First Wom. O no! thou wrong'st her, friend; it
is not that:

Deliverance is her fear, and death her hope.
A second time she bears a mother's throes
For her young stripling, whose exalted birth
To endless life is at this fearful crisis,

Or earn'd or lost. May heaven forefend the last!
He is a timid youth, and soft of nature:
God grant him strength to bear that fearful proof!
Second Wom. Here comes our reverend father.

Enter a CHRISTIAN FATHER.

What tidings dost thou bring? are they in bliss? Fath. Yes, daughter, as I trust, they are ere this In high immortal bliss. Cælus alone

First Wom. He hath apostatized! O wo is me! O wo is me for his most wretched mother!

Fath. Apostatized! No; stripling as he is, His fortitude, where all were braced and brave, Shone paramount.

For his soft downy cheek and slender form

Made them conceive they might subdue his firm

ness,

Therefore he was reserved till noble Varus
And his compeers had in the flames expired.

Then did they court and tempt him with fair promise

Of all that earthly pleasure or ambition
Can offer, to deny his holy faith.

But he, who seem'd before so meek and timid,
Now suddenly imbued with holy grace,
Like the transition of some watery cloud
In passing o'er the moon's refulgent disc,
Glow'd with new life; and from his fervid tongue
Words of most firm, indignant constancy
Pour'd eloquently forth; then to the pile
Sprung lightly up, like an undaunted warrior
Scaling the breach of honour; or, alas!
As I have seen him midst his boyish mates,
Vaulting aloft for every love of motion.

First Wom. High heaven be praised for this!-
Thine eyes beheld it?

Fath. I saw it not: the friend who witness'd it, Left him yet living midst devouring flame; Therefore I spoke of Calus doubtfully, If he as yet belong'd to earth or heaven.

disperse and leave him alone. He walks a few paces slowly, then stops and continues for a short time in a thoughtful posture.

Cor. There is some power in this, or good or ill, Surpassing nature. When the soul is roused To desperate sacrifice, 'tis ardent passion, Or high exalted virtue that excites it. Can loathsome demonry in dauntless bearing, Outdo the motives of the lofty brave? It cannot be! There is some power in this Mocking all thought-incomprehensible.

(Remains for a moment silent and thoughtful,
Delusion! ay, 'tis said the cheated sight
while Sylvius enters behind him unperceived.
Will see unreal things; the cheated ear
List to sweet sounds that are not; even the reason
Maintain conclusions wild and inconsistent.
We hear of this:-the weak may be deluded;
But is the learn'd, th' enlighten'd, noble Varus
The victim of delusion?-Can it be?
I'll not believe it.

Syl. (advancing to him.) No, believe it not.
Cor. (starting.) Ha! one so near me !

I have seen thy face before; but where ?-who art thou?

Syl. E'en that centurion of the seventh legion Who, with Cordenius Maro, at the siege Of Fort Volundum, mounted first the breach; And kept the clustering enemy in check, Till our encouraged Romans follow'd us.

Cor. My old companion then, the valiant Syl

vius.

Thou'st done hard service since I saw thee last:

Thy countenance is mark'd with graver lines
Than in those greener days: I knew thee not.
Where goest thou now? I'll bear thee company.
Syl. I thank thee: yet thou may'st not go with

me.

Enter a CHRISTIAN BROTHER.

Broth. Lift up your heads, my sisters! let your

voices

In grateful thanks be raised! Those ye lament,
Have earthly pangs for heavenly joy exchanged.
The manly Varus and the youthful Cælus,
The lion and the dove, yoke-fellows link'd,
Have equal bliss and equal honour gain'd.

Varus Dobella?

weakest strong!

I'll to his mother with the blessed tidings. [ExIT. Fath. Let us retire and pray. How soon our lives

May have like ending, God alone doth know!
O may like grace support us in our need!

[EXEUNT. SCENE IV. AN OPEN SPACE IN FRONT OF A TEMPLE. Enter CORDENIUS, as returning from the execution with his SOLDIERS, who, upon a signal from him,

As Varus now enjoys.

Cor. Thy words amaze me, friend; what is their meaning?

Syl. They cannot be explain'd with hasty speech In such a place. If thou would'st really knowAnd may such light

Cor. Why dost thou check thy words, And look so much disturb'd, like one in doubt ? Syl. What am I doing! Zeal, perhaps, betrays

me.

Yet, wherefore hide salvation from a man Who is so worthy of it?

Cor. Why art thou agitated thus? What moves thee?

Syl. And would'st thou really know it?
Cor. Dost thou doubt me?

I have an earnest, most intense desire.

Syl. Sent to thy heart, brave Roman, by a power Which I may not resist. (Bowing his head.) But go not with me now in open day. At fall of eve, I'll meet thee in the suburb, Close to the pleasure garden of Sulpicius ; Where in a bushy crevice of the rock There is an entry to the catacombs, Known but to few

Syl. A dismal place, I own, but heed not that; For there thou❜lt learn what, to thy ardent mind, Will make this world but as a thorny pass To regions of delight; man's natural life With all its varied turmoil of ambition, But as the training of a wayward child To manly excellence; yea, death itself But as a painful birth to life unending. The word eternal has not to thine ears, As yet, its awful, ample sense convey'd. Cor. Something possesses thee. Syl. Yes, noble Maro ; But it is something which can ne'er possess A mind that is not virtuous.-Let us part; It is expedient now.-All good be with thee! Cor. And good be with thee, also, valiant soldier! Syl. (returning as he is about to go out.) At close of day, and near the pleasure garden,

SCENE I. THE CATACOMBS, SHOWING LONG, LOWROOFED AISLES, IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS, SUPPORTED BY THICK PILLARS OF THE ROUGH

UNHEWN ROCK, WITH RUDE TOMBS AND HEAPS

OF HUMAN BONES, AND THE WALLS IN MANY PLACES LINED WITH HUMAN SKULLS.

Enter CORDENIUS MARO, speaking to a CHRISTIAN FATHER, on whose arm he leans, and followed by SYLVIUS.

|(Granting again that such a one might be,)
Who hath but seen the element of fire
On household earth or woodman's smoky pile,
And looks at once, midst 'stounding thunder-peals,
On Jove's magnificence of lightning.-Pardon,
I pray you pardon me! I mean his lightning,
Who is the Jove of Jove, the great Jehovah.
Fath. (smiling.) Be not disturb'd, my son: the
lips will utter,

From lengthen'd habit, what the mind rejects.
Cor. These blessed hours which I have pass'd
with you

Have to my intellectual being given

New feelings and expansion, like to that
Which once I felt, on viewing by degrees

The wide development of nature's amplitude.
Fath. And how was that, my son?

Cor. I well remember it; even at this moment Imagination sees it all again.

"Twas on a lofty mountain of Armenia,
O'er which I led by night my martial cohort,
To shun the fierce heat of a summer's day.
Close round us hung, the vapours of the night
Had form'd a woofy curtain, dim and pale,
Through which the waning moon did faintly mark
Its slender crescent.

Fath. Ay, the waned moon through midnight

vapours seen,

Fit emblem is of that retrenching light,
Dubious and dim, which to the earliest patriarchs
Was at the first vouchsafed; a moral guide,
Soon clouded and obscured to their descendants,
Who peopled far and wide, in scatter'd tribes,
The fertile earth.-But this is interruption.
Proceed, my son.

Cor.
Well, on the lofty summit
We halted, and the day's returning light
On this exalted station found us. Then
Our brighten'd curtain, wearing into shreds
And rifted masses, through its opening gave
Glimpse after glimpse of slow revealed beauty,
Which held th' arrested senses magic bound,
In the intensity of charm'd attention.

Fath. From such an eminence, the opening

mist

acquiring

Your heavenly lore, so powerful and sublime-
O! what an alter'd creature they have made me !
Fath. Yes, gentle son, I trust that thou art
alter'd.

back

And downward gaze-if such a one might be
Hath only known the boundless azure sky
By the strait circle of reflected beauty,
Seen in the watery gleam of some deep pit,
Till of a sudden roused, he stands erect,
And wondering looks aloft and all around
On the bright sunny firmament :-like one

From virgin's tunic blown; and still beyond,
The earth's extended vastness from the sight,
Wore like the boundless ocean.
My heart beat rapidly at the fair sight-
This ample earth, man's natural habitation.
But now, when to my mental eye reveal'd,
His moral destiny, so grand and noble
Lies stretching on e'en to immensity,

It overwhelms me with a flood of thoughts.

Of happy thoughts.

Fath. Thanks be to God that thou dost feel it so!

Cor. I am most thankful for the words of power Which from thy gifted lips and sacred Scripture I have received. What feelings they have raised! O what a range of thought given to the mind! And to the soul what loftiness of hope! That future dreamy state of faint existence Which poets have described and sages taught, In which the brave and virtuous pined and droop'd In useless indolence, changed for a state Of social love, and joy, and active bliss,A state of brotherhood,-a state of virtue, So grand, so purified ;-0, it is excellent! My soul is roused within me at the sound, Like some poor slave, who from a dungeon issues To range with free-born men his native land Fath. Thou may'st, indeed, my son, redeem'd from thraldom,

Become the high compeer of blessed spirits.
Cor. The high compeer of such !-These gushing
tears,

Nature's mysterious tears, will have their way.
Fath. To give thy heart relief.

Cor. And yet mysterious. Why do we weep
At contemplation of exalted virtue?
Perhaps in token of the fallen state
In which we are, as thrilling sympathy
Strangely acknowledges some sight and sound,
Connected with a dear and distant home,
Albeit the memory hath that link forgotten:
A kind of latent sense of what we were
Or might have been; a deep, mysterious token.
Fath. Perhaps thou'rt right, my son; for e'en

the wicked

Will sometimes weep at lofty, generous deeds.
Some broken traces of our noble nature

Were yet preserved; therefore our great Creator Still loved his work, and thought it worth redemption.

And therefore his bless'd Son, our generous master,
Did, as the elder brother of that race,

Whose form he took, lay down his life to save us.
But I have read thee, in our sacred Book,
His gentle words of love.

Cor. Thou hast thou hast! they're stirring in my heart:

Each fibre of my body thrills in answer
To the high call.-

Fath. The spirit of power, my son, is dealing

I struck my hand against my soldier's mail,
And cried, "This faith is worthy of a man!'
Cor. Our best philosophers have raised their
thoughts

To one great universal Lord of all,

Lord e'en of Jove himself and all the gods;
But who dost feel for that high, distant Essence
A warmer sentiment than deep submission?
But now, adoring love and grateful confidence
Cling to the infinity of power and goodness,
As the repentant child turns to his sire
With yearning looks that say, "Am I not thine ?"
I am too bold: I should be humbled first
In penitence and sorrow, for the stains
Of many a hateful vice and secret passion.
Fath. Check not the generous tenor of thy
thoughts:

O check it not! Love leads to penitence,
And is the noblest, surest path; whilst fear
Is dark and devious. To thy home return,
And let thy mind well weigh what thou hast heard.
If then thou feel'st within thee, faith assured
That faith, which may, even through devouring
flames,

Its passage hold to heaven, baptismal rites
Shall give thee entrance to a purer life;
Receive thee, as thy Saviour's valiant soldier,
For his high warfare arm'd.

Cor. I am resolved, and feel that in my heart
There lives that faith; baptize me ere we part.

Fath. So be it then. But yet that holy rite Must be preferr'd; for lo! our brethren come, Bearing the ashes of our honour'd saints, Which must, with hymns of honour be received.

Enter Christians, seen advancing slowly along one of

the aisles, and bearing a large veiled urn; which they set down near the front. They then lift off the veil and range themselves round it, while one sings and the rest join in the chorus at the end of each short

verse.

SONG

Departed brothers, generous, brave,

Who for the faith have died,
Nor its pure source denied,

Your bodies from devouring flames to save.

Chorus.

Honour on earth, and bliss in heaven,
Be to your saintly valour given!

And we, who, left behind, pursue

A pilgrim's weary way

To realms of glorious day,

Shall rouse our fainting souls with thoughts of you. Honour on earth, &c.

Your ashes mingled with the dust,

Shall yet be forms more fair

Than e'er breathed vital air,

When earth again gives up her precious trust.
Honour on earth, &c.

The trump of angels shall proclaim,
With tones far sent and sweet,
Which countless hosts repeat.

The generous martyr's never-fading name.

Honour on earth, and bliss in heaven,
Be to your saintly valour given!

Cor. (to Father.) And ye believe those, who a

few hours since

Were clothed in flesh and blood, and here, before us,

And less of martial ardour were becoming

Is dealing with thy spirit: be received,
A ransom'd penitent, to the high fellowship
Of all the good and bless'd in earth and heaven!
Enter a CONVERT.

Whence comest thou, Fearon? Why wert thou prevented

From joining in our last respectful homage

hand,

His saving hand, to e'en the meanest slave
Who bends beneath an earthly master's rod.
This faith is meet for all of human kind.

Cor. Forgive him, father: see, he stands reproved;

His heart is meek, though ardent ;
It is, indeed, a faith for all mankind.

Fath. We feel it such, my son, press'd as we are;
On every side beset with threatening terrors.
Look on these ghastly walls, these shapeless pillars,
These heaps of human bones,-this court of death;
E'en here, as in a temple, we adore

The Lord of life, and sing our song of hope, That death has lost his sting, the grave his triumph. Cor. O make me then the partner of your hopes! (Taking the hand of Sylvius, and then of several other Christians.)

Brave men! high destined souls! immortal beings!

The blessed faith and sense of what we are
Comes on my heart, like streams of beamy light
Pour'd from some opening cloud. O to conceive
What lies beyond the dim, dividing veil,
Of regions bright, of blest and glorious being.
Fath. Ay, when it is withdrawn, we shall behold
What heart hath ne'er conceived, nor tongue could

utter.

Cor. When but a boy, I've gazed upon the sky, With all its sparks of light, as a grand cope For the benighted world. But now my fancy Will greet each twinkling star, as the bright lamp Of some fair angel on his guardian watch. And think ye not, that from their lofty stations, Our future glorious home, our Father's house, May lie within the vast and boundless ken Of such seraphic powers?

Fath. Thy fancy soars on wide and buoyant wings;

Speak on, my son, I would not check thy ardour.
Cor. This solid earth is press'd beneath our feet,
But as a step from which to take our flight;
What boots it then, if rough or smooth it be,
Serving its end?-Come, noble Sylvius!
We've been companions in the broil of battle,
Now be we fellow soldiers in that warfare
Which best becomes the brave.

Syl. Cordenius Maro, we shall be companions When this wide earth with all its fields of blood, Where war hath raged, and all its towers of

strength

Which have begirded been with iron hosts, Are shrunk to nothing, and the flaming sun Is in his course extinguish'd.

Laid down their lives?

If they have seized on him, the righteous cause
Could not have suffer'd. Art thou sure of it?
We had not heard of his return from Syria.

Con. It is too true: he landed ten days since
On the Brundusian coast, and as he enter'd
The gates of Rome, was seized and dragg'd to
prison.

Fath. And we in utter ignorance of this!

Con. He travell'd late and unaccompanied,
So this was done at nightfall and conceal'd.
But see his writing, given me by a guard,
Who has for pity's sake betray'd his trust:
It is address'd to thee.

(Giving him a paper.) Fath. (after reading it.) Alas, alas: it is a brief

account

Of his successful labours in the East;
For with his excellent gifts of eloquence,
Learning, and prudence, he has made more converts
Than all our zealous brotherhood besides.
What can we do? He will be sacrificed :
The church in him must bleed, if God so wills.
It is a dreadful blow.

Cor. (to the Convert.) I pray thee, in what prison is he kept?

Con. In Sylla's tower, that dwelling of despair.
Cor. Guarded by Romans?
Con.
Yes; and strongly guarded.
Cor. Yet, he shall be released.
Fath. (to Cordenius.) Beware, my son,
imprudent zeal :

of rash,

The truth hath suffer'd much from this; beware; Risk not thyself: thy life is also precious.

Cor. My whole of life is precious; but this shred, This earthly portion of it, what is that, But as it is employ'd in holy acts? Am I Christ's soldier at a poorer rate Than I have served an earthly master? No; I feel within my glowing breast a power Which says I am commission'd for this service. Give me thy blessing-thy baptismal blessing, And then God's spirit guide me! Serving God, I will not count the cost but to discharge it. Fath. His will direct thee then, my generous

son!

His blessing be upon thee !-Lead him, Sylvius,
To the blest fount, where from his former sins
He shall by heavenly grace be purified. [EXEUNT.