Enter a young PENSIONER, with a wild, terrified look, her hair and dress all scattered, and rushes forward amongst them.

Abb. Why comest thou here, with such disorder'd looks,

To break upon our sad solemnity?

Pen. O! I did hear through the receding blast,
Such horrid cries! they made my blood run chill.
Abb. "Tis but the varied voices of the storm,
Which many times will sound like distant screams;
It has deceived thee.

Pen. O no, for twice it call'd, so loudly call'd,
With horrid strength, beyond the pitch of nature;
And murder! murder! was the dreadful cry.
A third time it return'd with feeble strength,
But o' the sudden ceased, as though the words
Were smother'd rudely in the grappled throat,
And all was still again, save the wild blast
Which at a distance growl'd-

O! it will never from my mind depart !
That dreadful cry, all i' the instant still'd:

For then, so near, some horrid deed was done,
And none to rescue.

Abb. Where didst thou hear it!
Pen.

Enter Brother THOMAS, with a wild, terrified look. 1st Monk. How wild he looks!

Bern. (going up to him eagerly.) What, bast
thou seen it too?

Thom. Yes, yes! it glared upon me as it pass'd.
Bern. What glared upon thee?

(All gathering round Thomas, and speaking at
once.)
O! what hast thou seen

Thom. As, striving with the blast, I onward
came,

Turning my feeble lantern from the wind,

Its light upon a dreadful visage gleam'd,
Which paused and look'd upon me as it pass'd.
But such a look, such wildness of despair,

In the higher cells, Such horror-strain'd features, never yet

As now a window, open'd by the storm,
I did attempt to close.

Did earthly visage show. I shrunk and shudder'd.
If a damn'd spirit may to earth return,

1st Monk, I wish our brother Bernard were ar- I've seen it.

rived;

He is upon his way.

Thom. Nay, as it pass'd, I did not see its form; Abb. Be not alarm'd; it still may be deception. Naught but the horrid face. 'Tis meet we finish our solemnity, Nor show neglect unto the honour'd dead.

(Gives a sign, and the organ plays again: just as it ceases a loud knocking is heard without.) Abb. Ha! who may this be? hush!

(Knocking heard again.) 2d Monk. It is the knock of one in furious haste, Hush! hush! What footsteps come? Ha! brother Bernard.

Enter BERNARD, bearing a lantern.

Bern. It is the murderer.
1st Monk.

What way went it? Thom. I durst not look till I had pass'd it far. Then turning round, upon the rising bank, I saw, between me and the paly sky, A dusky form, tossing and agitated. I stopp'd to mark it; but, in truth, I found "Twas but a sapling bending to the wind, And so I onward hied, and look'd no more. 1st Monk. But we must look to't; we must follow it:

1st Monk. See, what a look he wears of stiffen'd Our duty so commands. (To 2d Monk.) Will you

fear!

Where hast thou been, good brother!
Bern. I've seen a horrid sight!

(All gathering round him and speaking at once.)
What hast thou seen?
Bern. As on I hasten'd, bearing thus my light,
Across the path, not fifty paces off,

I saw a murder'd corse, stretch'd on his back,
Smear'd with new blood, as though but newly slain.
Abb. A man or woman was't?

Bern.
A man, a man!
Abb. Didst thou examine if within its breast
There yet were lodged some small remains of life?
Was it quite dead?

go, brother?
(To Bernard.) And you, good Bernard?

Bern.

If I needs must go. 1st Monk. Come, we must all go. Abb.

Heaven be with you, then! [EXEUNT Monks. Pen. Amen! amen! Good heaven be with us

Bern. (without.) Open the door, I pray thee, Of sense, and motion, and humanity!

Would, would it were to come !-
What fated end, what darkly gathering cloud
Will close on all this horror?

O that dire madness would unloose my thoughts,
And fill my mind with wildest fantasies,
Dark, restless, terrible! aught, aught but this!
(Pauses and shudders.)
How with convulsive life he heaved beneath me,
E'en with the death's wound gored! O horrid,
horrid !

Methinks I feel him still.-What sound is that?
I heard a smother'd groan.-It is impossible!
(Looking steadfastly at the body.)
It moves! it moves! the cloth doth heave and

swell.

It moves again! I cannot suffer this-

Whate'er it be, I will uncover it.

And seest thou not that motion of his hands?
He stands like one who hears a horrid tale.
Almighty God! (Manuel goes into the convent.)
He comes not back; he enters.
Freb. Bear up, my noble friend.
Jane. I will, I will! But this suspense is dread-
ful.

(A long pause.

Manuel re-enters from the convent, and comes forward slowly with a sad countenance.)

Is this the face of one who bears good tidings!
O God! his face doth tell the horrid fact;
There is naught doubtful here.

Freb.
How is it, Manuel?
Man. I've seen him through a crevice in his door:
It is indeed my master. (Bursting into tears.)
(Jane faints, and is supported by Freberg.)

(Runs to the corpse, and tears off the cloth in Enter ABBESS and several NUNS from the convent, who despair.)

All still beneath.

For, when between the trees, that abbey tower First show'd its top, I saw your countenance change.

But breathe a little here; I'll go before,

And make inquiry at the nearest gate.
Freb. Do so, good Manuel.

(Manuel goes and knocks at the gate.)
Courage, dear madam: all may yet be well.
Rezenvelt's servant, frighten'd with the storm,
And seeing that his master join'd him not,
As by appointment, at the forest edge,
Might be alarm'd, and give too ready ear
To an unfounded rumour.

He saw it not; he came not here himself.
Jane. (looking eagerly to the gate, where Manuel
talks with the Porter.) Ha! see, he talks
with some one earnestly,

gather about her, and apply remedies. She recovers.
1st Nun. The life returns again.

2d Nun.
Yes, she revives.
Abb. (to Freb.) Let me entreat this noble lady's
leave

To lead her in. She seems in great distress.
We would with holy kindness soothe her wo,
And do by her the deeds of Christian love.
Freb. Madam, your goodness has my grateful
thanks.

EXEUNT, supporting Jane into the convent.
SCENE IV. DE MONFORT IS DISCOVERED SITTING IN
A THOUGHTFUL POSTURE. HE REMAINS SO FOR
SOME TIME. HIS FACE AFTERWARD BEGINS TO
APPEAR AGITATED, LIKE ONE WHOSE MIND IS
HARROWED WITH THE SEVEREST THOUGHTS;
THEN, STARTING FROM HIS SEAT, HE CLASPS HIS
HANDS TOGETHER, AND HOLDS THEM UP TO
HEAVEN.

De Mon. O that I ne'er had known the light of
day!

That filmy darkness on mine eyes had hung,
And closed me out from the fair face of nature!
O that my mind in mental darkness pent,
Had no perception, no distinction known,
of fair, or foul, perfection, or defect,
Nor thought conceived of proud pre-eminence!
O that it had! O that I had been form'd
An idiot from the birth! a senseless changeling,
Who eats his glutton's meal with greedy haste,
Nor knows the hand who feeds him.-

(Pauses; then, in a calmer, sorrowful voice.)
What am I now? how ends the day of life?
For end it must; and terrible this gloom,
This storm of horrors that surrounds its close.
This little term of nature's agony
Will soon be o'er, and what is past is past:
But shall I then, on the dark lap of earth
Lay me to rest, in still unconsciousness,
Like senseless clod that doth no pressure feel
From wearing foot of daily passenger ;
Like steeped rock o'er which the breaking waves
Bellow and foam unheard? O would I could!

Enter MANUEL, who springs forward to his master, but
is checked upon perceiving DE MONFORT draw back
and look sternly at him.

Man. My lord, my master! O my dearest master! (De Monfort still looks at him without speaking.)

Nay, do not thus regard me, good my lord!
Speak to me: am I not your faithful Manuel?

De Mon. (in a hasty, broken voice.) Art thou
alone?

Man. No, sir, the Lady Jane is on her way; She is not far behind.

De Mon. (tossing his arm over his head in an
agony.) This is too much! All I can bear
but this!

It must not be.-Run and prevent her coming.
Say, he who is detain'd a prisoner here
Is one to her unknown. I now am nothing.
I am a man of holy claims bereft ;
Out of the pale of social kindred cast;
Nameless and horrible.-

Tell her De Monfort far from hence is gone
Into a desolate and distant land,

Ne'er to return again. Fly, tell her this;
For we must meet no more.

Enter JANE DE MONFORT, bursting into the chamber,
and followed by FREBERG, ABBESS, and several NUNS.
Jane. We must! we must! My brother, O my
brother!

(De Monfort turns away his head and hides his
face with his arm. Jane stops short, and,
making a great effort, turns to Freberg, and
the others who followed her, and with an air of
dignity stretches out her hand, beckoning them
to retire. All retire but Freberg, who seems to
hesitate.)

And thou too, Freberg: call it not unkind.
[EXIT Freberg, Jane and De Monfort only remain.
Jane. My hapless Monfort!

'De Monfort turns round and looks sorrowfully
upon her; she opens her arms to him, and he,
rushing into them, hides his face upon her
breast and weeps.)

And in the rougher path of ripen'd years
We've been each other's stay. Dark lowers our
fate,

And terrible the storm that gathers o'er us;
But nothing, till that latest agony

Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose
This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-
house;

In the terriffic face of armed law;

Yea, on the scaffold, if it needs must be,
I never will forsake thee.

De Mon. (looking at her with admiration.)
Heaven bless thy generous soul, my noble
Jane!

I thought to sink beneath this load of ill,
Depress'd with infamy and open shame ;

I thought to sink in abject wretchedness:
But for thy sake I'll rouse my manhood up,
And meet it bravely; no unseemly weakness,
I feel my rising strength, shall blot my end,
To clothe thy cheek with shame.

Jane. Yes, thou art noble still.

De Mon. With thee I am; who were not so with
thee?

But ah! my sister, short will be the term.
Death's stroke will come, and in that state beyond,
Where things unutterable wait the soul,
New from its earthly tenement discharged,
We shall be sever'd far.

Far as the spotless purity of virtue

Is from the murderer's guilt, far shall we be.
This is the gulf of dead uncertainty
From which the soul recoils.

Jane. The God who made thee is a God of mercy;
Think upon this.

De Mon. (shaking his head.) No, no! this blood! this blood!

Jane. Yes, e'en the sin of blood may be forgiven,

Jane. Ay, give thy sorrow vent; here mayst When humble penitence hath once atoned.

thou weep.

De Mon. (in broken accents.) O! this, my sister, makes me feel again

The kindness of affection.

My mind has in a dreadful storm been tost;
Horrid and dark.-I thought to weep no more.

I've done a deed-But I am human still.

De Mon. (eagerly.) What, after terms of length-
en'd misery,

Imprison'd anguish of tormented spirits,
Shall I again, a renovated soul,
Into the blessed family of the good

Admittance have? Think'st thou that this may be ?
Speak if thou canst: O speak me comfort here!

Jane. I know thy sufferings: leave thy sorrow For dreadful fancies, like an armed host,

free:

Thou art with one who never did upbraid;

Who mourns, who loves thee still.

De Mon. Ah! sayst thou so? no, no; it should not be.

(Shrinking from her.) I am a foul and bloody murderer,

Have push'd me to despair. It is most horrible-
O speak of hope! If any hope there be.
(Jane is silent, and looks sorrowfully upon him ;
then clasping her hands, and turning her eyes
to heaven, seems to mutter a prayer.)

De Mon. Ha! dost thou pray for me? Heaven
hear thy prayer!

For such embrace unmeet: O leave me! leave me! I fain would kneel.-Alas! I dare not do it.

Disgrace and public shame abide me now;

And all, alas! who do my kindred own,
The direful portion share.-Away, away!
Shall a disgraced and public criminal
Degrade thy name, and claim affinity

To noble worth like thine ?-I have no name-
I'm nothing now, not e'en to thee; depart.

(She takes his hand, and grasping it firmly,
speaks with a determined voice.)

Jane. De Monfort, hand in hand we have enjoy'd The playful term of infancy together;

45

Jane. Not so! all by th' Almighty Father form'd,
May in their deepest misery call on him..
Come, kneel with me, my brother.

(She kneels and prays to herself; he kneels by
her, and clasps his hands fervently, but speaks
not. A noise of chains clanking is heard
without, and they both rise.)

De Mon. Hear'st thou that noise? They come to interrupt us..

Jane. (moving towards a side door.) Then let us

enter here.

2 G 2.

De Mon. Well, I am ready, sir.

De Mon. (catching hold of her with a look of

horror.) Not there-not there-the corpse
-the bloody corpse!

(Approaching Jane, whom the Abbess is endea vouring to comfort, but to no purpose.)

Jane. What, lies he there?-Unhappy Rezen-Ah! wherefore thus ! most honour'd and most dear? velt? Shrink not at the accoutrements of ill,

De Mon. A sudden thought has come across my Daring the thing itself. mind;

How came it not before? Unhappy Rezenvelt!

Sayst thou but this?

(Endeavouring to look cheerful.) Wilt thou permit me with a gyved hand?

She gives her hand, which he raises to his lips.)

Jane. What should I say? he was an honest This was my proudest office.

man;

It hath a meaning.

I still have thought him such, as such lament him.
(De Monfort utters a deep groan.)
What means this heavy groan?
De Mon.
Enter ABBESS and MONKS, with two OFFICERS of justice
carrying fetters in their hands to put upon DE MONFORT.
Jane. (starting.) What men are these?
1st Off. Lady, we are the servants of the law,
And bear with us a power, which doth constrain
To bind with fetters this our prisoner.

(Pointing to De Monfort.)
Jane. A stranger uncondemn'd? this cannot be.
1st Off. As yet, indeed, he is by law unjudged,
But is so far condemn'd by circumstance,
That law, or custom sacred held as law,
Doth fully warrant us, and it must be.

Jane. Nay, say not so; he has no power t' escape: Distress hath bound him with a heavy chain; There is no need of yours.

1st Off. We must perform our office.

Jane. O do not offer this indignity!

1st Off. Is it indignity in sacred law

[EXEUNT, De Monfort leading out Jane.

SCENE V.-AN APARTMENT IN THE CONVENT, OPEN-
ING INTO ANOTHER ROOM, WHOSE LOW, ARCHED
DOOR IS SEEN IN THE BOTTOM OF THE STAGE. IN
ONE CORNER A MONK IS SEEN KNEELING.

Enter another Monk, who, on perceiving him, stops till
he rises from his knees, and then goes eagerly up to
him.

1st Monk. How is the prisoner?

2d Monk. (pointing to the door.) He is within, and the strong hand of death

Is dealing with him.

1st Monk.
How is this, good brother?
Methought he braved it with a manly spirit;
And led, with shackled hands, his sister forth,
Like one resolved to bear misfortune bravely.

2d Monk. Yes, with heroic courage, for a while
He scem'd inspired; but, soon depress'd again,
Remorse and dark despair o'erwhelm'd his soul:
And, from the violent working of his mind,
Some stream of life within his breast has burst;
For many a time, within a little space,
The ruddy tide has rush'd into his mouth.

To bind a murderer? (To 2d Officer.) Come, do thy God grant his pains be short!

It is a dark and fearful night: the moon

De Mon. (to Jane.) Stand thou erect in native Is wrapp'd in sable clouds; the chill blast sounds

dignity;

And bend to none on earth the suppliant knee,
Though clothed in power imperial. To my heart
It gives a feller gripe than many irons.
(Holding out his hands.) Here, officers of law, bind

on those shackles ;

And, if they are too light, bring heavier chains.
Add iron to iron; load, crush me to the ground:
Nay, heap ten thousand weight upon my breast,
For that were best of all.

Like dismal lamentations. Ay, who knows
That voices mix with the dark midnight winds?
Nay, as I pass'd that yawning cavern's mouth,
A whispering sound, unearthly, reach'd my ear,
And o'er my head a chilly coldness crept.
Are there not wicked fiends and damned sprites,
Whom yawning charnels, and th' unfathom'd depths
Of secret darkness, at this fearful hour,
Do upwards send, to watch, unseen, around
The murderer's death-bed, at his fatal term,
Ready to hail with dire and horrid welcome,
Their future mate ?—I do believe there are.
2d Monk. Peace, peace! a God of wisdom and of
mercy,

(A long pause, whilst they put irons upon him.
After they are on, Jane looks at him sorrow-
fully, and lets her head sink on her breast.
De Monfort stretches out his hand, looks at
them, and then at Jane; crosses them over his Veils from our sight-Ha! hear that heavy groan.
breast, and endeavours to suppress his feel-
ings.)

1st Off. I have it, too, in charge to move you hence, (To De Monfort.) Into another chamber more secure.

(A groan heard within.) 1st Monk. It is the dying man.

(Another groan.) (Listening at the door.)

2d Monk. God grant him rest!