what has become of all those jewels, and my new bracelets you brought me the day before we parted?—Achates, is it true, that the vile Grecians took away all my new dresses, for their own wives ?" "First tell me," says he, "what employment occupies you here? is it a time of sloth, or have you business to engage you?" "Achates, no sluggish rest is mine. My time is spent in studying the fates; it is my sole delight to trace your future fortune, and dwell upon the greatness of your posterity. You are fated to become the father of a renowned race of men; your descendants will be great in the earth. O Achates, go now with me and I will explain to you the long line of succession of the Fiscatorians."

A. A.

BRUCE AND THE RED COMYN.

Bruce. Comyn a traitor!

Scot.

SCENE, IN LONDON.

Tis false. Scots there are,

Whose truest bearts are lumps of treachery.

The feeling, noble, valorous Comyn burns

With hottest vengeance for his country's wrongs,
And waits the fitting time to prove it on

These "blood-nurs'd " Southrons' hearts, to satiate,

In joyful massacre of Edward's lords;

His barning thirst for blood, his boundless lust
For rapine's joys, the battle's horrid scene,

And universal butchery of foes.

Turns back the tiger from his fierce pursuit
To sate his wrathful jaws on kindred flesh!
Aye, he has seen the blood of kindred spill'd,
And Scotland's noblest bleed, his king in chains,
And Malcom's realm a prey to traitor Scots,
To foreign murderers, and English dukes;
Has felt their contumely, seorn, and threats,
And Edward's falseness-and can Comyn be
A traitor to his kindred, and himself?

How now,

unbidden priest?

And noble Bruce's life!

(Enters a Scot, in a monk's habit)

A realm's at stake!
Read that, my lord.

(Hands a letter and withdraws. }

Bruce.-Be heaven's curses poured upon his head !
He is a traitor of the blackest stamp.-
Now I'm alone, a speck upon the earth,
Like a far cloud that seems a thing for scorn
In western skies, but like that cloud, when on

It rolls, and spreads from pole to pole, and bursts]
Upon the world, I'll burst on Scotland's lords,
And wake their slumbering. Yes, ev'ry glen,
That gives a shelter to a Southron knave,
And ev'ry crag, that reeks with Scottish blood,
I'll sweep in dread revenge, (the thought is joy,)
And ev'ry man that wears an English badge,
For Scotland's wrongs shall taste her vengeance too.
That land, my own, shall feel her waking strength,
And Bruce's might. I am alone, I said;
Alone! Alone! Alone! The walls tell so,
"Alone!" they whisper back in mockery.
Nay! I am not alone; I feel the hearts

Of noblest Scots entwin'd around my own.
Hush! Hark! methinks they whisper, they too may
Revolt. "Tis false, come whencesoe'er it may..
All Scotland's not corruption yet; there's blood
That beats responsive to my own mad pulse.
Is one a kingdom? one's a traitor, say,
A chosen one; grant it; The consequence?
That others may be traitors when I've slain-
Ha! have I said it? said that he shall bleed?
What matters, if I've said, or thought it thus?
For what I've sworn, I've sworn; in thought, or word,
What matters it? For if I must-I must-

I swear outright, I will wring dry his heart,
And kiss the steel that draws the purple flood.
The traitor's letter-'twas a lucky chance
That Douglas caught the bearer; Edward sure

Would have been grateful, 'soeth as monarchs are,
And spared the weary traveller the pains

Of travelling a lately travell'd road;
Exalted him above the common rank,

In sooth as high as any hangman's rope.

Renown the messenger would have obtained,

And duke, yea king, the world have upward looked,

And ta'en advice from such high station.

What pleasure thus to 'scape a journey long,

By being sent upon a longer one!

This letter saith, "You rear a viper in

Your palace-walls; destroy the venom'd tooth,

And then the reptile will be harmless."

Sage counsel, one would truly deem it;

The fang-the fang shall grow more venomous,

And give effect to all the reptile's rage.

But who's the victim?
The English Captains.

Comyn first-and then
Night grows thick. I go.

Bruce.-Roll on ye surges! blow ye ruthless winds!
Emblems of freedom; plunge, thou gallant bark,
Thyself thou bearest nobly now, as Edward;

But thou oust feel the tempest's shock, and wreck,
As Edward must, when Bruce shall plant his feet
On Scotland's scil. Thou shrieking storm-ye waves
Lashed to the skies-thou boundless sea of fire-
Ye blazing heavens-crashing thunderbolts!
Continue long your wildest revelry.

Such tender music sooths my troubled soul,
I feel a tempest here that seeks to burst
This heaving tenement of clay, a cage

For all the passions' play, that reason wreck.
Cease, cease your strife, yo'll soon be pacified.

-0000

Bruce.

SCENE, ON SHORE.

hold thee, Scotland, now, for thou art mine;
Though I've no deed of thee, I have a sword,
And that shall be my pen; and England's blood
Shall be my ink; my paper, English hearts,
Though they're not white; and their quick throbs of f
The signers; I will execute the deed.
I've plann'd it skillfully; I'll do it well.

Bruce. Why does he tarry? I had thought to meet
Him here this hour, to settle all accounts.

Perchance he's conscience-troubl'd, for 'tis said'
She sometimes pips e'en in the basest men.

Hail, thou illustrious lord! I welcome thee!
Thou hast borne thee, most nobly, Comyn, now
As thou'rt not wont; thy deeds shall have their just
Reward. But our designs are like to fail

Through treason; hast thou heard of treachery?
Comyn. I heard of treachery! Who talks of that?
If there be treason, then 'tis known to thee
Alone; and known in England, ere known here.
But why layest thou such stress on two small words,
On thy and our? as if our purposes

Bruce.

Were different.

Why, simply this, that thou

Essay'dst to finish this design without

Much blood, as thou'rt not wont; that this in thee
Deserves a high reward. I wonder not

This treason is unknown on Scotland's shore;
The traitor is a wily wight, not wise.

Comyn.-Who may that traitor be, most noble Bruce?
Bruce. Methinks 'twere best to judge him ere he's known,,
Lest prejudice might cause a wrong award.

Comyn.-How! dost thou think that Comyn is so base,
To compromise my honor for a friend?

Bruce, know me better; I've a nobler mind,
A heart that bleeds for all my country's wrongs.
Bruce. And, Comyn, it will bleed more freely still,
If thou dost prove thyself what I do deem thee.
I simply meant, that previous hate might cause
Severer judgement than is just; no more:
And that's no grievous crime, to bridle rage,
And check another's passion. I well know
Thou dost condemn thy equals more severe
Than those below thee, since a crime in those
Is greater than that crime in these, and thus
I knew, nor birth, nor friends would cause in thee
A wrong decree; but ruthless passion might.
Comyn. 'Tis well. But tell me who the traitor is,
For I'll not sit to judge him that's unknown.
Bruce.-A personago no less renown'd than thoụ-
Comyn.-Thou liest, I'm not a traitor-fend or die!
Bruce-Hold! Comyn, I said not, that thou art he;

I simply called him great as thou-no more.
And where's the crime in that?-there's none, not e'en
If I had said that thou art he: for then

The truth I should have uttered, and no more.
Comyn.-Ha! jestest thou, or art in earnest? Tell-
Bruce. I will most readily; then quick decreo

What doom shall be th' associate cardinal'sComyn. If he be a traitor, let him die beneath

Th' avenging steel;-but ere he dies, thyself

Bruce.-And who shall be the executioner?

Comyn.-Liar! by heav'ns, mock me no more; else thou-
Bruce. Shalt gladly be his executioner.

The traitor then must die, as you decree?

Comyn.-I've sworn; But why such stress on that word traitor? Bruce.-I meant, that as a traitor he must dic.

Bruce. Then die. (stabs him.)-The deed I've sworn, I've done.--
I've slain a chosen one, a traitor too;

Now, despotism, made fat on Scottish blood,
I've dealt the first, the fatal blow that sends

Thee reeling back on England's shudd'ring shores.

Thy form has palsied ev'ry Scottish arm,

And wrapt in terrors ev'ry Scottish heart.

But now, proud freedom's thunderbolts I'll hurl,
And crush thy ministers beneath my wrath.
The universe shall praise me, conscience too;
Conscience! I do disown, I banish thee:
I want thee not; I want some sterner stuff. "

C

Thou'st gone, and in thy place I feel a fiend,

That stirs me up to such a pitch of wrath,

That I, were I omnipotent, a God,

Would seize the blazing sun when wheeling through
The vaulted heavens, and precipitate

It on the world, and dash old England to

The centre of the earth, and Scotland's glens

Would purify with sword, and flame,-with death.

G. *. H.

REPLY TO DALETH ON “WIT."

MESSRS EDITORS:

Aware of my inability to do justice to the subject before me, I address this communication to you with considerable reluctance.— I notice in your last over the signature of Daleth, an article on Wit. Some slight difference of views on the subject has elicited this paper from me. Nothing, indeed, but an imperious sense of duty to the readers of your publication, especially when the superior genius of the author of the above mentioned article is considered, could induce me to appear in this form. Had the author employed his judgment in regulating his genius, these strictures would have been uncalled for. That he has exhibited no small share of genius, will not be pretended. Genius, however, without judg. ment,is like a steam engine without a governor: It impels with fury, regardless of consequences. It is the province of a great genius to conceive lofty ideas; of judgment, to direct them into their proper channel.

As I would not speak diminutively of our author's genius, so neither would I calumniate his motives. After a careful examination, I am satisfied his design is good. It is true his object is somewhat obscure, and with a superficial reading is liable to be misapprehended. His object seems to be to divest wit of its false garbs, and defend the propriety of using it in every department of society. How far he has effected it, all are left to judge for themselves.Although the loftiness of our author's conceptions and the purity of his motives are admitted, there are, nevertheless, some things in the article quite exceptionable. I refer to his unwarrantable assertion respecting the number of those, who affect to despise wit, [as he would intimate,] on every occasion. None will deny, that some