H-a.66
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 T'ULB\m.N CAPOTE 
 
 AN ORIENTAL TALE 
 
 OTHER COMPOSITIONS 
 IN PROSE AND VERSE
 
 
 : 
 
 6*t 
 
 y
 

 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE, 
 
 AN ORIENTAL TALE, 
 
 OTHER COMPOSITIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It is, perhaps, advisable to premise that the first tale ill this collection 
 was written before the appearance of the Serenade in Bon Grualtier's 
 Ballads, which it resembles in the style of its hnmour, such as it is. 
 Both of us are probably indebted for the idea to the same source, namely, a 
 passage in "Little Pedlington," an amusing jeu-desprit by Poole, published 
 many years' ago, I think in Colburn's Magazine. 
 
 The other pieces are printed very much in the order in which, at 
 various intervals, they were written ; which wiU account for the jumble 
 of grave and gay which they present. The Opera libretto was written 
 during the earlier phases of the invasion panic. Though a burlesque 
 view is taken of it, the author must by no means be supposed to under- 
 value the real necessity of precaution : and he trusts that no one will 
 imagine him a supporter of that greatest of all humbugs — the Peace 
 Society. 
 
 Jublo
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE, AN ORIENTAL TALE 
 
 THE SIEGE OF ALTENAHR, FROM THE GERMAN 
 
 HYMN OF THE GREEK EXILES 
 
 LINES ON THE ALHAMBItA 
 
 LTNES ON THE LAKES 
 
 LINES ON BUTTERMERE 
 
 HOME AND BRITAIN, A FRAGMENT 
 
 LA SOPRESA Dl LONDRA 
 
 ASTRONOMY 
 
 THE COMBAT AT GRENADA 
 
 CHARADES .... 
 
 PROLOGUE .... 
 
 THE NOBLE AUTHOR. FHOM THE FRENCH 
 
 Y1SION OE THE PAST AND FUTURE 
 
 i'AGE. 
 
 . 1 
 
 . 21 
 
 . 23 
 
 . 28 
 
 . 30 
 
 . 34 
 
 . 36 
 
 . 39 
 
 . 57 
 
 . 59 
 66, 67 
 
 . 70 
 
 . 73 
 
 . 83
 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 AN ORIENTAL TALE 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES BUGG, 
 EDITED AND EEVISED BY THOMAS HUME
 
 fK 
 
 PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. , ^ 
 
 We believe that a tale of intrinsic merit like this requires little 
 preface of ours to recommend it to the impartial reader. The wonderful 
 accuracy of the descriptions and the perfect Oriental tone and colouring 
 of the story will at once be its passport to applause ; but when Ave add, 
 that it was written by a Bugg, then will envy itself be silent. The 
 Author of " The Magnanimous Miscreant, a tale of Chivalry," of " The 
 Mysterious Manslaughter," and many other works whose celebrity is 
 equal to their excellence, needs not our feeble praise. 
 
 One word as to how this last effusion of his genius fell into our 
 hands. We married his third cousin, and she being the nearest 
 living relative, to her he left his manuscripts. "We say he left them, 
 for alas he is departed from us. He died about three months ago, 
 repeating the words of his favourite poet, Montgomery, 
 
 My soul, aspiring-, tries to mount, 
 
 As streams meander level with their fount. 
 
 Tet another word. Bugg had no near relations, but he had fifteen 
 third cousins. Can it be that not one of these has been provided for 
 by an admiring country ? Is it possible that the third cousin of such a 
 man as Bugg is left to gain a livelihood by his or her own exertions ? 
 Alas ! the pen drops from our hand while we write an indignant 
 affirmative. We could say more, but we cast a veil over our private 
 wrongs. 
 
 In conclusion we have only to say that if the name of a Huinm is 
 ever associated with that of a Bugg, our labour will indeed be repaid. 
 
 Thomas Humm.
 
 PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 The manuscript containing the following tale was put into my hands 
 by a friend of mine, a Turk, who sold the staple commodity of his 
 country, viz. Rhubarb. It had been translated from the original Arabic 
 by himself, and therefore the accuracy of the allusions may be relied on. 
 Unfortunately we have to deplore a very considerable hiatus in the body 
 of the work, but the beginning and the end having been preserved we 
 presume it is all that is necessary to attract the attention of modern 
 readers. 
 
 James Bvgg.
 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In a chamber of a cupola, situated in a sequestered vale in Anatolia, 
 was listlessly seated a young man, who is about to occupy a prominent 
 place in this narrative. He was richly dressed in oriental costume, and 
 reclining on a soft and luxurious caravan ; besides him, lay his favourite 
 chibouque, on the strings of which he would occasionally carelessly throw 
 his hand and draw a few wild notes. The shades of evening were be- 
 ginning to lower over the palm trees in the distance, when, as seemed to 
 have been long expected, a slight rustling was heard, and a scented billet 
 fell at his feet, having been evidently thrown through the window. He 
 opened it with eagerness, and read as follows, " thou whose voice is plea- 
 santer to my ears, than the song of the Otto,* as it nutters amid the 
 rose-gardens of AVallachia ; and whose presence is more pleasing than 
 the balmy simoom of Benhadad, know that she who adores thee will be 
 ready for thy visit at the hour of midnight. My trusty Albanian Capote 
 shall lead thee to my bower. Till then may the guardian ghoule of thy 
 ancestors watch over thy slumbers. Thine, Fustanella." He pressed the 
 note to his lips and muttering, " Till then no sleep shall visit these 
 eyelids," sat down to wait for the appointed time. 
 
 * A bird which haunts rose-gardens, thence usually called the Otto of Roses.
 
 6 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 The clock of a distant mosque had but just struck the hour of 12, 
 when a low tap at the door announced the arrival of the Albanian Capote. 
 He was a tall swarthy man, whose countenance was adorned by a pair of 
 immense black mustachios. A stiletto, or long fowling-piece, was slung 
 over his shoulder, while a palikar stuck into his girdle completed his equip- 
 ment. Having muttered the usual salutation of " Peri Banou," (I 
 hope you are well), at the same time doffing the caique or fur cap he wore 
 upon his head, he motioned to the expectant youth to follow. Selim, for 
 so our hero was called, hesitated not an instant, but throwing his ample 
 tarboosh over his shoulders, prepared to follow his somewhat dubious 
 conductor. 
 
 The latter then drew from his breast a small yataghan, and having 
 carefully trimmed the wick, he lit it at some coals which were still 
 burning in the fireplace, and they both sallied forth. 
 
 Their way lay through a thicket of palm trees, and the track, which 
 was narrow, was obstructed by various Oriental shrubs, such as the 
 Delirium Tremens and others, whose botanical names we deem it unne- 
 cessary to give. Amongst them, however, might occasionally be seen 
 the deadly Upas tree, which they were obliged carefully to avoid on 
 account of its noxious properties. At the same time the light of the 
 yataghan frequently detected the presence of the hookah, a small but 
 venomous snake which they took care to abstain from treading on, though 
 it often lay directly in their path. 
 
 It was not long before the white walls and green Venetian blinds of 
 the abode of Fustanella appeared in the distance. They cautiously ap. 
 proached the place, the guide then turned aside, and unlocking a postern 
 gate, ushered Selim into a dark passage, whence he soon emerged into 
 the chamber of his mistress.
 
 THE ALBAMAX CAPOTE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The apartment, which he now entered, was strikingly oriental in its 
 magnificence. The table in the centre was covered with a richly em- 
 broidered kalioun, one of the most expensive products of Samarcand, the 
 wealthy capital of Alexandria. The chairs were of the wood of the 
 Siberian cocoa-nut, while the walls had been papered in the most elegant 
 manner by Mingrehan artists brought expressly from Japan for that 
 purpose. But now Ave must describe the fair occupant of this gorgeous 
 chamber. Her face and figure were lovely beyond description. She was 
 dressed in a brilliant scarlet papoosh, trimmed with the ermine of 
 Ethiopia ; on her feet she wore two beautiful small caftans, ornamented 
 with jewels, while her headdress was a superb mandolin, from which her 
 hair escaping in many folds added new graces to her faultless form. Such 
 was Eustanella, the only daughter of Khanum Bashaw, the wealthy 
 governor of the island of Bagdad. 
 
 Scarcely had Selim entered, when he was addressed by Fustanella 
 in these words, "Alas, my Selim, I fear we shall not have many 
 moments to converse together. My father is gone to the midnight mass 
 at the mosque, which he never omits, and I expect his return every 
 moment." "If that be so," rejoined the impetuous lover, "why not 
 employ the precious moments in flying with me. Thy dromedary waits at 
 the door without, it will speedily convey us out of the reach of pursuit. 
 Ely, then, with me, and be happy!" Eustanella hesitated a moment, 
 then saying, " Selim, I am thine till doomsday," prepared to follow her 
 lover.
 
 THE ALBANIA?? CAPOTE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Titey found, as he had said, the dromedary held by the Capote standing 
 at the door. As the Albanian, unwilling to be left to the rage of his 
 master, insisted on accompanying them, they had some difficulty in 
 accommodating themselves ; but at length each mounting one of the two 
 humps of the animal, and placing the lady in the hollow between, they 
 immediately sped away at the rate of 1 8 miles an hour. 
 
 Khanum Bashaw was a man much in favour with his sovereign, and 
 had recently been invested with the order of the bowstring, which is 
 analogous to our garter in England. When, therefore, he found that 
 all pursuit had been vain, and that his servants, after inquiring at all 
 the inns and turnpikes for twenty miles round, had returned discomfited, 
 he resolved to lay the complaint of the daring abduction of his daughter 
 before the King. Immediately ordering his elephant, and sending his 
 heavy baggage by waggon, he started forth on his journey to the court 
 of Constantine the Vth, the illustrious Emperor of Turkey. We leave 
 him journeying over the wilds of Tartary on his way to Constantinople, 
 while we return to the fortunes of Selim and his bride.
 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Their way lay across a sandy desert, over which their dromedary bore 
 them with undiminished vigour. At noon they halted, and made their 
 simple repast off the wild gooseberries, which are always found growing 
 in profusion in those countries. On pursuing their journey, Selim 
 guided his beast towards a narrow pass, where the overhanging rocks 
 nearly met above their heads. They had not gone far, before the barrels 
 of several guns were seen gleaming from the bushes, and a loud voice 
 commanded them to stop. In a moment the travellers were surrounded 
 by a band of ferocious odalisques, in number sufficient to render all 
 resistance absolutely vain. Notwithstanding this, the Albanian drew a 
 pistol from his belt, and levelled it at the head of one of the bandits ; 
 but, fortunately, the cap did not explode, and he was immediately 
 disarmed. Selim himself, however, strange to say, seemed to be under 
 no apprehension ; but, calmly dismounting, said to Fustanella, " I 
 have long concealed my secret from thee, know then that I am a 
 Giaour !" She heard no more, but fainted away.
 
 10 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLII. 
 
 It was the first of March, and the noonday sun was darting his fiery 
 beams over one of the loveliest valleys of Arabia. The sides of the 
 mountains were fringed with the graceful palm, from which hung vines 
 in wild luxuriance, their full ripe bunches testifying to the fertility of the 
 country : from out the dense foliage many obelisks might be seen to rear 
 their graceful spires, and the waving fields of golden corn completed the 
 beauty of the prospect. 
 
 On the summit of a crag, which overlooked this beautiful vale, two 
 figures were reclining. The foremost was a tall graceful man, clothed in a 
 picturesque musnud ; a dress, however, which did not interfere with the 
 freedom of his movements ; a pair of pistols was slung at his belt, and a 
 ponderous crooked scimitar was slung at his side. The other was a dark 
 man of Herculean proportions, habited in much the same manner as the 
 former, though not so sumptuously ; he carried, in addition, two long 
 stilettos, of which he occasionally carefully examined the locks. We 
 believe our readers will have had no difficulty in at once recognising 
 Selim and his faithful Albanian, whose name we may as well mention 
 was Ispahan, the Turkish appellation of Stephen. 
 
 These two personages appeared to be watching for something ap- 
 proaching at the further end of the valley, which they could easily discern 
 from their elevated situation. At length, Selim, shutting the pocket- 
 telescope that he had been using, exclaimed, " He comes ;" and he and 
 his companion immediately descended the mountain with great precipita- 
 tion.
 
 THE AXBA.NIAN CAPOTK. \\ 
 
 CHAPTEK XLIII. 
 
 The object he had descried at that distance, was a handsome white 
 elephant, which was coming along at a leisurely pace. He bore a mag- 
 nificent sherbet upon his back, in which was deposited the august person 
 of Khanum ; and was surrounded by a guard of about fifty b unlooses, or 
 irregular cavalry, mounted on handsome Arabian mares, each worth at least 
 a hundred Turkish piastres. The Bashaw was reclining in an easy position, 
 and indolently smoking a janissary, or long pipe, from which he sent forth 
 clouds of perfumed smoke all around him. Behind him, on the elephant's 
 back, sat Mustapha, his favourite black slave, and the most expert story- 
 teller of Asia- Minor, or indeed of the whole of Antioch. He was at that 
 moment engaged in commencing a tale for the edification of his master, 
 when unfortunately he was interrupted by a tremendous shout of " Bos 
 for uss !" (your money or your life), which proceeded from the daring 
 Albanian. 
 
 Before the cavalry which composed the Bashaw's guard had recovered 
 from their surprise, Stephen rushed forward, and seized the bridle of the 
 leading horseman. His example was speedily followed by more than 
 fifty other bandits, and an irregular fight instantly commenced. For his 
 part, Selim impetuously advanced against the elephant, and in a loud 
 voice, ordered Khanum instantly to surrender and descend. The reply 
 was a pistol-ball, fired with so true an aim, that it pierced the showy 
 minaret he wore upon his head. In fact, the Bashaw was an old 
 soldier, and by no means deficient in bravery, having in his younger days 
 served against the Curds, that live in the Creamea. Driven to extremi- 
 ties, the bandit chief shot the elephant through the heart ; the mighty
 
 12 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 animal with a groan sunk down dead, and its rider was thrown with 
 violence to the ground : Selhn, saying, " Yield, you are now my prisoner ;" 
 immediately disarmed him, and gave him in charge to one of his men. 
 The old man, seeing further resistance vain, resigned himself to his fate, 
 consoling himself with the repetition of the well-known Arabian proverb, 
 " An ass may eat a thousand thistles in a day, but for all that, a swan is 
 not better than a goose." 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIY. 
 
 Meanwhile the fight was continued with various success in other 
 quarters, but chiefly to the advantage of the bandits. In one part, 
 however, it was still undecided where the Albanian Capote and the 
 Arabian Burnoose were fighting hand to hand. The encounter between 
 these stern and redoubted warriors was terrible : the sparks fell in an 
 unremitting shower from their scimitars as they clashed together ; and 
 for a long time, no advantage was perceptible on either side. At length 
 Stephen aimed a tremendous blow at his adversary's legs; the latter 
 jumping over the sword, nimbly avoided the stroke, and at the same time 
 drawing a pistol from his breast, struck Stephen over the forehead with 
 the butt-end. The Albanian staggered and fell, and the Arabian rushing 
 forward, was about to despatch his prostrate opponent, when Selim, who 
 had marked the combat at a distance, but till then disdained to interfere, 
 stepped over the body of his fallen follower, and confronted his foe. One 
 blow from that powerful arm, and the Arab, cleft to the girdle, had barely
 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 13 
 
 time to ejaculate, "By Jove, I'm done for," when he fell a corpse upon 
 the sand. Dismayed by his fall three of his companions who were still 
 resisting, submitted, and with the Bashaw were led captive to the fast- 
 ness of the robbers. 
 
 One, however, of Khanum's suite was neglected. This was Mustapha 
 the black slave, who had crept unobserved underneath a bezoar tree 
 during the confusion of the fight ; from whence he did not emerge until 
 it had concluded and the rioters had departed. Then stealthily dogging 
 their steps he marked them as they marched along the path that led to 
 their cave, singing songs expressive of their joy at soon meeting their 
 mollahs or wives. Having seen them enter it he ran back at full speed 
 to the nearest police station in order to acquaint the authorities with 
 the outrage which had just been committed. He found the inspector of 
 the force stationed there, quietly sleeping upon the roof of his house, a 
 common custom among the Turks — who like lying at full length upon 
 the slates, and the steeper the roof the better they like it. Having 
 awakened the functionary his tale was soon told, and caused the greatest 
 commotion in the place. A swift cadi was immediately despatched to 
 the metropolis to inform the Sovereign of the circumstance ; and a few 
 days saw a large body of troops assembled in readiness to attack and 
 punish the marauders. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLV 
 
 It was in the middle of the feasting and merriment, consequent on the 
 successful expedition — and while the peculiar liquors of the East — the 
 sweet but powerful kismet, and the intoxicating ulema were circulating
 
 14 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 rapidly, that news was brought to Selirn by a scout that a large body of 
 troops was marching up the vaUey, evidently to attack his stronghold. 
 Fully alive to the danger of his situation he immediately ordered the 
 feast to be suspended, and the most strenuous preparations made for 
 defence. The attacking party consisted of nearly 1500 men, all armed 
 to the teeth with arnauts, howdahs, and various other offensive weapons. 
 It was commanded by the Sheriff and High Constable of Mecca, two able 
 and experienced officers. The assault began with great vigour amidst 
 a fierce discharge of culverins and lansquenets, and was for a long 
 time repulsed with equal bravery by the besieged. At length, however, 
 numbers began to prevail ; the barricade in front of the cave was forced 
 — the assailants rushed in and commenced an indiscriminate slaughter. 
 Selim, seeing further resistance hopeless, immediately formed his resolu- 
 tion. Bearing on one arm the form of the half-fainting Fustanella, and 
 wielding his tremendous scimitar in the other — he forced his way 
 through the crowd of enemies that beset the entrance of his cave ; and 
 mowing down a foe at every blow reached the banks of a small lake that 
 was not far from the scene of action. There observing a small caliph 
 moored to the bank, he, with the speed of lightning, cut the rope, 
 jumped into it, and paddled away. A few vigorous strokes sent them 
 soon out of the reach of shot, and they quietly rowed on till they gained 
 the opposite shore. 
 
 There, by great good fortune, Selim observed ahorse saddled and bridled 
 grazing on the bank. He immediately seized it, and placing Fustanella 
 behind him, when he had mounted continued his flight. They travelled 
 some days without meeting any one, and would have been reduced to 
 great extremities by hunger, had not he shot several howling dervishes — 
 animals with a peculiar cry and common in these wilds, but not very good 
 catinc:.
 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 15 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 At length they arrived at the well known city of Lebanon. They would 
 have avoided entering it, but were obliged to do so in order to obtain 
 food. Selim taking into consideration that his adventures were not 
 probably known so far from the scene of action, boldly dismounted at the 
 door of the principal inn, and ordered two veal cutlets and a pint of mild 
 ale. The waiter immediately brought the required refreshments, and 
 the weary travellers forthwith commenced their meal. But alas ! mis- 
 fortune often pursues the brave and the noble-minded. 
 
 The landlord of the inn chose to consider the appearance of the 
 travellers as very suspicious, and bethought himself of consulting the 
 Hue and Cry which he had just received : unluckily, the first thiug that 
 met his eye was the following paragraph. 
 
 " Daring Felonies. — The police and all loyal subjects are requested 
 to apprehend the following desperate criminals, wheresoever they may 
 find them. Item ; a tall young man, slightly made, with blue eyes and 
 light hair, six feet high ; wears blue overalls and a red cap, goes by the 
 name of Selim, alias the Albanian Game-chicken. Item ; another man 
 who wears a fur cap of a very dark complexion, deserted from the 
 service of His Excellency the Bashaw Khanum ; took part of regimental 
 necessaries ; has the air and manners of a capote. Item ; a young 
 female who accompanies the first ruffian; handsome, and expensively 
 dressed ; goes by the name of Fustanella. "Whosoever shall seize or 
 cause to be seized these criminals shall receive a suitable reward."
 
 16 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 The innkeeper had now no doubt that these were two of the parties 
 mentioned, but having overheard them caDing each other by their names, 
 his suspicions were converted to certainty. He secretly sent for a large 
 force of the police ; the unfortunate fugitives were unexpectedly seized, 
 and promptly despatched under a strong guard to the metropolis. "We 
 must hurry over the concluding events of our history. Suffice it to say, 
 that they were both placed in separate dungeons underground; their 
 sentence was soon determined on ; they were condemned to be beheaded 
 in the great square of Constantinople, along with the Albanian, and one 
 or two robbers who had been taken prisoners with the latter in the cave. 
 
 CHAPTEE XL VII. 
 
 The greatest ceremony was ordered by the Sultan to be observed at 
 the execution ; which was designed to strike terror into all the male- 
 factors of the kingdom. The iron railing in the square was taken down, 
 and an equestrian statue of one of his predecessors, which stood in the 
 midst, was removed to make way for the scaffold. He also desired that 
 the Turkish nobility and all the foreign ambassadors should be present. 
 At length the fatal day arrived : amid the tolling of muffled bells from the 
 mosques, the unhappy victims were led to the place of execution in solemn 
 procession. In front, upon a throne of gold, was seated the Sultan, 
 protected from the sun by a gorgeous omrah of crimson cloth, on which 
 were embroidered the arms of Turkey, viz. Mahomet killing the dra-
 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 17 
 
 goman : on either side were placed the ambassadors and the great digni- 
 taries of the empire, amongst whom might he seen Khanum, agonized 
 at the approaching fate of his daughter. The rest of the square was 
 filled with the populace and strangers from all the neighbouring towns, 
 and even the distant ones of Bagdad, Ararat and Stamboul. 
 
 When everything was ready, the chief justice of Turkey, in a flowing 
 wig and black gown, read aloud the doom pronounced against the unfor- 
 tunate prisoners, and the reasons why it was inflicted. This done, 
 Selim, who was to be first beheaded, mounted the scaffold. Already the 
 axe of the Santon who officiated was raised to strike, when a loud cry 
 was heard from near the throne, which caused him to stop. To the un- 
 bounded astonishment of the spectators, no less a person than the 
 English ambassador was seen to make his way through the crowd, to 
 rush frantically up to the scaffold, and to fall on Selim' s neck, exclaiming, 
 "My brother!" 
 
 In a moment all was confusion. The Sultan, crying out, "Britons 
 never can be slaves," ordered Selim to be immediately unbound and 
 pardoned. The brothers thus strangely reunited, again embraced and 
 descended from the scaffold. Their singular history we must defer to a 
 more appropriate period. Notwithstanding the tears and entreaties of 
 the just rescued Selim, who declared that he preferred death to living 
 without his bride, the Sultan was inexorable in declaring that the law 
 should take its course with the others. Pursuant to this stern com- 
 mand, the unfortunate maiden was next led on the fatal stage. To 
 facilitate the operation of the axe, her lovely tresses were tied up, and 
 her fair neck exposed to public view. Scarcely was this done, when a 
 cry of surprise burst from the lips of, — the Sultan himself ! On her 
 neck could be distinctly seen, tattooed with gunpowder, a small cross, a 
 mark which he seemed at once to recognise. " Can I believe my eye* r" 
 
 c 2
 
 18 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 cried he with trembling eagerness, " Art thou, or art thou not ? my 
 daughter !" Overcome by his emotion, he fainted away. 
 
 Of course, the execution was at once suspended. On his recovery, 
 the Sultan examined the mark more narrowly, and became satisfied that 
 his long lost child was restored to him. For joy at the event, the 
 remaining captives were pardoned, and the day ended in rejoicings. But 
 we must hasten to lay before our readers an explanation of these singular 
 occurrences. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLVIII. 
 
 Selim, or as we must in future call him, Lord Godfrey Montacute 
 Fitz-Osborne, was the second son of the Earl of Rattletraps, a nobleman 
 who possessed a fortune of £150,000 a year. The eldest son of the 
 Earl, Lord Alberic de Vere Montacute Fitz-Osborne, was, as all elder 
 brothers in the English aristocracy are, a man of the most violent over- 
 bearing character, and systematicaUy injured his younger brothers in 
 every possible way, aided and abetted by his mother Lady Alicia, who, as is 
 likewise usual, idolised the eldest, and hated the younger children. The 
 third son, Sir Montmorency Fitz-Osborne, up to the age of twenty, was 
 also a victim of his brother's tyrannical conduct, till the Prime Minister, 
 compassionating his situation, gave him the post of Ambassador to 
 Turkey, to separate him from his brother. 
 
 As for our hero, he could not long suffer the scries of insidts to which 
 lie was subjected, lie at last ran away in disguise and enlisted onboard 
 a cutter-of-war. a fine ship, with three masts and a complement of 450
 
 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 19 
 
 men. Here lie siuTered unnumbered hardships, being frequently obliged 
 to stay on deck when he was sea-sick, to walk the plank, and other things 
 of that kind, till he could bear it no longer. Having bid adieu to the 
 captain and the officers, he went on shore at the nearest land, which 
 happened to be Greece. There he fell in with a band of robbers who 
 were at first going to plunder him ; but remarking, and being pleased 
 with his wild and fearless air, they unanimously elected him their chief. 
 This kind of life exactly suited his enterprising and generous spirit, and 
 he passed some time at their head, performing all his enterprises in a 
 spirit of lofty daring, which none but hypocrites can blame. At length, 
 seeing and falling in love with Fustanella, he formed the idea of carrying 
 her off, which bold deed gave rise to the events detailed in the foregoing 
 chapters. 
 
 Pass Ave on to the explanation of the mystery of Fustanella's birth. 
 There needs but a brief statement of the facts. She was not, as our 
 readers may perhaps have surmised, the daughter of Khanum, but of 
 the Sultan. When yet an infant, she had been stolen from the latter 
 by a gipsy, though not till he had impressed the mark upon her neck, of 
 which mention has been made. Khanum having no children of his own, 
 bought her a short time afterwards, and brought her up as his daughter, 
 which till then, she had always imagined herself to be. Such was her 
 simple history : the conclusion of our tale is now near at hand.
 
 20 THE ALBANIAN CAPOTE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIX. 
 
 Gee at were the rejoicings at Constantinople on a fine day in the 
 week following that in which the stirring events just related, occurred. 
 As a proof of his having pardoned the young couple, the Sultan had 
 desired that they should be re-married with all possible solemnity. 
 Accordingly, the ceremony was performed in the mosque in the most 
 magnificent manner ; the Sultan giving the lady away, and the princesses, 
 her sisters, fourteen in number, officiating as bridesmaids. 
 
 Shortly after, the re-united and happy pair departed for England, 
 where Selim, or as we ought to call him Lord Godfrey, had become by 
 bis brother's death the heir of his father's fortune. They would have 
 taken the Albanian with them, but that individual preferred opening a 
 wine- shop at Constantinople, where being much patronised by the Court, 
 he soon made his fortune. The noble pair meanwhile still live happily 
 together, and though his wife has t;;ken the name of Lady Godfrey, 
 Selim may often be heard to call her by the endearing title of 
 
 Fusty. 
 
 THE USD.
 
 21 
 
 THE SIEGE OF ALTENAHR. 
 
 From the German. 
 
 Where loftiest in majestic strength the cliffs o'erhang the Ahr, 
 Rose stern and bold, in days of old, the halls of Altenahr. 
 Whose turrets reared their crowned heads high in embattled pride, 
 Like monarchs hoar, stern gazing o'er the country far and wide. 
 
 And swoll'n, as if with envious wrath beneath them rolled the flood, 
 Its foaming waves against the cliff whereon the Castle stood ; 
 As though to undermine the mass the angry waters tried, 
 Which, from its firm foundation, still that mighty stream defied. 
 
 In days of yore, there rose of war, a wild and furious flame, 
 And armed hosts in proud array, from all sides trooping came — 
 Bishops and princes joined in hate led on their squadrons brave, 
 The bold Castellan to subdue, who scorned to be their slave. 
 
 But still the cliff above them there, a massy bulwark rears ; 
 The lofty walls, like bucklers, frown defiance to their spears. 
 And many a day slow passed away, and many a month and year, 
 Though grim despair had thinned their ranks, the foe still lingered near.
 
 22 THE SIEOE Of ALTENA1IK. 
 
 At length upon the walls rode forth, at morning's dawning light, 
 The Count upon his gallant steed, all sheathed in armour bright. 
 Like to the sunbeam flashed his glance, by sorrow dimmed so long, 
 His voice which long had silent been, rang loud the vale along — 
 
 " Upon the last remaining horse, lo, mounted here you see, 
 Of all within these walls, your last remaining enemy. 
 My wife and children, by disease, have died a bitter death — 
 To famine fierce my vassals all have yielded up their breath. 
 
 " And though they might not nobly die in honourable strife, 
 Yet freedom's crown have they attained ; a dearer prize than life. 
 And free will I too meet my death, as I have lived before, 
 For slavery is misery, and shame for evermore !" 
 
 He ceased, and raised his eyes to heav'n, then spurred his noble steed, 
 And headlong down the pathless steep he rushed with frantic speed — 
 Loud rattling down the precipice and craggy rocks, he falls, 
 Till swallowed by the foaming flood that raves beneath the walls. 
 
 No longer staid th' invading host, but seized with panic dread 
 They homeward hied, and silent left that valley of the dead. 
 'Neath Time's attacks the castle proud long since hath crumbled down, 
 And towers twain alone remain that lofty height to crown. 
 
 Yet still the old tradition mid the people holds its place, 
 From mouth to mouth it passes still — hies on from race to race, 
 And teaches all the nations that for men to perish free 
 Is better than to pine away in shameful slavery.
 
 2P> 
 
 HYMN OF THE GREEK EXILES AT THE 
 COURT OF PERSIA. 
 
 STEOPHE I. 
 
 Eound Hellas' mountains blue, 
 
 Among her teeming plains, 
 A Spirit dwelt, of old 'tis true, 
 That still in cherished power grew, 
 Upon her land his influence shed. 
 As when from old Cyllene's head 
 
 Pour forth th' autumnal rains. 
 Her sons in manly valour shone 
 
 Beneath his fostering care ; 
 In battle aye the victory won 
 And when the stubborn fight was done, 
 As leaning then their spears upon, 
 
 The hard-won spoils they share, 
 They own his might, their guardian lord, 
 AVho gives them strength to wield the sword, 
 
 The cuirass weight to bear : 
 That they the buckler's weight can raise, 
 To him they sing the song of praise ;
 
 24 HYMN OF THE GREEK EXILES. 
 
 To him they owe 
 
 All things on earth below 
 
 And valiant deeds to dare. 
 
 ANTISTKOPHE T. 
 
 In loveliness our maidens grow 
 
 Beneath his eye serene ; 
 To him their bright' ning charms they owe, 
 Through him their glances burning glow 
 To them their dark hair's ebon wave, 
 To them their every grace he gave ; 
 Be sure it always was his care, 
 
 As it may well be seen, 
 To give the bravest of the brave 
 As partners of their glorious toils, 
 As sharers of their hard won spoils 
 
 The fairest of the fair.
 
 HYMN OF THE GREEK EXILES. 25 
 
 STEOPHE II. 
 
 And while upon each favoured child 
 Has Hellas' guardian spirit smiled, 
 And while her warriors have no feaffl, 
 
 Her daughters yield to none; 
 The first to raise the towering spears, 
 Or bracing hard the bull-hide shield 
 Their swords determined might to wield 
 
 Until the fight is won : 
 The second in the softer power 
 That e'er remaineth beauty's dower 
 
 Which none can see and yet withstand 
 Tet still his further blessings shower 
 
 Upon her favoured land. 
 He wisdom gives to hoary age 
 To guide the realm with counsels sage ; 
 Her ships careering o'er the brine, 
 Her land that teems with oil and wine, 
 
 His guardian care attest. 
 Then those that dwell upon her land 
 Shall ever praise his fostering hand 
 
 And feel that they are blest.
 
 20 HYMN OF THE GHEEK EXILES. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 And would ye know His honoured name, 
 
 That Hellas' country fair throughout , 
 With one consent and loud acclaim, 
 By maiden, warrior, sire and dame 
 
 Is praised with joyful shout. 
 ' 'Tis Liberty,' 'tis glorious Liberty ! 
 
 The echo of that worshipped name 
 On Hellas' hills can never die 
 
 While lasts this universal frame. 
 'Tis whispered by each laughing breeze 
 
 That floats around her rugged shore : 
 In answering waves her stormy seas 
 
 Repeat his name with boisterous roar. 
 And dearer far than heaps of gold, 
 Do sire and maiden, young and old, 
 
 His glorious name confess. 
 Then praised be Jove who wills that still 
 Old Hellas every plain and hill 
 
 Shall freedom's safeguard bless.
 
 HYMN OF THE GREEK EXILES. 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 But woe, on us, in this drear land 
 
 No God in pity deigns to smile, 
 Alas ! for our exiled band, 
 Eorlorn and far from home we stand 
 
 "With nought our misery to beguile. 
 For doomed here to find our graves 
 Slow pining in a land of slaves, 
 For us no gale of freedom blows, 
 For us no more its nectar flows 
 
 In joy our minds to steep. 
 But destined we the grief to share, 
 To drink of slavery's bitter air, 
 
 And 'neath its curse to weep. 
 
 27
 
 28 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING THE 
 ALHAMBRA. 
 
 Who, who, Alhambra, can unmoved survey, 
 
 Thy pomp of former times now long gone by, 
 Th' enduring remnants of thine earlier day, 
 
 Thy lost magnificence without a sigh ? 
 
 The fretted arch, the slender column high, 
 Thy monarchs' names upon thy walls displayed 
 
 That erst had ruled beneath that sunny sky, 
 In dangerous pomp thy Arab sceptre swayed 
 Beneath those gorgeous roofs with gold and blue inlaid. 
 
 Omar, Abdallah, names each wall records, 
 
 In many a line's reiterated pride, 
 The mute memorials of thy former lords, 
 
 Who, but for these, had unremembered died : 
 
 Long may those names upon thy wall abide ; 
 So gracefully the flowing words combine 
 
 With the bright hues by Moorish art allied, 
 Which wov'n along in many an endless line 
 Around thy lovely courts in scarce-dimmed splendour shine. 
 
 Would that I were a glimpse allowed to see 
 
 Such as thou wert in lost Boabdil's day, 
 When proud Grenada's savage chivalry 
 
 Not yet subdued had owned the Christian sway, 
 Nor leaguered yet the rugged fortress lay.
 
 ON VISITING- T11E ALIIAMBBA. 29 
 
 But through tlie marble corridors there streamed 
 The turbaned crowd of MoslemN^warriors gay, 
 "Where gilded helms and flashing corselets gleamed, 
 And proud, as yet undimmed by Christian valour, beamed. 
 
 No more thy sculptured portals shall behold 
 
 Beneath their arch the Zegri chief advance, 
 As all arrayed in steel and burnished gold, 
 
 He saunters in with proud and haughty glance, 
 
 That doth the more his gilded pride enhance. 
 No more hast thou that gallant race beheld, 
 
 In whom was lost so mauy a valiant lance, 
 When from their heads, through trait'rous slander felled, 
 Along the Lion's Court the gory current welled. 
 
 Now mute art thou. The voice of man is gone 
 
 That erst resounded in thine echoing halls ; 
 In silent state thou now remainest lone, 
 
 Nor scarce one footstep hearest as it falls, 
 
 Save when some pilgrim views thy storied walls, 
 Perchance a daughter fair of Albion's isle, 
 
 Who once again unwonted sounds recals 
 With joyous mirth within thy mouldering pile, 
 That glows with added grace beneath her sunny smile.
 
 30 
 
 LINES, IN IMITATION OF SCOTT, WRITTEN 
 ON A TOUR TO THE LAKES. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO A. FRIE>~D. 
 
 1. 
 
 Oh would alas that I could tell 
 The beauties of each mountain dell, 
 
 Describe each dusky linn, 
 Enrapture all who'd chance to hear, 
 When singing of the waters clear, 
 That lave thy shores, O "Windermere, 
 
 As seen from Bowness Inn. 
 High Langdale Pikes our toils have seen, 
 And Bowfell with its slopes of green, 
 Rough Skiddaw with the he«vy head, /way 
 
 And Grizedale Pike with granite red, 
 
 Th' Old Man of Coniston ; 
 And huge Helvellyn on us frowned, 
 As slow from Ambleside we wound 
 
 Our weary progress on. 
 Till lay before us, rugged, rude, 
 And all in rocky solitude, 
 
 The valley of St. John. 
 But ah ! no mystic fortress piled, 
 
 Met our enchanted eyes ; 
 No sandalled huntress of the wild, 
 Like her the genii's fraudiul child,
 
 ON A TOUR TO THE LAKES. 31 
 
 Fair G-uendolen ; with accents mild, 
 That erst on royal Arthur smiled, 
 And long the warrior king beguiled 
 From deeds of high emprise. 
 
 2. 
 
 For who is there that does not sigh 
 For days of chivalry gone by ; 
 "When wandering at every turn 
 One met a knight or warrior stern 
 
 "Who in one's pathway stood, 
 And asked perchance in courteous guise 
 A combat for the glorious prize 
 Of favour in his Ladye's eyes, 
 
 Or reason just as good. 
 Yes, now, alas ! the gallant steed 
 
 "With trappings gay and bright, 
 The burnished buckler good at need, 
 Emblazoned high with many a deed 
 
 Of glory won in fight ; 
 Th' embroidered surcoat's bright array, 
 And helmet with its feathers gay, 
 
 Are vanished from our sight. 
 Gone, gone is all adventure now, 
 
 Our steps where'er we bend, 
 And safely onward dull and slow 
 
 Our prosy ways we wend 
 On level ways ; all danger far, 
 No felon knight our way to bar,
 
 ,*52 OS A TOUK TO THE LAKES. 
 
 Or giant grim and bold ; 
 No chance to win a lady's smile, 
 By bearing her from dungeon vile, 
 Where long immured by pagan wile 
 
 She'd pined within the hold. 
 But gone the spear, the helmet's plume, 
 
 Gone is the war-horse too ; 
 Instead of these, we find the brougham ; 
 For castle gay, the inn's best room ; 
 And for the surcoat's broidered vest, 
 The shambling post-boy gaily dressed, 
 
 In jacket red or blue. 
 
 What boots it then I should relate, 
 How in the jingling car we sate, 
 
 And saw fair Borrowdale ; 
 For dry descriptions such as these 
 Can scarce fastidious readers please, 
 That all expect adventures rare 
 Should throng the very mountain air, 
 
 And people every vale : 
 That disappointed turn away, 
 Because I've nothing more to say 
 
 Than praise of Windermere. 
 That Bassenthwaitc is very fine, 
 And Derwentwater quite divine, 
 
 With Grizedalc mountain near.
 
 ON A TOUR TO THE LAKES. 33 
 
 That Scafell Pike is higher found 
 Than all the hills that stretched round, 
 
 Like slumbering giants lay, 
 When all extended at their length, 
 They rest from, weary spite their strength, 
 
 The labours of the day. 
 But sure that all this dry detail, 
 Readers like you to please must fail, 
 
 I'll seek no more for rhymes, 
 But hang my lyre against the wall 
 Upon the sofa idly fall, 
 (Of horse-hair, sloping, smooth, and small) 
 
 And sigh for former times.
 
 31 
 
 LINES ON BUTTERMERE, IN IMITATION 
 OF MOORE. 
 
 l. 
 
 Oh know ye the valley of sweet Buttermere, 
 
 With the Lake that's within it so limpid, so still, 
 That it seems that the breeze that sweeps round it must fear, 
 To disturb with its motion its waters so clear, 
 
 And accordingly haunts but the top of the hill. 
 While the char, and the trout with the glittering scales, 
 Where mingled with azure the purple prevails, 
 So clear are the depths of the waters below, 
 
 So distinctly we see at the bottom each stone, 
 They seem as we watch them, as onward they go, 
 To be floating along in an air of their own. 
 Unless far quicker than a glance, 
 They eager upward dart perchance, 
 To snap at some rose-coloured fly, 
 Then to their depths they downward hie ; 
 From whence the circles wide extending, 
 
 Disturb the surface of each wave, 
 The gentle fishes' flight befriending, 
 Sate to its own and distant cave.
 
 ON BTJTTERMERE. 35 
 
 2. 
 
 Ah ever there the music swells, 
 Of sheep with faintly tinkling bells, 
 That crop the herbage juicy green, 
 Fit ornaments for such a scene. 
 Or else you may see there its maidens upturning, 
 To heaven above them their laughing blue eyes, 
 And you'll know there is something than fire more burning, 
 
 And brighter than stars that bespangle the skies. 
 Ah, who among men would not wander for ever, 
 In thee, among vallies, most lovely, most dear ; 
 Ah, sigh when his fortune at last must dissever 
 
 The view of thy charms from him, sweet Bnttermere !
 
 36 
 
 HOME AND BRITAIN. 
 
 A FRAGMENT, WRITTEN IN ITALY. 
 
 Who, 'mong thy ruins, Rome, shall ponder long, 
 Deserted fanes and grass-grown hills among, 
 Oft sadly musing must perforce retrace 
 The fallen fortunes of that lordly race ; 
 How all has vanished save a glorious name, 
 Inscribed for ever in the rolls of fame. 
 Such thoughts as these too in his breast may be 
 If, mighty Britain, they should turn to thee. 
 
 The time may come and thou mayst see the day, 
 "When power shall flee, dominion pass away. 
 And scarcely known, but in the poet's rhyme, 
 Thou too shalt feel the onward march of time, 
 Beneath whose breath an empire's hoary might 
 Melts like a phantom in the shades of night. 
 
 When kingdoms tremble at thy wrath no more, 
 And wealth has fled to some more favoured shore, 
 No longer burthened by the naval throng, 
 When silent Thames shall pour his tide along ; 
 'Mid mould' ring bridges, banks with reeds o'ergrown, 
 His wave unsought for and his source unknown;
 
 HOME AND BRITAIN. 37 
 
 Perchance sole honour of that wasted land, 
 The last and saddest of a deathless band, 
 Some ancient bard the mournful lay shall raise, 
 And sing the glories of departed days ; 
 In tender strains bewail her honour fled, 
 Her lost renown and pristine vigour dead ; 
 Then bolder grown her matchless deeds proclaim, 
 And thus recall her never dying fame. 
 " Yet it was thine, Oh Albion, once to hold 
 The due reward of conduct wise and bold : 
 From East to West thy powerful rule was feared, 
 Thy might respected, and thy name revered. 
 Not Egypt's kings or Persia's haughty lords, 
 In barbarous pomp that ruled their slavish hordes, 
 So many realms could reckon as their own : 
 Not mighty Ca?sar on th' imperial throne 
 Of awful Borne such wide domains could boast, 
 Held by his legions' fierce disciplined host. 
 Where hoar Himala lifts his head on high, 
 Of all earth's giants nearest to the sky, 
 Thy vales, Bengal, and Delhi teeming plains, 
 Bombay the rich, Benares' sacred fanes ; 
 Where the Mogul had erst in earlier day, 
 Cruel and lavish, ruled with gorgeous sway ; 
 Mahratta chiefs and mountain Eajahs ; all, 
 Have owned thy empire and obeyed thy call. 
 
 O'er hardier foes her triumphs not the less, 
 Thy plains, Cashmere, can truthfully confess, 
 
 E
 
 38 ROME AND BBITAIN. 
 
 "Where in four fields the power of Lahore 
 Before her arms has sunk to rise no more.* 
 Crushed are your hordes, Punjaub, Beloochistan, 
 In vain each chieftain leads his furious clan, 
 The plundering Seikh, the frantic Akalee, 
 Fell foiled before her, on thy field, Moodkee. 
 Sobraon saw in dread confusion whirled, 
 The baffled ruffians in the waters hurled ; 
 (Less thick the corpses that forbade the flight 
 Of Persia's king, from Salamis' fight ;) 
 And sacred Indus' now polluted flood, 
 Astonished rolled a tide of human blood. 
 
 * This was written after the f. rst Sikh war, and before the second. The author, if i 
 poet, was certainly no prophet.
 
 LA SOP RES A DI LONDRA. 
 
 OPEEA IN THEEE ACTS, 
 
 AS IT WILL BE REPRESENTED IN AN ITALIAN THEATRE 
 A CENTURY HENCE. 
 
 FREELY DONE INTO ANTICIPATOEY ENGLISH.
 
 PERSONAGES. 
 
 Alberto, Prince of England 
 Abtubo, an English Duke 
 Eobebto, an English Minister 
 Gio>tillo, a French Prince 
 Edoabdo, A French Nobleman 
 Yittobia, Queen of England 
 Maria, Niece of Arturo 
 Lucia, Daughter of Roberto 
 
 by the Signor Gardoni of that day. 
 
 „ SlGNOR LaBLACHE „ 
 
 „ SlGNOR TaGLIAFICO „ 
 
 „ Sig>*or Tambt;bi>"i „ 
 
 „ Sigxor Mario „ 
 
 „ Made. Perslasi „ 
 
 „ Made. Grisi ,, 
 
 „ Madlle. Albosi „ 
 
 French and English Soldiers, Maids of Honour, 
 Policemen, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 The Scene of the Play is laid in London.
 
 LA SOPRESA DI LONDRA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Open space in front of Buckingham Palace. St. Paul's is seen on the 
 right and Westminster Abbey on the left. 
 
 Chorus of British soldiers. 
 
 Hail, all hail to our noble Queen, 
 So great a monarch's ne'er been seen. 
 Our fortunes gay shall aye endure, 
 Ever prosperous, ever sure. 
 First soldier. On firm foundations ever, 
 
 Shall Britain's fortune stay, 
 Misfortune's tempest never 
 Shall sweep them all away. 
 Chorus. Hail, all hail, &c. 
 
 [Enter Vittoria, Alberto, Guards, fyc, 
 e 2
 
 42 LA SOPEESA I>I LONDEA. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 Vittoria. Thanks, loyal subjects, for your hearty praise, 
 
 Thanks for those cheers, and for those loyal lays, 
 
 Never indeed while ye before me stand 
 
 Shall stern misfortune seek this favoured land. 
 
 Aie. 
 
 The tempest's lowering shock, 
 Shall on my kingdom break 
 As waves upon a rock, 
 
 Nor cause it once to shake. 
 The drear malignant hour 
 
 That would my hopes destroy, 
 Shall lose its venomed power 
 Nor cumber once my joy. 
 [They seat themselves. An incidental ballet. Grand dance of policemen 
 with their staves. Pas de deux between an inspector and a maid of 
 honour. Mazurka by the whole corps de ballet.~\ 
 
 Enter Aetueo. 
 
 Recitative 
 
 Art. (kneels) To thee, my liege, I pay all honour due. 
 Vitt. Thanks, noble Duke. 
 
 Alb. Thanks from Alberto too. 
 
 Vitt. Are all the guards around that watch do keep 
 On Britain's safety, watchful or asleep ?
 
 LA SOPRESA DI LONDRA. 43 
 
 Art. That they're awake I've seen, and all's secure ; 
 Then rest in peace, of Britain's safety sure. 
 
 Trio. 
 
 Vitt. Alb. and You've ) „ , . „ .. , 
 
 > walked to all the guards, 
 Art. I've S 6 
 
 No slumber sealed their eyes, 
 They keep their watch and ward 
 To guard against surprise. 
 Art. Be sure that all are waking, 
 
 Though some their fast are breaking, 
 Yet none their rest are taking, 
 
 They watch and ward for thee ! 
 Vitt. Yes, here I'll rest serenely, 
 Securely, safe and queenly, 
 Of them I'll think not meanly ; 
 
 They watch and ward for me ! 
 Alb. Yes, she may rest serenely, 
 
 It would be acting greenly, 
 To think of them so meanly ; 
 
 They watch and ward for she ! 
 Chorus. We know that they are waking, 
 Why need there then be quaking, 
 Or getting in a taking ; 
 
 They watch and ward for we ! 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. A march heard in the distance. Enter Gionvilio f 
 Edoardo and French soldiers, stealthily.^
 
 AA fe 
 
 44 la sopeesa dl londba. 
 
 Eecitative. 
 
 Gion, So here we are. The Thames in safety passed, 
 The guards surprised, in London we're at last. 
 Silent, my friends, then let us all advance 
 Hush, not a sound, and London yields to France. 
 
 Chorus of French soldiers. 
 Hush not a word must be heard from our legions, 
 
 Come to reduce the proud English to slavery ; 
 Not a step, not a voice must be heard in these regions, 
 Caution is not inconsistent with bravery. 
 
 Hush ! hush ! hush ! 
 Now is the time that proud London's rich pillage, 
 
 Shall recompense France's well-known generosity ; 
 Weep England, for London reduced to a village, 
 Shall make you repent of your savage ferocity. 
 Hush! hush! hush! 
 
 Eecitative. 
 
 Gion. Enough, my friends. I go to seize the Bank, 
 With the Lord Mayor, and other men of rank. 
 Thou, Edoardo, here must stay the while 
 And watch yon palace, home of fraud and guile. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Edoardo. 
 Enter Maeia from the Palace. 
 
 Maria. Bright beams the sky, the atmosphere is calm, 
 Why is it that I should feel alarm ? 
 Yet so it is. [sees Edoardo~\ Ah, who is that I see? 
 'Tis Edoardo, yes 'tis surely he !
 
 LA SOPRESA DI LONDRA. 45 
 
 Edoardo. Yes, it is I ! 
 
 Maria. In Paris' halls whom erst 
 
 I saw and loved. 
 Edoardo. But loved by me the first. 
 
 Duett. 
 
 Maria. Why come ye here ) „ . 
 
 > all danger scorning, 
 Edoardo. Oh stay not here ) 
 
 Know ye not that peril's nigh ? 
 
 Oh listen to these words of warning. 
 
 Stay not here. Oh fly, oh fly ! 
 
 Haste ye then from yonder palace, 
 
 Edoardo. | I've not time to tell yon why; 
 
 Maria. } Much I fear lest you should die ; 
 
 Haste, avoid your foemen's malice, 
 
 Stay not here then ; fly, oh fly ! 
 
 [Exeunt each in opposite directions, without finding out what the other 
 means. 
 
 E> T D OE THE FIRST ACT.
 
 to 
 
 4G LA SOPKESA DT LONDKA. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A room in Roberto's house. 
 
 Roberto amidst several tables covered with papers. Enter messenger with 
 letters, and exit. 
 
 Eecitative. 
 
 Roberto. Ha, is it so ? [reads.] " Ships have been seen to steer 
 Hard by Southampton." Then the French are near. 
 I haste to warn the Admiralty's lord, 
 That he must quick some men-of-war afford. 
 [Takes letters.'] This to Arturo. This to the lord Mayor. 
 I'm off in haste that I may make things square. 
 
 Ain. 
 
 I must haste throughout the city, 
 
 Quickly must I run, run, run, 
 I am sure 'twould be a pity, 
 
 "Were this town to be o'errun. 
 Bring me quick my coach and horses, 
 
 Fetch me all my papers too ; 
 I'll assemble all the forces : 
 
 I have got so much to do. 
 
 [Exit. Enter Lucia. 
 
 Lucia. "Whither so quickly runs my father/ dear, 
 
 What's in the wind ? "Why does he haste from here ? 
 
 [Enter Maria and maids of honour.
 
 R. 
 LA SOPEESA 1)1 LONDRA. 47 
 
 A 
 
 Chorus of Maids of Honour. 
 
 Such terrors now enclose us all, 
 
 "We know not where to flee ; 
 We soon shall be beneath the thrall 
 
 Of a rapacious enemy. 
 
 Eecitative. 
 
 Lucia. What is the matter ? quickly tell, what mean 
 
 These frightened looks ? 
 Maria. Such fearful sights we've seen/ 
 
 The French are come. They're seized on all the town/ 
 
 The Queen has fled, nor staid to save her crown. 
 
 But worse than all, the Guards have marched away ; 
 
 Oh, was there ever seen so dire a day ! 
 Lucia. Alas ! alas ! is all this sad news true ? 
 
 The Queen has fled ! the guards departed too ! 
 
 Dtjett. 
 Maria and Lucia. 
 
 Why have they not then drawn the blade, 
 Their country's need to seek to aid, 
 
 And save us from the foe : 
 Why see we not their squadrons wheel, 
 "Why stay they not to ply the steel, 
 
 Their legions to o'erthrow. 
 Why do they then cuirasses wear, 
 If now they are afraid to dare, 
 
 And charge this hateful band ;
 
 48 
 
 LA SOPRESA DI LONDRA. 
 
 A 
 
 What is the use of all their swords 
 If none of them its aid affords, 
 
 To free fair England's land. 
 
 Enter GriONYiLLO, Edoardo, and French soldiers, with Bobekto, prisoner. 
 
 Qtjtntett. 
 G. See how this traitor, 
 
 Is now in my power ; 
 I'll have his head off 
 
 This very hour. 
 Rob. Ah ! on my head now, 
 
 Misfortune doth shower ; 
 See me, of my age now 
 Cut off in the flower. 
 
 Ed. See how the traitor's 
 
 In Gionvillo's power, 
 He'll have his head off 
 This very hour. 
 M. fyL. Ah ! he is fallen 
 
 In Gionvillo's power, 
 Down from the height of 
 Prosperity's tower. 
 
 Maria and Lucia. Spare him, spare him. 
 
 Gionvillo and Edoardo. 
 
 Roberto. 
 
 Gionvillo and Edoardo. 
 
 Maria and Lucia, 
 
 Gionvillo and Edoardo. 
 
 All. 
 
 Kill me, ruffians ! 
 
 That we may not. 
 P'raps we may. 
 
 Oh, have mercy ! 
 
 If we slay not. 
 
 .„.. „ | do what's right to-dav- 
 
 We won't S to J 
 
 Chorus of Soldiers. 
 Tes, to the death with the villainous minister ; 
 
 INTever more shall he try our fair Prance to o'crthrow. 
 An end shall he put to his projects so sinister, 
 
 And down in the dust his foul schemes we'll lay low. 
 
 End of the second Act.
 
 re. 
 LA SOPRESA DI LONDRA. 
 
 49 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A dungeon in Guildhall. 
 
 Roberto alone. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 Roberto. Thus must it be. The end is near at hand ; 
 I fall a prey to fierce Grionvillo's band : 
 Thus by my blood he vows he will atone 
 For hate to Trance so oft by England shewn. 
 Her frequent insults, her perfidious fraud, 
 And what he calls her insolence abroad. 
 
 [Enter Edoardo. 
 
 Ah, who is this that comes to bring my doom ? 
 Edoardo. I do bxit come to save you from the tomb. 
 
 Duett. 
 
 Edoardo. Yes I come to rescue thee 
 
 From Gionvillo's furious band, 
 Yes I come to rescue thee, 
 
 And save thee from his hand. 
 Soon shall ope thy prison's portal, 
 
 For the jailor I have gained ; 
 Soon and then, most happy mortal, 
 Liberty thou'lt have attained, 
 r
 
 50 LA SOPEESA DI LONDItA. 
 
 Roberto. What you come to rescue me 
 
 From Gionvillo's furious band, 
 
 What you come to rescue me, 
 
 And save me from his hand. 
 
 I thought myself near death's grim portal, 
 
 And that misfortunes on me rained ; 
 
 Methought I am a hapless mortal, 
 
 And to my life's end I have waned. 
 
 Roberto. But wherefore come you thus to aid me, 
 
 Why this friendship for a foe ? 
 
 Edoardo. 'Twas because Maria prayed me, 
 
 Could not stand her tears and woe. 
 
 Both. I will i 
 
 r™ p ? fly, the moment's pressing. 
 
 me 
 
 There's no time to tell 1 more, 
 you} 
 
 No time is there for riddles guessing, 
 
 W r e should have been off before. 
 
 [Enter Jailor. 
 
 Jailor. 
 
 Roberto. 
 
 Edoardo. 
 
 Roberto. 
 Edoardo. 
 
 ItECITATIVE. 
 
 All, all is lost, Gionvillo's at the gate! 
 If so, I must prepare to meet my fate. 
 What can we do ? for fierce Gionvillo sure 
 Is come to change the guard, and make secure 
 The death he dooms you. What then can be done ? 
 Have you no means for me to cut and run ? 
 Ah ! now I have it. You shall change with me 
 Tour cloak and hat, Gionvillo will not see
 
 LA SOl'EESA Dl LONDKA. 51 
 
 The difference that doth between us lie : 
 "When he goes out, then you with him can fly. 
 [They change cloaks and hats. Enter Gionvillo and Guard. 
 Gionvillo. Ah here he is. [To Edoardo, taking him for Roberto. 
 
 My friend, your hour is come, • 
 In a few moments sounds the fatal drum. 
 
 Trio. 
 
 Gionvillo. Now, B-oberto, you must render 
 
 Account of mischief you would make ; 
 Well indeed no feelings tender 
 
 Mar the vengeance France can take. 
 Edoardo. (Aside.) Ah, Maria, news I'll send her 
 Of all that I've done for her sake ; 
 Seeing that I dare n't offend her, 
 Surely she wall pity take. 
 Roberto. (Aside.) First indeed my hopes were slender 
 My escape that I should make ; 
 But Edoardo' s been the mender 
 Of my fortune's desperate stake. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 Gionvillo. Here, Edoardo, wherefore art thou here ? 
 Roberto. Answer I must, and yet to speak I fear. 
 Gionvillo. Speak, and that quickly. 
 Roberto. Why, my lord, you know 
 
 I did but come to see my prisoned foe. 
 Gionvillo. Quick, let us hence. In half an hour you'll see 
 
 The doom of France's wily enemy. 
 
 [Exeunt Gionvillo, Roberto, and Guards,
 
 52 LA SOPEESA DI LONDEA. 
 
 A. 
 
 Edoardo. So he is gone. I've put myself in danger, 
 To save a Briton, enemy, and stranger. 
 Aie. 
 
 So lie is gone, and I am left 
 
 For many a weary hour to weep; 
 I from love for ever reft, 
 
 He to safety and to sleep. 
 "Why was my love in Britain horn ? 
 
 Or why was I in Gallia hred ? 
 For I am hopeless and forlorn, 
 
 And she her Edward's love must dread. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 The encampment of the British Army in Hyde Park. In front, Fittoria, 
 Alberto and Guards. Cannon heard at intervals. 
 
 Chorus. Hear ye all the cannon sounding, 
 'Tis the sign our foemen yield ; 
 And each echo still re-hounding, 
 
 Shews us masters of the field. [Cannon. 
 
 Vittoria. Another volley, far and farther 
 
 Sounds the tumult of the fray ; 
 The foe 's retiring, and I rather 
 
 Think that we shall win the day. - [Cannon. 
 
 Alberto. There again, its sounding louder, 
 It is coming nearer now ; 
 Methinks that I can smell the powder, 
 
 We shall lose the day I vow. [Cannon.
 
 LA SOPBESA DI LONDBA. 
 
 53 
 
 Vittoria. Again, indeed, 'tis fainter growing, 
 'Tis the sign of victory ; 
 Fork's sure the battle's going, 
 
 And the Frenchmen turn and flee. 
 
 Lucia. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 [Cannon. 
 
 [Enter Lucia, bearing a captured French standard. 
 
 Lo, behold, the trophy taken 
 
 From the legions of the Gaul ; 
 While our standard, still unshaken, 
 
 Waves defiance to them all. 
 Hail to thee, heroic maiden, 
 
 Hail the standard which you bring ; 
 Long of thee with trophies laden, 
 
 Shall victorious Albion sing. 
 
 [Enter Messenger. 
 
 Eecitative. 
 
 Messenger. The fight is o'er. The conquest of the foe, 
 To brave Arturo's matchless skill you owe. 
 Soon he'll be here. He ordered me, in haste, 
 To tell he comes with noble captives graced. 
 
 [Enter Arturo with Gionvillo and Roberto as prisoners. English soldiers. 
 Chorus. Hail, brave Arturo. Hail the conquering lord ; 
 
 Behold the glorious trophies of his sword. 
 Arturo. Madam, the chief of this mad enterprise 
 Is here a captive, and my lawful prize ; 
 One loss, alas, we have now to deplore, 
 The sage Roberto is we fear no more, 
 r 2
 
 / 
 
 54 LA SOPRE3A DI L03TDRA. 
 
 / 
 
 i! 
 
 All. No more . , 
 
 Arturo. Too true, by this fierce chief indeed 
 
 His doom was ordered, and his death decreed. 
 Chorus. What, oh prince, now did you really 
 
 Murder England's wisest son ? 
 Gionvillo. I am sorry that I merely 
 
 Could condemn to death this one. 
 Chorus. Crime like yours be sure you'll rue it, 
 
 Death shall be your portion too. 
 Gionvillo. If I could again I'd do it ; 
 
 Foes to France are ne'er too few. 
 Vittoria. Hence away to execution, 
 
 Since my friend to kill you dared to. 
 Roberto. (Throws off his cloak and comes forward.) 
 E'er you take that resolution, 
 See in me the lost 
 All. Eoberto ! ! ! 
 
 Eecitative. 
 
 Roberto. Yes, it is I. Good Edoardo braved 
 
 His country's anger, and his foeman saved ; 
 We changed between us cloaks and hats, and so 
 Himself deceived, Gionvillo let tja go. 
 
 [Enter Maria and Edoardo. 
 
 Maria (kneels). Madam, behold a prisoner ta'en by me J */ 
 
 Roberto. 'Tis my deliverer, yes, indeed, 'tis he.
 
 LA SOPRESA DI LONDRA. 55 
 
 / /_ 
 
 Duett. 
 
 Maria. Roberto. 
 Oh release this captive here, 
 
 He deserves it of your hand ; 
 To our hearts he is most dear, 
 We your clemency demand. 
 
 Eecitative. 
 
 Vittoria (to Edoardo) . Truly indeed my thanks to thee are due, 
 "We grant your pardon if Maria sue ; 
 Nay, more, if good Arturo will allow, 
 Maria's self upon thee we bestow. \_Arturo bows. 
 
 Edoardo. It is too much. Henceforth, I do declare, 
 
 Alone for Britain's fortunes shall I care. 
 Vittoria. For thee, Grionvillo, safe to France's shore 
 
 Shalt thou be sent. So venture here no more. 
 Thy troops with thee too shall be sent ; and so 
 I hope this land no more shall see a foe. 
 
 QUARTETT. 
 
 Vittoria. Well, I hope we now may reckon, 
 
 Peace shall haunt this favoured shore. 
 Gionvillo. Sure I am no hopes shall beckon, 
 
 Me this land t'assail once more. 
 Edoardo. In this isle I'll be a dweller, 
 
 Distant from the cannon's roar. 
 Arturo. Strong is Albion : try to fell her, 
 And she's firmer than before.
 
 I*- 
 
 56 Li. SOPBESA DI LONDRA. 
 
 Gionvillo fy Edoardo. Willingly our thanks we tender, 
 For thy kindness 
 To our blindness, 
 Gratitude to thee we'll render : 
 France with Albion ne'er shall war. 
 Vittoria fy Arturo. You are friends who once were foemen, 
 Since relenting 
 And repenting, 
 You seem both resolved to show men, 
 France and Albion hate no more. 
 
 Air, 
 
 Maria. Oh, don't join 
 
 In furious war again ; 
 But all combine 
 
 That peace and love may reign. 
 With Edoardo I 
 
 A happy life shall lead ; 
 And ne'er more sigh 
 
 In hopeless love indeed. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Joy to Yittoria, clement and glorious, 
 
 Pride of the land that she governs so well ; 
 
 Joy to old Albion, strong and victorious, 
 Oft to her praise our chorus shall swell. 
 
 Curtain falls.
 
 57 
 
 ASTRONOMY. 
 
 A Poem after the manner oe Dyer. 
 
 See o'er these radiant fields enamoured stray, 
 
 The fabled offspring of the milky way ; 
 
 While gems cerulean brighter hues unfold, 
 
 And change the living adamant to gold. 
 
 So each lone star perspicuous to its fall, 
 
 Gleams with pale splendour from its cloud-capped ball, 
 
 "Weaves to soft hymns its visionary tune, 
 
 In airy circles round the mystic rune. 
 
 Ah, who on sether's gory height can gaze, 
 
 Nor seek to woo its transitory phase ? 
 
 Whilst waning moons and planets roam between, 
 
 Nor dim the holy aspect of the scene. 
 
 Be still each thought, nor seek, ye fiends, to jar 
 With arts infernal every rolling star : 
 Seek not to rouse the passions fearfid fray, 
 Nor lave their depths in elemental spray. 
 One ruin shall your fearful schemes o'erwhelm, 
 And reign supreme o'er each fantastic realm.
 
 58 ASTEONOMT. 
 
 Thus mild Urania, daughter of the skies, 
 With rapture saw each fair creation rise ; 
 And far more distant than her aching sight 
 Could pierce the regions of eternal night, 
 Each naming sun's colossal magnitude 
 Each rolling world with ecstacy she viewed, 
 Bright spheres round spheres in magic dances meet 
 And suns round suns the mystic whirl complete.
 
 50 
 
 THE COMBAT AT GRENADA. 
 
 A Ballad. 
 
 The subject of this ballad is a well known one. Zelinda, the wife of Boabdil, the last 
 king of Grenada, has been falsely accused by Mohammed Zegri, one of the chiefs of 
 the clan of that name. She is condemned to be burnt alive in the great square of 
 Grenada, unless e'er the sun sets four champions will do battle on her behalf, and 
 overcome her accuser and three chosen warriors of his tribe, wbo are ready to main- 
 tain the truth of the accusation against all comers. To the surprise of all, the queen 
 has refused to choose her champions from among the warriors of Grenada. 
 
 The Zegri chiefs all motionless upon their horses sit, 
 
 And motionless their steeds remain save champing of the hit ; 
 
 O'er glittering helm and corselet braced, and hurnoose round him twined, 
 
 Each sullen challenger's tali plume floats lazy in the wind. 
 
 And now each sultry hour of fate is slowly passing by, 
 Towards the west the sun declines, the dreadful hour is nigh : 
 Each Moorish maid is sick and faint, cold runs each warrior's blood, 
 The muttering crowd that flocked around, in dread impatience stood.
 
 GO THE COMBAT AT GRENADA. 
 
 For if no answering horn is heard before that sun sinks down, 
 Then woe unto the loveliest dame in all Grenada's town : 
 But patient still beside the pile all heedless sat the queen, 
 And calmly gazed with vacant eye upon the fearful scene. 
 
 Forth stepped the gallant Musa then, Grenada's hope and pride, 
 And soon in suppliant guise he kneels at sad Zelinda's side. 
 " Oh Lady," thus in grief he cries, " no answering horn I hear, 
 No valiant knight comes forth to meet for thee the Zegri spear. 
 
 " Into the west the sun sinks fast, unanswered is thy call, 
 Thy chosen warriors fail thee now, full soon then must thou fall ; 
 Why then, oh why, invite your fate, a hundred chiefs are there, 
 Speak but the word and for your cause a hundred swords are bare. 
 
 6. 
 
 " The judges of the list are we, but choosest thou our aid, 
 More pleasing will it be by far, to draw for thee the blade. 
 Then, lady, choose thy champions now, no longer then delay, 
 Nor let the Zegris triumph in thy guiltless death to-day." 
 
 7. 
 
 Thus spake the gallant Moorish chief, and at her feet he knelt, 
 As with imploring words he tried her fixed resolve to melt. 
 But as the rain beats on the rock, so Musa's words of prayer 
 AVere lost upon that ladye pale, as calmly she sat there.
 
 THE COMBAT AT GRENADA. Gl 
 
 " I thank thee, gallant Musa, and I thank thy comrades three 
 But none but those I've summoned here shall draw a sword for me. 
 And if they dare not in my cause to venture on the strife, 
 Then welcome death shall be to me ; what joy have I in life ?" 
 
 9. 
 
 Thus said Zelinda to the chief, but scarce those words she spoke, 
 Of horse's hoofs th' approaching tramp upon the silence broke ; 
 And as he gazed quick beat the heart of each spectator there, 
 As champions four on gallant steeds bound hasty in the square. 
 
 10. 
 
 No arms of Moorish make they wear, no Christian knights they seem, 
 But round them foreign arms are braced, and foreign weapons gleam. 
 In corselets strange and arms uncouth, ride forth those cavaliers, 
 Their only ensign pennons green that flutter from their spears. 
 
 11. 
 
 Then to the king the leader rode, and vailed his lofty lance, 
 
 " From Turkey's land afar," he said, " we've wandered here by chance. 
 
 And hearing of th' appointed fight, I and my comrades three 
 
 Have hastened here to offer that the champions we may be." 
 
 12. 
 
 Then turning to the queen he rode, in front of her he stopped, 
 A letter tied with silken string within her lap he dropped. 
 Sore started then the hapless queen, well she that letter knew, 
 And these indeed her chosen knights, her champions good and true.
 
 62 . THE COMBAT AT GRENADA.. 
 
 13. 
 
 The first was Juan of Chacon, fair Carthagena's lord, 
 The next was Ponce de Leon of Castile surnamed the sword. 
 The third was he in fight renowned, Alonzo d'Aguilar, 
 Cordova's Don Diego last, his rival in the war. 
 
 14. 
 
 "Well then to Carthagena's lord had sped her call for aid ; 
 Eight joyfully that chieftain true had drawn for her the blade. 
 And when he asked for comrades three to aid his enterprise, 
 To fight for innocence betrayed Castile's first warriors rise. 
 
 15. 
 
 So with these chosen comrades three, selected from the rest, 
 Of all the nobles of Castile the bravest and the best, 
 Disguised in Turkish weeds they rode : now in the list they stand, 
 Each trusted in his righteous cause and in his strong right hand. 
 
 16. 
 
 Now sound to fight the trumpets, to his post each warrior goes, 
 And barely six spears lengths apart, confronts his valiant foes. 
 And through the anxious crowd around a shuddering there ran, 
 Once more the fatal trump was heard ; the deadly strife began. 
 
 17. 
 
 Now as at sea the labouring ship's oft hidden by the spray, 
 Thus for a time do clouds of dust obscure the warriors' way, 
 And when at length they're borne apart, gone is that bright array, 
 The plumes are scattered o'er the field, blood-stained the harness gay.
 
 THE COMBAT AT GRENADA. 63 
 
 18. 
 
 For fierce tli' encounter was and stern between those warriors tried, 
 While fame in hundred combats won was risked on either side. 
 At last the balanced scale sinks down, and on the unjust cause, 
 Avenging heaven wrathful frowns, and its support withdraws. 
 
 19. 
 
 Mahadon Gomel is at length by Chacon's lord o'erthrown, 
 Before Alonzo d'Aguilar both horse and man go down ; 
 In vain Mohammed Zegri strives, the traitor false, to rise, 
 Disarmed and wounded by his foe a captive bound he lies. 
 
 20. 
 
 On Ali Hamed's burnished casque De Leon smote so fair, 
 His steePJof Seville only saved the Moorish cavalier. 
 Moctader 'mong his peers alone, that giant grim and bold 
 Against his stout antagonist his footing well can hold. 
 
 21. 
 
 Cordova's knight is backward borne ; while slowly he recedes 
 The Moslem warrior^ presses on : by many a wound he bleeds ; 
 But still his bearing proud and high not for a moment fails, 
 His fainting arm still wields his sword, his spirit never quails. 
 
 22. 
 
 Brave d'Aguilar has marked his strait, Mohammed scarce laid low, 
 And swift he hastens to assist a rival, erst a foe : 
 No angry thoughts he nourished then, that true and gen'rous knight, 
 No rivalry between them now when comrades in the fight.
 
 64 THE COMBAT AT GKENADA. 
 
 23. 
 
 Beset by both tbe knights at once, Moctader fain must yield, 
 His sword he in submission lowers, and sullen quits the field. 
 Then gallant d'Aguilar to where his wounded captive lay, 
 As for the last time sounds the trump, sped hastily his way. 
 
 24. 
 
 "With gore the sand around is stained where false Mohammed lies, 
 His life blood has been ebbing fast, he never more shall rise ; 
 Before him now kneels d'Aguilar, unsheathed his dagger blade 
 And to recant his falsehoods vile fierce to him summons made. 
 
 25. 
 
 " Tour menaces are nought to me," the traitor slow replied, 
 " But death is coming quickly on, e'en now he's at my side ; 
 My past misdeeds I now repent, my calumnies I own, 
 And fain would I at this dread hour for all my guilt atone." 
 
 26. 
 
 And then to where Boabdil stood he turned his languid head, 
 
 " All guiltless is thy injured wife," with gasping breath he said, 
 
 " The proofs were forged by me, her wrongs ..." but more he could not say, 
 
 His life blood bubbled forth again, his spirit passed away. 
 
 27. 
 
 Into the lists then Musa stepped, and raised his wand on high, 
 " The combat ended I pronounce, low let the traitor lie. 
 Great Allah he hath judged the cause. Thy wife, O King," said he, 
 " Shall to thy halls absolved return. Bevere the Lord's decree."
 
 THE COMBAT AT GREXADJl. 65 
 
 28. 
 
 Reluctantly Boabdil went, for shame was in his mien, 
 With faltering steps he slow approached, and raised his injured queen. 
 " My crime I own," low muttered he, " forgive your cruel lord, 
 The scorn of all, but by himself by far the most abhorred." 
 
 29. 
 
 No word she spake, her eyes were closed, her heaving breast alone, 
 Gave sign of life, unless perchance at times a stifled groan. 
 Away Boabdil turned again, nor could the sight endure 
 Of her he'd reckless doomed to death, though innocent and pure. 
 
 30. 
 
 Eorth in her litter from the square th' unconscious queen they bore, 
 But ere they reached the palace gate their burden was no more. 
 Her guiltless heart with grief and joy so rudely torn in twain, 
 The double burden could not bear and yielded to the strain. 
 
 31. 
 
 With courteous words the victor knights are prayed a while to stay, 
 And take much needed rest that night, but firm they answered nay. 
 Their task was done, their vow brooked not their rest within the town, 
 And forth they went unknown, unharmed, just as the sun went down. 
 
 32. 
 
 Then honour be for evermore unto each valiant knight, 
 Who joyfully will draw the sword to combat for the right ; 
 And shame and scathe be aye the lot unto each traitor vile, 
 Who dares the battle for the cause of falsehood and of guile. 
 
 a 2
 
 66- 
 
 CHARADE. 
 
 Whe^ the legions of Borne first appeared in their might, 
 
 And Britain's fair island assailed ; 
 The warriors of Albion then met them in fight, 
 
 Nor before their proud panoply quailed. 
 
 Then thundering over the ground in raj first 
 
 They furiously rushed o'er the plain ; 
 On the mail-clad array of their foemen they burst, 
 
 Then fell over mountains of slain. 
 
 For never to mercy my second did lend, 
 
 These conquerors stern and severe : 
 To the bidding of Bome, no, all nations must bend, 
 
 And serve in submission and fear. 
 
 It is grievous to add what the truth of my song 
 
 Compels me unwilling to say, 
 That my whole of their arms was triumphant, was long, 
 
 And Britain bowed under their sway.
 
 07 
 
 CHARADE. 
 
 To the forest one morn, with hound and with horn, 
 
 Lord Hildebrand went on his way ; 
 The forest was fair, but few men would dare 
 
 To traverse it by night or by day. 
 
 For sorcerers dread, and fierce goblins, they said, 
 
 Were wont to inhabit each dell ; 
 And drear apparitions and wily magicians 
 
 In its tangled recesses to dwell. 
 
 But naught cared the knight, or for goblin or sprite, 
 
 Or for shades where enchanters reside ; 
 On his cross-handled sword, which so often its lord 
 
 From destruction had saved, he relied. 
 
 As -with fearless content his way onwards he bent 
 Through the lanes by the morning bedewed, 
 
 Through a vista of trees seated quite at her ease, 
 ~MyJirst with amazement he viewed. 
 
 No goblin accurst, or foul sorcerer versed 
 
 In arts diabolic he spied ; 
 But a ladye more fair, in her loveliness rare, 
 
 Than ever he'd dreamt, he descried. 
 
 As onwards he came, uprose the fair dame 
 
 "With a lowly yet conquering smile, 
 " Oh warrior!" sang she, "come thou homeward with me, 
 
 And bide in my bower awhile."
 
 68 C1IABADE. 
 
 And still, as she sang, and her silver voice rang, 
 All around seemed entranced with delight : 
 
 " Oh, Hildehrand, haste, nor the dear moments waste, 
 While I wait for my own loved knight." 
 
 Ah, warrior, beware, you in battle can dare, 
 
 No foe you rejoice not to meet ; 
 But a woman's deep guile, and her soul trancing smile, 
 
 Is a foe that you scarce can defeat. 
 
 "With her witchery there, and soft accents of prayer, 
 
 My second had conquered almost ; 
 To the charm of those eyes, if he yield then, he dies, 
 
 And the bravest of warriors is lost. 
 
 He resolves to remain, and his hand's on the rein, 
 
 A moment and he's on the ground, 
 When he heard a wild cry that was uttered him nigh, 
 
 And he saw that it came from his hound. 
 
 With hair bristling with dread, and with half-turned head 
 
 His faithful companion stood by ; 
 For beasts we'll oft find, when we mortals are blind, 
 
 Foul spirits of ill can descry. 
 
 He is warned by that sound, by that cry from his hound, 
 
 He begins to suspect the foul snare ; 
 He makes the blessed sign, and to powers divine 
 
 He earnestly mutters a prayer.
 
 CHARADE. 69 
 
 Aud still, as he prayed, there came a dark shade 
 
 O'er the face of that ladye so bright, 
 "While at each holy name fled some charm from the dame, 
 
 Till her brow it grew dark as the night. 
 
 The boughs drooped and died, as beneath them she hied, 
 
 Swift gliding away with a scream ; 
 And still on the blast, her foul curses she cast, 
 
 That my whole had attended her scheme.
 
 70 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 TO A COMEDY CALLED 
 
 "WHEEE THEEE'S A WILL, THEEE'S A WAY;" 
 acted at Hatchfobd, Eeb. 8, 1850. 
 
 N. B. No curtain, or scenery, was used. 
 
 Ik early days, when glorious Shakespeare penned 
 
 Works doomed to last until this world shall end, 
 
 The youthful Drama scorned all tricks of trade, 
 
 Nor feehly leant on adventitious aid : 
 
 Contented by her merits to be tried, 
 
 She walked alone, and sought no aid beside. 
 
 Her only stage was then a frame of board ; 
 
 A scanty curtain all she could afford 
 
 Eor scenes, etcetera, which these harsher times 
 
 To be without will think such mighty crimes. 
 
 " A street in Mantua" seen on a placard 
 
 Showed well enough the meaning of the bard ; 
 
 Or else a chorus, like old Grower, the poet, 
 
 Knew what was wanted, and could clearly show it. 
 
 'Tis thus we act. I come t'explain the scene, 
 
 " Lend me your ears !" no, no, your eyes, I mean. 
 
 Confide^ with guileless confidence in me, 
 
 And I will tell you what you ought to see.
 
 A PltOLOttUE. 71 
 
 See then in front, of crimson fringed with gold, 
 A gorgeous curtain hangs in many a fold ; 
 Thereon depicted a delightful scene, / 
 
 & shepherd /dancing on a village green, / 
 
 While damsels dart their most engaging looks, 
 Enhanced most greatly by their hoops and crooks. 
 But now I guess you anxious are to view, 
 The wonders which this curtain hides from you. 
 Come, draw the curtain — what, yoxi're struck with awe ? 
 I thought you would be when the scene you saw. 
 That splendid chamber rich with every thing 
 That taste could fancy or that wealth can bring, 
 That glorious roof, that tap'stry rich and rare : 
 A mise en scene that's quite beyond compare. 
 See in the centre is the chair of state 
 Which none dare sit in but the truly great ; 
 And on my right a table you may view 
 With most important papers covered too. 
 In short I'm sure you'll willingly allow, 
 You never saw so fine a scene till now. 
 
 And now I've done — Stop, e'er commence the show, 
 I've one thing more to ask before I go. 
 What more ! you say, how much the man demands ! 
 Yes, eyes and ears I've got ; I ask your hands. 
 Tear not to use them if you wish us well, 
 Applause to us is more than I can tell : 
 It warms the bolder spirits to the strife, 
 And to the timid is the breath of life.
 
 72 A PBOLOGTJE. 
 
 To interrupt us then you need not fear, 
 Such interruptions always are most dear. 
 So with this prayer I now retire within, 
 Ho ! actors enter, and your parts begin.
 
 THE NOBLE AUTHOR. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH.
 
 PEBSOXAGES. 
 
 The Duke of Middlesex. 
 He. Fustian, Tragic Author. 
 Me. Battle, Comic Author. 
 Thompson, Valet to the Duke.
 
 75 
 
 THE NOBLE AUTHOR. 
 
 The Duke in a dressing gown, with his shirt collar turned down, walking 
 about with a pen in his hand. Thompson arranging the room. A writing 
 table at the side. 
 
 Duke. Hang it. I can't write a line, not one ! Ah ! come, [he 
 writes.~\ Xo ; it's too loug. Yes, but thus, [icrttingl Ah, 
 it's too short. 
 Thompson. I wonder your Grace will write verses, when they give you 
 so much trouble. 
 Duke. Trouble ! what do you mean ? Do my verses give me 
 much trouble ? 
 Thompson. They use'nt to, yoxir Grace. I know while !Mr. Johnson 
 the secretary was here, but since he is gone .... 
 Duke. There now. hold your tongue : you make me lose the thread 
 of my composition; your talking puts all my ideas out of 
 my head. 
 Thompson. I'm very sorry. I'm sure if I had any ideas I should bo 
 happy to give them to your Grace. 
 Duke. You give me ideas r Stop — don't make a noise. Yes. 
 this is excellent iwrifing\ very good — but where' s the 
 rhyme: It's extraordinary that to-day I can't .... 
 Thompson. Xow. it* your Grace would only listen to me, the thing 
 would be done directly. 
 Duke. Well, sir. speak.
 
 76 THE FOBLE AUTHOB. 
 
 Thompson. Why, if I were your G-race, I'd have my verses •written by 
 the people who make it their business to do these things. 
 Duke. Yes, if I could not write them myself, you stupid fellow. 
 Thompson. Oh, I beg your Grace's pardon. I thought .... 
 
 Duke. There now, that will do ... . Let me see .... 
 Thompson. Mr. Fustian and Mr. Rattle wish to see your Grace. 
 
 Duke. "What do they want ? I'm busy. 
 Thompson. So I told them. 
 Duke. Come, let them in. 
 
 [Exit Thompson. Enter Fustian and Rattle. 
 Ah ! gentlemen, I'm delighted to see you, but I fear that 
 I shall not be able to give you much time, as I am very 
 busy just now. 
 Fustian. Tour Grace is as great a votary of the Muses as ever, I 
 hope. 
 Rattle. The Duke is too great a favourite of theirs not to be so. 
 Duke. It is true, they have occasionally shewn themselves not 
 very unkind. 
 Fus. and Rat. Oh always ! always ! 
 
 Duke. They are capricious, sometimes, as you know. 
 Rattle. Never, to your Grace, I'm certain. 
 Duke. Oh yes, to me like other people. 
 Fustian. My Lord Duke, I have the honour of submitting to your 
 notice the fifth act of my new tragedy. If your Grace 
 could give me a quarter of an hour .... 
 Rattle. And I wished to show your Grace a little song I have 
 written, and which I mean to introduce in my new play. 
 It won't take so long .... 
 Fustian. Stop, Mr. Eattle, your turn is after mine.
 
 THE NOBLE AUT1IOB. 77 
 
 Rattle. Mr. Fustian, I don't understand your pretensions. 
 
 Duke. Gentlemen, perhaps you could adjourn your dispute. 
 Fustian. But if your Grace would only consider whether a writer of 
 farces ought to take precedence of a tragic poet. If any 
 one ought to encourage elevated writing, it should be 
 your Grace. 
 Rattle. But when the writing never is and never will be elevated. 
 Fustian. Mr. Eattle ! 
 
 Rattle. Yes, while I copy truth and nature. 
 Fustian. Truth and nature! the merit of always copying. 
 Duke. Come, gentlemen, don't quarrel. You take up too much 
 of my time. 
 Fustian. I have followed your Grace's advice, and have introduced 
 another tyrant into my tragedy to aid in the denoue- 
 ment. 
 Rattle. I think your Grace would like to see my song. 
 Duke. I have already told you, I am very busy just now. 
 Fustian. If the Duke would only shew us some of his compositions. 
 Rattle. TVe should be sure of having something to admire. 
 Duke. No, indeed ; I've spent the whole morning in thinking 
 and scribbling without being able to finish anything. 
 Fustian. Has your Grace been trying a new style ? 
 Duke. No, something very common ; a verse or two. 
 Rattle. Nobody writes verses with such facility as the Duke. 
 Duke. Generally they give me no trouble at all, but to-day I 
 don't know what has come over me. 
 Fustian. Is your subject an unusual one. 
 Duke. No, only a bouquet. 
 Rattle. A bouquet ? 
 
 h 2
 
 78 THE NOBLE AUTHOB. 
 
 Duke. Yes, a bouquet which I wish to send to a lady with some 
 verses. Tou see I want something neat and sparkling. 
 In short, I don't exactly know what to write about. Sit 
 down, sit down. 
 Fustian. But your Grace has already chosen your subject. 
 Duke. How? 
 
 Rattle. "Why, the bouquet. 
 
 Duke. Oh, yes; I've chosen the bouquet for my subject. Just 
 as you say. But then one has to put it into verse, and 
 that's the difficult part. 
 Rattle. Have you chosen an air ? 
 Duke. I know fifty at least. 
 Rattle. But you must fix upon one. 
 Duke. Very true : and I had a mind to ... . 
 Fustian. Mr. Battle will sing you one. 
 Rattle. Will this do ? [I£e hums an air. 
 
 Duke. That's just the one I was thinking of. 
 
 [He hums it all wrong . 
 Fustian. "Well then, there's your couplet. 
 
 Duke. How! No! 
 Fustian. I beg your pardon. Now, write. 
 
 Duke. Ah, exactly. Things come, sometimes, into one's head 
 
 without any trouble. 
 Rattle. I'm sure they never give your Grace any trouble. 
 Fustian. You begin. {lie sings.~\ 
 
 These flow'rs I send to thee. 
 Duke. Ah, that's a fine, I've written and scratched out twenty 
 times. 
 Fustian. Why scratch it out ? It's a very good line.
 
 THE NOBLE AUTHOR. 70 
 
 Duke. Very true. [He writes.] 
 
 These flow'rs I send to thee 
 Rattle. 0n this delightful day. 
 
 Duke. This is what I've written. 
 
 These flow'rs I send to thee 
 On this delightful day. 
 
 Fustian. How quick you get on ! Let's see what's coming next. 
 Don't disturb the Duke. 
 Dulce. I shall write now .... 
 
 Rattle. With verses full of glee. 
 
 Fustian. My feelings to pourtray. 
 
 DuTce. Yes, yes. 
 
 "With verses .... 
 Rattle. Full of glee 
 
 Stop a minute. 
 
 My . . . 
 Fustian. Feelings to pourtray. 
 
 Duke. M y feelings to pourtray. 
 
 I think this stanza is not bad. "What do you say ? 
 Don't natter me. Tell me your real opinion. 
 
 With flowers full of glee. 
 Rattle. With verses. 
 
 Duke. Yes, yes. 
 
 With verses full of glee, 
 My feelings to pourtray. 
 
 That does very well. 
 Fustian. Admirably. 
 
 Duke. Now for the rest. I should like to talk of her beauty.
 
 80 THE NOBLE AUTHOR. 
 
 Fustian. Yes, of her beauty ; you're quite right. 
 Rattle. Your exceeding loveliness. 
 
 Duke. Yes, I say 
 
 Your exceeding loveliness. 
 Let's write it. 
 Fustian. It's not we, it's your Grace that writes. 
 
 Duke. Your exceeding loveliness, 
 
 Fustian. Conquers more than Cupid's darts. 
 
 Duke. Conquers all of Cupid's darts. 
 
 Fustian. No, no, you say 
 
 Conquers more than Cupid's darts. 
 Duke. Yes, yes, I say 
 
 Conquers more than Cupid's darts. 
 
 Conquers more than, conquers more than. That's it. 
 You see, one must express one's ideas poetically. 
 Fustian. That's just your Grace's talent. 
 
 Duke. Well, I don't know, I think I can write sometimes. 
 
 Conquers more than Cupid's darts. 
 Rattle. And it makes us all confess. 
 
 Duke. Oh, that was on the tip of my tongue. In fact, I was 
 just going to write it. 
 
 And it makes us all confess, 
 Fustian. You're the goddess of our hearts. 
 
 Duke. That comes quite naturally. " We confess " that she's 
 the goddess of our hearts ! When you write the one, 
 the other comes as a matter-of-course. 
 Rattle. Precisely so. 
 Duke. Yes. 
 
 You're the goddess of our hearts.
 
 THE NOBLE AUTIIOR. 81 
 
 Fustian. How charmingly expressed! 
 
 Rattle. So exquisitely natural ! 
 Fustian. So redolent of harmony ! No one but your Grace could 
 have expressed it so well. 
 
 And it makes us all confess 
 You're the goddess of our hearts. 
 
 Duke. I acknowledge that I am tolerably well satisfied. 
 Rattle. I should think so. 
 Duke. Let's see the whole verse, gentlemen. 
 
 Your exceeding loveliness, 
 
 Conquers more than Cupid's darts ; 
 
 And it makes us all confess 
 
 You're the goddess of our hearts. 
 
 Fustian. "What imagination ! 
 Rattle. And in one verse ! 
 
 Duke. Your exceeding loveliness 
 
 Conquers more than Cupid's darts ; 
 And it makes us all confess, 
 All Three. You're the goddess of our hearts. 
 
 Fustian. Divine ! 
 Rattle. Delicious ! 
 Duke. I am glad you're pleased. 
 Rattle. Pleased! 
 Fustian. "We're enchanted ! transported ! 
 
 Duke. "Well, would you believe it — I almost began to believe 
 this morning that I never should be able to write these 
 verses ? 
 Rattle. You don't know your own powers.
 
 82 THE KOBLE AUTHOR. 
 
 Fustian. When shall I shew your Grace my fifth act ? 
 
 Duke. Whenever you please. 
 Fustian. May I hope that your Grace will give me the benefit of 
 your powerful influence. 
 Duke. Most certainly. 
 Rattle. And I hope I shall have your Grace's opinion on my 
 song ? 
 Duke. Certainly. As you have been so good as to listen to my 
 composition, it is but fair I should do the same to yours. 
 Rattle. I should have been proud to have written those verses of 
 your Grace's. 
 Duke. Tou flatter me. 
 Fustian. I hope your Grace will let me have a copy. 
 
 Duke. Tou shall have one. 
 Fustian. ) r, . . . -, And it makes us all confess 
 
 Fustian. ) v . . . -, 
 Rattle. $ Exeuntsin 2 in 2l 
 
 You're the goddess of our hearts. 
 
 Enter Thompson. 
 
 Duke. Thompson! 
 Thompson. Yes, your Grace. 
 
 Duke. I think I shall dress now. 
 Thompson. Yes, your Grace. 
 
 Duke. I've finished my verses, Thompson. 
 Thompson. Yes, your Grace. 
 
 Duke. Yes, in spite of all the talking of these fellows. 
 Thompson. I thought I need not send them away. 
 
 Duke. Yes, I managed it all the same. Come, I'll sing them 
 over while I dress. [Exeunt.
 
 83 
 
 VISION OF THE PAST AND FUTURE. 
 
 "Watchman, what of the night?"— Isaiah xxi. 11. 
 
 Once methought in earnest musing, came a vision to my mind, 
 Dreaming of the fates before us, and the strifes we've left behind. 
 
 Seemed, I would, with gaze reverted pierce into the realms of night, 
 Look upon earth's elder nations rusting in their hoary might — 
 
 Where Derceto's* mythic daughter ruled by Tigris' palm-fringed waves ; 
 Where to haughty Nabonassar bowed a throng of sceptred slaves ; 
 
 Where by gilded guards surrounded slept the Persian on his throne ; 
 Dreamed, till waked by Grecian trumpets, that the world was all his own. 
 
 Where the wondrous son of Philip in his single life-time saw 
 
 Earth from Greece to farthest Indus, bow beneath his spear-borne law. 
 
 And yet not with this contented, further still I fain would find 
 More than all this march of empires, what the progress of the mind. 
 
 Ere oblivion's sullen waves had flowed upon Shem's heritage, 
 Whelmed alike the patriarch's wisdom and the learning of the mage. 
 
 Quenched Chaldean science hoary, gleaned from many a starlit sky, 
 Erom where idol-temple turrets reared their massy platforms high. 
 
 Shutting out a single glimpse, alas, of that more precious lore, 
 To his sons by Adam handed, never to be told us more. 
 
 * Semiramis.
 
 84 VISION OF THE PAST AND FUTURE. 
 
 Echoes faint of hymns of Eden, incense from her groves of balm, 
 Fragrant drops from healing fountains, fragments of a cherub's psalm. 
 
 Knowledge which, to us sad mortals, never can on earth be given, 
 Taught by messengers angelic bending from the courts of heaven. 
 
 "Words of grace to Seth imparted, by each patriarch handed down, 
 Till for earth to idols given far too pure that light had grown. 
 
 Such as these, the thoughts, the longings, while I mused of elder days, 
 While the veil that weighs upon them, all in vain I sighed to raise. 
 
 Fruitless are such aspirations, fond and useless are these sighs, 
 Rather tow'rds the teeming future turn awhile those eager eyes. 
 
 Brood not over buried nations, to the present what are they ? 
 Think of those now struggling onward, ponder on the coming day. 
 
 And yet, when in earnest musing, forward I would turn my eye, 
 Still before me, as behind me, mountain barriers I descry. 
 
 Onward then in vision hast'ning, to the mountain top I climb, 
 Where I find a lonely watcher gazing on the mist of time. 
 
 " What seest thou, O lonely prophet, in thy visions of the night ? 
 Is it thine, O Seer, to tell me what may be that distant light ?" 
 
 For far in the dim horizon I could see a flickering red, 
 Such as distant furnace fires on the midnight sky might shed. 
 
 " What may be that far off gleaming, is it light of that blest day, 
 Which shall, to this world benighted, shed its salutary ray ? 
 
 Are the nations, sad and wailing, all in sin and darkness nursed, 
 
 Soon to rise from that sad slough in which they've lain so long immersed,
 
 VISION OF THE PAST AND FUTURE. 85 
 
 "While the Sun of Righteousness with healing on its sheltering wings, 
 Shall in peace and joy arise to put to flight all evil things. 
 
 Is it nigh us ?" Then methought I looked upon that ancient seer, 
 In his face I saw a sadness, and my soul was chilled with fear. 
 
 " Ah," said he, " those flickering gleams which in the distance you descry, 
 They are not the dawn of morning, not the Day-spring from on high. 
 
 That for which the nations waiting all in expectation bow, 
 Which, indeed, is surely coming, but alas, not now, not now- 
 
 'Tis the signal of the onward marching of a dangerous foe, 
 
 For behind those dusky barriers, there an army's watchfires glow ; 
 
 And it is their blaze reflected forms that faint and flickering glare, 
 From their flames the smoke sulphureous taints the sullen midnight air. 
 
 Aye, those hosts would hasten onward, ever in the leash they strain, 
 Take to heart the timely warning; 'gainst the danger watch amain." 
 
 Then as what that host might be, I turned to ask the ancient seer ; 
 Faded from my eye the vision while it lingered on the ear. 
 
 Aye in riddles dark and tangled speak the visions of the night, 
 Nor is this in waking hours clear unto my dullard sight. 
 
 What its import, who the foemen, though not gifted to discern, 
 Pond'ring on that boding vision, I, a lesson yet may learn ; 
 
 Ever on the proudest kingdoms still some hidden danger waits ; 
 Heaven grant it, O my country, that it be not at thy gates. 
 
 Empires, like the ocean surges, have their fated rise and fall, 
 Shall the doom then be averted by the noblest of them all ?
 
 O. NOFIVAN, PRINT FR, MAIDEN I.ANE, COVENT OARDKN.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 ©DIVERSITY OF CALIFO*
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 *Ijhk Los Angeles 
 
 is book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 10 
 URL 
 
 TEF3LJBR 
 
 NOV 3 1 
 
 m 
 
 LOANS 
 
 TWO WEEKS FROM DATE 
 NON-RENEWAB! E Cj$H ' 
 
 OF RECETPl 
 
 Form L9-50m-7,'54 (5990)444
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY