LESSON LXXXII.

Scene from Percy's Masque.-HILLHOUSE.

A court before the stables. Rook alone.

[Enter WESTMORELAND.]

West. Which way went Arthur? Rook. Toward the wood, my lord, With Shiek, and Lady Bayard by the bit, Scarce cooled since yesterday.

West.
Rook.

Whither?

Heaven knows,

Not I.-Perhaps, on Percy's service.

West.

Rook,

If thou guard'st not that venomed tougue

Rook. No doubt, no doubt, my lord, he ably serves you : Much better than a poor plain vassal, bred

In good old Westmoreland, of seed that's known,
And served your father well, and might, mayhap,
Lead out a course as well as he. Nor spleen,
Nor malice prompt me, my good lord, but love
And true allegiance. Could your lordship list.
A rare adventure that befel me, late,
Upon the hunt?

West. If it concern me, speak.

Rook. My lord, I sometimes ride upon the chase,
An humble follower, like the rest, of Arthur.
Not long ago, leading us up and down
Under a burning sun, the livelong day,

He stopped at evening, midst a group of huts,
Sequestered in the Cheviots. In a dingle,
Divided from the rest, some furlongs, stood
Three lonely cabins: there, by strict command,
The train was sheltered; but, for lack, my lord,
Of room, my steed was stabled in a barn,
Planted amidst the thick of cottages.
When I had slept, methought, an hour or twain,
I woke; and as I mused, upon my straw,
Chanced to remember somewhat left undone,
Most needful for my harrased beast. I rose;

And drawing towards the green, (the moon being bright,)
Round which the dwellings of the hamlet stood,
Descried a press of peasants by a door

Stopping, I thro' the smoky lattice saw
Within, encompassed by a gazing crowd,
Our noble leader high in argument.
West. Arthur?

Rook. The same, my lord-Greyheaded men,
And boys, and all between, stock still, agape,
Swallowed his words like tidings from the grave;
While he, with gesture fierce, and eyes like beacons,
Of Hotspur spoke.

West. Of Hotspur !

Rook. Ha!-he comes !Ever, my lord, he named him—

West. Peace! begone!

When the stir's past, of this day and the next,

I'll more of this. Begone! [Exit Rook.] How dare he touch That theme among my vassals ?-Hotspur! ha! [Enter PERCY.]

Per. Joy to my lord, and his illustrious dame, That conquering Henry draws so near to Warkworth. West. Thou'rt well encountered.-But a day he stays, And means to hunt, and 1 a course would hold, Worthy my King. Look to your charge. Be found In trim with horses, hawks, hounds, harness, train, Glistening and plumed for speed. Send Ivo out To warn the Cheviot warden.

Per. Good, my lord,

Fear not. What say ye to a Masque, my lord,
After the chase, in honour of the King?

West. A Masque ?

Per. After the banquet, with my lord's good leave, I know a little pageant that might draw

Attention from your guests, and royal kinsman.

West. "Twould please me, sir: take warrant for't.
Vizards, and hoods, and mail, are all we need.

Per.

West. Open the armory.

Per. Please, my gracious lord,

That busy meddling fools pry not about me.

West. Hie to your task!

[Exit PERCY.]

That Rook regards him with jaundiced eye,
Hates, and would cast him, gladly, from my favour,
Full well I know. There's large allowance :-still,
To name amidst those peevish, factious slaves,
The race they worship dearer than their God,
Is treason. None that loved me e'er would do it.
Anon I'll know the meaning of this tale.

[Exit

LESSON LXXXIII.

Scene from Hadad.--HILLHOUSE.

SCENE. The garden of ABSALOM's house on Mount Zion, near the palace, overlooking the city. TAMAR sitting by a fountain.

Tam. How aromatick evening grows! The flowers, And spicy shrubs exhale like onycha;

Spikenard and henna emulate in sweets.

Blest hour! which He, who fashioned it so fair,

So softly glowing, so contemplative,

Hath set, and sanctified to look on man.

Heaven

And lo! the smoke of evening sacrifice
Ascends from out the tabernacle.
Accept the expiation, and forgive

This day's offences !-Ha! the wonted strain,
Precursor of his coming!-Whence can this→
It seems to flow from some unearthly hand--
Enter HADAD.

Had Does beauteous Tamar view, in this clear fount, Herself, or heaven?

Tam. Nay, Hadad, tell me whence Those sad, mysterious sounds.

Had. What sounds, dear Princess?

Tam. Surely, thou know'st; and now I almost think

Some spiritual creature waits on thee.

Had. I heard no sounds, but such as evening sends Up from the city to these quiet shades;

A blended murmur sweetly harmonizing

With flowing fountain, feathered minstrelsy,
And voices from the hills.

Tam. The sounds I mean,

Floated like mournful musick round my head,
From unseen fingers.

Had.

When?

Tam. Now, as thou camest.

Had. "Tis but thy fancy, wrought
To ecstasy; or else thy grandsire's harp
Resounding from his tower at eventide.
I've lingered to enjoy its solemn tones,
Till the broad moon, that rose o'er Olivet,
Stood listening in the zenith; yea, have deemed
Viols and heavenly voices answered him.

Tam. But these-

Had.

Were we in Syria, I might say

The Naiad of the fount, or some sweet nymph,
The goddess of these shades, rejoiced in thee,
And gave thee salutations; but I fear

Judah would call me infidel to Moses.

Tam. How like my fancy! When these strains precede Thy steps, as oft they do, I love to think

Some gentle being, who delights in us,

Is hovering near, and warns me of thy coming;
But they are dirge-like.

Had. Youthful fantasy,

Attuned to sadness, makes them seem so, lady.
So evening's charming voices, welcomed ever,
As signs of rest and peace ;-the watchman's call,
The closing gates, the Levite's mellow trump,
Announcing the returning moon, the pipe
Of swains, the bleat, the bark, the housing-bell,
Send melancholy to a drooping soul.

Announced in terrours, coupled with the threats
Of an inflexible and dreadful Being,

Whose word annihilates, whose awful voice
Thunders the doom of nations, who can check
The sun in Heaven, and shake the loosened stars,
Like wind-tossed fruit, to earth, whose fiery step
The earthquake follows, whose tempestuous breath
Divides the sea, whose anger never dies,
Never remits, but everlasting burns,

Burns unextinguished in the deeps of Hell.
Jealous, implacable--

Tam. Peace! impious! peace!

Had. Ha! says not Moses so?

The Lord is jealous.

Tam. Jealous of our faith,

Our love, our true obedience, justly his;
And a poor recompense for all his favours.
Implacable he is not; contrite man

Ne'er found him so.

Had. But others have,

If oracles be true.

Of them; and nothing of their dire offence.

Had. I meant not to displease, love; but my soul
Sometimes revolts, because I think thy nature
Shudders at him and yonder bloody rites.
How dreadful! when the world awakes to light,
And life, and gladness, and the jocund tide
Bounds in the veins of every happy creature,
Morning is ushered by a murdered victim,
Whose wasting members reek upon the air,
Polluting the pure firmament; the shades
Of evening scent of death; almost, the shrine
O'ershadowed by the holy Cherubim ;

And where the clotted current from the altar
Mixes with Kedron, all its waves are gore.
Nay, nay, I grieve thee-'tis not for myself,
But that I fear these gloomy things oppress
Thy soul, and cloud its native sunshine.

Tam. (in tears, clasping her hands.)
Witness, ye Heavens! Eternal Father, witness!
Blest God of Jacob! Maker! Friend! Preserver.!
That with my heart, my undivided soul
I love, adore, and praise thy glorious name,
Confess thee Lord of all, believe thy laws
Wise, just, and merciful as they are true.
O Hadad, Hadad! you misconstrue much
The sadness that usurps me-'tis for thee
I grieve--for hopes that fade-for your lost soul,
And my lost happiness.

Had. O say not so,

Beloved Princess. Why distrust my faith?

Tam. Thou knowest alas, my weakness; but remember,

I never, never will be thine, although

The feast, the blessing, and the song were past,

Though Absalom and David called me bride,

Till sure thou own'st, with truth, and love sincere,
The Lord Jehovah.

Had.

Leave me not--Hear, hear

I do believe--I know that Being lives

Whom you adore. Ah! stay

Which Moses had not.

by proofs I know

Tam. Prince, unclasp my hand. (Exit)