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affects all his auditors; but to one ear it conveys the full impres sion of its meaning. As we are probably indebted to that tale for the hint of a very beautiful production in our own language, it is here translated.

Marquis. Two noble houses in Mirandola,
Weary of ancient rivalry and hate,
Which, since the feuds of Guelphs and Ghibellines,
Had pass’d from age to age, and sire to son,
Resolved by wedlock's gentle bands to frame
A mutual covenant of eternal peace.
The powerful Pietro's sister's son, Fernando,
And fair Matilda, high Colonna's daughter,
Were chosen as the links of this alliance.
Never had Nature for each other form'd
Hearts so delightfully accordant, never
Had choice so happy claim'd the world's approval.
His lovely bride Fernando had adored
In imaged beauty only. Oh how he trembled
To find confirm'd what his most ardent hopes
Could scarcely credit on the picture's warrant.
In Padua, where his studies bound his stay,
Fernando linger'd till the joyous moment
Which would transport him to Matilda's feet,
To falter forth the homage of his love.

(The Queen listens with increased attention. The Marquis,

after a short pause, continues the story, addressing his dis.
course, as far as the presence of the Queen will permit, to the

Princess Eboli.
Meanwhile the hand of death struck Pietro's consort,
And left him free to seek a new alliance.
With boy-like ardour to the voice of fame,
That in the rumour of Maltilda's beauty
Was loudly eloquent, the old man listen'd.
He comes-he sees-he loves! The new emotion
Stifles the earlier, softer voice of nature ;
The uncle woos his nephew's plighted bride,
And consecrates the rape upon the altar.

Queen. How did Fernando act ?

On wings of love
Wholly unconscious of the fearful change,
Th'enthusiast hastens to Mirandola.
At midnight did his rapid courser stop
Before the gate. A bacchanalian roar,
With sounds of music, dancing, struck his ear,
Proceeding from th’ illuminated palace.
He totters up the steps, and slowly enters,
An unknown guest, within the wide saloon.
There, by the revellers' noisy band surrounded,
Sat Pietro— with an angel by his side,
An angel, whom Fernando recognised,
Who ne'er to him in dreams had seem'd so lovely:
A single glance shows him what once was his
Shows him what now he has for ever lost.

Princess Eboli. Unfortunate Fernando!

Said you not
Fernando was your friend?

Marquis. I have none dearer.
Princess Eboli. Go on then with the story, Chevalier.

Marquis. 'Tis very sad, and the remembrance of it
Does but renew my pain. Permit me here

To stop. (A general silence.) Of the scene between the Queen and Don Carlos, it is impossible in these limits to give a translation. But the few extracts which follow display, in some measure, the wild, impetuous passion of Carlos, and the dignified, virtuous, yet tender affection of Elizabeth. Her calm self-possession, her patient attempts to turn the frenzied mind of the ill-fated youth to objects of nobler emulation, and her whole admirable demeanour in this and every other situation in which she is placed, may be considered as the triumph of Schiller in the delineation of female excellence, in which he far surpasses the great poet whose name is associated with his in these pages.


O Heaven! 0 Heaven! I go.
I will consent to leave you. Must I not,
When you require my absence? Mother! Mother'
How terribly you sport with me! A glance,
A half regard, your lips' least, lightest murmur
Can summon me to live, or bid me perish:
Declare then what you wish, it shall be done.
What can exist beneath yon burning sun,
Which Carlos would refuse to sacrifice
When you require it?

Qrceen. Depart!
Carlos. O Heaven!

Queen. The sole request which I with tears pronounce,
Which I implore, is leave me ere my suite,
Ere my attendant-gaolers find us here
Together, and the mighty news convey
Officious to your father's ear.

My fate,
Be it or life or death, I will await.
What? Have I anxiously turn'd all my hopes
To this one single, solitary moment,
Which now presents itself, without a witness.
That foolish fears should deaden its enjoyment?:
No, Queen, the world may change an hundred times,
A thousand times may see its poles revolve,
Ere Fortune grant again this happy moment.

Queen. Never again such moments shall she grant.
Unhappy man! What would you then of me?

Carlos. O Queen, that I have striven with my passion,
Striven as mortal never strove before,
God is my witness-Queen! I strove in vain.
Gone is my heroism. I confess me vanquish'd.

Queen. No more of this—for my peace sake- no more.

Carlos. You were my own-in sight of all the world ;
To me by two great thrones you were betrothed;
To me by Heaven and Nature both adjudged;
And Philip--Philip—he has stolen you from me.

Queen. He is your father.
Carlos. He is too your husband
Queen. Who gives the richest kingdom of the earth

And you

Το you

for an inheritance.
He gives me for a mother.

Gracious Heaven !
You rave!

Carlos. Knows he indeed how rich he is?
Has he a heart that can appreciate thine ?
I will not murmur--no, I will forget
How happy, past expression, I had been
With thee if Philip be but happy.
He is not happy. That is Hell's worst torture.
He is not happy, and will never be so.
You took a blessed paradise from me
To blast its richness in King Philip's arms.

Queen. Horrible thought !

Oh, I am well aware
Who was the framer of this marriage. Well
I know how Philip learn’d to love and wed.
What are you in this kingdom? Tell me, now,
Are you the reigning Queen? Oh no, you are not.
Where you were Queen, could such as Alba murder?
Where you were Queen, could Flanders bleed for faith?
Are you then Philip's wife? Impossible.
Never can I believe it. For a wife
Has still her husband's heart—and who has Philip's?

Queen. Do I then comprehend you?
You still have hopes? You dare to entertain them;
To cherish hope where all, where all is lost?

Carlos. I know of nothing lost but to the dead.
Queen. For me, even for your mother, cherish hopes?
(She gazes on him for some moments with a look of earnest con-

templation, then proceeds in a dignified and serious tone.)
Why should you not? The new-created King
May do still more :--may cast into the flames
His predecessor's acts ;-may tear his statues down ;-
Nay--even more-for what is to prevent him?
He may lay bare the ashes of the dead,
From the Escurial's dark and peaceful vaults
Snatch and expose them to the light of Heaven,
To the four winds scatter the sacred dust;
And thea, at last, be may-fit consummation-

Carlos. Stop, stop, for Heaven's sake, say no more.
Queen. Then last of all-may marry with his mother!





GEORGE CULPEPPER's ambition has been at length gratified. He has become acquainted with a Captain of Dragoons. Captain Augustus Thackeray and he happened to go in the same steam-vessel, the Majestic, to Margate, on a certain Saturday; they, moreover, returned together on the Monday following. While sojourning at that populous watering-place, they dined in the same coffee-room. Mutual ennui produced mutual acquaintance. They discussed the weather and the price of mackarel; the Upper and the Lower Pier; the Light-house, and the North Foreland; the forward state of the harvest, and the scarcity of fine women at the last night's assembly at Howe's. It has even been rumoured, that, on their return by the Eclipse, they danced upon deck with two young ladies from Cranbourne-passage. This, however, they both resolutely deny; and I own that the rumour lacks confirmation. George, on

his turn to Savage-gardens, talked much of his new acquaintance, and dropped a hint about inviting him to dinner. The elder Culpepper discountenanced the idea. For his part, he observed, he had not much opinion of the army. Whenever he walked up St. James'sstreet, which, he thanked his stars, was only twice a year, to receive the rent of a house in Great Ryder-street, he observed three officers in uniform, arm in arm, lounging up and down upon the foot-path, and thrusting the women and children either through the shop-windows, or into the gutter. This, he continued, might be good manners at Boodle's, but it would be voted vulgar at Tom's or John's. Nay, he had a much weightier objection to a red coat. A young puppy in scarlet, one ensign Tibbs, had run up a bill with him, some eighteen years ago, of thirty-six pounds, for slops, and the devil a shilling of the money had he been able to touch from that time to this. George, Clara, and Mamma, pronounced this to be illiberal: they had known many officers who paid their way, and behaved very much like gentlemen, and they had no doubt that Captain Thackeray was one of the number. “Well, well!” ejaculated the old gentleman,“ do as you please: if any thing turns out contrary-ways, I wash my hands of it.” Captain Thackeray was invited to dinner on the following Wednesday.

On the morning of the last-mentioned day, a consultation took place upon the subject of wine. George and his sister said that no decent people ever sat down to dinner without two long-necked black bottles in the centre of the table, charged with hock and champaign. Old Culpepper offered to produce the key of his cellar-door, and told his son that he was at liberty to drink all the hock and champaign it contained. “ It may be bought,” said the son. “Then buy it,” said the father. This did not suit; so a bottle of gooseberry and another of perry were settled as the substitutes. Five precisely was the time written upon the card. The clock struck five-no Captain; it chimed a quarter-still no Captain. Culpepper senior now began to wax fidgety. He looked at his watch-wondered what people could mean by keeping people fasting. People should consider, that, though some people

have no appetite, other people have. “La! Papa, don't be fussy," was the consolation administered by Clara, as the clock chimed half after five. “I'll not wait another moment,” roared the vender of slops ; and was in the act of applying his grasp to the bell-rope, when eleven raps in quick time and seven in slow, proceeding from the ponderous street-door knocker, announced the arrival of the military visiter. The tremendous din echoed to the most distant recesses of Crutched Friars: Miss Patterson, the neighbouring old maid, started from her half-sipped Bohea, and craned her long neck through the casement, to ascertain the phenomenon. Even old Andrew Dixon drew the pipe from his mouth, and “ spread his broad nostrils to the wind” like the stag in “Marmion.” Jack, the foot-boy, rushed up breathless from the kitchen to "answer the door;" and finding that the officer carried at his left side a tremendous iron-shod sword, the end of which clattered on the floor; and finding also that a countless quantity of strap, buckle, belt, leather, and chain, commonly called a sabre-tash, hung down intermingled with the weapon, obligingly lent all his strength to aid the sufferer, in bearing a load under which Baron Trenck himself might have fainted; and as the visiter entered the parlour, could not avoid exclaiming, in a pitiful tone, “ Lord! Lord! Captain, what have they tied you to?"

The appearance of Captain Augustus Thackeray might indeed have appalled a stouter heart than that which beat in the bosom of Jack the foot-boy. His age appeared to be about twenty-three; that is, judging from his figure for his face was so enveloped in whisker, mustachio, and chin-tuft, that he might have been sixtythree for any thing which that denoted to the contrary. On his head he balanced a mass of fur, like a Patagonian lady's muff, from the apex of which hung a large piece of scarlet cloth edged with gold lace. From his shoulder hung negligently, behind, a blue jacket in the half-on and half-off fashion, decorated with countless loops and buttons of gold, laced with the same material, and edged with sable. Every rib of his body was coated by an external rib of golden filigree, insomuch that he bore the appearance of Harlequin Skeleton turned trooper. His pantaloons of white elastic silk were embroidered by a deep broad seam of scarlet, edged with lace. The above-mentioned sword banged the calf of either leg as he marched toward the fire-place, and might, in time, have bruised those parts of his body, had not each of them been protected by a hussar boot of yellow leather, topped with scarlet, heeled with the same colour, and oramented in front with a tassel of gold. George Culpepper rose a foot taller from the consciousness of such an acquaintance; Mrs. Culpepper took out her sal volatile; her spouse could scarcely ejaculate, “ Glad to see you, Sir;" and Clara was actually thunderstruck with delight. The conversation of the illustrious stranger was as enigmatical as his aspect. That, however, I reserve for another Epistle.

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