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Mar. And now I die in thy service.
Geo. Thou mayst recover.

Mar. I cannot. By my long service-by my scars -by this mortal gash, and by the death that I am to die-oh, do not hate me for what I am now to unfold! Geo. Be assured I can never hate thee.

Mar. Ah! thou little knowest- -Swear to me thou wilt speak a word of comfort to my parting soul.

Geo. (takes his hand.) I swear I will. (Alarm and shouting.) But be brief-thou knowest my haste.

Mar. (looks wildly at him.) In the chapel at Ebersdorf, or buried in the hemlock marsh.

Wic. The old grumbler is crazy with his wounds. Martin, if thou hast a spark of reason in thee, give me thy sword. The day goes sore against us.

Mar. There it lies. Bury it in the heart of thy master George; thou wilt do him a good office-the office of a faithful servant.

Enter CONRAD.

Mar. Hear me, then. I was the squire, the beloved and favourite attendant, of Arnolf of Ebersdorf. Arnolf was savage as the mountain bear. He loved the Lady Isabel, but she requited not his passion. She loved thy father; but her sire, old Arnheim, was the friend of Arnolf, and she was forced to marry him. By midnight, in the chapel at Ebersdorf, the ill-omened rites were performed; her resis-hurry off, as to the pursuit.)

Con. Away, Wickerd! to horse, and pursue! Baron George has turned the day; he fights more like a fiend than a man: he has unhorsed Roderic, and slain six of his troopers-they are in headlong flight-the hemlock marsh is red with their gore! (MARTIN

tance, her screams were in vain. These arms detained her at the altar till the nuptial benediction was pronounced. Canst thou forgive me?

Geo. do forgive thee. Thy obedience to thy savage master has been obliterated by a long train of services to his widow.

Mar. Services? ay bloody services! for they commenced-do not quit my hand-they commenced with the murder of my master! (GEORGE quits his hand, and stands aghast in speechless horror.) Trample on me! pursue me with your dagger! I aided your mother to poison her first husband! I thank Heaven, it is said.

Geo. My mother? Sacred Heaven! Martin, thou ravest-the fever of thy wound has distracted thee.

Mar. No! I am not mad! Would to God I were! Try me! Yonder is the Wolfshill-yonder the old castle of Griefenhaus-and yonder is the hemlock marsh (in a whisper) where I gathered the deadly plant that drugged Arnolf's cup of death. (GEORGE traverses the stage in the utmost agitation, and sometimes stands over MARTIN with his hands clasped together.) Oh, had you seen him when the potion took effect! Had you heard his ravings, and seen the contortions of his ghastly visage!-He died furious and impenitent, as he lived; and went-where I am shortly to go. You do not speak?

gives a deep groan, and faints.) Away! away! (They

Enter RODERIC OF MALTINGEN, without his helmet, his
arms disordered and broken, holding the truncheon of
a spear in his hand; with him, BARON WOLFSTEIN.
Rod. A curse on fortune, and a double curse upon
George of Aspen! Never, never will I forgive him
my disgrace-overthrown like a rotten trunk before a
whirlwind!

Wolf. Be comforted, Count Roderic; it is well we
have escaped being prisoners. See how the troopers
of Aspen pour along the plain, like the billows of the
Rhine! It is good we are shrouded by the thicket.

Rod. Why took he not my life, when he robbed me of my honour and of my love? Why did his spear not pierce my heart, when mine shivered on his arms like a frail bulrush? (Throws down the broken spear.) Bear witness, Heaven and earth, I outlive this disgrace only to avenge!

Wolf. Be comforted; the knights of Aspen have not gained a bloodless victory. And see, there lies one of George's followers-(seeing MARTIN).

:

Rod. His squire Martin; if he be not dead, we will
secure him he is the depositary of the secrets of his
master. Arouse thee, trusty follower of the house of
Aspen!

Mar. (reviving.) Leave me not! leave me not,
Baron George! my eyes are darkened with agony! I

Geo. (with exertion.) Miserable wretch! how can I? have not yet told all.
Mar. Can you not forgive me?

Geo. May God pardon thee-I cannot !

Mar. I saved thy life——

Geo. For that, take my curse! (He snatches up his battle-axe, and rushes out to the side from which the noise is heard.)

Mar. Hear me! yet more-more horror! (Altempts to rise, and falls heavily. A loud alarm.)

Enter WICKERD, hastily.

Wic. In the name of God, Martin, lend me thy brand!

Mar. Take it.

Wic. Where is it?

Wolf. The old man takes you for his master.
Rod. What wouldst thou tell?

Mar. Oh, I would tell all the temptations by which
I was urged to the murder of Ebersdorf!

Rod. Murder!-this is worth marking. Proceed.
Mar. I loved a maiden, daughter of Arnolf's steward;
my master seduced her—she became an outcast, and
died in misery-I vowed vengeance-and I did avenge
her.

Rod. Hadst thou accomplices?
Mar. None, but thy mother.
Rod. The Lady Isabella!

Mar. Ay: she hated her husband: he knew her
love to Rudiger, and when she heard that thy father
was returned from Palestine, her life was endan-

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gered by the transports of his jealousy-thus prepared for evil, the fiend tempted us, and we fell.

Rod. (breaks into a transport.) Fortune! thou hast repaid me all! Love and vengeance are my own!— Wolfstein, recall our followers! quick, sound thy bugle-(WOLFSTEIN sounds.)

Mar. (stares wildly round.) That was no note of Aspen-Count Roderic of Maltingen-Heaven! what have I said!

Rod. What thou canst not recall.

Mar. Then is my fate decreed! 'Tis as it should be! in this very place was the poison gather'd-'tis retribution!

Enter three or four soldiers of RODERIC.

Rod. Secure this wounded trooper; bind his wounds, and guard him well: carry him to the ruins of Griefenhaus, and conceal him till the troopers of Aspen have retired from the pursuit ;-look to him, as you love your lives.

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Mar. (led off by soldiers.) Ministers of vengeance! sweet, though the wretched bondsmen of Count Romy hour is come!

[Exeunt.

deric! And I-I who sought death beneath every lifted battle-axe, and offered my breast to every arrow

Rod. Hope, joy, and triumph, once again are ye│-I am cursed with victory and safety. Here I left mine! Welcome to my heart, long-absent visitants! the wretch--Martin!-Martin!-what, ho! MarOne lucky chance has thrown dominion into the scale tin!-Mother of God! he is gone! Should be reof the house of Maltingen, and Aspen kicks the beam.peat the dreadful tale to any other—Martin!—He Wolf. I foresee, indeed, dishonour to the family answers not. Perhaps he has crept into the thicket, of Aspen, should this wounded squire make good his were it so, the horrible secret is only tale.

Rod. And how thinkest thou this disgrace will fall on them?

Wolf. Surely, by the public punishment of Lady Isabella.

Rod. And is that all?

Wolf. What more?

Rod. Shortsighted that thou art, is not George of Aspen, as well as thou, a member of the holy and invisible circle, over which I preside?

Wolf. Speak lower, for God's sake! these are things not to be mentioned before the sun.

Rod. True but stands he not bound by the most solemn oath religion can devise, to discover to the tribunal whatever concealed iniquity shall come to his knowledge, be the perpetrator whom he mayay, were that perpetrator his own father-or mother; and can you doubt that he has heard Martin's confession?

Wolf. True: but, blessed Virgin! do you think he will accuse his own mother before the invisible judges?

and died there mine.

Enter HENRY OF ASPEN, with WICKERD, REYNOLD,
and followers.

Hen. Joy to thee, brother! though by St. Francis, I would not gain another field at the price of seeing thee fight with such reckless desperation. Thy safety is little less than miraculous.

Rey. By'r Lady, when Baron George struck, I think he must have forgot that his foes were God's creatures. Such furious doings I never saw, and I have been a trooper these forty-two years come St. Barnaby

Geo, Peace! Saw any of you Martin?
Wic. Noble sir, I left him here not long since.
Geo. Alive, or dead?

Wic. Alive, noble sir, but sorely wounded. I think he must be prisoner, for he could not have budged else from hence.

Geo. Heedless slave! Why didst thou leave him? Hen. Dear brother, Wickerd acted for the best : he came to our assistance and the aid of his com

Rod. If not, he becomes forsworn, and, by our law, must die. Either way my vengeance is companions. plete-perjured or parricide, I care not; but, as the one or the other shall I crush the haughty George of Aspen.

Wolf. Thy vengeance strikes deep.

Rod. Deep as the wounds I have borne from this proud family. Rudiger slew my father in battleGeorge has twice baffled and dishonoured my arms, and Henry has stolen the heart of my beloved: but no longer can Gertrude now remain under the care of

Geo. I tell thee, Henry, Martin's safety was of more importance than the lives of any ten that stand here.

Wic. (muttering.) Here's much to do about an old crazy trencher-shifter.

Geo. What mutterest thou?

Wic. Only, sir knight, that Martin seemed out of his senses when I left him, and has perhaps wandered into the marsh, and perished there.

Geo. How-out of his senses? Did he speak to thee? (apprehensively.)

Wic. Yes, noble sir.

Geo. Dear Henry, step for an instant to yon treethou wilt see from thence if the foe rally upon the Wolfshill. (HENRY retires.) And do you stand back (to the soldiers).

[He brings WICKERD forward. Geo. (with marked apprehension.) What did Martin say to thee, Wickerd?-tell me, on thy allegiance. Wic. Mere ravings, sir knight-offered me his sword to kill you.

Geo. Said he aught of killing any one else?

Wic. No: the pain of his wound seemed to have brought on a fever.

Roderic's power scorning,

Well for their chieftain their blades did they wield:
Joy blest them dying,

As Maltingen flying,

Low laid his banners, our conquest adorning.
Their death-clouded eyeballs descried on the field!
Now to our home, the proud mansion of Aspen,
Bend we, gay victors, triumphant away;
There each fond damsel, her gallant youth clasping,
Shall wipe from his forehead the stains of the fray.
Listening the prancing

Of horses advancing;

E'en now on the turrets our maidens appear.
Love our hearts warning,

Songs the night charming,

the heart of the aged, brother George. (Going off.) Geo. Or treble misery and death.

Round goes the grape in the goblet gay dancing; Love, wine, and song, our blithe evening shall cheer! Geo. (clasps his hands together.) I breathe again—in triumph. We carry relief to the anxious, joy to Hen. Now spread our banners, and to Ebersdorf I spy comfort. Why could I not see as well as this fellow, that the wounded wretch may have been distracted? Let me at least think so till proof shall show the truth (aside). Wickerd, think not on what I said the heat of the battle had chafed my blood. Thou hast wished for the Nether farm at Ebersdorf -it shall be thine.

Wic. Thanks, my noble lord.

Re-enter HENRY.

Hen. No-they do not rally-they have had enough of it but Wickerd and Conrad shall remain, with twenty troopers and a score of crossbowmen, and scour the woods towards Griefenhaus, to prevent the fugitives from making head. We will, with the rest, to Ebersdorf. What say you, brother?

Geo. Well ordered. Wickerd, look thou search everywhere for Martin: bring him to me dead or alive; leave not a nook of the wood unsought.

Wic. I warrant you, noble sir, I shall find him, could he clew himself up like a dormouse.

Hen. I think he must be prisoner.

Geo. Heaven forefend! Take a trumpet, Eustace (to an attendant); ride to the castle of Maltingen, and demand a parley. If Martin is prisoner, offer any ransom offer ten-twenty-all our prisoners in exchange.

Eus. It shall be done, sir knight.

Hen. Ere we go, sound trumpets-strike up the song of victory.

SONG.

Joy to the victors! the sons of old Aspen!

Joy to the race of the battle and scar!

Glory's proud garland triumphantly grasping;
Generous in peace, and victorious in war.

Honour acquiring,

Valour inspiring,

Bursting, resistless, through foemen they go :
War-axes wielding,

Broken ranks yielding,

Till from the battle proud Roderic retiring,
Yields in wild rout the fair palm to his foe.

Joy to each warrior, true follower of Aspen!
Joy to the heroes that gain'd the bold day!
Health to our wounded, in agony gasping;
Peace to our brethren that fell in the fray!
Boldly this morning,

[Apart, and following slowly. The music sounds, and the followers of Aspen begin to file across the stage. The curtain falls.

ACT III.

SCENE 1.

Castle of Ebersdorf.

RUDIGER, ISABELLA, and GERTRUDE.

Rud. I prithee, dear wife, be merry. It must be over by this time, and happily, otherwise the bad news had reached us.

Isa. Should we not, then, have heard the tidings of the good?

Rud. Oh! these fly slower by half. Besides, I warrant all of them engaged in the pursuit. Oh! not a page would leave the skirts of the fugitives till they were fairly beaten into their holds; but had the boys lost the day, the stragglers had made for the castle. Go to the window, Gertrude: seest thou any thing? Ger. I think I see a horseman.

Isa. A single rider? then I fear me much.
Ger. It is only Father Ludovic.

Rud. A plague on thee! didst thou take a fat friar
on a mule for a trooper of the house of Aspen ?
Ger. But yonder is a great cloud of dust.
Rud. (eagerly.) Indeed!

Ger. It is only the wine sledges going to my aunt's convent.

Rud. The devil confound the wine sledges, and the mules, and the monks! Come from the window, and torment me no longer, thou seer of strange sights.

Ger. Dear uncle, what can I do to amuse you? Shall I tell you what I dreamed this morning?

Rud. Nonsense: but say on; any thing is better than silence.

Ger. I thought I was in the chapel, and they were burying my aunt Isabella alive. And who, do you think, aunt, were the gravediggers who shovelled in the earth upon you? Even Baron George and old Martin. Isa. (appears shocked.) Heaven! what an idea!

Ger. Do but think of my terror-and Minhold the minstrel played all the while to drown your screams. Rud. And old Father Ludovic danced a saraband, with the steeple of the new convent upon his thick skull by way of mitre. A truce to this nonsense. Give us a song, my love, and leave thy dreams and visions. Ger. What shall I sing to you? Rud. Sing to me of war.

Ger.

cannot sing of battle; but I will sing you the Lament of Eleanor of Toro, when her lover was slain in the wars.

Isa. Oh, no laments, Gertrude.

Rud. Then sing a song of mirth.

Isa. Dear husband, is this a time for mirth? Rud. Is it neither a time to sing of mirth nor of sorrow? Isabella would rather hear Father Ludovic chant the "De profundis."

Ger. Dear uncle, be not angry. At present, I can only sing the lay of poor Eleanor. It comes to my heart at this moment as if the sorrowful mourned had been my own sister.

SONG.I

Sweet shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro,

Weak were the whispers that waved the dark wood,
As a fair maiden, bewilder'd in sorrow,
Sigh'd to the breezes and wept to the flood.—
"Saints, from the mansion of bliss lowly bending,
Virgin, that hear'st the poor suppliant's cry,
Grant my petition, in anguish ascending,

My Frederick restore, or let Eleanor die."

Distant and faint were the sounds of the battle;

With the breezes they rise, with the breezes they fail,

Till the shout, and the groan, and the conflict's dread rattle,
And the chase's wild clamour came loading the gale.
Breathless she gazed through the woodland so dreary,
Slowly approaching, a warrior was seen;
Life's ebbing tide mark'd his footsteps so weary,
Cleft was his helmet, and woe was his mien.

"Save thee, fair maid, for our armies are flying;
Save thee, fair maid, for thy guardian is low;
Cold on yon heath thy bold Frederick is lying,
Fast through the woodland approaches the foe."—

[The voice of Gertrude sinks by degrees,
till she bursts into tears.

Rud. How now, Gertrude?

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Rud. Thou lookest deadly pale.

Geo. It is nothing.

Isa. Heaven's blessing on my gallant George. Geo. (aside.) Dares she bestow a blessing ?-Oh, Martin's tale was frenzy!

Isa. Smile upon us for once, my son; darken not thy brow on this day of gladness-few are our moments of joy-should not my sons share in them?

Geo. (aside.) She has moments of joy—it was frenzy then.

Isa. Gertrude, my love, assist me to disarm the knight (She loosens and takes off his casque).

Ger. There is one, two, three hacks, and none has pierced the steel.

Rud. Let me see. Let me see. A trusty casque ! Ger. Else hadst thou gone.

Isa. I will reward the armourer with its weight in gold.

Geo. (aside.) She must be innocent.

Ger. And Henry's shield is hacked, too. Let me

Ger. Alas! may not the fate of poor Eleanor at this show it to you, uncle.-(She carries Henry's to Rumoment be mine?

Rud. Never, my girl, never-(Military music is heard)—Hark! hark! to the sounds that tell thee so. [All rise and run to the window. Rud. Joy! joy! they come, and come victorious. (The chorus of the war-song is heard without). Welcome! welcome! once more have my old eyes seen the banners of the house of Maltingen trampled in the dust-Isabella, broach our oldest casks: wine is sweet after war.

Enter HENRY, followed by REYNOLD and troopers. Rud. Joy, to thee, my boy : let me press thee to this old heart.

Isa. Bless thee, my son―(embraces him)—Oh, how many hours of bitterness are compensated by this em

diger.)

Rud. Do my love-and come hither, Henry, thou shalt tell me how the day went.

[HENRY and GERTRUDE converse apart with RUDIGER. GEORGE comes forward. ISABELLA comes to him.

Isa. Surely, George, some evil has befallen thee.
Grave thou art ever, but so dreadfully gloomy—
Geo. Evil, indeed.-(Aside.) Now for the trial.
Isa. Has your loss been great?

Geo. No!-Yes !—(Apart.) I cannot do it.
Isa. Perhaps some friend lost?

Geo. It must be.-Martin is dead.-(He regards her with apprehension, but steadily, as he pronounces these words.)

1 [Compare with "The Maid of Toro," in a subsequent part of this volume.

Isa. (starts, then shows a ghastly expression of joy.) Dead!

Geo. (almost overcome by his feelings.) Guilty! Guilty!—(apart.)

Geo. What Martin said? (Isa. hides her face.) It is true!

Isa. (looks up with an air of dignity.) Hear, Framer of the laws of nature! the mother is judged by

Isa. (without observing his emotion.) Didst thou the child-(Turn towards him.) Yes, it is true-true say dead?

Geo. Did I-no-I only said mortally wounded.

Isa. Wounded? only wounded? Where is he? Let me fly to him.-(Going.)

Geo. (sternly.) Hold, lady!-Speak not so loud!— Thou canst not see him!-He is a prisoner.

Isa. A prisoner, and wounded? Fly to his deliverance-Offer wealth, lands, castles,-all our possessions, for his ransom. Never shall I know peace till these walls, or till the grave secures him. Geo. (apart.) Guilty! Guilty!

Enter PETER.

that, fearful of my own life, I secured it by the murder of my tyrant. Mistaken coward! I little knew on what terrors I ran, to avoid one moment's agony.— Thou hast the secret!

Geo. Knowest thou to whom thou hast told it?
Isa. To my son.

Geo. No! No! to an executioner.

Isa. Be it so go, proclaim my crime, and forget not my punishment. Forget not that the murderess of her husband has dragged out years of hidden remorse, to be brought at last to the scaffold by her own cherished son-thou art silent.

Geo. The language of Nature is no more! How

Peter. Hugo, squire to the Count of Maltingen, has shall I learn another? arrived with a message.

Rud. I will receive him in the hall.

[Exit, leaning on GERTRUDE and HENRY. Isa. Go, George-see after Martin.

Geo. (firmly.) No-I have a task to perform; and though the earth should open and devour me alive I will accomplish it. But first-but first-Nature, take thy tribute.—(He falls on his mother's neck, and weeps bitterly.)

Isa. Look upon me, George. Should the executioner be abashed before the criminal-look upon me, my son. From my soul do I forgive thee. Geo. Forgive me what?

Isa. What thou dost meditate—be vengeance heavy, but let it be secret-add not the death of a father to that of the sinner! Oh! Rudiger! Rudiger! innocent cause of all my guilt and all my wo, how wilt thou tear thy silver locks when thou shalt hear her guilt

Isa. George! my son! for Heaven's sake what whom thou hast so often clasped to thy bosom-hear dreadful frenzy! her infamy proclaimed by the son of thy fondest hopes-(weeps).

Geo. (walks two turns across the stage and composes himself.) Listen, mother-I knew a knight in Hungary, gallant in battle,, hospitable and generous in peace. The king gave him his friendship, and the administration of a province; that province was infested by thieves and murderers. You mark me ?— Isa. Most heedfully.

Geo. The knight was sworn-bound by an oath the most dreadful that can be taken by man-to deal among offenders, evenhanded, stern, and impartial justice. Was it not a dreadful vow?

Isa. (with an affection of composure.) Solemn, doubtless, as the oath of every magistrate.

Geo. And inviolable?

Isa. Surely-inviolable.

Geo. Well! it happened, that when he rode out against the banditti, he made a prisoner. And who, think you, that prisoner was?

Isa. I know not (with increasing terror).

Geo. (trembling, but proceeding rapidly.) His own twin brother, who sucked the same breasts with him, and lay in the bosom of the same mother; his brother whom he loved as his own soul-what should that knight have done unto his brother?

Isa. (almost speechless.) Alas! what did he do? Geo. He did (turning his head from her, and with clasped hands) what I can never do :-he did his duty. Isa. My son! my son !-Mercy! Mercy! (Clings to him.)

Geo. Is it then true? Isa. What?

Geo. (struggling for breath.) Nature will have utterance mother, dearest mother, I will save you or perish! (throws himself into her arms.) Thus fall my

VOWS.

Isa. Man thyself! I ask not safety from thee. Never shall it be said, that Isabella of Aspen turned her son from the path of duty, though his footsteps must pass over her mangled corpse. Man thyself.

Geo. No! No! The ties of Nature were knit by God himself. Cursed be the stoic pride that would rend them asunder, and call it virtue!

Isa. My son! My son!-How shall I behold thee hereafter ?

[Three knocks are heard upon the door of the apartment.

Geo. Hark! One-two-three. Roderic, thou art speedy! (Apart.)

Isa. (opens the door.) A parchment stuck to the door with a poniard! (Opens it.) Heaven and earth!—a summons from the invisible judges !-(Drops the parchment.)

Geo. (reads with emotion.) "Isabella of Aspen, accused of murder by poison, we conjure thee, by the cord and by the steel, to appear this night before the avengers of blood, who judge in secret and avenge in secret, like the Deity. As thou art innocent or guilty, so be thy deliverance."-Martin, Martin, thou hast played false !

Isa. Alas! whither shall fly?

Geo. Thou canst not fly; instant death would fol

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