FLORES HISTRIONICI.

VI. THE VISION OF GUILT.

BY SAMUEL L. BLANCHARD.

Ulfrid and Spirits.

Ulfrid. Why do ye force me from the earth? I'm borne Along this icy element of air,

Swifter than the wild thoughts of mortals, or

The course of their dull world. Speak, speak to me—
Tell me, ye beings, whatsoe'er ye are,
That league in darkness and in mystery,
Why do ye bear me on ascending wings,
To regions of thick clouds, whose lightest tint
Seems darker than the night of wretchedness,
That follows pleasure's sunset! Speak to me-
Or cast the vapors from around your forms
And shew them in their horrible adornments:
Your fiendlike aspects, and your flapping wings,
Whose sounds alone attend us in our course.
Yet ye are silent and unseen-I feel

Your more than earthly grasp enchain me round,
And I am powerless-my heart is poisoned!—
Tho' wretched, yet I clung to earth and man,
As clings a drowning being to a rock,
Not with a thought of life, but deeming that
"Twere better there to perish, than amidst
The whirling waters of the ocean. Ice-
Ice is upon me! oh, how dark and cold-
Now, now-yon scene is beautiful! this cloud
That floats above me in the high horizon,
And seems a sable world, is passing quickly;
And all these giant masses that uprear
Their dusky foreheads in exulting pride,
Break silently, and glide thro' airy space,
Like rivers from their fount! 'Tis beautiful-
The stars that sparkle yonder, the bright blue,
Boundless and clear, and ev'ry shining orb
Peopled with myriads of creatures-man!

How feeble is thy force!

Yon crescent pale, and beaming from the sky
Her stainless light upon me, as I mount
On fleeter pinions thro' th' unruffled air,
Reminds me of Hyanthe; she diffused
Her splendor on a heart so desolate,
That tho' it loved it knows not love's delight,
But felt alone its anguish and its fear.
Sense, feeling, die within me-I am chill'd,
And icicles, depending from my hair,
Reflect the moonbeam as it falls! oh, crush,
Crush me, ye viewless beings, into dust!
Or dash me hence into the darkest depths,
And free me from this bondage!

(Ulfrid becomes insensible, and awaking from his trance, finds himself alone.)

Is this death?

Unpeopled stillness-I am monarch here!

How grand, how vast my empire! soft, awhile-
My breath profanes this temple; echo wings
My whisper round it, and disturbs the scene
Of deep solemnity. How came I here?
I live not on the earth, and yet I feel
The throbbings of a lingering life within me!
Hyanthe! oh, my own Hyanthe! when

Oh, when shall I embrace thee? can these walls
Of blackest marble be my monument?
I'm frozen! Horror's damp is on my brow,
And palsies every nerve!—

These haughty pillars, to the high-built dome
Ascending, shew me on their polished fronts
My pallid visage, and my sunken form,
Melted by misery! what noise? the winds-
Howl, howl, and shake my dungeon to its base;
Or give me tempest in its frightful shapes,

And speak my doom in thunder!

(The wind ceases, and a voice issues near Ulfrid.)
Voice. Mortal, list! the coming storm

Shall present a sable form;

He upon the whirling wind

Rides, the proudest of his kind;

.

Ile upon the sulphur flies,

O'er the earth, and thro' the skies;
Mortal, fearless be thine eye,

He will shew thy destiny!

(Ulfrid, after a pause.) Agent of a fearful power, man

tled o'er

In mystery and gloom, why shrink you thus
From my aspiring sight? I dare to look
Upon you, tho' you come in ghastliness
Scaled like serpents. In the battle oft
I've drawn against a host of armed foes,
And scattered death upon them; dashing blood,
Their brightest blood, into the air like fountains,
Until the smoke hath flung a shade around,
And day light hath crept back in fear! advance-
For solitude hath stings, and my heart sinks
In trembling cowardice!

(A loud noise is heard, the lightning gleams through
an aperture at the extreme end of the temple, and
discovers to Ulfrid the descent of a spirit, who ad-
vances from a light vapor that surrounds him, and
immediately several voices seem to issue from the
pillars that support the dome.)

Hail, oh! mighty, mighty power,
Parent of the cooling shower,
Source of the storm

In its deadliest form,

When winds are yelling,
And waters are swelling;
When ocean's o'erfraught,
And the battle is waging,
When mountains are taught
To re-echo its raging;
When trees are bending,

And night-birds are screaming,

When air is rending,

And no star is beaming;

Oh, then is the sight,

When the waters are proudest !

Oh, then is thy might,

When the tempest is loudest !

Hail, thou mighty, mighty pow'r,
We are thine, and thine the hour!

(The Spirit approaches Ulfrid; a blue fire issues from the centre, and casts a faint light upon the walls of the temple.)

Spirit. Child of earth, and mind of sorrow,

Arm thine eye, and view the morrow;
View the semblance of thy fate,

Love and anguish, pride and hate;
Tempest darkens ev'ry morn,

Night is of its starlight shorn.

(The Spirit waves his right hand twice, and an arm is seen bearing a cup, on which is written" Pleasure." Ulfrid attempts to seize it, but a cloud passes over it, and he beholds it no longer.)

Spirit. "Tis the poison thou did'st quaff
In the revels gayest laugh;

There thou lov'd'st thy lip to steep,
There thy sparkling tears to weep.

(He again waves his hand, and Ulfrid perceives a cup of black marble, bearing the inscription, Misery." He endeavours to dash it down, when again a vapour interposes, and renders the attempt fruitless.)

Spirit. 'Tis the bitter draught of all,

Form'd for man to mark his fall;
Form'd to swell his banquet's gloom,

Form'd to deck his earthly tomb.

(The Spirit advances to the centre of the temple, and a figure rises from the blue flame, bearing a third cup, which the Spirit presents to Ulfrid. He drains it of its magic juice, and voices are again heard.) King of the rainbow's brightness!

Thy mandate is known,

Its spirit has flown,

And ev'ry being bows to thee,

To splendour and to dignity,

And lurks in airy lightness!

(The storm rages for a moment, and then subsides.) Spirit. Mortal, thou art bold and brave, Fearless as the frantic wave:

See those columns, giant-cast,
They shall picture all the past;

See those of a blacker dye,
They shall shew futurity.

(Ulfrid, obeying the signal of the Spirit,
first column.)

Ulfrid. Oh, faithful vision, scene of early jo I see a virgin clothed in happiness;

Her arms entwine me, and her eyes beam love!
She laughs-no more, no more. This column
The damning source of ev'ry burning tear;
My youth's lov'd friend is false; he woos the m
And wins her! I'm blind, yet my bright weapo
Finds out his dearest vein; how proudly starts
The blood, as if in triumph, and his eye
Is madly quiv'ring 'neath its dewy lid!
In this black mirror I behold the scene
Of ruthless courage-how those legions fly!
They are my countrymen-now all is lost-
Stay, mark yon crested chieftain how he rides
Amidst the slaughter; I have cross'd the path,
And he has fallen as the meanest fall.

The shout-a thousand noble helms are cleft,
A thousand victims sleep upon the plain,
And yield their honours to my trophied steel!
The battle's o'er, alas! my brain is hurt!
I had one spot of blood upon my hand,
And sought to drown it in a stream-the stain
Still lingers there!

Here on this marble I behold the form,
The form of my Hyanthe! lovely 'tis
As spring, the happy morning of the year,
As light and innocent; and now she smiles,
And the clear sky looks brighter! maid of beauty
List to the call of love! is that soft smile
Bent on another? Who is yonder swain?
Is he the breather of the balmy sigh,
Waking the spirit of the sweetest music,