Around it for ever deep music is swelling, The voice of the mountain-wind, solemn and loud. "Twas a midnight of shadows all fitfully streaming, Of wild waves and breezes, that mingled their moan; [ing; Of dim shrouded stars, as from gulfs faintly gleamAnd I met the dread gloom of its grandeur alone. I lay there in silence-a spirit came o'er me; awe. I view'd the dread beings around us that hover, I saw them-the powers of the wind and the ocean, The rush of whose pinion bears onward the storms; ["The Welsh Melodies, which first introduced Mrs Hemans to the public as a song-writer, had already made their appearance. Some of them are remarkable for the melody of their numbers-in particular, the song to the wellknown air," Ar hyd y nos." Her fine feeling for music, in which, as also in drawing, she would have signally excelled, could she have bestowed the time and patient labour requisite for obtaining mastery over the mechanical difficulties of these arts, assisted her not only in her choice of measures, but also of her words; and, although in speaking of her songs, it must be remarked that some of the later ones are almost too full of meaning to require the further clothing of sweet sound, Like the sweep of the white-rolling wave was their motion I felt their dim presence, but knew not their forms! I saw them the mighty of ages departed The dead were around me that night on the hill: From their eyes, as they pass'd, a cold radiance they darted, There was light on my soul, but my heart's blood was chill. I saw what man looks on, and dies-but my spirit Was strong, and triumphantly lived through that hour; And, as from the grave, I awoke to inherit A flame all immortal, a voice, and a power! Day burst on that rock with the purple cloud crested, And high Cader Idris rejoiced in the sun;But oh what new glory all nature invested, When the sense which gives soul to her beauty was won !1 instead of their being left, as in outline, waiting for the musician's colouring hand, they must be all praised as flowing and expressive; and it is needless to remind the reader how many of them, united with her sister's music, have obtained the utmost popularity. She had well studied the national character of the Welsh airs, and the allusions to the legendary history of the ancient Britons, which her songs contain, are happily chosen. But it was an instinct with Mrs Hemans to catch the picturesque points of national character, as well as of national music : in the latter she always delighted."-CHORLEY'S Memorials of Mrs Hemans, p. 80-1.] THE VESPERS OF PALERMO. A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. ["Mrs Hemans was at this time (1821) occupied in the composition of her tragedy, 'The Vespers of Palermo,' which she originally wrote without any idea of offering it for the stage. The sanguine recommendations, however, of Mr Reginald Heber, and the equally kind encouragement of Mr Milman, (to whose correspondence she was introduced through the medium of a mutual friend, though she had never the advantage of his personal acquaintance,) induced her to venture upon a step which her own diffidence would have withheld her from contemplating, but for the support of such high literary authorities. Indeed, notwithstanding the flattering encomiums which were bestowed upon the tragedy by all who read it, and most especially by the critics of the green-room, whose imprimatur might have been supposed a sufficiently safe guarantee of success, her own anticipations, throughout the long period of suspense which intervened between its acceptance and representation, were far more modified than those of her friends. In this subdued tone of feeling she thus wrote to Mr Milman :- As I cannot help looking forward to the day of trial with much more of dread than of sanguine expectation, I most willingly acquiesce in your recommendations of delay, and shall rejoice in having the respite as much prolonged as possible. I begin almost to shudder at my own presumption, and, if it were not for the kind encouragement I have received from you and Mr Reginald Heber, should be much more anxiously occupied in searching for any outlet of escape, than in attempting to overcome the difficulties which seem to obstruct my onward path.'”—Memoir, p. 81-2.] Of revelry within the palaces, And the fair castles of our ancient lords, 3d Pea. Alas! we sat, In happier days, so peacefully beneath The olives and the vines our fathers rear'd, Pea.'s Child. My father, tell me when Shall the gay dance and song again resound Amidst our chestnut-woods, as in those days Of which thou 'rt wont to tell the joyous tale? 1st Pea. When there are light and reckless hearts once more In Sicily's green vales. Alas, my boy! Pro. (from the background.) Ay, it is well So to relieve th' o'erburthen'd heart, which pants Beneath its weight of wrongs; but better far In silence to avenge them! An Old Pea. What deep voice Came with that startling tone? 1st Pea. It was our guest's, The stranger pilgrim who hath sojourn'd here Since yester-morn. Good neighbours, mark him well: [accords He hath a stately bearing, and an eye move. Mark him! Old Pea. Nay, rather mark him not; the times By snares on every side, and we must learn Pro. (coming forward indignantly.) The word is death! And what hath life for thee, That thou shouldst cling to it thus? thou abject thing! Whose very soul is moulded to the yoke, Some of the Peas. Away, away! ills Than those ye bear thus calmly? Ye have drain'd The cup of bitterness till naught remains For all who suffer with indignant thoughts Which work in silent strength. What! think ye heaven O'erlooks the oppressor, if he bear awhile Pea. Had we but arms and leaders, we are men Who might earn vengeance yet; but wanting these, What wouldst thou have us do? Pro. Be vigilant; And when the signal wakes the land, arise! [Exit PROCIDA. 1st Pea. This man should be a prophet: how he seem'd To read our hearts with his dark searching glance❘ 2d Pea. Speak low; I know him well. His form, seen oft when in my youth I served Pea. And is this he? Then heaven protect him! for around his steps Will many snares be set. 1st Pea. He comes not thus Vit. Have I not told thee, that I bear a heart Blighted and cold?-Th' affections of my youth Lie slumbering in the grave; their fount is closed, And all the soft and playful tenderness Which hath its home in woman's breast, ere yet Deep wrongs have sear'd it-all is fled from mine. Urge me no more. Eri. O lady! doth the flower That sleeps entomb'd through the long wintry storms, Unfold its beauty to the breath of spring, Vit. Love -make love's name thy spell, array'd In arms against thee! Know'st thou whom I loved, -Coldly!—nay, rather with triumphant gaze, Eri. Haughty dame ! If thy proud heart to tenderness be closed, Vit. Provençal, tell Thy tale of danger to some happy heart That make carth Paradise. I stand alone; Eri. Is there not one Who ne'er commands in vain? Proud lady, bend Vit. Viceroy, tell thy lord That, e'en where chains lie heaviest on the land, Eri. 'Tis well. Then nerve that lofty heart to The wrath which is not powerless. Yet again To vigilant hatred oft, whose sleepless eye [Exit ERIBERT. Vit. To-morrow!-Some ere now have slept and dreamt [work, Of morrows which ne'er dawn'd-or ne'er for them; [PROCIDA enters, disguised. Unbidden guest, that with so mute a step Dost steal upon me? Pro. One o'er whom hath pass'd Vit. Righteous heaven! the pledge Pro. Call me so, When my great task is done. Yet who can tell Vit. Why dost thou gaze, With such a still and solemn earnestness, Pro. That I may read If to the widow'd love of Conradin, Or the proud Eribert's triumphant bride, I now intrust my fate. Vit. Thou, Procida! That thou shouldst wrong me thus !-prolong thy gaze Till it hath found an answer. Pro. 'Tis enough. I find it in thy cheek, whose rapid change Vit. And told it not A tale of insolent love repell'd with scorn- Pro. Thou shalt not need To tread its shadowy mazes. Trust my words: All that can change man's aspect! Yet not long By deeds of fearful fame. Vittoria, live! Shalt thou find safety in forgetfulness. I am he, to breathe whose name is perilous, [He shows a ring. It is most meet that thou shouldst live, to see Deep on thy marble brow. Vit. Then thou canst tell By gazing on the wither'd rose, that there Pro. Hear'st thou not With what a deep and ominous moan the voice Pro. Yes, I feel Its breathing influence whilst I look on thee, Who wert its light in life. Yet will we not Make womanish tears our offering on his tomb; He shall have nobler tribute !-I must hence, But thou shalt soon hear more. Await the time. [Exeunt separately. SCENE III.-The Sea-shore. RAIMOND DI PROCIDA, CONSTANCE. Con. There is a shadow far within your eye, Which hath of late been deepening. You were wont, Upon the clearness of your open brow, To wear a brighter spirit, shedding round Joy like our southern sun. It is not well, Raim. Oh! from the dreams Of youth, sweet Constance, hath not manhood still Lies pale around; and life's realities To breathe where noble minds are bow'd, as here. -To breathe!-It is not breath! Con. I know thy grief, -And is 't not mine?-for those devoted men Raim, Waste not thou thy prayers, O gentle love! for them. There's little need Con. Alas! I see That some new wrong hath pierced you to the soul. Raim. Pardon, beloved Constance, if my words, From feelings hourly stung, have caught, perchance, A tone of bitterness. Oh! when thine eyes, With their sweet eloquent thoughtfulness, are fix'd Thus tenderly on mine, I should forget All else in their soft beams; and yet I came To tell thee Con. What? What wouldst thou say? Oh speak! Thou wouldst not leave me! Raim. I have cast a cloud, The shadow of dark thoughts and ruin'd fortunes, O'er thy bright spirit. Haply, were I gone, Thou wouldst resume thyself, and dwell once more In the clear sunny light of youth and joy, E'en as before we met-before we loved! Con. This is but mockery. Well thou know'st thy love Hath given me nobler being; made my heart Of strong affection; and I would not change Raim. Oh! thou hast deserved A love less fatal to thy peace than mine. |