself seems there to have an echo. 
 
 I'll show the fourteen stars west of the cross, 
 
 Where dwell the dreaded mutineers from Venus. 
 
 I'll show the cloud bound caves of distant realms, 
 
 Where roam forever spirits of wild beasts. 
 
 And then I'll show the wild north central heaven. 
 
 Where come the poisonous winds from every point 
 
 2^araed on the compass ; mingling their poisonous breaths- 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 165 
 
 The hell of Saturn. 
 
 His fancy I'll lead through endless vales of clouds ; 
 
 To lands whose sun shines with a ray of blue ; 
 
 Whose stars are green, and all the things that grow, 
 
 A dreary white. I'll so astonish his fancy 
 
 That waking, he will rub his eyes to see 
 
 If he be yet awake. 
 
 Elmo. But then the other one will soon return, 
 Wav. No, for he was enticed to taste an herb 
 
 O'er which I spread a gauzy spiritual charm, 
 
 And now the sun, which is upon his right. 
 
 He sees upon his left ; and tiny fairies 
 
 Paint strange delusions on the air before him, 
 
 And laugh and lead him on. So let us hence, 
 
 And by our wishes bring the maiden here. 
 
 \^Exeu7it. The music of a harp heard imthin. 
 Enter Sylvia. 
 f^yl. Why, who is this, that, in these distant woods, 
 
 Lies either asleep or dead "? Thank heaven 'tis sleep ! 
 
 For no death damp does rest upon that brow, 
 
 Nor are the eyes sunk back upon the brain ; 
 
 The rosy proof of life is on his cheek — 
 
 Death has not plucked it thence, 
 
 And fairy zephyrs steal across his lips. 
 
 To leave their gifts of life and then depart ; 
 
 The while his heart beats steady time and music. 
 
 To which the world of life within him moves. 
 
 'T were pity, too, for such a one to die. 
 
 For honor's written on that lineless face ; 
 
 The royal stamps of truth and courage, 
 
 Those higher marks than all rewards of fame, 
 
166 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 More to be valued than the western ocean, 
 
 Its face all paved with gold. 
 
 And pride that would not beg; — no, not e'en woman's love, 
 
 So highly honored were the one he loved. 
 
 His brow is curved like heaven on summer days, 
 
 And lif)s to send forth streams of music 
 
 Would charm the passions of a multitude 
 
 As oil the ocean's anger. 
 
 Blaic. [Wakens.] Where am 11 Ah! I do remember. 
 What's tins'? The glamour of new acquaintanceship? 
 Or is it yet a sweeter vision still 1 
 Am I awake? 
 
 Can fairies blush and turn their heads away ? 
 I feel like one that's drunk, and lift my brows, 
 Yet cannot lift my eye-lids high enough 
 To see if this is real. And if 'tis real 
 It were enough to make one drunk with pleasure ! 
 Why I could gaze, and hold my breath and gaze 
 And still look on until the world were ended. 
 And in so living, lose all recollection 
 Of pain upon the earth 1 
 
 Syl. How came you here 1 
 
 Blau. For twenty miles, I have come here afoot. 
 
 Syl. Do you not fear to sleep in this deep forest, 
 With wild beasts round you 1 
 
 Blau. Do you not fear to walk here in this forest 
 With no protector 1 
 
 Syl. I do not know of fear : — and what is fear ? 
 
 Blau. Fear is that something which comes over us, 
 When reason is abandoned ; 
 Something that makes us lower than the beasts; 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 167 
 
 A thing thal's loathsome to the highest minds, 
 
 As loathsome as dishonesty, 
 
 And most controls those most degraded. 
 
 tz I've often met the beasts that roam these woods 
 But looking on them, with the eye of friendship, 
 They turned away and never oftered harm, 
 
 fha^;^^:^!:^ all the wide, wic^w^^^^ 
 
 But the sweet stars that cheer me with their looks, 
 
 The flowers wild, the spirits of the wind; 
 
 Those spirits that build pictures m the mus c 
 
 When I have played harp here m the woods, 
 
 And oft I while away the summer hours 
 
 By watching mighty cities in the clouds, 
 
 That passed away ten thousand years ago ; 
 
 And those mysterious beings, strangely accoutied, 
 
 That pace along the ^^^er battlement^ ; 
 
 The spirits of serpents and of curious beasts 
 
 That dwelt in swamps these centuries ago ; 
 
 And as they pass in panoramic view. 
 
 I live where'er I will in past or tuture, 
 
 ^'Xr''^^:::^^o^^^ nave you no father either, 
 
 ^^n^e^^tse who say they are my parents : 
 
 But then, one day, I learned it was not so ; 
 
 And who my father and my mother are 
 
 I cannot tell : for far as I remember 
 
 I've been with them here in these woods alone 
 
 ilid frcompanions-they have k^pt me J^^^^^^^ 
 
 They make me work from morning till the night, 
 
168 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 And beat me when I'm tired and cannot work ;* 
 
 And if they are away, they set a dwarf, 
 
 Who's cruel and malicious in his nature, 
 
 To watch my acts. But when he is asleep, 
 
 Then I steal forth and wander in the woods ; 
 
 But if he awakes before I do return. 
 
 He seizes me and beats me cruelly ; 
 
 Grinning and showing his teeth, and laughing harshly 
 
 With brutal pleasure ; but I never weep 
 
 And never can they tell from how I look 
 
 How much the pain I feel. Oft seeing this, 
 
 I've seen him stirred to madness in his malice, 
 
 And in his angered state the poisonous foam 
 
 Grew white upon his lips ; 
 
 Yet never a muscle twitched to show my pain. 
 
 And never a sign betrayed me. 
 
 Blaii,. And never a friend to help 1 
 
 Syl. I never saw a stranger in these woods 
 But you alone. Oh, if I knew the way. 
 How quickly would I seek those far off cities 
 Of which I've dimly heard ; where are great kings 
 And mighty lords and ladies and courtiers ! 
 
 Blau. Though from your forms we might mistake your 
 nature, 
 And think you were an angel come from heaven — 
 And though your nature must be still as sweet — 
 Those thoughts of baubles betray your woman's nature. 
 Know that there are no titles in a land 
 Where all are more than kings. 
 
 Syl. I have seen pictured in my dreams, these cities 
 Where towers and steeples rose up to the sky, 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 169 
 
 And old cathedrals on whose marble Hoors 
 Fell dim and colored lights. 
 
 Blau. These dreams of yours 
 Are not such dreams as city maidens have, 
 Disturbing their nights. 
 
 Syl. But hush ! Rhadagavat is coming, 
 And I must leave you. [Exit Sylvia. 
 
 Blau. Why here's a romance found within these woods 
 To shame the dullness of a written book ; 
 To bring an incredulous sneer quick to the lips 
 Of men whose sense is not uncommon but common. 
 No writer's dream, no freak of childhood's fancy ; 
 No drug-induced imaginings of men. 
 But pale before this most audacious nature ; 
 Seeming most tame indeed ; 
 And seeming unnatural in the face of nature. 
 
 [Gun-shot heard, 
 [Enter De Petzy.] 
 Safe, back again 1 What have you learned 1 
 
 De Pet. I have seen nothing ; neither have I heard 
 Aught but the wind that rustled the forest leaves ; 
 And set those limbs that rested against others 
 To utter doleful moans. Naught but the squirrels, 
 That high aloft did hold betwixt their paws, 
 The food they nibbled, careless of my presence ; 
 But now, I shot this rabbit I bring with me ; 
 Who sat, with ears erect, gazing upon me. 
 Then throwing back his ears, started to flee ; 
 When, pulling the trigger, I ended all his hopes, 
 Cut his ambitions, checked his evil thoughts ; 
 But let us hence, for I have found a place 
 
170 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 Better than this to make our camp to-night, 
 Still higher up the stream. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene. Same as Scene I, Act I. 
 
 Elmo. Since it has been resolved by us, to each 
 Help on some being of the human race, 
 Let those who have observed them give the news. 
 
 Etii. Beloved spirit, it being against our natures 
 To come in closer contact with the earth. 
 Since deadly vapors rise from murderous deeds, 
 And slimy odors rise from cruel acts, 
 From brutal words, from selfish vanity 
 ^Yhich raises some upon the woes of others : 
 Therefore I've sought out spirits that have power 
 To walk upon the surface of the earth. 
 Of which are multitudes with various natures, 
 I chose the laughing spirit of the woods 
 To serve my end. 
 
 Elm 0. How learned you from them 
 
 EtJi. The air below is filled with finest dust ; 
 With this they modeled forth a beauteous maiden 
 And then by casting sunlight on this form. 
 She seemed to live ; and by this form of hers, 
 I knew how outward nature acting on it. 
 Would make her inward mind ; and saw that she 
 Was one it would repay us well to serve. 
 
 Elmo. How would you serve her 1 
 
 EtJb. Why, I have seen this cruel thing on earth 
 That natures that are fitted each for each, 
 With bitter hearts — and yet they know not why-- 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 171 
 
 Oft lead a life that's all unsatisfied, 
 
 Because they feel and yet they do not know 
 
 The other lives for them ; yet die and never meet. 
 
 Therefore I've brought the one most fitted for her, 
 
 And they have met, and in a moment felt 
 
 What, if 'twere told, would crowd these many years. 
 
 To consummate my plans. 
 
 I've had her flee her home within the woods, 
 
 And to prevent her guardians following her, 
 
 Have given the spirits under me the power 
 
 To play such tricks as pleased them most upon them, 
 
 And making then the most of such permission, 
 
 They have deluded them to strange beliefs. 
 
 And set the men stroking their beards, 
 
 Being angrily perplexed ; and on their faces 
 
 Expressions ludicrous. 
 
 They lead them long journeys through briers and thorns, 
 
 O'er angular rocks, through swamps, through wild o-rapevines. 
 
 Oft make one think the other Sylvia, 
 
 And set a beating t' other. 
 
 I now shall lead her on through trouble and woe. 
 
 To find reward at last. 
 
 Elmo. Has she no earthly friend to help her 1 
 Eth. My servant spirits shov/ed an aged man, 
 
 Who childless stood near to the end of life, 
 
 Thinking the daughter that he one time had 
 
 Was dead in infancy. They told me then 
 
 This was the father of our Sylvia. 
 
 I watched his brain, and of the world of spirits 
 
 (Which men call thoughts) held fast within his brain, 
 
 I saw 'mongst others these, his last conclusions. 
 
172 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 Which showed some odd things of the race of men : 
 
 All pleasures bring reacting torments with them, 
 
 Being balanced with an equal weight of care ; 
 
 Debauchery brings the thought of suicide, 
 
 Placing the strong in hell, o'ercoming cowards. 
 
 Nothing is valued but what others have — 
 
 Children and men being both alike in this — 
 
 Envy enraged then at another's fortune 
 
 Gives value even to a worthless thing, 
 
 Great as the trouble had in orettins^ it ; 
 
 Riches so madly sought, strike dead to friendship, 
 
 Oft chill and oft debase 
 
 The hearts of those that get them ; 
 
 And yet the parasitic natures of mankind 
 
 Lead them to still bow down before this wealth. 
 
 Though past all chance of benefit from it. 
 
 Riches are traitors 
 
 That bringing many pleasures surfeit with all. 
 
 And so this everlasting yearning in us 
 
 Falls short the mark 'tis aimed at. I saw besides. 
 
 The leaders of the world work by no rules. 
 
 But at their birth come new rules to the world, 
 
 Shown by their deeds. But common men 
 
 Like sheep are fixed, held down, bound by example, 
 
 And follow those that at the moment lead them. 
 
 As these thoughts passed his brain, he heaved a sigh. 
 
 And then T saw that mortals did not know 
 
 To rid us of ourselves and live for others, 
 
 Is the one road that leads to happiness. 
 
 Therefore, I thought 'twere sweet to prove to him, 
 
 That where we seem bound fast and held by fate, 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND (IS. 173 
 
 That even then relief will surely come, 
 
 If we stand forth all dauntless to the end ; 
 
 And ever comes in some path plain enough, 
 
 Yet which we had completely overlooked 
 
 And lost all memory of. 
 
 Mmo. This is a good commencement for an end, 
 
 To round up royalty. What other spirit 
 
 \yould speak to us of v/hat they have observed 1 
 
 Here comes a spirit with laughing, impudent eyes ; 
 
 Eyes that might find strange humor ev'n in death. 
 Vonra. I've seen their life 's indeed an odd conceit, 
 
 Made up of odd conceits. 
 
 Seeing the future is but night to them ; 
 
 Those who get freely spend as easily ; 
 
 Some have the name of being generous. 
 
 Who borrow freely and as freely spend ; 
 
 Yet all the things they have and half their honor 
 
 Is measured but by gold ; and in their hearts 
 
 The blood runs cold as ice. 
 
 The gold of those who save all that they get 
 
 Seems to impregnate and grow to their bones ; 
 
 And they, 
 
 Like rats and vermin, hide their wealth away. 
 
 And ever dreaming that they must live on, 
 
 Die ere it is enjoyed. 
 
 Some spend their lives seeking to reach that point 
 
 When they will stand above those who have scorned them 
 
 And if 'tis reached, they reach it but to learn 
 
 That folly urged them on. , , , , i 
 
 I noted that men were often such low bred blackguards, 
 
 They would repeat the tales they'd heard of women, 
 
174 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 Or build up lies and slanders of whole cloth, 
 
 Which served to damn full many an honest wife. 
 
 Women are dazzled most by vice in men, 
 
 And pitying their infirmities, do love them. 
 
 The tale of love like children they will hear, 
 
 And never tire in hearing it repeated ; 
 
 And many more mad quirks I did observe 
 
 In their odd natures. 
 
 The child looks forth with anxious eyes to manhood. 
 
 On through the magic windows of the future, 
 
 Which show them things that never come to pass 
 
 As they are seen at first. Yet in the picture 
 
 That's shown of manhood, they see most wondrous things,. 
 
 Till reaching it. 
 
 They learn manhood 's but childhood grown less free 
 
 With larger toys to play with. 
 
 Oft at the end of life. 
 
 Embittered by full many woeful mishaps, 
 
 Men gaze back now with melancholy visage. 
 
 And bitterly relate o'er to some friend 
 
 Hovv^ life has been a failure ; 
 
 Sighing they cannot be a child again 
 
 To try 't anew. This too I've seen of them ; 
 
 They're never all good nor not entirely bad ; 
 
 But at some times the worst of them are saints. 
 
 And then at times the best of them are devils. 
 
 The great at times seem small, and then at times. 
 
 Those who before seemed insignificant, 
 
 Called by some great occasion, take the lead, 
 
 An do astonish those who under-judged them ; 
 
 And of things or beings animate. 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. ]75 
 
 There's nothing on earth half so uncertain, 
 
 80 little to be depended on as man. 
 
 And so this curious race 
 
 Would seem to be bewitched by their odd natures, 
 
 Could I relate the thousand contradictions 
 
 I have observed in them. 
 
 Elmo. What knowledge have they 
 Of all the myriads of living worlds around them 1 
 
 Vonra. They are so puffed up by their strange conceit — 
 Though on a fly-speck of the universe — 
 That still they think the rest was made for them, 
 And that no other living being at all 
 Dwells in the wondrous hosts of worlds around them ; 
 But all is glitttering death, and nothing more ; 
 Made but for them to gaze on through all time 
 With open mouth, and eyes stretched wide with wonder. 
 Being tixed to earth, 'twas laughable indeed 
 To note their knowledge is but halves of things ; 
 They see no interlacing of all things 
 Between two worlds to make a mighty end. 
 And all their seeing only is inch deep. 
 They scarce conceive that all the things of earth 
 Are things in miniature of full-grown worlds. 
 That as their nations think and act like men. 
 At times being sane, at times being mad as they, 
 So is their race a unit of vast worlds. 
 That as their seas have puny storms upon them. 
 So are there storms that sweep the seas of space ; 
 Creating vast currents, whirlpools and tides ; 
 Setting worlds dancing on their rising billows 
 Like corks upon the ocean. 
 
176 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 Sweeping vast systems o'er that mighty deep, 
 
 With billows hurrying, rushing, raging onward, 
 
 That dash against the beacon lights at night. 
 
 And surge beyond. They dream not of the fleets 
 
 That, sails all set, dash o'er the darker ocean 
 
 Into strange ports in other realms 
 
 Beyond the realm of suns ; 
 
 Into those systems held by other checks 
 
 Than earths and suns. 
 
 Nor will they yet believe 
 
 Their brains are but a temporary home 
 
 For spirits of dead things upon the earth ; 
 
 That they had power that chained these ghosts of thoughts 
 
 Fast to all books and ancient monuments. 
 
 They laugh at goblins fast in ancient halls ; 
 
 That in straight lines walk through dense crowds of men ; 
 
 The sooty spirits crouching on storm brewed clouds ; 
 
 The airy cities which we all have seen ; 
 
 The mighty deserts in the realms of space. 
 
 And all the wondrous hosts of distant heavens; 
 
 Looking within, they seem to see these things ; 
 
 But looking out upon the sun again. 
 
 They call them fancies, and they vanish from them. 
 
 These things they will not know, and do not know ; 
 
 And hearing it, they call 't unreasonable, 
 
 Elmo. Ah, if they could but know the half we know ! 
 How would it shake their minds and make them mad 1 
 Being so unreasonable. 
 
 Vonra. Their chief est cause of all is ignorance, 
 From which springs prejudice and every folly ; 
 This shadow of death is now most heavy on them. 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 177 
 
 But with our aid, the world begins to move. 
 This century does promise mighty times 
 That will out leap the tedious course of nature ; 
 Leaving behind the barbarous days of war ; 
 Of right by blood to be the manger dog ; 
 Of rights devine, and many another right 
 That always has been wrong. 
 The time will then come to this human race, 
 When men will say there is 
 No aristocracy but that of honor. 
 And he alone will be a king amongst them 
 That has this honor. 
 
 ¥ov men will learn that time; that true it is 
 To be the mightiest man the world e'er saw. 
 And have not honor, were indeed as nothing ; 
 For honor's the salt and savor of true greatness 
 In men and nations both — their sustenance. 
 For what's called greatness 
 That has not honor's, but a sickly growth 
 To droop and fade, and pass away forever. 
 But nothing on earth's assured so long a life, 
 Repeated by men, and filling their memories 
 Through coming ages, as deeds of honor and right. 
 Eth. There's this thing to remember as excuse. 
 How much they're ruled by fate 
 Down in that earthly hell. 
 Their life from infancy on to old age 
 Being but the lived and acted history 
 Of that same earth they dwell on. 
 In each minutest act through all her course. 
 
178 ^ DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 Elmo. Know they the heavenly character of music,. 
 Whose words are founded on a common language, 
 Inscribed in which are secrets of all worlds 
 Throughout the heaven ; which the higher powers 
 Read at their pleasure. 
 
 Eth. 'Tis sweet to them ; but that it is a key 
 Made to unbolt the gates of heaven. 
 They do not know. 
 
 Elmo. Odd, odd, indeed ! But now 'tis time to move 
 Upon our westward journey with the sun. . 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene. — A green space surrounded by woods. A number ot 
 country jakes dancing. The moonlight falls on the scene. 
 Blauvelt — De Petzy. 
 
 DePet. Cheer up ; this is no time for gloominess. 
 Go join the dance. 
 
 Blau. I'm worn and weary, and am sick at hearty 
 Seeing I've searched to find her that I love 
 These many days, and have not heard of her. 
 Oh, Sylvia, thou idol of my heart. 
 Why didst thou thus escape from me so strangely ? 
 Was she not sweet ? Did ever the beauties of earthy 
 The roses, daises or wild buttercups. 
 So close their eyes and die so joyfully 
 That their spirits might go into that heaven 
 Which is her lovely form 1 Yet now she's lost ! 
 But over the world I'll search, 
 From icy lands within the bitter north. 
 Beneath cold skies that are as blue as steel. 
 Where the limbs freeze and men die piece by piece. 
 
A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 179 
 
 To scorching wastes where burn the sands like fire, 
 And hot winds parch the throat and dry the tongue ; 
 Aye, till this frame falls helpless at the last, 
 Still will I seek her. 
 
 De Fet. You say you've found 
 Her father, too, who now lends his assistance 
 In searching for her. 
 
 Bkm, Aye ; by some marks she showed me on her arm, 
 It now is proved beyond dispute to us 
 That this is so ; therefore 'tis harder still 
 To think of her as wand'ring alone to-night, 
 While is prepared a happy home for her. 
 
 Jesse. Come join the dance. I tak't no compliment 
 You will not join. This holding back of yours. 
 This uncompanionable spirit, will breed 
 Suspicion of you. Why, what a long-drawn visage ! 
 You seem infected with a doleful melancholy ; 
 Your looks, too, tell of sleepless, feverish nights. 
 This is but wrong. Cheer up ; 'twill all end well. 
 The one who makes your face so melancholy 
 Will yet be kind. 
 
 'Tis woman's nature to act opposite 
 To half her spoken words, 
 And being a most unreasoning animal, 
 Say no, when she mean yes. 
 
 Blau. No woman's words have made me sad to-night, 
 But other reasons have control of me. 
 
 Jesse. Ah yes, a woman's reasons still. 
 Think you, you can deceive a woman thus. 
 Whose whole discourse is but discourse of love, 
 From childhood to old age— who acts for love. 
 
180 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 Who thinks for love, who speaks for love, 
 
 And for her love acts many a mad part — 
 
 The center of whose nature's founded on it. 
 
 Men you may still deceive, but never a woman, 
 
 But reads most clearly signs of love in men. 
 
 Did I not hear the tremor in your voice 
 
 When first I saw you and you spoke of her ? 
 
 Have I not seen you wand'ring the fields alone, 
 
 Repeating her words as something over-sweet, 
 
 Smiling and speaking to yourself alone 
 
 Like any madman. Have I not seen anger 
 
 Spring to your eyes when others spoke of her 
 
 In other terms than those befitting a goddess — 
 
 Their tones too light for your exacting ears 1 
 
 But I w^ill not torment you with more words, 
 
 Seeing you are tormented so by love. 
 
 Be Fet. Where was it that you last lost track of her 1 
 Blau. Why, first she wandered through the gloomy 
 woods ; 
 
 Then crossed the fields, and over dusty roads. 
 
 Till, reaching the city, she entered into it. 
 
 The sounds of city life were strange to her, 
 
 And many times did fill here mind with fear ; 
 
 So I have learned from those who did observe her, 
 
 Day in, day out, she wandered through the streets ; 
 
 Oft run against by hurrying passengers, 
 
 And always looking, with anxious, eager eyes, 
 
 Upon th' unmindful faces of the crowd, 
 
 As if she sought for one she could not find, 
 
 At last, 'tis said, she, wearied of this life. 
 
 And pined for distant streams, and flowers, and woods. 
 
A DUE AM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 181 
 
 iSTow often was she seen beside the ocean, 
 
 Listening to read each message that the waves 
 
 Had brought from distant ports ; 
 
 Or, in the fields 
 
 That nearest stood beside the city's edge, 
 
 She'd pluck the flowers and gaze upon their faces 
 
 As in a mirror, recalling images 
 
 Of distant streams, and woods, and mountains blue. 
 
 At last those who'd observed lost sight of her, 
 
 And from that point I cannot hear of her. 
 
 [Enter Sylvia.] 
 But who comes here ? Now, if my eyes deceive me, 
 And do not bless me, as 'twould seem they do — 
 What Sylvia, sweet one ! Then we have met at last ! 
 
 Syl. At last ! At last ! 
 
 Blau. Tell me, where have you been ? 
 What land has been so lighted by your eyes 
 There was no need for sun within the day, 
 Nor stars to shine at night *? 
 
 Syl. Three weary days, and nights as weary, too, 
 I've seen the stars creating light at night, 
 The mightier sun relieving them by day — 
 And still have I trudged on most wearily, 
 Reading the weary hours from shadows at night, 
 Reading them from the sun's hight in the day, 
 And yet I found you not. 
 
 I grew most weary then ; and while the heavens 
 Let down a thousand rays of hope to cheer me, 
 Yet sunk my heart most heavily in me. 
 But once I saw a light spring from the ground, 
 Which moved before ; and following after it, 
 
182 A DREAM OF REALMS BEYOND US. 
 
 I saw the outline of an angel's hand, 
 
 Which held the light until it brought me here. 
 
 Blau. And well might angels help on Sylvia, 
 Seeing the light that shines from her sweet thoughts 
 Would make an atmoshpere where they might dwell. 
 And now the day of parting is o'erpast, 
 And we will part no more. 
 
 Syl. No more on earth ; and when death comes to one, 
 Then will we lie, each in the other's arms ; 
 And when one dies, the other die as well, 
 And both, still joined, pass to the realms of sleep. 
 
ROMER, RING OF NORWAY 
 
 ^^¥^ 
 
ROMBR, KING OF NORWAY, 
 
 A DRAMA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 Scene I.— A room in Welhaven's house. Hela discovered 
 reading. 
 
 Welhav. What tale is this, my pretty one, that holds 
 
 Such full possession over all your thoughts 1 
 Hela. A pretty tale about two Danish lovers, 
 
 But cruel fate between them stood, alas ! 
 
 For she was cousin to a prince in Denmark, 
 
 And he was but commander of his bark ; 
 
 But in that bark at last he took his love 
 
 And dashed out o'er the ocean. 
 
 Welhav. But had the tale a moral 1 
 
 Hela. A very pretty moral— they both escaped, 
 
 And all their foes were drowned then in the ocean. 
 
 Welhav. Why yes, why yes, but other morals, Hela— 
 Hela. Why father, when I read, I read for pleasure 
 
 And not for morals. 
 
 Morals are plenty over all the earth. 
 
 The sweetest one is the night-bird's song : — 
 
 The mighty river rolling to the sea 
 
 Has a deep moral in its bosom hid. 
 
186 EOMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Welhav. There are you right, 
 For pleasure still read on, my pretty one. 
 And draw while you are young 
 The honey from this hard, hard earth of ours. 
 
 Held. Your gloomy tones put evil thoughts in me : — 
 Has evil news then reached you from the war 1 
 
 Welhav, There was a battle, yet still all is well ; 
 Our king has gained a victory 'gainst the foe — 
 'Tis whispered that the rebels here in Norway, 
 Under the lead of that most dang rous Ehrensvard 
 Are in a league with this, our Danish foe. 
 
 Held. He seemed not dangerous, ten years ago. 
 When he was young and to the world unknown. 
 
 Welhav. But in his heart a- hot ambition burned 
 That had a blaze then dangerous for his country — 
 I aided him because I knew him poor. 
 And aided then a viper. 
 
 Held. Against you too ? 
 
 Welhav. He works against my country, and therein 
 Does work against me. 
 
 Hela. Which way, think you, does his ambition point ? 
 
 Welhav. It has no bounds ; would leap up to the throne. 
 
 Hela. Nay, but he would not dare to be a king ! 
 
 Welhav. But he would dare to play great Ciesar's part; — 
 And though I serve my king — for 'tis my duty, 
 1 say as all his people oft have said 
 He is a tyrant, and their love for tyrants 
 Is like the anger of a tiger ; 
 And if this outlawed rebel joins with Denmark, 
 The throne of Norway may be shaken yet. 
 The priests have made a secret pact with him. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 187 
 
 And though it hurts their pride, the noblemen 
 Join one by one with this bold Ehrensvard ; 
 But ere he wins there'll be a bloodier war 
 Than this 'gainst Denmark, each grassy hillock 
 And every running stream be hued with blood. 
 
 Hela. Oh, that men should be of such a nature, 
 That they can love to slaughter one another ; 
 To slash and cut and carve the life away ; 
 To make a hell of pain, a sea of blood. 
 And then wade through it — oh ! 'tis tiger like ! — 
 Were you not old you'd go again to Avar. 
 
 WeUiav. My poor, poor Hela ! ill secrets must have out. 
 The armies of the king have been again 
 Placed under my command. 
 
 Hela. But you"ll not leave me here alone, my father 1 
 
 Welhav. Poor daughter, but I must. 
 
 Hela. But this is hard, — so very hard indeed — 
 Go tell the king you're aged and lonely now 
 And that your daughter has no mother now ; 
 I know that then his heart will grow as soft 
 As morning sunlight melting night's dark heart. 
 
 Welhav. The king, my child, must have . some one to 
 lead, — 
 Poor, pretty Hela, innocent as is 
 A little bird that flies out o'er the ocean 
 And learns too soon the tempest and the storm ; 
 Poor wanderer, it flees so wearily, 
 And round, and round, and now blown with the gale ; 
 Now to the north it flies away for help, 
 Now to the south, then to the west and east, 
 But none there are to lend a helping hand. 
 
188 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 And then at last tired out with battling death, 
 
 It shuts its wings, and sinks down 'neath the storm. 
 
 Hcla. Oh, how I shudder thinking of the danger; 
 The bloody fields, where cannons thunder out, 
 And from their iron lungs belch clouds of smoke 
 To veil the horrid scene from heaven's eye, — 
 I hear the screams, the wails of dying men ; — 
 See dreadful butchery ; unlimbered cannon. 
 Dead men and Avounded all together lying — 
 Oh father, father, do not go away ! 
 
 Welhav. Why Hela, child, you make too bloody a scene. 
 
 Hela. And there are dangers father here at home. 
 Dangers that now I cannot name to you ; 
 Oh, stay at home and be here at my side 
 When I must face them. 
 
 Welhav. Why, what a little coward now she is. 
 Enter Romer. 
 
 Homer. A merry morning to my pretty cousin. 
 
 Hela. This is no hour for merriment with me. 
 
 Romer. The war brings hardships to us all, my cousin, 
 But we must dare to battle with them too. 
 And when your father marches 'gainst the foe, 
 Our palace shall become the while, your home. 
 
 Hela. A most unhappy home without my father there. 
 
 Romer. The pleasure at our court will cause you soon 
 To cast away your grief, 
 And you may wait upon our suffering queen. 
 
 Welhav. Cannot the doctors tell then what is wrong % 
 
 Romer. They tell me now they fear her mind is mad. 
 And have commanded that all visitors 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 189 
 
 Be kept away, 
 
 And friends restrained from having converse with her. 
 
 Wel/iav. Our queen gone mad. Her sweet mind gone. 
 It seems a wicked thought to dare believe it. 
 The kingdom of her soul all, all in ruins ! 
 
 Bomer. The hand of fate ; her father died a madman — 
 
 Welhav. Well I remember when I was a child 
 I heard my father telling of his madness. 
 
 Romer. Aye, aye, 'tis true — 'tis very true indeed. 
 But now good-by, may you have such success 
 That glorious honor shall on your gray hairs 
 Sit as a crown when you return from war. 
 
 Welhav. Nay, I'm too old to love new honors now, 
 Too old to flattered be, and fooled by them ; 
 Unless that honor be to serve my king, 
 Whom not to serve would bring dishonor on me. 
 
 [Welhaven and the King go out. 
 
 Hela. Would that I knew all that's hid in the future ! 
 Oh, that these eyes could look through its dark mist, 
 And see the secrets that lie hid beyond. 
 I fear the king ; his actions have a strangeness 
 When he comes near me, I cannot interpret ; 
 He gazes, oh, so deeply in my eyes. 
 As if he sought some far off, hidden thought ; 
 And yet there is a sadness in his look ; — 
 But I must now beware of him, for he 
 
 Is chilly-hearted, cold, and cruel unless I greatly wrong him. 
 Re-enter ROxMEU. 
 
 Romer. Unless you greatly wrong him. 
 
 Hela. Can you then look upon the closed up mind 
 And see the swarms of thoughts at work in there 1 
 
1 90 ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 
 
 And do you glance down through the eye, that gate 
 That opens on the brain. 
 
 Bomer. Have charity, my pretty cousin, Hela ; 
 Why, even I can pity all mankind. 
 
 You see we are such poor, weak, villainous wretches ; and 
 we have so many sorrows, and so many pains, Hela, that 
 we should pity and should love one another. And there 
 should be no hate in all the world. Oh, the little envys and 
 the little suspicions ; why they are unworthy the heart of a 
 mouse. But to have a great heart that beats for all the 
 world, is worthy of a god. For you see we are all about 
 equally good, when you come to think of the trials that 
 each man is subject to ; and the poor, poor wretch that goes, 
 down, down, until she becomes but a mere shadow of what 
 she was, may yet have as warm a heart beneath that cold 
 surface as any of us. And who knows of the writhings of 
 heart, and the agony of soul that the poor tender bosom 
 sufferod once, when none would speak kindly, when none 
 would shed a tear, but all were harsh, harsh, harsh, as the 
 cruel Winter wind. Kind *? Why the holy ladies would 
 pass her by with a look that would harden the heart of an 
 angel. My God ! the whole world is upside down. 
 
 The terms good and bad, Hela, are human terms, all are 
 good in the sight of the creator, for he would make nothing 
 bad. And who knows but somesvhere way up there among 
 the stars there will be a place that we will pass to, after 
 going through the gate of death, where we will be all equal- 
 ly well off? And then we may pass through another gate 
 of a like death to another M^orld, and so we will go on and 
 on through the universe like the great stars. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. ] 9 1 
 
 Hela. Forgive me, cousin, I have long been wrong 
 And in my heart have wrongly slandered you. 
 
 Romer. My gentle cousin, Hela, you're not like all the 
 w^orld, 
 For when we look upon men's petty actions 
 That are so small, so vilely small. 
 We soon forget their many nobler deeds, 
 
 \it grows gradually darker^ 
 For look you, Hela, when I wake at night ; 
 I curse the world to pass away the night — 
 I think how when two enemies in heart, 
 With smiles that shadow forth a serpent's venom 
 Meet on the street. 
 
 They're but, my Hela, hideous skeletons. 
 That clasp their bony hands together. 
 
 Hela. Your mind's,^ graveyard and there fearful 
 horrors 
 Do buried lie — but I will pity you. 
 
 Romer. You pity me, you gentle hearted one 1 — 
 When ail the world besides does hate me now "? 
 What salve can cure like pity's healing glance 1 
 When dying men see angels looking down. 
 Their pitying glances enter in where seas of pains 
 Are raging wildly and they make a calm. 
 Ha ! ha, oh, Hela ! Hela ! Hela ! 
 Your sweet eyes, they hold not a curse for me ? 
 Your rosy lips make not a pretty path. 
 O'er w^hich hard words come running against me ; — 
 Methought once that 'twas so. 
 
 Hela. It is not so ; when you have troubles I'll pity you. 
 
1 92 ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 
 
 Romer. [Aside.'] Pity ^ pity? When woman pities, my 
 pretty Hela, but one step more and 'tis transformed to 
 love. 
 I thank the heavens that one is kindly left 
 Of all the wide world that will pity me. 
 At times I feel so sad, so very sad, 
 That then I wish ray that impatient life 
 Would break its rein and gallop to the death. 
 And when I feel so sad, there 's never a one 
 In all the world that comes to comfort me. 
 When with each beat my heart does forge a pain 
 There 's no one then to charm that pain away — 
 I'm coming, Hela. coming ten days from now, 
 To take you (as I promised to your father) 
 To stay within our palace (safe from dangers 
 That war by chance might bring across your path), 
 And 'till that time, my time will be employed 
 In watching how my brainsick wife goes on. 
 
 Hela. Poor gentle woman, but I loved her well. 
 She loved the world's small winged inhabitants. 
 And made them her companions oft for hours — 
 The humming-bird that sent his music waves 
 To break upon the banks of flowers around ; 
 The morning lark she loved to listen to, 
 That charmed the day from out his hiding place — 
 The swallow, too, that built his hanging house ; — 
 She loved them all and seemed to be like them 
 In mind and thought, and in her every action. 
 What wintry frost could kill so sweet a flower 1 
 
 Romer. The chilly breath of madness could alone. [Exit. 
 [The moon rises and her light falls through a loindow. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 193 
 
 Held. Oh, Ehrensvarcl ; Oh, Ehrensvard, and will I 
 never see your face again 1 
 Are you too great to think now of your Hela ? 
 Oh, happy hours of childhood passed away 
 When we were ever near to one another, 
 When every thought between us two was shared ; 
 When life moved onward like a Summer's dream — 
 Alas ! those hours can never come again, 
 And I can ne'er again see Ehrensvard. 
 
 [Enter Ehrensvard through a window.] 
 And can it be, or do my eyes deceive me 1 
 Oh, Ehrensvard ! [Falls into his arms. 
 
 Ehrens. You have not then forgotten me, my darling 1 
 
 Hela. Forgotten you ? Oh, do not ask me that ! 
 Could I forget you while a thousand dangers 
 Do ever hem you round 1 Oh, no, my heart 
 Is ever trembling when I think of you. 
 Much rather should I ask, have you not long 
 Ago forgotten me, while you are led 
 By fierce ambition. 
 
 Ehrens. All my ambition 
 Is but to rise up in the world's esteem, 
 'Till I may claim your hand. 
 
 But were my thoughts the very essence — the music 
 That makes so sweetly sound the voice of reason — 
 Aye, were my language that a god might use ; 
 Men are not gods to know it, and they will not 
 For many a century. When I was living 
 Within your father's house, the king, one day, 
 Did pass me by, and knowing that I loved you, 
 Looked on me scornfully, and spoke to me 
 
194 BOME'B, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 "With scornful words. And then I took the sword 
 And waited for my time, which came at last, 
 And ere that time has grown grey-headed, I 
 Will write upon his throne the word " destruction." 
 
 Hela. But you may have to battle 'gainst my father — 
 
 Ehrens. And if I do, this sword shall ne'er be raised 
 Against his honored head. 
 
 Hela. Hark ! then I thought 
 I heard a footstep. Oh, your life 's in danger ! 
 
 Ehrens. Aye, true ; 'tis aye in danger. When I was 
 born, 
 A tempest raged around me on the ocean ; 
 The vessel I was on drove on before it 
 And crashed upon the rocks that lined the shore. 
 'Tis strange that only three escaped the wreck. 
 My mother and my brother and myself ; 
 Some peasants saved us, but I never heard 
 What did become then of my mother and my brother. 
 
 Hela. Why, so our king was wrecked one Winter night ; 
 His mother only did escape with him. 
 And she did have a new-born babe that perished. 
 
 Ehrens.. 'Tis strange my greatest enemy should have 
 A history like my own. 
 
 Hela. 'Tis very strange — 
 
 [The moon ceases to shine through the window. 
 Enter Welhaven. 
 
 Welhav. Who have we here? 
 
 Ehrens. One from the rebel, Ehrensvard, who sends 
 A locket, which your daughter, long ago, 
 Did give to him. 
 
 Welhav. Where did you meet the rebel ? 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 195 
 
 Ehrens. Deep in the mountains, and he threatened me 
 With deatk if I should not deliver this ; 
 And he does threaten now that one 
 Whom he does call no king, but tyrant only. 
 
 Welhav. What learned you there about the rebels move- 
 ments ? 
 
 Ehrens I could learn nothing, for 'twas but a moment. 
 I staid there with them. [Exit Welhaven. 
 
 Hela Thank heaven he's gone ! 
 Oh, my love but you must leave me now ; 
 I tremble for your life while you are here. 
 
 [Eoof steps heard. 
 Hark ! Hark ! My father comes again. 
 
 Ehrens. Good-by, my darling, when I come again, 
 I'll bring a thousand keen-edged flashing swords 
 To ring aloud a melody of death, 
 And when the glorious sound of victory 
 Rings to the very vault of yon blue heaven, 
 Then will I come to find my gentle Hela. 
 Good-by, one more good-by. [Kisses her. Exit. 
 
 Enter Welhaven with soldiers. 
 
 Welhav. Where is your messenger 1 
 
 Hela. Gone. 
 
 Welhav. Why did you let him go 1 
 
 Hela. And did you wish to make the man your captive 1 
 
 Welhav. He was a traitor; in the dark I knew that. 
 
 Scene H. A street. Enter two Citizens. 
 
 1st Git. Is this the place ? 
 
 2cl Cit. Yes, here they pass at one o'clock to-day ; 
 They are bold men and they will battle well; 
 
196 ROMEU, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Bold in the heart and cheerful in the mind ; 
 Such men as they do win great victories. 
 
 1st (Jit. I hear that when the cross roads have been 
 reached, 
 Three thousand Swedish mountaineers will join them. 
 These men are very bull-dogs for the fight ; 
 E/Cvelling in blood as 'twere their element ; 
 They'll charge the foe as to a bloody feast ; 
 The foe will meet with tigers when they meet them. 
 Enter 3d Citizen. 
 
 Zd Cit. Our men assemble at the western end ; 
 Wives cling to their husbands as they say good-bye, 
 And mothers to their sons are clinging too. 
 
 2(i Git. It must be sad to see friends forced to part. 
 
 Zd Cit. The word good-bye is drawn from out the mouth 
 as it were loath to come. I saw a father in one hand hold 
 his gun, and in the other, he held his babe, and pressed it 
 to his bosom ; while to his knees his other children clung, 
 and begged him not to go away and leave them. 
 
 \st Cit. 'Tis rumored that the king will not lead on 
 the army. 
 
 3<rZ Cit. The rumor shines this time before the truth ; 
 The Kino- will not lead on aojainst the foe, 
 He holds not bade though from a lack of courage, 
 For when lie battled for his usurped throne — 
 
 \st Cit Beware what words you speak. 
 
 ^d Cit. Am I a slave to fear a tyrant's power ? 
 I tell you man before the moon is full 
 There will be never a tyrant here in Norway. 
 I say that when the king usurped the throne 
 More like a tiger than a man he fought, 
 
OF NOB WAY. 197 
 
 And with a courage that approached a madness 
 Did head his armies. 
 
 '2d Cit. I have heard it said 
 That fiends protect him when he faces danger. 
 And he communes with witches stormy nights 
 When bleak winds blow along the Norway coasts. 
 One night, when thunder rattled through the heaven 
 Before a mountain cavern was he seen. 
 The lightning showed three witches standing by him, 
 Whose withered faces shone in its red glare ; 
 The storm flew past him on the winds cold wings, 
 And ever and anon the chilly moon 
 Grinned down between dark clouds. 
 
 \st Cit. Some Laplands saw him too; one Winter right ; 
 The while the moon held in her yellow arms 
 Three icy stars up in the chilly heaven, 
 With spirits dancing on the frozen snow 
 Beneath the trembling borealis light. 
 
 2d Cit. Who now will head his armies ? 
 
 3cZ Cit. The General-in-Chief will be Welhaven, 
 Who has, by reason of his age been long retired. [Exit. 
 
 Enter AVelhavex dressed as a soldier and Hela with him. 
 
 Welha V. Why now I feel as once I felt of old ; 
 A soldiers blood is coursing in my veins. 
 My sinews strain to grasp the sword of battle ; 
 And now my heart beats marches to that field 
 Where warlike phantoms flit before my eyes. 
 Ha ! was the foe even numbered now to millions 
 We'd raise such flames of battle in their ranks 
 That rains of twenty AVinters could not quench. 
 
 Hela. But father — 
 
198 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Welhav. Ah, Hela, your sweet voice awakes me now — 
 Like dreams at night, that half dreams only are, 
 Where we in fancy tread again the past. 
 A waking thought will ruin all the dream ; 
 So, your sweet voice^ my gentle, lovely one 
 Has shattered all my vision — 
 Who'll care for Hela when I'm far away 1 
 
 \^A drum heard in the distance. 
 
 Hela. Is that the drum that tells us we must part 1 
 Oh, wretched drum to speak so hideously 1 
 Your horrid tone does have a blood-like sound ; 
 Your wretched tone brings shadows to my mind 
 Of some poor soldier looking up to Heaven, 
 Yearning for water while he dies of thirst ; 
 Of some poor soldier wounded cruelly 
 And breathing out his life in piteous groans — 
 
 [Soldiers march in. 
 
 Welhav. Good bye, my child, until we meet again. 
 
 Hela. Oh, but you must not go ! You must not go ! 
 
 [Exit Welhavex, leading soldiers. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene 1. — A room in the Palace. The King and Nielsen dis- 
 covered. 
 
 Bomer. Didst ever note the queer twinkle in the queen's 
 
 eye? 
 Niel. Why now I come to think of it my lord, full many 
 
 a time; — most often when she laughs. 
 Romer. Aye, aye, of course you have, and do you know 
 The meaning wrapt up in that act of hers 1 
 
ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. ] 99 
 
 Niel. Why no, I never thought of it in any particular 
 way. my lord. 
 
 Bomer. It means that she is mad, mad, Nielsen, mad. 
 
 Niel. And now, I come to think of it, I've seen her act 
 in the strangest Avays. 
 
 JRomer. Aye, aye, and right again ; she's very mad. 
 Where is she now ? 
 
 JViel. She's in her dressing room before her glass. 
 
 Borne?'. A sign that she is mad — 
 Don't grin, you idiot ! 
 
 JViel. But my lord, I meant no harm. 
 
 Romer. 'Tis very true ; 
 Simply your idiotic brain did hang 
 Her idiotic smiles without to dry. 
 Hang not such filthy garments of your brain, 
 To flaunt before the sunlight of mine eyes. 
 
 Riel. But my lord, I meant no harm. 
 
 Romer. Harm, you villain ! 
 Then hold your harmful tongue. 
 Now tell me man, was't ever in a madhouse 1 
 
 Niel. Heaven ! my lord, but you'll not send me to one ? 
 
 Romer. Send you to one ! and do you think you are worth 
 the sending I Why, when your poor brains once go wool 
 gathering, we'll cheaply mend them by sinking you, skull, 
 skeleton, and all, 
 
 Down in the belly of the hungry Baltic. 
 But tell me now, was't ever in a madhouse 1 
 
 Niel. Heaven forbid, my lord. 
 
 Romer. Or, yet in a charnel house? where happy worms 
 make madder merriment. 
 
200 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Niel. I am slow of thought ; I have been professionally. 
 
 Romer. To the charnel house ? 
 
 Niel. To the madhouse, my lord. 
 
 Romer. Villainous people are those same dead men, 
 and their rotting tongues must needs be long that they 
 may lie for such a length of time. 
 And you shall rot ; your bones make odors vile ; 
 Those eyes of yours grov/ colorless and dim — 
 A pleasant time to think on, is 't not so ^ 
 Go kiss your love, and think then with what lips 
 She will return the action. 
 Think how a million antic worms one day, 
 Will build a city in your sweet love's body. 
 Worms oratorical then in her eyes will preach 
 A sermon in which there's no hypocrisy ; 
 Sharp lawyer worms there quarrel for estate — 
 Lord ! lord ! hold your nose man, hold your nose ! 
 
 Enter the Queen. 
 Sweet partner I was telling your physician 
 About the gate that opens into Heaven, 
 How angels twang upon their gold harps there. 
 And devils mock without the crystal walls. 
 
 Queen. Yes % And 'tis a sweet tale too ; for oh, it tells 
 of rest. 
 
 Romer. Madam, and which way go you 1 
 
 Queen. Why ? to the right. 
 
 Romer. All thought is left, your mind is not now right. 
 
 Queen. What is your meaning 1 
 
 Romer. Why at some future date, I'll tell you what I 
 mean. [Exit Queen, 
 
 Then did you note the wildness in her eyes ? 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 201 
 
 Niel. I surely did. 
 
 Romer. And will you swear that surely she is mad ? 
 
 Niel. Why sir — 
 
 Homer. Why death and blood!- you trembling wrinkled 
 villian. — 
 
 Niel. Heaven ! my lord, but I will swear it. 
 
 Romer. Did'st ever hear of the seven devils the snake 
 begot on Eve's body in Eden 1 
 And they say gold was a she-devil and the first begotten; — 
 Go send up Leopold. [Exit Nielson. 
 
 Oh what a seething cauldron is my soul ! 
 Hell and it's legions do inhabit it, 
 And drive me on to actions dark as night ; 
 Dark ! dark ! dark ! 
 
 The heart is steeled, my strong will torn to tatters 
 By their vile ravinos in this heart of mine ! 
 What demon was it set me on to love 1 — 
 When sun-like love came streaming in my heart, 
 On what a home did it find waiting there ! 
 The pretty rules of nature turned awry. 
 All desolation, dark and gloomy there. 
 Methinks a million fiends still drive me on 
 To love a woman that I should not love, 
 And wdth a love that maddens all within. 
 I'm in the stream though of my destiny. 
 Flee then ye spirit of the darkness born. 
 Bear on my soul through realms of dark despair, 
 Through hell itself go hold your damned course ! 
 
 [Enter Leopold.] 
 My cjueen is mad, hast ever noted it 1 
 
 Leo. Why no, my lord, I have not noted it. 
 
202 BOMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 
 
 Romer. Ha ! sir, not note it % not note it ; you must 
 have noted it — 
 Canst comprehend % 
 
 Leo. My lord, when -I recall to me — 
 
 Romer. Your memory wakens then 1 why very true. 
 If she grows worse we'll have to take her oft — 
 Canst comprehend 1 Of course you comprehend — 
 Aye, and aye, and aye, of course you comprehend. 
 And they have nice accommodations there — 
 Oh wretched villain, that I am to think it ! 
 But 'tis a most outrageous world is this — 
 The seats are softly padded, and the walls — 
 The queen has fine soft eyes, hast noted if? 
 Poor mournful eyes, that look so sad at times — 
 The clanking chains make strangest music there, 
 And madmen scream out wild accomp'nyments. 
 Oh, how they howl, and howl like dogs — 
 And I did dream a dreary dream last night. 
 
 Leo. I thought you had no time to dream, my lord, 
 I heard you walking through the hours of midnight, 
 Seeming with night to race on to the goal of day. 
 
 Romer. A dream 1 Yet in the passing scenes of night, 
 I found a place in which to lodge a dream. 
 I dreamed the world was coming to an end. 
 And that my heart was filled with thoughts accursed, 
 And that I dared all hell to punish me. 
 The sun was dead, and darkness hid the earth. 
 And death with giant strides tramped o'er the world, 
 Until it trembled as he strode along. 
 So thick the darkness as he waded through it, 
 It eddied 'round him as he moved along. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 203 
 
 Full many millions sent up screams and yells, 
 Of dreadful pains as tliey lay dying then. 
 Then all was drowned in sounds of mighty thunder, 
 That tossed its rattling bolts till heaven shook, 
 As though 'twould fall in shattered ruins down. 
 The lightnings flashed and hissed along th' horizon, 
 And by its light the pale white ocean showed 
 Foaming and frothing as 'twere mad with fear. 
 Tossing with its great arms the tiny ships 
 Against the black and frowning face of heaven ; 
 A million fiends drag whirlwinds through the air, 
 And by the lightning's light I saw strange beings, 
 Some small, some large, some giantlike in bulk. 
 All come from other worlds to see this earth 
 Writhing and struggling in her hour of death ; 
 Here did I wake. 
 
 Leo. My lord, when you were born, even such a storm 
 Did shake this Norway kingdom. Then it seemed 
 As though the mighty spirits of that world 
 That lies beyond the grave were joined in battle. 
 They cast their thunder crashing through the heaven 
 'Till earth was shaken to the very center. 
 And all the howling storms raged angrily. 
 Upon the surface of the foaming deep. 
 The churches had their steeples swept away ; 
 Dead men were seen in their grave clothes to rise, 
 And ghosts were heard through all the night to shriek. 
 
 Romer. And every idiot in this little kingdom 
 Then thought my birth had brought this fearful storm. 
 To shadow forth some mighty future woe. 
 Astrologers, too, gazed upon the night ; — 
 
204 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Up in the corner of the heaven alone, 
 
 They found a star whose million rays foretold 
 
 A million ills. And is not this the tale 1 
 
 Leo. It is, my lord — 
 
 Romer. Oh, wretched fools 1 
 Are these the beings that must dwell with gods '? 
 Go leave me now, for I would be alone. [Exit Leopold. 
 This vile suspense must soon come to its end, 
 Quickly, and quickly, while the moments speed ; — 
 It matters not if we are parted now, 
 A little pang upon the parting time, 
 It dies away, the wounds soon healed again. 
 All pain is soon forgotten, and all sorrow 
 Does take time's hand and hurries to the past, 
 Where soon 'tis buried in a dark oblivion — 
 
 [Enter Queen] 
 Madam I am not worthy of your love, 
 You are an angel, and a villain I. 
 Some day your spirit like a rocket shot. 
 Will pass up through the darkened shade of death ; — 
 I'll kiss my hand to you and step below. 
 Where people gnash and cut their teeth anew, 
 Tear out their eyes and spit upon them there. 
 Scream, yell, and curse ; tear up the rooted hair. 
 And make long journeys on a groaning treadmill ; 
 Considering madam then our after paths, 
 'Tis best we be divorced. 
 
 Queen. Oh, there must be a madness in your heart ! 
 Oh cruel ! cruel ! harsh and cruel word ! 
 
 Romer. Look ! Look madam, dost see them ! 
 
 Queen. What my lord % 
 
ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 205 
 
 Romer. Why fiends, madam, fiends ; see how their hor- 
 rid eyes gaze down on me. Spirits of darkness stand back ! 
 Stand back ! My time is not yet come. 
 
 Queen. I see nothing, my lord ; — where are they % 
 
 Romer. Have you eyes and see them not 1 They are all 
 around us, and they reach out to seize my soul. [Strikes 
 in the air with his dagger.'] Back, stand back ! T fear you 
 not ! Nor earth, nor heaven, nor hell ! 
 
 Queen. What is 't, my lord ? 
 
 Romer. Fiends, spirits and devils, madam ! See how they 
 surround me ! And see the ghastly gaze within their eyes — 
 Ha ! they are gone. 
 
 Queen. Heaven, how the sweat rolls from your brow. 
 
 Romer. They come from hell, to hell they have returned. 
 
 Queen. And hell in you does counsel this divorce- - 
 
 Romer. 'Tis heaven has done it, and it must be so. 
 
 Queen. Oh cruel ! cruel ! harsh and cruel words. 
 
 Romer. Aye madam, yes : my words, each in their hands 
 Hold thoughts brimful of direst cruelty ; 
 My wicked acts might loom up mountains high 
 Above those deeds 'tis said the devils act. 
 Thinking of all those dead things we were once ; 
 How once I loved your outward form and feature, 
 Till the reaction blighting all that had been. 
 Did cast a sallow, foul and sickly hue 
 Over all nature. — Do you remember. 
 How once I said the flowers crushed by your feet 
 Would still rise up and then gaze after you 
 With sweet forgiving looks. 
 Oh, I am sick ! What hypocrites we are ; 
 And things inanimate are false, and lie to us : — 
 
206 BOMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 But in this, my career, I'm driven onward 
 And am not led by any will of mine. 
 I long have striven against an inclination, 
 That in my brain sits there a monarch 
 And rules my other thoughts. 
 
 Queen. And I ; have you no thought, not one, for me ; 
 Because you have this foolish fantasy, 
 This childish thought, am I to be deserted. 
 Be left behind abandoned to those waves 
 That from the sea of life will surge and break 
 With sullen roar above the heads of those 
 Who've sunken downward drowned beneath its depths. 
 
 Romer. It cannot be in any otherwise. 
 My mind 's now firmly fixed in this resolve 
 That we must part. 
 
 Queen. And you've no reason yet to give for this ; 
 
 Romer. My reason lies in this, that it must be. 
 
 Queen. Your reason lies in this, that in your heart 
 There's not a spark, an idea, no sensation 
 To show you up a man ; but in that heart 
 Is cruelty and cunning intermixed ; 
 And there they hold such sway that gentler thoughts 
 Have long ago fled from the hideous scene. 
 
 Romer. Now I have a reason 
 Which ne'er before had 1 to urge against you. 
 
 Queen. If reasons were the weapons that you used 
 In this harsh war against me. 
 Why, I would bring a million reasons, 
 With such a bristling front 
 
 That then yours would not dare to battle with them. 
 To gain your purpose you would break God's laws, 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 207 
 
 And love another, though you 're bound to me. 
 That cruel love of yours which once was mine, 
 Doth like some vine, whose roots are in the grave. 
 Grow to another. 
 
 Romer. All of those possessions 
 Which ever were, and more than all before 
 Shall still be yours. 
 
 Queen. Nay, strive to speak your harshest words to me> 
 The harshest words that ever cursed a language 
 Were sweet besides these hideous promises. 
 The grave would soon seem like a gentle home, 
 For which my thoughts would never cease to long, 
 Lived I in that which you would picture to me. 
 
 Eomer. And yet it still must be, and we must part. 
 
 Queen. A year ago had I been told 't was so 
 I would have spurned the thought 
 That in humanity could be such coldness. 
 
 Romer. Yet, I will still be ever kind to you ; 
 And all you wish — that all shall still be yours. 
 
 Queen. And if your kindness took this fearful form 
 My misery then would tear from out my brain 
 Each record of the past ; each gentle story 
 Of days gone by ; 
 
 And in my brain, that had become a ruin. 
 Would thoughts of madness come to hide themselves. 
 
 Romer. My life was all laid down, in all its course 
 Before I drew my breath ; and I have learned 
 From those that speak to and can hear the tones 
 Of them that answer from beyond the grave. 
 That henceforth we must part. 
 
 Queen. I scarce can trust you in this fearful change^ 
 
208 ROMEE, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 This seems no vision of the clay, but one of the niglit, 
 
 A monstrous birth brought from some dream at midnight, 
 
 And if you do not change your mind in this, 
 
 I call on heaven to crush your cruel schemes ; 
 
 And heaven will lend me aid, for even now 
 
 Your subjects fast grow secretly your foes ; 
 
 They call you now a tyrant, 
 
 And while they point to many a headless corpse ; 
 
 They work for their revenge — 
 
 Homer. Then you have turned your face against me too, 
 Ha ! Madam, is it so % Then is it so % 
 Why, Madam, you are mad, 
 
 \Tlie xueen is standAng hy a canary hircVs cage. 
 
 Queen, [sjyeaking to the hird.\ Did your strong mate 
 then call your little brain 
 A mad brain, too, and lock you in this cage ? 
 Or have you done some fearful villainy 
 That men should lock you in this pris'ner's cell 1 
 Poor prisoner 1 What horrid crime indeed 
 Did you have malice in your heart to do 1 
 And were there none to hear you sweetly rave ; 
 Not one to listen to your poor complaint; 
 Nay, nay, they passed you by. Hey, was't not so ; 
 When men had dragged you from your little home, 
 Then did your friends come trooping on behind 
 To grin and gape and stare at your despair — 
 With wisest faces then did they remark, 
 That they had ever noted your black heart — 
 Your villains face '\ ha ! ha ! And here you've been 
 Hopping about — singing for many a year. 
 Pouring your sorrows on the dumb, cold air — 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 209 
 
 Romer. Such is her madness, as it ever was. 
 
 Queen. Oh, call this buti some cruel jest of yours 
 And I will suffer all, that you may laugh. 
 
 Romer. See you how sharp and cunning now she is. 
 
 Ist Off. A sign she's mad; her madness gives her cunning. 
 
 Queen. Then is it so 1 My lord, can you be kind 1 
 I ever loved you well ; and will you now 
 So roughly spurn that love 1 Oh, do not thus ! 
 I'd rather die than you should use me so — 
 
 Romer. Grasp hold of her, for she will rave forever. 
 
 Queen. Oh, wait one moment for kind heaven's sake % 
 A little moment, ages now to me ; 
 Oh, let me flee far to some darkened forest 
 That I may tell the silence there my sorrows. 
 Oh, anything but this most dreadful fate. 
 For Christ's sake do not act so cruelly ! 
 Go see the sun and note how kindly, gently 
 He lays his ray upon the rose's breast ; 
 The day with twilight smoothes the path for night ; 
 The night with dawn prepares the way for day; 
 The passing hours relieve each other on 
 The march that leads down to eternity — 
 Oh, be not thou more cruel than all these. 
 
 Romer. I will not be 
 More cruel that your hours 
 That move so silently ; 
 This deed shall be as silently forgot ; 
 And like the people on this earth of ours 
 I'll take your rose to cover up the deed, 
 For roses oft do grow o'er skeletons — • 
 Now lead her out. 
 
210 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Queen. Oh, hold ! Oh, hold ! For sweet heaven's sake. 
 My lord, oh kill me, rather than do this 
 Here is my bosom if you have a dagger. 
 Here is my bosoin bare and white as snow ; 
 Now dip a dagger in my heart's warm blood, 
 And write in bloody letters on my bosom 
 A host of curses 'gainst my poor dead body. 
 
 Eomer. It shows me foolish that I let your madness 
 Still strive to reach my pity. 
 
 Queen. What can I say 1 all thoughts desert me now, 
 And will not come to help me in this time — 
 In this hard moment that is filled with horrors. 
 My very blood does freeze to think of it, — 
 A madman's cell — a madman's cell my home % 
 Oh, that I had a mighty giant's mind, 
 And in my mouth a tongue so sad and mournful 
 That heaven's winds would cease to moan and listen ; 
 And all the clouds would come to hear me speak ; 
 Then would I speak until the hard stones wept, 
 And streams were silvering every mountain side 
 The whole world over ! 
 Then would I come to plead, my lord, with you — 
 
 \st. Off. She we seize her, my lord*? 
 
 Queen. But this is cruel, this is very cruel ! 
 Oh, that the angels coming from high heaven 
 Would drop their tears while passing on your heart, 
 Or, send their whispers floating over it. 
 To drive away the ghoul like anger there, 
 
 Romer. Go, lead her out — 
 
 Queen. The devil himself methinks might pity me. 
 But you will not — 
 
ROMBR, KING OF NOR WA Y. 211 
 
 Romer. Go, lead her out. 
 
 [Exit Officers with the Qlteex. 
 This love for Hela's fiendish, hellish, outrageous; 
 It is a smoke the winds have blown from hell. 
 Yet, am I dragged on as one in a dream. 
 Divorce comes next ; we'll have a holy Bishop 
 To pass that sentence through his loving heart — 
 (jrod ! (xod ! What villians we are ! 
 Still on, and on, must run my mad career, 
 Upon the rushing stream of destiny. 
 Hark to the music that accompanies me ! 
 A million devils that dwell in the air, — 
 I see them ever crowding 'round my path. 
 I see them in the darkened hour of night 
 Come vaulting o'er the rolling clouds of night ; 
 I see them racing with the hurricane, 
 And ever grinning as they race along. 
 Aye, grin and grin ; let hell lurk in each grin ; 
 And shoot your hellish eyes like darts of fire. 
 I'd dare ye to th' encounter wer't upon 
 The brink of that great pit, where fiames flash up, 
 And lick their tongues against the face of heaven. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene. A hall in which a number of Norwegian^ Noblemen and 
 Bishops are assembled. Arvicka, one of the Nobleinen, presiding. 
 
 Arv. \_Rlsing.^ We're gathered here upon affairs so'grave. 
 That all the heart of Norway, now does throb 
 In their regard. A matter 'tis to make 
 The spirits of your fathers, in their graves 
 Wake from their gloomy sleep, to come again 
 
2 1 2 ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y, 
 
 Tn creaking armor, and with rusty swords ; 
 
 To teach their sons to rise 'gainst tyranny. 
 
 Th' unworthy head of Norway. 
 
 Forgetting law would make his people slaves ; 
 
 I am a slave, and you ; — we all are slaves ; 
 
 I speak it calmly, do you hear my words 1 
 
 Slaves, Norwegians ! Slaves ! Ha ! Is 't an honor 
 
 That you do meekly listen to the sound ! 
 
 Is all the fire that burned your fathers hearts 
 
 Wrapt with them in their shrouds. If this be so 
 
 Better our county sank beneath the ocean ; 
 
 Better the storms did roar above our heads 
 
 And the white billows, white as sepulchres — 
 
 But I forget, the age has passed beyond me, 
 
 And I am stranded on a shoal of time. 
 
 Where men had rather died than serve a tyrant. 
 
 \st Nob. The burden's on us, and we groan beneath it 
 But quickly will we cast that burden down 
 When some bold leader rises up to guide us. 
 
 1st Bish. And if we have no leader, then will we 
 Rush all together 'gainst our tyrant king 
 And in the shock receive our death or freedom. 
 
 Arv. Ha ! I have wronged you 
 For now I see that those poor words I speak 
 Have waked the sleeping tiger in each breast 
 And every noble eye now fiercely gleams 
 With lightening that does go before the storm. 
 So had these thoughts stirred up your fathers breasts 
 'Till they, with firm clenched hands, had torn the heart 
 From hira who robbed them of their liberty 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 213 
 
 My heart grows warm to look upon you now, 
 AVhile such men live, all tyranny must die. 
 
 2cZ Noh. Show us the way that freedom may be found, 
 And we will seek wer't through the halls of death. 
 
 'M Noh. Strong is the reason that does urge me on 
 To rise up in rebellion 'gainst the king ; 
 I had an aged father that this tyrant 
 Did load with chains, and cast into a dungeon, 
 Where all was chilly, dark and desolate ; 
 And here his chains did hold him many a year 
 Waiting in patience 'till his end might come. 
 The end did come, for when one Winter night 
 The midnight hours on tiptoe hurried by, 
 I stood beside him while he fell asleep 
 To sleep that sleep that freed him from his chains ; 
 Soon then the sun did break night's barriers down 
 And all his flood of light came flowing in 
 That showed his poor dead face that had a smile upon it, 
 A sweet sad smile, a very pretty smile. 
 Like sunlight, and his face a Summer's morn ; 
 A smile that seemed to laugh at tyranny. 
 
 2cl Noh. I had a son that carried all my hope ; 
 A son that I had watched through many a year. 
 As he grew up from childhood's years to youth. 
 From youth to manhood ; and then at that time 
 When all the greater dangers of his life 
 Had been passed by, this king did hcAv him down, 
 And left his body i' the sun to rot 
 Where dogs might feed upon it. 
 
 Arv. A record this to make the king of darkness 
 Grow pale with envy ; do you hear, my lords. 
 
2 1 4 ROMEE, KING OF NOR WA Y. 
 
 The noble record of your noble king % 
 Methinks that now you do not need a drum 
 To stir your spirits. 
 
 \st Bisk. And we would add grave charges to these 
 charges ; — 
 As you condemn him in this earthly world, 
 So we condemn him in the world to come ; 
 There shall he burn in fire unquenchable, 
 Where he shall yearn for but a drop of water which angels 
 shall deny him. For he has robbed the church of all those 
 lands which heaven has provided. 
 
 2d Bisk. Is this a king to sit on Norway's throne ? A 
 king who robs the holy mother church of all her lands 1 A 
 king who scorns the cross ? 
 Heaven's curse will be upon the land he governs. 
 
 Arv. These charges, did they bear far lesser weight, 
 Would paint him for so black a hearted villain. 
 That were he cast from off some jutting rock 
 Headlong into the frothing surf below, 
 Or carried down into the roaring Maelstrom, 
 The punishment would be by far too light. 
 
 2d Noh. If at some time when Denmark sends his ships 
 Loaded with warriors that against our king 
 Are sent to battle, we joined with Ehrensvard, 
 The foreign foe would then become our aid. 
 And then might we rise up against our king. 
 
 3c? Noh. 'Tis said that thousands flock to Ehrensvard, 
 And in the mountains join his wandering bands. 
 But in those mountains he is barriered now. 
 For all the warriors that the king can spare 
 From those he sends to battle with this Denmark, 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 215 
 
 He sends 'gainst him. But knowing every stronghold 
 
 Deep in the mountains Ehrensvard does hide, 
 
 And in the night-time steals upon his foe, 
 
 Or comes upon them when they're off their guard. 
 
 Then swiftly leads his men back to their stronghold. 
 
 2<i Noh. 'Tis rumored now the Danes prepare a fleet 
 To send against us. 
 
 Ai'v. Then let us dethrone 
 This king and tyrant. Then will we o'ercome 
 With ease this Denmark, and will send his fleet 
 To find the bottom of the Baltic sea. 
 But if the deed is done there's no to-morrow 
 Must wait its doing. Now the time is hot ; 
 The people now do hate the king that rules them, 
 And now does hostile Denmark come against us. — 
 'Tis in the rush and whirlwind of the time 
 That noble deeds are done ; so let this deed 
 Be now done. 
 
 1st Bisk. But is Ehrensvard now ready 1 
 
 Arv. He only waits for us to join him. 
 
 M Bish. Have you then heard from him % 
 
 Arv. Last night he came to me. 
 
 M Noh. Ev'n like a spirit from the world of death 
 He's everywhere, and I have heard it said 
 That once he went disguised before the king. 
 
 Arv. If he had but been born to be a monarch, 
 IJj^'d make the world his kingdom. 
 
 1st Bish. Let him then 
 Become a monarch and rule over Norway. 
 
 Arv. Stout hearts must let him and sharp blades of steel; 
 They that would let him must have on their side, 
 
216 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 The hours of midnight when the lazy moon 
 
 Looks sadly down upon the quiet world ; 
 
 When sleep does hold the world in chains of silence. 
 
 Then they, would let him, 
 
 Must slip out 'neath the mantle of the night 
 
 And steal on towards the palace of the king, — 
 
 And one must reach the bedroom of the king; 
 
 If it proves that one cannot reach the room. 
 
 Then all must strive, though o'er a bloody path. 
 
 To reach it. 
 
 Sd Bish. The palace though is strongly guarded. 
 
 Arv. There are a thousand ways to make a strong guard 
 weak. 
 All here are friends to me, and friends to Norway, 
 I fear not then to give this secret to you, — 
 That Ehrensvard will be this night with us, 
 To share the deed. 
 
 2d Bish. Is it not though too soon 1 
 
 Arv. My lord if 'tis too soon. 
 There'll be no time Avhen 'twill be late enough. 
 To-night at twelve, 
 
 When does the bell up in the palace tower 
 Toll with its mournful note the hour of midnight, 
 Let every man come armed into the grove. 
 That's to the eastward of the palace wall. 
 Then when the sentinels on the wall are changed 
 We'll make our entrance through the eastern gate. 9^* 
 
 Enter a messenger 
 
 Mess. My lords, the king does send his greeting to you 
 And says that he is coming to preside 
 Here at your meeting. [^Exit messenger. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 217 
 
 Ist Bisk. Then we all are lost. 
 
 2d Bisk. Oh why was I enticed to turn against him *? 
 Woe, was the day when 'gainst the lords anointed 
 I turned this face of mine. 
 
 'M Bish. I too have erred 
 But all the while ray heart did rightly beat, 
 The flesh alone was weak. 
 
 Wi Nob. We're all lost men. 
 
 Arv. What, can a moment change men's natures so? 
 Methought three valiant bishops w^ere here with me, 
 Whose indignation burned against their ruler 1 
 Truly the flesh is weak — The flesh turns traitor — 
 It matters not, 
 
 For soon the king will cast the traitors' flesh 
 In some dark dungeon ; or perchance the head 
 Will by an ax be severed from the flesh. 
 
 ith Nob. And do you think the king does know already 
 Why we have met 1 
 
 Arv. Surely he does. 
 And I doubt not that in his punishment 
 He'll be severity turned tiger-like. 
 Our only hope is now to stand together. 
 And when he enters pierce him to the heart; 
 'Tis no time now to act the woman's part. 
 Our hope, our life depends upon our action. 
 
 2d Bish. But if we fail 1 
 
 ^Arv. The failure will be glorious ; for then the sound 
 of this glorious deed shall be born by the billows of the 
 ocean of time and cast up on the shores of eternity. 
 Prepare then now to act a noble part 
 Or die a noble death. [A frimijyef sotonds in the distance. 
 
218 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 \st Bish. The king approaches ! Oh ! our fate is sealed. 
 
 ith Noh. Our only hope is now to kneel before him, 
 And pray of him a pardon for our treason. 
 
 2d Nob. Our only hope. 
 
 Arv. You too, my lord 1 Oh heaven ! 
 My heart grows sick. Are these my countrymen 1 
 Ood help my country ! 
 
 Are these the men whose eyes did seem to blaze 
 With fire that flashed as from the tiger's eye. 
 Whose sinews strained at but the thought of danger 1 
 Methinks that if your fathers now are 'round you 
 Their pale eyes weep to look upon their sons. 
 Is there not here one patriotic hand 
 Will lift a dagger 'gainst the tyrant's bosom *? 
 What, never an answer 1 Truly then you're doomed. 
 
 [Trum.pet sound snear. 
 
 2d Bish. Our fate will soon be known. 
 
 Arv. Our only hope is in his death. 
 Once more I ask are there none here to aid me 1 
 What, none? 
 Then will I leave you to await your doom — 
 
 1st Bish. Come let us ^o to meet him, 
 And throw ourselves before him. 
 
 Arv. \_Spri7igs to the door and draws his sword. ^ 
 Make but th' attempt, and I will cut your bodies 
 Into a thousand parts. 
 
 Oh, that my Countrymen should be so base — 
 [The door is forced open by soldiers from ivithout. Arvicka 
 is seized after much resistance ; and the others submit 
 without resistance. The king takes his seat in the chair 
 of state.] 
 
HOMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 219 
 
 Eomer. My noble lords continue with this business ; 
 Cast out the music of your eloquence 
 In golden notes to tremble on the air ; 
 Now imitate the dead Demosthenes, 
 And make dead Oicero, to shake his bones 
 In ghastly envy. Where are your tongues my lords 
 Are they then in the grave with Cicero : 
 Why have you met together 1 Ha ! Bishops here 1 
 Surely some deed of heavenly character ; 
 A heavenly light does fill your holy eyes — 
 Why are you here 1 
 
 1st Bish. We do not know, my lord. 
 
 Romer. You're right, my lord ; for man does nothing 
 know ; 
 We're built of dust and our thoughts are dust, and the dust 
 knows nothing. Our thoughts are built from what we see 
 around us, and that is dust. The heaven man dreams of — 
 'tis earth and dust, vile rotting dust. 
 Hark you ! what shall we call the man — 
 You know wdiat I would say — 
 
 \st Bish. My lord a poor, poor wretch who grievously 
 has erred. 
 
 Romer. Who grievously has erred. Is he a villain 1 
 
 1st Bish. My lord, I fear it. 
 
 Romer. [to Arvicka.^ And you, my lord? 
 
 Arv. And if you were that king. 
 That man would be a noble patriot. 
 Who saw no danger in a tyrant's frown. 
 But only saw his country drifting on 
 To crash upon the rockbound shore of ruin ; 
 Who heard alone the cries of agony ; 
 
220 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 A million voices mingled with the storm, 
 That drove his country onward to destruction. 
 
 JRomer. And is your hate against me then so strong *? 
 
 Arv. My lord, I hate you not. If I did hate you 
 I were unworthy then to do this deed. 
 
 Romer. And for th' attempt to do this noble deed 
 You now shall die, and sleep down in the ground. 
 Where slimy waters shall ooze through your bones ; 
 Your jaws shall gape, and grin a ghastly grin, 
 Your eyes shall stare as they did ne'er before. 
 And then we'll have a stone above your head 
 For crows to light upon, and make you famous. 
 
 Arv. I fear not death ; 
 'Tis but a step from daylight to the dark ; 
 'Tis but a night that comes before the time, 
 Then like a man I dare to face that night. 
 The world is change ; — the universe is change. 
 Then when my sun sinks down into the night 
 Must I too change. 
 
 Romer. Bring in the headsmans' axe, \_Exit a solclie 
 We'll give the worms a banquet. 
 My holy bishops, soon th' unholy earth 
 Will fade away before your holy eyes. 
 And the great death will ope his ebon gates. 
 And lead you through into his midnight kingdom; 
 And when you pass into his mighty kingdom 
 Where all is ruin, and where all is black, 
 Then will you learn if two and two are four — 
 There's naught that can be known 'till after death. 
 My lord, I envy you, for you will learn 
 What man can never know. What is't to live, 
 
ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 221 
 
 To sleep, to eat, to walk upon the street. 
 
 Why rats, why vermin do they not the same 1 — 
 
 To bow, to grin, to gape at one another, 
 
 And then some pestilence, 
 
 Does blow away the little flames of life — 
 
 To die and sleep the dark and gloomy sleep, 
 
 And then ? 
 
 2d Bish. My lord, we cast ourselves before you here — 
 
 Romer. What, do you fear to die 1 You who so oft 
 Have thundered gainst the flesh, 
 This wretched flesh, vile and abominable — 
 Prepare yourselves to die. [Enter a soldier with an axe. 
 [The king takes it and feels the edge. 
 That this should have the power to make an end 
 Of all that's mortal in this being man — 
 My lord, Arvicka, you are now released, 
 
 Arv. What, now released ! 
 
 Romier. I said released, but if you rise again 
 In arms against me, then your life shall end. 
 Beware, I say, beware then my revenge. 
 Now chain these coward bishops hand to hand 
 And 'till our further orders cast them in a dungeon. 
 Enter a messenger hurriedly. 
 
 Mess. My lord ! The Danes gave battle to the army 
 That headed was by the aged Welhaven, 
 And they defeated him and took him prisoner. 
 
222 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene 1. A room iii the Palace. The moou shines through a 
 window. Hela discovered by the window. 
 
 Hcla. The time flies on ; a stream of strange events 
 Into the ocean of the past does swiftly flow. 
 The time flies on, upon the wings of madness ; 
 The years roll by like heavy darkened clouds, 
 That drive before the gale ; and Summer comes 
 Upon the heels of Winter, which follows on again. 
 Enter King. 
 
 Romer. AVhat, Hela, alone ! Here all alone to-night 1 
 What thoughts are yours that move in unison 
 With that same stealthy tread with which night glides 
 
 along. 
 To steal our lives away ! 
 
 Hela. My thoughts w^ere even about this life of ours, 
 And I was thinking how strange a dream it is. 
 
 Romer. 'Tis a queer dream, Hela, a queer, queer dream. 
 And why we are born at all to dance this mad dance across 
 the stage of life, is the most wonderful part of it. And 
 when we're here what more do we than to mimic the actions 
 of the worms of the dust 1 We build up cities that they 
 may fall down again, we raise up empires, and the empires 
 decay; children are born to us and they slaughter one another, 
 and still the same act is reacted, and yet acted again, 'till one 
 grows sick in the contemplation of it. 
 
 Hela. But every one of these beings has a hope of 
 heaven, and that makes them noble. And look at the am- 
 bition that burns in the human heart ; is it not worthy of 
 a God 1 All men look forward to the accomplishment of 
 gome great deed before they die. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 22a 
 
 Homer. And it is never accomplished. 
 The only pleasures in th' acccomplishment, 
 When the deed 's done, 'tis nothing. 
 But let us drop the gloomy thought of life ; — 
 See how the moonlight's trembling silver flood 
 Does pour a-down 'yond whitened age'd cliffs. 
 
 Hela. To-night the moon looks pale and melancholy, 
 To these, my eyes, perhaps because my heart 
 Has all the day been sad. 
 
 Romer. You, Hela, sad 1 
 I thought that all the sadness of the world 
 Was in my heart. And why then are you sad 1 
 
 Hela. I have been thinking of my age'd father, 
 How he is chained down in some gloomy dungeon, 
 Within the Danish kingdom — 
 
 Romer. Aye, Hela, but we'll set your father free ; 
 This very night at midnight will I lead 
 My army on in person 'gainst the foe. 
 
 Hela. What, will you lead them 1 
 
 Romer. Yes, have you not seen 
 Through all the day the soldiers in the streets *? 
 
 Hela. And why do you start in the night % 
 
 Romer. In time of war one hour is like another. 
 When there is danger from a foreign foe 
 We will not sleep 'till that time he is conquered. 
 
 Hela. Some say the reason that you have for hurrying^ 
 Is that you would give battle to the foe 
 Before your soldiers, that are mutinous 
 Rise up against you. 
 
 Romer. Who was the traitor 
 That dared to utter such lying words as these % 
 
224 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Hela. I do not now remember. 
 
 Bomer. And if you did 
 His head should rot upon our battlements. 
 
 Hela. 'Twill be a cold, cold march ; the snow is on the 
 ground. 
 
 Romer. The soldiers will be warm upon the march. 
 But Hela, oh ! My heart will then be cold, 
 Colder than is the snow upon the ground, 
 For all my brain is racked with madden love, 
 A love for which I've given my all in life, 
 A love will kill my soul when I am dead ; 
 A blazing love that burns my heart to ashes. 
 Dost hear me ! 
 
 Ha ! Fiends of hell, why do you gaze on me ; 
 In love, sweet Hela, in love. 
 
 Hela. Who do you love ? 
 
 Romer. Who do I love % Then thou'lt be like the moon. 
 That has been cold as ice for many a year, 
 And ever has played distant to the sun. 
 That has so long with love been burning for her. 
 Whom do I love % why I do love that one 
 For whom I have been dying many year. 
 
 Hela. Whom do you love % 
 
 Romer. I love you, Hela, and with a love so strong, 
 That death alone can melt it from my heart ; 
 'Tis with an iron love. 
 
 Hela. What, are you mad 1 
 
 Ro7ner. What, am I mad 1 Ha ! I am mad, ray darling. 
 Mad, mad, mad for your love ! But I have crushed it 
 Down, down, down within my heart; 
 Though death were in its breath. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 225 
 
 I'd rather battle with the midnight storm, 
 Than with this love ; — than crush this love 
 I'd rather strive to drive the Maelstrom back. 
 I'd rather hope to conquer death's dark kingdom, 
 Than strive against the whirlwind of my love, 
 
 Ilela. It cannot be. 
 
 Ronier. It cannot be ! 
 And is't for this I've sold my soul to hell 1 
 Have fought with spirits through the hours of midnight ; — 
 With devils that did gaze down through the darkness ; 
 That sought to take my soul before the time, 
 And drag it down in chains to blazing hell. 
 
 Hela. Yet I did never tell you that I loved you. 
 
 Romer. In words you did not, but your eyes did speak. 
 Perhaps 'twas but an action as a woman 
 Whose dev'lish nature ne'er can be subdued; 
 Hell's counterpart in a woman's heart. 
 Though she seems pure as is the evening star. 
 Your eyes did speak a vile hypocrisy 
 And like two fiends did tempt me on and on. 
 
 Hela. And after all then you do love me not '? 
 
 Homer. Since first the world did dash out on its course, 
 All freighted with its madmen, 
 No man did ever love a woman yet 
 As I have loved you. 
 
 Hela. Then cease you now to love. 
 For I can never give my love to you. 
 
 Romer. [Grasj^s her hy the arm.] Hark ! will you crush 
 me. 
 And can those eyes that never a star in heaven 
 Can mock in brightness, now look sternly on me ; 
 
226 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 And you'll not love me ; will not love me Hela ? 
 (»h, God ! 
 
 Hela. There is another that I love, my lord. 
 
 Homer. Harsh ! harsh ! harsh ! are your words, 
 Now time rush on and cast your hours away, 
 And make each yesterday a blank, a nothing. 
 Let every hour have now a poisonous breath, 
 To put this angry life of mine to sleep. 
 Oh death, sweet balm to all man's earthly woes, 
 The mighty night where all his pain does sleep ; 
 Grand terminus to all the ills of life, 
 Come o'er me now. 
 
 Hela. Speak not so gloomily. 
 
 Romer. Are you my friend 1 I never had a friend, — 
 Let me gaze in those eyes. They melt my soul, 
 Take them away. And will not, cannot love me-- 
 Ah ! You are like the rest. Your soul 's a sepulcher. 
 
 Hela. Oh, speak no more, in human kindness speak not. 
 
 Romer. You do not love me, and my life has been 
 Cold, cold, cold ; but like a warrior. 
 My heart has battled 'gainst the ills of life ; 
 My life has been Sahara's desert lined 
 With whitened skeletons of hopes all dead ; 
 But now all's down, my weary heart is broke. 
 [Iduna, the queen, sings within.] 
 The night came on, the wild wind roared. 
 
 My sweet love went to sea ; 
 But the greedy sharks, they ate up him 
 And he never came back to me. 
 
 Romer. 'Tis the mad queen. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY, 227 
 
 Enter Queen. 
 
 Quee/n. Are you the king of Norway 1 Then I will ask 
 you to command the winds to cease howling up in my room, 
 for they keep me awake o'nights, 
 
 Helou Poor lady, poor lady ! 
 
 Queen. Yes, I am a poor lady, I'm a very poor lady, 
 and I live all alone in my room ; and no one comes to visit 
 me there for they say it is dangerous. Shall I sing you a 
 song? 
 
 [Sings] Hey, pretty bird, pretty bird. 
 
 Sing me a song. 
 Hey, pretty bird, pretty bird, 
 Hey, oh ! 
 Hist, sir, don't tell anybody, but I gave all I had in the 
 whole wide world, don't you know ; way back there ; way 
 back in the past ; way back, it hurts my eyes to look so far 
 back ; way back there I gave everything I had for that song. 
 Don't tell anybody now don't tell a word — 
 
 Romer. Mad now, indeed — 
 
 Queen. Don't tell anybody for all the world ; not for all 
 the world ; for then somebody might hear about it, and it 
 would hurt their feelings, and that's something that T never 
 would do, for you see that I'm a woman, and no, I never 
 would do that. 
 
 Held. My poor, poor lady ; better were she dead. 
 
 Romer. Her brain is dead now, dried up, vanished. 
 
 Queen. Yes, her brain is dead, dried up, vanished. 
 Ha ! Ha ! 'Tis very funny, is it not 1 Why very, very funny. 
 [To king] You are a humorous man ; a very funny man, and 
 you make me laugh [throws herself in his arms\ and I do 
 love you with an iron love 1 
 
228 ROMER, KING OF NOR WA Y. 
 
 Scene II. — A street. A number of citizens discovered. 
 
 \st Cit. We'll have a king now will rule us as a king. 
 King E-omer was too hard on the poor people, and gave all 
 to the nobles. 
 
 M Cit. Yes, and I'll stand by you there, for there has 
 been more hanging done in his reign than was ever done 
 before. 
 
 M Cit. True, true, for I had two friends hung last Sum- 
 mer ; as honest men as ever drew breath. 
 
 2cl Cit. And he was great for making new laws, which 
 oppressed the poor. For he made laws against this, and 
 laws against that, so that there was hardly anything a man 
 could do out of the ordained way, without being taken to 
 law for it. 
 
 l*'^ Cit. Aye, what with having his Senate pass this, and 
 his Senate pass that, and then repealing it all again, we've 
 got so many laws that it's not safe for an honest man to live 
 in the country. But we'll have Ehrensvard now, and he'll 
 be a king to beat all the kings that ever went before him. 
 
 ?)d Git. Aye, aye, the poor man now will be able to 
 look the rich man in the eyes, and talk as bold to him as 
 the best of them. 
 
 bth Cit. At any rate we'll have a new deal all 'round. 
 Enter Nielson and Leopold. 
 
 Leo. Ha ! my noble hearted men do you wait the ap- 
 proach of the new king 1 He is to enter at the western 
 gate, to pass along this street, and to enter the palace. The 
 street is to be hung Avith flags, and the people will greet 
 him with waving handkerchiefs ; flowers will be cast in his 
 path, as he rides along on his black war horse. When he 
 enters the city gate the bells will ring out such a sound 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 229 
 
 that the wind will perchance bear it as far as the battle- 
 field where the tyrant fights. 
 
 Niel. And to-night the heavens will be aflame with fire- 
 works. 
 
 2d Cit. We'll have a great king now to rule us. 
 
 Leo. The old king cannot be spoken of in the same 
 breath with him. You all know how he oppressed the 
 church and the nobles — 
 
 Gits. No, no, no ! 
 
 1st Cit. The poor; 'twas the poor that he oppressed. 
 
 Leo. And did I not say he oppressed the poor 1 
 
 2d Cit. You said the nobles. 
 
 Leo. Aye, and did he not oppress the nobles ? 
 And the poor more than the nobles. 
 
 Niel. But the time approaches for the arrival of the new 
 king. Then go swell the crowd that is to meet him. 
 
 [Exit citizens. 
 
 Leo. The die is cast for us, but in the venture, 
 There'll be success. For now will this new king- 
 Be firmly seated on his new-found throne. 
 With but one voice the people all do shout ; 
 The air is burdened with the sound of praise 
 They give the king. 
 
 Niel. But every voice shouts with a selfish end ; 
 And should the old king be a conqueror 
 And drive the Danes back to their ships again, 
 Then will they shout in voices just as loud 
 In praise of him. We have abandoned him 
 From selfish motives, so the people do. 
 Our deeds that are called pure and charitable 
 Are at the bottom done in selfishness; 
 
230 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Our love is selfish, and our lives are so, 
 'Tis selfishness that runs this might world. 
 Enter a Citizen. 
 
 Cit. The Senate has gone forth to meet the king, 
 Or he that will ere sun-down be the king. 
 The clergy go out first, and then the Senate ; 
 Next come the lawyers and the learned men, 
 And last of all the people crowd behind. 
 
 Niel. The people crowd behind ; — 
 What a strange silence dwells within the air, 
 The city seems as still as death to-day. 
 
 Cit. 'Tis fitting that there should be such a silence 
 Before the glorious sound to soon break forth. [^Exeunt, 
 
 Scene III. — The Senate. Ehbensvard seated on a throne. The 
 nobles and people assembled. 
 
 Arv. Long has our country borne a heavy yoke ; 
 That yoke is cast aside. Who once did live 
 Beneath the shadow of a threatening sword 
 No longer fear ; for they are freemen now. 
 Freedom now fills this Norway air with sweetness; 
 Who once did hold their lives but by a thread, 
 Will think of tyranny but as a dream. 
 Trade will survive ; our land become a garden ; 
 And when again there's peace in all the land. 
 Our country then will rise up like a giant, 
 And shake away the deadning sluggishness, 
 With which the evil government before 
 Had cast around it. 
 
 Trade breathe the breath of life, the arts be introduced, 
 Schools will be founded and great colleges, 
 Our country shall become as great as any 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 231 
 
 In all the world. Who helped us to secure 
 This glorious freedom for the land we love, 
 Who suffered long to gain our liberty, 
 Who battled long to break the tyrant's chain, 
 Deserves to be the ruler of the land ; 
 And I, because the people all have urged me. 
 With a glad heart deliver in their name, 
 This crown, the symbol of their liberties. 
 
 [Presents a crown to Ehrbnsvard. 
 
 Nobs. Hail to the new king of Norway ! 
 
 Ao'v. And let me be the first to kneel before my king. 
 
 [Feople shout within. 
 
 Ehrens. Rise, noble man; hadst thou been made the king, 
 A worthier man had then been made the king ; 
 For i am but a rough time-hardened soldier, 
 Unused to ruling in a time of peace ; 
 And only know to lead an army on, 
 Of marches, countermarches, strategy ; 
 Or lead them through a swollen torrent. 
 Or 'cross ravines ; to make concealed marches. 
 But thou wast born and bred to rule a land, — 
 But yet if I, of all the most unworthy. 
 Am chosen by the people for their ruler, 
 I'll do my best to serve them. [Bells ring within. 
 
 '2d Nob. Hark to the sound ! the bells cast forth sweet 
 music, 
 To tell the people they have now a king, 
 To make their land become a glorious land. 
 
 Ehrens. Now, first of all, my lords, we must prepare 
 To overthrow the former tyrant king. 
 If he should not by Denmark be o'erthrown. 
 
232 ROMEE, KIXG OF NORWAY. 
 
 His forces are encamped upon a mountain, 
 And in the valley is the Danish army ; 
 If, when his army meets the Danes in battle, 
 They conquer him ; our throne becomes secured ; 
 But if he wins the battle, then must we 
 O'ercome the victor. 
 
 Arv. There is naught to fear, 
 The people all would give their lives for you. 
 And think it then a glorious privilege 
 That they might die, while battling for their land. 
 
 Ehvens. Repair we now, my lords, until the night. 
 When we will have a banquet spread in honor 
 Of this, our grand occasion. 
 
 Scene IV. — A room in the Palace. Ehrensvard and Hela. 
 
 Ehrens. 'Tis reached at last ;— the top of my ambition. 
 For many a year I've struggled on and on. 
 Through disappointments that did chill the heart. 
 For many a year have struggled when even hope, 
 Did almost leave me; but a memory still. 
 Of words of scorn that once were spoken to me 
 Did urge me on to crush the one that scorned me. 
 Unknown, and poor, a king one time did scorn me. 
 And laughed at me because I loved you, Hela; 
 But now I scorn the king. Canst thou remember, 
 When we were children, and did play together *? 
 
 Hela. The memory of that time can never leave me ; 
 That time seemed brighter than the earth seems now, 
 The flowers seemed sweeter, and the song of birds 
 Was music that has ne'er been heard again. 
 
 Ehrens. Do you recall how on the ocean's beach 
 We wandered hand in hand for many a mile. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 233 
 
 Climbing around the rugged jutting rocks, 
 
 And listened to the music of the sea 
 
 That casts its mighty waves against the rocks, 
 
 To fall back frothing in their fearful ire. 
 
 Whose music when the earth was born rolled forth. 
 
 Sounding in mighty strains in honor of her birth, 
 
 And in grand volumes, through the centuries. 
 
 Unending sounds ; a voice that never dies, 
 
 But speaks out from the dawning of the world 
 
 Until the earth is dead. — 
 
 There was a battle that my soul did love ; 
 
 The grand old ocean never wearying, 
 
 But sending still its billows 'gainst the earth. 
 
 Hela. And I remember how the ships sailed on, 
 Their sails like specks upon the dark horizon ; 
 And how you told me of the sea king's deeds. 
 
 Ehrens. And that I, too, when grown to be a man. 
 Would own a ship and live amid the storms ; 
 For then I loved to see the sky grow black, 
 And hear the rumbling of the distant storms ; 
 To see the white waves breakino- on the ocean, 
 And watch the lightninoj glide across the heaven ; 
 I loved to hear the distant rolling thunder, 
 And guide my bark across the raging sea. 
 And then I well remember that one time 
 When, side by side, we stood upon the beach, 
 I told sweet Hela that I loved her then, 
 And then she told me that she loved me, too, 
 And when I now repeat the tale again. 
 Will Hela tell me she loves me now? [Takes her in his arms. 
 Now all the battle of my life is done. 
 
234 EOMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Enter Romer. 
 
 Romer. 'Tis not yet done, and if you now escape, 
 Full many a battle for your life shall yet 
 Loom like a monster in the coming future. 
 [Romer and Ehrensvard draw their swords and commence 
 to fight ; Ehrensvard has his sword knocked from his hand, 
 and Romer is about to run him through, when Hela springs 
 in front of Ehrensvard, receives the blow and falls dead. 
 Ehrensvard rises.] 
 
 Elirens. Add to your sweet revenge in murdering her 
 My death. 
 
 Add to this glorious deed my piteous life. 
 Oh what a grand revenge was this one here ! 
 Go hang that bloody sword, a mighty trophy, 
 Where men in time to come shall see its blood. 
 The record of your honor ! 
 But first add to this teeming hour 
 Another deed, and take my life from me. 
 
 Romer. It Avas your worthless life that caused this act ; 
 If you had ne'er existed, then this act 
 Had ne'er been done. 
 
 You were the stumbling-block the gods prepared 
 For her to fall upon. Since that sole act. 
 For which you w^ere created, is performed. 
 Then die ; and go and tell them who have made you 
 Of this damned deed ! [J/a/jes as if he icotdd take his life. 
 But no ! you still shall live and suffer, and therein 
 Soothe me in my revenge ! Ah, Hela, sweet ; 
 Better a star were blotted from high Heaven 
 Than you were taken from this earth of ours ; — 
 That all the light that ever filled the world 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 235 
 
 Were strangled by the dark. But here 's no place 
 To tell my grief that 's more than man e'er felt. 
 [Enter two of Ehrensvard's soldiers.] 
 Ehrens. Seize on that bloody villain ! 
 [RoMER and the soldiers fight. Ehrensvard takes his sword 
 and goes to their assistance. Romer retreats and escapes.] 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The camp of Romer's army. Time, night. 
 
 RoMER discovered. 
 Romer. What are these gloomy thoughts that crowd 
 upon me, 
 Each as th' uncertain shadow of some woe 1 
 Enter Welhaven. 
 Welhav. What, not abed 1 And yet the dawn is near. 
 Romer. My mind 's disturbed, and sleep will not rest 
 
 on it. 
 Welhav. What are your thoughts, my lord "? 
 Romer. Most weary thoughts ; 
 My thoughts are like the thoughts of drowning men — 
 Of all my life that 's gone ; — I know not why, 
 But all the scenes of childhood crowd upon me, 
 Displacing things more germane to the present. 
 
 Welhav. This comes from having overstrained your 
 
 strength. 
 Romer. Do you believe, my lord, there 's aught of truth 
 In these strange premonitions that we have ? 
 
 Welhav. Our learned men tell us, sire, that charlatans 
 Alone can find conclusions in them. 
 
 Romer. A grave conclusion, coming from grave heads, 
 And yet I'd fear to risk my hope of Heaven 
 
236 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Solely upon their wisdom. 
 
 We 're infants only on our mother earth, 
 
 That look with wistful eyes upon her face, 
 
 To read her thoughts ; or stare at Heaven 
 
 To read the physiognomy of night ; 
 
 And as I read, my lord, all's wrote in frowns , — 
 
 A haughty night, that bears an angry brow ; 
 
 And all my dreams of late have told disasters 
 
 'Till now I dare not sleep. If I should die, 
 
 I wonder what odd libel men would make 
 
 Of my poor memory. — I wonder, too, — 
 
 Is there a world to come 1 
 
 Enter a scout and several officers. 
 
 Scout. My liege, the bridge over which you intended to 
 cross was borne away by the increased storm. 
 
 Romer \^to officer.^ Order out a hundred pioneers to re- 
 pair the bridge. 
 
 Scout. It cannot be repaired ; it is borne away entirely. 
 
 Romer. Then we must meet the enemy where we are, 
 unless another crossing can be found. Has the stream 
 been sounded 1 Is there no ford 1 
 
 Scoiot. The officer who has sounded the stream sends 
 word that he has found one place where the troops might 
 pass, but as the bottom is rocky and the velocity of the 
 stream much increased, the passage would be dangerous. 
 
 Rome?'. Where is the ford 1 
 
 Scout. By the three stauled pine trees — three-fourths 
 of a mile from here. 
 
 Romer. The depth of the water ? 
 
 Scout. Near breast deep. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY, 237 
 
 Romer. This ford will be dangerous, but we shall pass 
 it. [To officer ~\ The dawn begins to show. Set our army 
 on the march at once, and see that the men keep their bows, 
 in their cases, so that the strings be not wet in the crossing. 
 [Exeunt officer and scout. /Soldiers heard to march within. 
 
 Konier. Now shall our arrows like a storm of hail 
 Fall on the foe when they begin to cross, 
 And by the heavens we'll conquer them to-day. 
 And you, my officers, I charge you all 
 To cut each coward to the ground who dares 
 To turn his back upon the enemy ; 
 And after we have overcome the Danes 
 I'll have his body hung upon a tree 
 That crows may strip the dastard of his flesh. 
 
 \st Off. You do your men a wrong my liege. 
 
 Romer. If I have done them wrong, let them to-day 
 Prove by their deeds that I have slandered them. 
 
 \st Off. I speak for them, my liege ; — they will. 
 
 Romer. Then let us take our places at their head, 
 And hurry forward to the place of battle. 
 Where we will wait until the Danes have come, 
 And then we'll slaughter them until the stream 
 Swelled by their blood does cast its bloody waters, 
 With mighty roar downward its rocky way. 
 
 [Exeunt king and officers. 
 
 Scene II. — Another part of the country. Alarms. Enter the 
 Danish General with several officers. 
 
 Gen. \Toffrst off'.'\ Take three hundred men from the 
 reserve and hurry to the aid of the left wing, which grows 
 weaker ; and you sir, [to another officer'^ lead your forces 
 
238 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 round yonder hill, and come upon the enemy in the rear, 
 
 while we will keep his front engaged. \^Exit 2d officer. 
 
 Now for another charge upon them. \^Exeunt. 
 
 Alarms. Enter King Romer, and soldiers. 
 
 Romer. Never again will I speak ill of you, — 
 When they did throw their hordes of men around you 
 Nobly you cut your passage through their lines ; — 
 Now that their lines are broken let us charge them, 
 And we will drive them from the battle-field. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter a Danish officer who is followed by soldiers. 
 
 Off. For the love of your country be led by me in another 
 charge against them. 
 
 Sold. 'Tis certain death ; the devil 's in this king and 
 fiends possess his men. 
 
 Off. The king is but a man like yourselves. 
 
 Sold. Then why was he not harmed when he fought 
 alone in the center of our ranks 1 
 
 Off. Because he fought with cowards. 
 Villains, you shall stand another charge, and if you flee, it 
 shall be over my dead body. 
 
 [Alarms within. The soldiers rush out 'pushing the 
 officers loith them.] 
 
 Enter King Romer. 
 
 Romer. The enemy is flying in all directions ! Some 
 follow the rocky beach, and some rush over the mountains 
 toward their ships. Come, my men, as yet we have done 
 nothing. — let 's be upon them ; down upon them, down and 
 forever. And when they 're conquered, then for the usurper. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 239 
 
 Scene III. A street. 
 Enter Neilsen and Leopold. 
 
 Leo. Now, like the fox we must hide all our steps 
 That we did make when Ehrensvard was king ; 
 Since he has now been driven from the throne, 
 By the true king, who now is on his throne. 
 So firmly seated naught can ever move him — 
 
 Neil. But others will inform that we did turn 
 Against him when the people did rebel — 
 
 Leo. Nay, all are guilty and they dare not speak. 
 
 Neil. And did you note how, when he stormed the city, 
 How strong the people were for Ehrensvard ; — 
 How, as he more and more successful grew. 
 The people more did fall from Ehrensvard ; 
 And how, when Ehrensvard did sound retreat. 
 But few did follow him, 
 
 Leo. And now once more he hides back in the moun- 
 tains. 
 With bitter heart waiting for time's revenges. 
 
 Neil. I hear that he had quarreled with Arvicka 
 Before the king did drive him from the city. 
 
 Leo. Aye, for Arvicka said that Ehrensvard, 
 Like Romer did oppress the people, too. 
 
 Neil. Well, well, it matters little though to us 
 What man does rule, for there will always be 
 Some to oppress, and some to steal from us, 
 Some to pervert the laws, and some to make 
 Laws worse than those perverted. 
 Then let us take the smoothest path of life. 
 And ever cry for him that holds the power. 
 
 Leo. Which way do you go now 1 
 
240 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Neil. My way is towards the Palace, there to greet, 
 My lord, the king. 
 
 Leo. Then I will with you. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A room in the Palace. In the back part of the room 
 is a couch with red curtains hanging over it. 
 
 Enter two ladies, FriCxA and Embla. 
 
 Frig. Hear the night wind, a storm comes from the 
 north. 
 Raging and tearing onward through the heaven. 
 
 [Storms loithm. 
 The heavens are angry and the clouds will shake 
 A deluge on us ere the morning comes. 
 I do remember once, long years ago, 
 A night like this ; the sky was dark as pitch, 
 And through that darkness rushed the loosened winds 
 Howling destruction as they raced along. 
 Their tones grew louder and the oak trees moaned. 
 Beneath the blow each heavy blast laid on, 
 A lightning flash split through a swollen cloud. 
 And loosed the rain that poured in torrents down, 
 The thunder followed and the sounding hills. 
 Cast back each echo 'gainst the shattered clouds. 
 
 Ehibla. On such a night, they say the dead arise 
 Their spirits riding on the midnight storms. 
 And guiding them on through the seas of darkness. 
 The night moves onward with a mad career. 
 
 \Wind howls and distant thunder heard, 
 
 Friga. The storm grows louder ; how it howls without ; 
 The heavens grow angry and they rave at earth, 
 The poor earth trembles fearing heavens roar. 
 
nOMER, KING OF NORWAY. 241 
 
 Eiiihla. Hist you, for when the heavens show their 
 anger, 
 "Tis my belief some horrid crime on earth 
 Will soon be done beneath the heavens eye ; 
 Some murdered body send a bloody vapor 
 To float off on the moving atmosphere. 
 
 Friga. Hark ! what was that ? 
 
 Ernbla. I did hear nothing. 
 Enter an officer of the king's bed-chamber and two others 
 who cross the stage. 
 
 1*'^. Off. The quartered moon is down, 
 And all the star-lit candles of the night 
 Were long ago blown out. 
 
 2d Off.^ A fearful night— 
 
 3d Off'. There'll be damage before the morning. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 Friga. I wonder is there any mortal out 
 To battle 'gainst the raging elements ? — 
 I well remember once long years ago — 
 
 Fmhla. My frighted soul does flit about my body 
 Like a poor bird that ^eeks a hiding place ; 
 A fearful feeling now steals over me, 
 As if it did fortell some dreadful horror. — 
 Hark how the thunder rattles near and far ! 
 Some heavy battlement of heaven 's down 
 And thunder leaping o 'er the walls of heaven — 
 Enter the king. 
 
 Romer. Ha ! dost hear the storm ! 
 The whole world rots, and rotting thunders burst, 
 And your sweet faces ladies, too, must — 
 Why bless you all must rot, rot, rot, 
 
242 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Villians and angels, saints and sinners 
 Must all come to it — 
 
 Ladies. Good night to you my lord. \_ExeAi7it ladies. 
 
 Romer. Oh wretched life; the haven of weariness, 
 The harbor for a thousand passing ills, 
 Pain's dwelling place ; the home of misery, 
 The battleground where sickness and where woo 
 Do strive for mastery. I'm weary of it, — 
 Is there no place where all this rush of life — 
 This tumult, and this everlasting roar 
 Does cease forever 1 Aye, that place is death. 
 Well, well, I must wait its coming, 
 My stormy heart is broke ; and like a child, 
 I 'm meek and gentle as a lamb is now. 
 Enter the Queen. Her eyes are sunken and her face is pale, 
 as if from a long illness. Homer gazes steadily upon 
 her for some moments. 
 
 Romer. What 's this 1 I had forgot ; — nay, 'twas a 
 dream, 
 And in that dream I thought that you were dead. 
 I saw you sleeping with your grave companions ; 
 On either side I saw the slimy worms 
 Lay coiled in sleep ; and in those sockets, 
 Where once your bright eyes gleamed. 
 They lay at rest. I heard the midnight winds 
 Creep o'er your grave ; and saw the sickly moon 
 Smile througli the trees and down on your white torn!) — 
 
 Queen. A pretty dream ; would that the dream were true ! 
 But in this dreary night God's eloquence 
 Heard in the solemn thunder, has awaked 
 Those thoughts of mine that your harsh cruelty 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 243 
 
 Had put to sleep ; so that their dreams 
 
 Filled all my brain with naught but madness. 
 
 Up in my lonely room this night 
 
 I've seen m.ost hideous sights, which all foretold 
 
 The nearness of your death. 1 watched these scenes until 
 
 They grew in size and number to such proportions 
 
 I had not courage left to wait the end. 
 
 Standing upon the bosom of the night, 
 
 Dark shadows drawn around her, 
 
 Her white face colored by the moon's dim light, 
 
 I saw the face of Hela. She pointed downward 
 
 With warning finger, here, to where you are. 
 
 And then moved on. Next came a headless corpse 
 
 And in its arras it bore a bloody head 
 
 Severed by your command ; and it moved on, 
 
 A mother came on next, and in her arms 
 
 She bore a child ; and all his curly locks 
 
 Reeked with that blood that from his youthful veins 
 
 Had poured at your command. And walking still 
 
 A long train passed me by of gory figures, 
 
 And each one as he passed did point 
 
 To where you stand. And in the night without 
 
 I heard the while their dismal hollow voices, 
 
 That mingled with the wind, 
 
 And which were hushed oft by the loud-mouthed thunder, 
 
 Pronounce your death. And still this strange procession, 
 
 Shown by the lightning's glare, the moon's pale beam. 
 
 Moved onward. 
 
 Romer. Were I a child, these tales might make me 
 quake, 
 But when I grew a man I banished fear. 
 
244 ROMER, KING OF NORWAY. 
 
 Though I have lined the liarsh path of my life 
 With wrongful deeds for monuments, 
 When I am dead, I now fear death no more. 
 
 \_A shriek heard lolthin. Exit qtteeu. 
 Murder is loose and mingles with the storm ; 
 All nature is convulsed and writhes with pain — 
 So I must die ! A grand deed is 't to die ; 
 And yet the very dogs perform the deed. 
 And must I fear when I perform the act 1 
 I die each hour, and should I live to-morrow 
 To-night were dead. Aye, and that very to-morrow 
 Teems with as much uncertainty 
 As realms beyond the grave. 
 I'll be no coward then, but with a heart 
 Steeled up to high adventure, 
 With dauntless front, go like a conqueror 
 To tread the world beyond ! 
 My eyelids droop ; my weary frame needs sleep ; 
 There 's music in the angry voice of nature 
 Will soothe me. 
 [//e lies down on a couch in the hack part of the rooui. A 
 
 hell tolls without. A moment after enter Ehrensvard. 
 
 Ehrens. My rise was but to make my fall a curse ; 
 And from a king I am become an assassin. 
 Yet a bitter hate is in my heart, 
 That drives soft sleep from out my brain at night, 
 And in the day does make my brain afire. 
 That which I've striven for many and many a year for, 
 Those fondest hopes that time has built in me, — 
 This man has made them all a fallen ruin. 
 The only sweet thing that he leaves me now 
 
 -0 
 
ROMER, KING OF NORWAY, 245 
 
 Is swift revenge. [7/6 loaJks ttjj to (he coach. 
 
 Those eyes shall sleep another sleep soon now, 
 And that pale face shall take a paler hue. 
 Now for the stroke ; now let his red blood flow ;— 
 'Twould run down to the floor ; that cheek is pale — 
 'Tis pale, 'tis very pale, — Hark ! How the thunder rolls, — 
 Crash ! crash ! crash ! 'tis rolling down the heavens. 
 What ! Who spoke ? A weary, weary face, — 
 The blood would stream a-down that weary face, 
 And in his eyes — I cannot do this deed, 
 My arm grows weak when I would make the stroke ; 
 This thunder roaring up above my head does seem to speak. 
 [Starts to go, lohen the king wakes, and seeing Wirensvarcl 
 sprioigs toward him, and is stabbed by him.^ 
 Homer. My time has come at last, now I must go 
 Out in the dark. Now must I tread that night, 
 That has no moon ; where never a star is seen ; 
 Where all the hours that wander on their way 
 Are robed in darkness. All my hate has vanished. 
 Now when I think upon the unseen world. 
 My bark of death now sails the midnight seas, 
 To find new worlds. 
 
 Hark to the music that does sound my death ; 
 The mighty music of the thunder-storm ; 
 The roaring winds the music of the fire, 
 That in the lightning sounds a half heard note, 
 And fiends are dancing to the fearful sound ; 
 I see them gazing through dark clouds around me. 
 
 Hark! Hark! Hark! [Dies.