Ferd. Nay, swear not, young man, These holy walls should echo better sounds; I will believe you, I will tell you all: You have a look that forces confidence. Yes! you shall know my strangely guilty life; Yet should that eye still beam forgiveness on me, My future days will lose their shade; oh, no! What tale so full of horror ever blanch'd

The cheek with fear? Know then, my rising youth,

Enslav'd to all the passions of our nature,
Was stain'd with murder!

Des, Alas! that word!

Ferd. You are not yet prepar'd; I will be regular

In my narration.

Des. Tranquillize yourself.

Ferd. Why should I poison your unpractis'd

ear?

'Tis silence best becomes my guilt and mis'ry.

Des. I will dwell with you, in my woes united, And at our leisure we'll exchange our hist'ries. Ferd. Then hear me now-'twere horror to

deceive you.

Travelling in early life the provinces
Wash'd by the sea, I was attack'd by robbers;
Their savage treatment left me on the ground,
Faint with my wounds, almost bereft of life;
Returning sense the anxious care confess'd,
Of the poor tenant of a neighbouring hut,
Who kindly bore me, where his little all

Was prodigally spent on my recov'ry.
His only child (a moment pardon me)
An unaffected, artless, lovely girl,
Sweet as the blushing rose, that wildly grew
Around her dwelling, she attended me;
I gain'd her confidence, and she would tell
The rustic loves of all the village swains,
How in the dance one sought to win his fair,
Another by his jests and merriment;
Then, in return, I oft would largely speak
Of the intrigues and plots of polish'd life,
Till she would raise her hands, and scarce believe
Such things could be--I lov'd this charming girl :
I had been taught to rush down passion's stream,
With every sail unfurl'd-virtuous she was,
And I became her husband-Spare me farther,
This vest, this place, declare the damning tale.
Des. Break not off thus, but thro' the
length'ning chain

Of smallest circumstance proceed, for never
Did interest so strong possess my soul.

Ferd. Returning to Madrid, I brought my wife.

Now mark the deep descent of crime and guilt:
Amongst my noble friends I felt asham'd
To introduce my humble cottage girl,

Tho' form'd by nature, eminent in all

A doating husband could have wish'd his bride.
Let me be brief-e'en now my bosom swells
As ocean's waves, when the rude storm is past;
Just then there mov'd in fashion's highest round

A lady, matchless both in form and mind,
In whom the various qualities we meet
In other women, one to one assign'd,
Collected seem'd to make a perfect whole.
I-I-defying every principle

Of honor, duty, gratitude, lov'd her,

To madness lov'd her-heav'n! thy ways are just!
I vow'd eternal faith-I prais'd as real

The visions of the bless'd, where soul to soul,
And heart to heart are knit in endless joy.
She trusted, she believ'd the flatt'ring tale;
But prudence still went hand in hand with love.
She was the victim of such arts, as left
No stain upon her spotless mind-you tremble!
And as our great progenitor, turn pale,
Foreseeing worse than brother's murder.

I was impassion'd, madden'd, and with frenzy,
Rushing into the chamber of my wife,
My wife! my benefactress! lay before me
Weltering in her blood!-Interrupt me not-
Her friends were poor-'twas easy to prevent
Inquiry on the manner of her death.

Again I mingled with the world, how vainly!
Thro' all its maze my murder'd wife pursu'd me,
Sat at the social board, poison'd the cup;
My days and nights no kind distinction knew,
The spectre follow'd thro' the sun's broad glare;
Deep drench'd in blood, I dar'd not to approach
Her-the lov'd cause of all; receive this tear,
Oh! ever honor'd! and thou, Almighty God!
Let it not swell the number of my crimes,

Disdaining to complain, her charms she hid
In solitude; and I, by furies goaded,

Fled to this monast'ry; my wealth immense
Was dedicate to pious purposes.

The world believed me dead, and obsequies
Fictitious, the report confirm'd. I pass
My days and nights in presence of the God
Of mercy, and, alas! of justice too,

And

you alone of men have e'er consol'd me. Des. Dreadful indeed has been your guilt!

and great

Your punishment! but if you cast a thought On the proud hopes that take from death its sting, And rob the grave of all it's victory,

Attend to me.

Ferd. Attend to you? your voice

Awakens pleasure indescribable.

Des. Born in a land, by superstitious clouds Obscur'd, darkling you ill explore the way To life immortal; can it be for man, Tho' rob'd in sacred vest, and in his hand The censor holding, fragrant sacrifice, To speak the judgments of the King of Kings? If thou would'st recognize the word of God, Sink in thyself, oh man! and search it there: The sacred monitor within presides,

With heaven's undoubted sword; tis conscience, conscience;

When this approves, despise the voice of men. It is the dawning of eternal day,

An emanation from the sapphire throne,

Beyond the tomb to show'r its radiant flood,
Thro' space unlimited, and endless time.

Ferd. Fearless you speak, but youth is ever rash.

Des. 'Tis not the arrogance of youth that guides me;

In happier climes, the aged, and the wise,

Have form'd their lives by sentiments like these.
What! shall the being of the moment measure
Eternal justice? shall imperfect man

Hold in his hand the balance of the skies?
Bid him go hurl the thunder, and the earth
Shake with his mighty nod-no! 'tis delusion!
These high pretenders, like yourself, are subject
To all the frailties of humanity;

Fly from their vengeance to the God of mercy. Ferd. To doubt is sure perdition-peace! oh peace!

Des. Then doubt no longer, but pursue, unaw'd,

The call celestial! so shall your years

Glide peaceful on in soft tranquillity,

The hand of hope shall smooth your furrow'd brow,

And terror yield to reverential awe.

Ferd. Leave me! your rashness spreads new

horror round.

Des. Reflect then on my words.

Ferd. Could I avoid it!

To doubt is impious, and impiety

Swells not the catalogue of my transgressions: