And yet I weep thee not, thou true and brave!
I could not weep! there gathered round thy name
Too deep a passion! Thou denied a grave!

Thou, with a blight flung on thy soldier's fame!
Had I not known thy heart from childhood's time?
Thy heart of hearts? And couldst thou die for crime?
No! had all earth decreed that death of shame,

I would have set, against all earth's decree,
The inalienable trust of my firm soul in thee!

FROM MRS. HEMANS.

CLXXXVII.-THE GUEBER.

In this extract is represented the defense of the Guebers against their Turkish oppressors.

GUEBERS; The Turks call all who are not of their religion, GIAOURS (jours,) infidels, or GUEBERS, the latter referring particularly to Persians, subject to them.

MOSLEMS; Mohammedans, here, Turks.

GHOULS, DIVES; demons.

IRAN; Persia.

แ

BUT see! he starts! what heard he then?
That dreadful shout! across the glen
From the land-side it comes, and loud
Rings through the chasm; as if the crowd
Of fearful things, that haunt that dell,
Its Ghouls, and Dives, and shapes of hell,
Had all in one dread howl broke out,
So loud, so terrible that shout!

'They come the Moslems come!" he cries,
His proud soul mounting to his eyes;
"Now, spirits of the brave, who roam
Enfranchised through yon starry dome,
Rejoice! for souls of kindred fire
Are on the wing to join your choir!"

He said; and, light as bridegrooms bound

To their young loves, reclimbed the steep
And gained the shrine; his chiefs stood round;
Their swords, as with instinctive leap,

Together, at that cry accurst,

Had, from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst,
And hark! again! again it rings,

Near and more near its echoings
Peal through the chasms!

Oh! who that then

Had seen those listening warrior-men,
With their swords grasped, their eyes of flame,
Turned on their chief, could doubt the shame,
The indignant shame with which they thrill
To hear those shouts and yet stand still?

He read their thoughts; they were his own;
"What! while our arms can wield these blades,
Shall we die tamely? die alone?

Without one victim to our shades,

One Moslem heart, where, buried deep,
The saber from its toil may sleep?
No, God of Iran's burning skies!
Thou scorn'st the inglorious sacrifice.
No, though of all earth's hope bereft,
Life, swords, and vengeance still are left:
We'll make yon valley's reeking caves
Live in the awestruck minds of men,
Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves
Tell of the Gueber's bloody glen!

Follow, brave hearts! this pile remains
Our refuge still from life and chains;
But his the best, the holiest bed,

Who sinks entombed in Moslem dead!"
FROM MOORE.

CLXXXVIII.--THE PEASANT BOY.

CHARACTERS.-ALBERTI; The judge whose life has been attempted. MONTALDI; Alberti's kinsman and pretended friend. JULIAN; a Peasant, accused of the crime. STEFANO and LUDOVICO; Peasants.

(Enter guards conducting Julian. The others follow. Alberti takes the judge's seat.)

Alb. My people! the cause of your present assemblage is too well known to you. You come to witness the dispensations of an awful but impartial justice; either to rejoice in the acquittal of innocence wrongfully accused, or to approve the conviction of guilt, arrested in its foul career. Personal feelings forbid me to assume this seat myself. Yet fear not, but that it will be filled by nobleness and honor. To Montaldi only, I resign it.

Jul. (Aside.) He my judge! then I am lost indeed.

Alb. Ascend the seat, my friend, and decide from it as your own virtuous conscience shall direct. This only will I say, should the scales of accusation and defense poise doubtfully, let mercy touch them with her downy hand, and turn the balance on the gentler side.

Mon. (Ascending the seat.) Your will and honor are my only governors! (Bows.) Julian! stand forth! you are charged with a most foul and horrible attempt upon the life of my noble kinsman. The implements of murder have been found in your possession, and many powerful circumstances combine to fix the guilt upon you. What have you to urge in vindication?

Jul. First, I affirm by that power, whom vice dreads and virtue reverences, that no syllable but strictest truth shall pass my lips. On the evening of yesterday, I crossed the mountain to the monastery of St. Bertrand. My errand finished, I returned directly to the valley. My friends saw me enter the cottage; soon afterward, a strange outcry recalled me to the door; a mantle spread before the threshold caught my eye. I raised it and discovered a mask within it. The mantle was newly stained with blood! consternation seized upon my soul. The next

minute I was surrounded by guards, and accused of murder. They produced a weapon I had lost in defending myself against a ferocious animal. Confounded by terror and surprise, I had not power to explain the truth, and loaded with chains and reproaches, I was dragged to the dungeons of the castle. Here my knowledge of the dark transaction ends, and I have only this to add; I may become the victim of circumstance, but I never have been the slave of crime!

Mon. (Smiling ironically.) Plausibly urged. Have you no more to offer?

Jul. Truth needs but few words. I have spoken!

Mon. Yet bethink yourself. Dare you abide by this wild tale, and brave a sentence on no stronger plea?

Jul. Alas! I have none else to offer.

Mon. You say, on the evening of yesterday, you visited the monastery of St. Bertrand.

Jul. I did.

Mon. Well! at what time did you quit the monastery? Jul. The evening bell had just ceased to toll.

Mon. By what path did you return to the valley?

Jul. Across the mountain.

Mon. Did you not pass through the wood of olives, where the dark deed was attempted?

Jul. (Recollecting.) The wood of olives?

Mon. Ha! mark! he hesitates! speak!

Jul. No! my soul scorns to tell a falsehood. I did pass through the wood of olives.

Mon. Ay! and pursuit was close behind. Stefano! you seized the prisoner?

Stef. I did. The bloody weapon bore his name; the mask and mantle were in his hands; confusion in his countenance, and every limb shaking with alarm.

Mon. Enough! heavens! that villainy so monstrous should dwell with such tender youth! I fain would doubt, and in despite of reason, hesitate to give my sentence. But conviction glares from every point, and incredulity would now be madness. Not to descant on the absurdity of your defense, a tale too wild for romance itself to sanction, I find

from your admission, a chain of circumstance that confirms your criminality. The time at which you passed the wood, and the hour of the duke's attack, precisely correspond. You sought to rush on fortune by the readiest path, and snatch from the unwary traveler that sudden wealth which honest labor could only by slow degrees obtain. Defeated in the dark attempt, you fled; pursuit was instant; your steps were traced; and at the very door of your cottage, you were seized before the evidences of your guilt could be secreted. Oh! wretched youth, I warn you to confess. Sincerity can be your only claim to mercy.

Jul. My heart will burst; but I have spoken truth. Yes, heaven knows that I have spoken truth!

Mon. Then I must execute my duty.

sentence.

Jul. Hold! Pronounce it not as yet!

Death is my

Mon. If you have any further evidence, produce it. Jul. (With despairing energy.) I call on Ludovico ! (Ludovico steps forward with alacrity. Montaldi recoils with visible trepidation.)

Lud. I am here!

Mon. And what can he unfold? Only repeat that which we already know. I will not hear him; the evidence is perfect

Alb. (Rising with warmth.) Hold! Montaldi, Ludovico must be heard. To the ear of justice, the lightest syllable of proof is precious.

Mon. (Confused.) I stand rebuked. Well, Ludovico, present your evidence!

Lud. Mine was the fortunate arm appointed by heaven to rescue the duke. I fought with the assassin, and drove him beyond the trees into the open lawn. I there distinctly marked his figure, and from the difference in the hight alone, I solemnly aver Julian can not be the person.

Mon. This is no proof. The eye might easily be deceived. I can not withhold my sentence longer.

Lud. I have further matter to advance. Just before the ruffian fled, he received a wound across his right hand. The moonlight directed my blow, and showed me that the