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“ damned spot” on our own souls, or object of which is to‘acquaint us with to approach, without something like the enormities of Beaton, and the miprésumptuous freedom with God, those serable evils they are bringing upon altars of religion before which we have Scotland. We quote the whole of the stood in conflict with man.

last scene of the second act, which exNow, if there be any truth in our hibits Mr Tennant's powers in a highobservations, it is not likely that ly favourable light, and is certainly, those authors will meet with more although a little languid, very beauthan a temporary success, (if, indeed, tiful. Beatrice is the daughter of a they meet even with that,) who en- sea-captain confined in a dungeon by deavour to write, as it were, in op- the Cardinal, and has had her virtue position to the UNKNOWN, and to basely assaulted by him on visiting paint anew the character of the old

the palace to pray her father's release. Covenanters. For it will be found

SCENE IV.-AGarden near the Cathedral. that their portraits are not only less impressive than the others, but also Enter BEATRICE STRANG. not so true to history, and not so ac- I've seen my mother to her couch to rest, cordant with our knowledge of human

And I have said my evening prayers with nature at large. We lay down Ringan Gilhaize, with all its manifest and

And now I seek this flowery solitude, manifold merits, and take up the ma

To entertain my desolated mind gical volumes again, convinced more

With moonlight, and the garden's silent than ever, that such were the living How beautiful

, above the sea, the moon men, and that such only could they Has lighted up her sky-adorning torch, be; allowing, at the same time, that Dimming th' abashed stars, and paving all the Unknown has his prejudices and The bay's expansion, as with twinkling his peculiarities, as well as his neigh

sheets bours, and is no more exempt than Of silver fluent on the flutt'ring wave! ordinary people, from sins that easily Nearer, the hillocks, valleys, rocks, and beset him, although their indulgence,

shores, it must be allowed, has worked no

Flame out in night's best glory; and the deadly effect on his noble and potent

spires spirit.

And copper-garnish'd roofs and pinnacles Perhaps Mr Tennant (in our opi

Of yon Cathedral, gleam and tower on high,

As if exulting to give back the moon nion) is somewhat in the same pre- Her image, and requite her with a sight dicament with Mr Galt. But as this

Of her own glory flung amended back is the first time we have had the plea. By roofs the brightest that she sees on earth. sure of introducing any work of his to The garden, too, is proud, and plumes her. our readers, we shall not occupy with self discussion or disquisition the space On her fair early flowers, which she expands which will be much better filled with Full to the moon, as bragging how her his poetry,

brother The subject of the drama is a con

Has busk'd her out, though she regrets spiracy--and we are partial to conspi

His absence in his sister's sweeter beams. racies. They cannot but be interesting-and every human being, however

Welcome, sweet light, and with thee wel. odious, becomes an object almost of Thoughts of divinely-soothing melancholy, compassion, when we know that he is

That slide, as if by stealth, into the soul, about to be murdered. Yet, in spite And fill it with a stillness calm as thine ! of a conspiracy, it must be confessed, The day, with all its flashy glaring light, that this drama moves rather heavily; Its brawl of bus'ness, shouts, and din of and it is not possible to pay a gentle

wheels, man a worse compliment, than to fall Is well away and buried in the sea. asleep while he is informing you that

To me, and to the sorrowful of heart, he has laid a plan to murder a Cardi

And to the pious saint, and to the lover,

This lonely hour comes on more peacenal, or even a Bishop. The first and second acts, which rather flag, and, al

giving,

And more accordant to their museful mood; though classically, are not spiritedly For I have been in sorrow all the day, written, are occupied in various collo- And having wiped my tears, now forth repair quies between the Cardinal and his

To feed with thoughts my meditative heart. creatures, and also between different

Haply he too, to whom my heart is vow'd, Scottish noblemen and gentlemen, the As late he promised, will appear to bless

not now

come too

more.

a deed

My solitude with his rejoicing presence. That I can do, and Heaven requires no
He knows the house where I am sojourner ;
This is th' appointed place, and this the But joy's rich cup, though tender'd to my
hour

lips, He for the golden interview assign'd. I cannot, may not taste, but pass it by ;

SEATON, (appearing through the bushes.) Deferring till a father's doom be clear'd "Tis she herself-I see the moonlight lie From doubt and danger, which surround it *Asleep upon her neck and on her bosom,

now, As fain to find such precious resting-place; The darker from to-day's occurrences. Diana is not jealous of her beauty,

Seat. What has to-day begot of darker Only because she's like herself so chaste ; doubt, And therefore does the comely Queen of To add to yesterday's as striking perils ? Night,

He, whose stern gripe commands thy faAs if right merry to behold in her

ther's life, A maiden so completely her compeer, Is cruel, cruel, every day alike. Concentre all her yellow streaming beams Beat. His cruelty is madden'd now by To gild my love more ravishingly fair !

spite, [To BEATRICE. And indignation of imagined wrong. Heaven's richest happiness be with thee, Seat. What means my fair by these unsweet,

certain words? And every joy which thy perfection merits ! Beat. Oh, Seaton ! I to-day have dared O let me press to this unworthy bosom A beauty and a worth so excellent,

Above the venture of a timid maid : It is my ardour only merits it!

Into thy heart I will confide it all.Beat. 0, thou art come, my love, in Him, the proud master of yon citadel, needful time,

The tyrant of our shire, and of the land, To gladden me amid the household griefs Whose arbitrary gripe of iron seized That Heaven hath sent to purify our hearts : And dragg'd my father to his house of How strange to meet here in a place so

gloom, strange,

Him have I pray'd, and on my knees beIn such an hour, and plight so sorrowful!

sought, How diff'rent, when we took our evening Reck’ning too strongly on the fervency walks

Of a fond daughter's suit, to liberate By the moon's light upon the lofty shore, His innocent and pining prisoner. Whence we o'erlook'd the rolling ocean That prayer refused as bold, I did beseech from

A little boon-leave to revisit oft The sea-marge to the fiery-beacon'd May ! And cherish him with tender offices. Then how light-hearted in our happiness ! Alas, a fruitless suit! I might as well How little boded we our present cares !

Beseech the blast to blow not, and to spare Yet there are yet, I hope, good things for The wrecking ship it drives upon the shore. us ;

Nay, his chid spirit, roused and mortified He who commands this stillness, and o'er. By my contemning his opprobrious proffers, spreads

Burns now with hotter irritation, which Heaven's changeful face with such a robe May fall too fatal on a father's head. of light,

Seat. Oh, hideous heart of cruelty and Will yet o'erspread our count'nances with

wrong! joy.

Oh, fiend ! too worthy of thy hate and mine ! Seat. Oh, fair ! thou canst not be where Though well to thee I could have prophesied joy is not !

That idle supplication's evil issue. Methinks thy person is enshrined within He is incensed, not only that thy father An unseen heav'nly tabernacle of joy ; Has foster'd what is misnamed heresy, And Love and Honour are the cherubim Incurring thence an honourable blot; That hover o'er thee with their golden But that Balcaskie's house of Strang, whose

wings. Where goodness is, there must be happi- You share, with distant consanguinity, ness;

Exerts, with all the neighb'ring families, Sorrow may fly across it as a bird ;

A bold hostility against his power. But in the virtuous bosom, as its nest, Thence, as if conscious of conspiracy, Peace as the halcyon builds, as did the He shuts himself in stern relentlessness : swallow

But long he cannot rule. Already he Within God's altar at Jerusalem.

O'erplays the tyrant, to his own destruction; Beat. Yea, Peace must be where Pa. Which hovers now, suspended o'er his head tience is; and I

By a thin hair, like Damocles's sword. Can keep my spirit patient and submiss, Some plot is sprouting, and will ripen soon : When God, who gives the grief, requires Events must burst; and fate can't labour submission,

long As sign of acquiescence in his will ; Against the pressure of necessity.

name

thee;

come

Beat. Yet, Seaton, if this man upon him- The glitt'ring-roof'd cathedral's midmost self

spire, Compels destruction from the hands of foes, Flinging its long sharp shadow at our feet, I cannot bear that thou shouldst be involved Reminding us of midnight, and the hour In being party to the fate of him,

At which even those who love like unto us Whom thou had'st reason, for thy damsel's Must-'tis a word I scarce can speaksake,

Beat.

Must part. To call and deem a cruel enemy.

We have too long made solemn night, with Seat. My fair one! I revere thee for

all that word :

Her serious starry daughters of the sky, Though not the less for thee, and for my- A witness of our idle colloquy. self,

And yet I cannot err while talking with And for my country, I might well be clear'd, In aiding that the murderer may perish, And yet--Good night !--that word must Who seeks to rid the world of honest men.-

come at last, You see how he has summon'd to this city Though long it loiters on a lover's lips. His crowd of minion priests, that swarming Seat. Good night, my love! Good an

gels guard you well ! To cause to-morrow perish at the stake Beat. Adieu, my boy! sweet sleep beA saint, whose vestments are of holiness.

dew your pillow ! And he has other deaths more manifold And Heaven awake us to sweet peace toOn hand, comprizing all the flower of Fife.

morrow! [Exeunt severally. These slaughters can be only obviated,

The conspirators are long baffled in By crushing the contriver's cursed head :

their designs against Beaton's life; and His own devices must entangle him ;

Wishart, whom they had hoped to His pit, for others dug, must swallow him! Beat. I see the meaning, then, of all this

save, is martyred. The description of stir

the martyrdom is good. And flocking thither of the laity;

Carmichael. No sooner had th' appointTheir broils and bickerings with priestly

ed moment come, men ;

When from the Castle's gate the gentle Their scoffs at girdled friars and mitres

saint passing;

Appear'd, all radiant with sweet smiles of Their mutterings and whispers where they joy, stand

Amid a threat’ning multitude of spears : In lonely lanes, and corners of the streets, His hands were shackled, yet his lips were Group'd into gloomy knots, discussing

free something

To utter blessings on the guards about him: Mysterious, and of terrible import.

Their ruffian faces, as they heard his words, Even now, we hear at times the distant Stream'd down a river of unwonted tears, sound,

Beseeching pardon, they were thus enforced As of th' explosion of confined wrath ; To do their office so unmercifully. Shouts, as of furious quarrellers; and cries, Two beggars stood by the wayside, and As of fierce men infuriated with wine,

craved Assaulting, or assaulted in the streets. An alms ; I have no hands to-day, he said, Such signs, I doubt, betoken some black To give an alms, but God will give his storm

blessing. About to agitate this fated town.

Thus onward all the way, serene as if Yet those have nought to fear, whom love He was to mount the pulpit, not the scaf

told, Unite and harmonize in holy joy.

Till he arrived at the prepared place : As the moon rides serene, regarding not And then he kiss'd his executioner, Earth's petty noises, far beneath her orb; Who blubber'd sorrow, as he chain'd him to E'en so, may both our happy hearts, su- The stake, and lighted the first faggot up; blimed

Which when the crowd saw flaming, all Into the orbit of celestial peace, Look down unharm’d, exulting from their Out from the nearest to th'extremest circle, height,

'Gan heave throughout with surly agitaOn the black storm of passion as it breaks,

tion, Wrecking the lives of miserable men ! Like ocean by a sudden whirlwind whipt: Seat. Thy words, my love, are all of hea- Then shouts of shame,' and cries of mur. venly charm,

der,' rose; And too divine for earthly-minded men, Then had they forward press'd, and tram. Who borrow from the very dregs they're pled out made of

At once both headsman's life and faggot's Inevitable drossiness of soul.

fire, But see, the moon seems now high-pitch'd But that they saw, high on the Castle's above

walls,

and peace

its niass,

The cannoniers a-tiptoe, with their reeds He swaggers in his words, a well-tongued Just hov'ring for th’ explosion, and the braggart, mouths

But Card’nal's big hat is the bug for him ; Metallic, that were glutted rich with death, It scares him as the scare-crow does the Frowning upon them, ready at one volley

bird. To sweep th' encumber'd street from end O shame, shame, shame! I will not brook to end.

it longer ; Meantime the heavens had pallid them- I will be at him greedily to-morrow ; selves all round

I will not sleep till I have purged our In mourning of funereal thunder-clouds;

shire, And, just as that first faggot was lit up, And made it cleaner by the scoundrel's Wept such a show'r of heavy drops, as soon

death! Quench'd into blackness the obnoxious What say you to it? Shall I go alone, flame.

And through some port-hole worm into his Thrice was it fired by man, and thrice again

castle ? Heaven's rain descended to extinguish it ; Or will ye be my pioneers, to break Till, at the last, man's stubborn hate pre- Way through his doors, with lever and vail'd:

with axe ? At which the thunder mutter'd down to Were I but in, I'd hang him on his bedearth

post; His indignation, and the eastern sky He is too vile for stabbing now, I think! Let loose a blast upon the town, that shook Men-cover'd steeples, walls, and tottering Let us hasten on to the catastrophe, roofs,

which is stern and murderous. Whereby all hearts were terrified, lest God Was loosening the foundations of the world. Cardinal. If ye but spare my life, I'll Norman. And what were Beaton and

let you in. his pack about,

Melvil. Haply we may, my Lord, if ye're Amid this elemental hurly-burly ?

but kind, Stood he beside the pile to ply the bellows ? And entertain us strangers hospitably, Or sat he in his painted room at ease, Admitting us at once into your heart. Playing at cards, and cheating Paisley's Card. Swear by God's wounds, that you Abbot ?

will spare my life, Carm. I saw the villain-he was thrust And I'll unbolt. upon

Nor. By Heav'n, I'll not swear so ; Mine and the people's eyes obtrusively ; I should be perjured-guilty and blasphemer, I watch'd his looks, his gestures, as he lay Tunswear by such an impious startling Prank'd in his Romish ceremonial robes,

oath On tufts of purple, o'er his western window, What I have sworn more piously, and more Marking with hellish curiosity

Conform’dly to the customs of good men. The progress of the saint-devouring flame; Open, my Lord, I cannot trifle longerI saw him and his prelates laughing loud, [They break open the door, and rush And wagging to each other, where they lay,

in. (O monstrous !) nods of execrable triumph, Car. (fulling into a chair.) Oh, Norman As round the suff'rer, waving red and high,

Lesslie! wilt thou murder me? The flames reluctantly came narrowing, Spare-I was once thy friend—I'll give And closed him in at last amid those spires,

thee gold, Whence his just spirit bounding sprung to Lands, houses, anything, but spare my heaven !

life! Nor. Abominable outrage! tell it not Nor. Gold, houses, lands ! No, no, I'm Again, Carmichael, in fair Scottish ground;

not the man Lest stones and turf should rise up in our To barter vengeance for a candle's snuff; faces,

I do not come a pedlar to your chamber; And brand us publicly with cowardice ;- I come th' avenger of myself and country. Nay, tell it everywhere—sound it about Card'nal, I'll not detain you long ; -thou From tops of hills, from parish-churches' hast spires,

Upon thy hand a journey tedious long, At borough-crosses, ferries, and fire-sides, (Though not to Falkland—that is superse. That men may rise in mass exasperated,

ded ;) And rush into our county, rating us, The pale hell-follow'd korse stands at thy Crying, Lives there a Sheriff in this shire,

gate, That like a stream injustice so runs down ? With pendent stirrups ready for thy feet Or are there men, or are there milksops in Tascend and seat thee in the vacant sad

it? Ay, there's a Sheriff, 'twill be said, but he I hear him neighing for thee in thy court; Wears breeches only, not the sword of Therefore I shall be brief. Card'nal, thou justice;

know'st VOL. XIV.

3 H

dle ;

lived ;

not

This paper, this poor-written, crooked From violation ere the nuptial night; scribble

All these abominations are gone down [Takes out and shews him the list of To Tophet with thee, to perfume thy soul

names marked in his hand-writing With very quintessence of sin's rank odours, for death. ]

And make it dear to Satan! Kenn'st it? The crank o' the writing, Strang.

How he died kenn'st thou it ?

Like to a coward ! Seest thou my father's name, my uncle Carm.

Like a fool he died; John's,

Heard you him recommend his Rying soul Mine own, all damnably consign'd to death, Unto his Maker ? Not a word of that ; By some most cowardly and cruel foe, His thonghts and his regrets were fixt alone Whom, could I once find out, and see be- On loss of life and lucre, hugging them, fore me,

Poor worldlings to the last. I'd rate him to the teeth with his misdeeds, Lumsdain.

E'en let him go; Till his teeth chatter'd with the chill of Now that we're fairly done with him on death;

earth, I would unsheath mine honest poniard at Let him e'en pass away into his place, him,

Without unworthy words of contumely. And stab him-thus.--- [Stabs him. All blotch'd with sinful vileness as he is, Card. Fy, fy, I am a priest

In pace requiescat : So I say. Mel.

Yea, so indeed Kirkaldy, (entering:) Surely be's caught; Thou art, but one of Satan, not of God :

he 'scaped not from my postern. The priest of God died yesterday, and rode Carm. See the wolf slain that raged in To Paradise upon his wheels of fire.

God's fold! The priest of Satan only dies to-day, Kirk. 'Tis but a bloody sight, and yet, Though he deserved long ago to die,

my friends, That so the priest of God might yet have I give you gratulation for myself

And for my country! In part 'twas my neglect, which to atone Strang. Yea, except the Guise, I give it thee, though late. (Stabs him. And her oppressive Frenchmen, who will Carm. Hold, hold, my friends, though wrathful, hold a space;

Be merry at the news ? Too hotly Passion, for such serious act, Carm.

But see, the people, Inflames and irritates the body's nerve, Alarm'd and anxious, are collecting fast Casting a shade of blame on that which Before the gate, to know what's going on; ought

To satisfy and quiet them, let us To be all blameless as fair Justice is. Uplift for exposition on the window O wicked man, repent thee, ere thou die, The body of the man, who yesterday Of thy most cruel murder-stained life! Gazed from that very place upon the death Lo, lo, the dry white ashes of God's saint, Of one his malice had condemn'd to fire ; Seen from thy window, yet lie heaped high, Ah ! little boding his own sudden end ! Crying to heaven for thiy nefarious blood, So shall his cruel blood, like Jezebel's, To slake and satisfy and keep them down Be sprinkled on the wall ; and linger there, From being scatter'd by the scoffing winds ! Its stains unwash'd by future winters' Here then, before my God, I do protest,

rains That nor thy person's hatred, nor the love For many a generation, that our sons, Of thy large treasured wealth, nor any fear And our sons' sons, may take good note of Of danger from thy lawless boundless

it, power,

And passing, say, Yet sce upon these stones Moves me to this; it is because thou art The blood of him who slew the Saints of Th’ obstinate foe of God, and of his saints,

God! And of his holy gospel and his law,

[Curtain falls. That I have urged my long-demurring soul To this revenge, so cool, so unimpassion'd, There are no fewer than thirty cha-/ For God, and for his Church. (Stabs him. racters in this drama. Of course, they

Card. Fy, fy, oh, all is gone! (He dies. are almost all sketches; and we do Nor.

Ay, all is gone; not, in general, see in them much All cruelty, all wickedness, all lust,

power, freedom, or originality. NorThrough which our poor land hath been

man Lesslie is the best ; and Beatrice weeping long,

Strang, as will have been seen, is an Happily gone, evanish'd with thy life! Men now shall breathe in Scotland ; they the drama lies in the simplicity and

interesting maiden. The chief merit of shall read Their Bibles on the house-tops all aloud strength of its language, which is at Unto the passers-by ; and lovers now once homely and classical, and throughShall 'spouse their pretty virgins, quite se

out shews the scholar. It is full of cure

indisputable proofs of Mr Tennant's

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