And would you go? I would not send you forth

Without protection.

ULRIC.

Leave that unto me.

I am not alone; nor merely the vain heir

Of your domains: a thousand, ay, ten thousand
Swords, hearts, and hands, are mine.

SIEGENDORF.

The foresters!

With whom the Hungarian found you first at Frankfort?

ULRIC.

Yes-men-who are worthy of the name! Go tell
Your senators that they look well to Prague;
Their feast of peace was early for the times;
There are more spirits abroad than have been laid

No, no; I have no children: never more

Call me by that worst name of parent.

IDA (taking ULRIC's hand).
Who shall dare say this of Ulrić ?

SIEGENDORF.

Ida, beware! there's blood upon that hand.
IDA (stooping to kiss it. )

I'd kiss it off, though it were mine!

And I have loved this man!

(IDA falls senseless-JOSEPHINE stands speechless with horror.)

SIEGENDORF.

The wretch hath slain

Them both!-my Josephine! we are now alone!
Would we had ever been so !-All is over
For me!-Now open wide, my sire, thy grave;
Thy curse hath dug it deeper for thy son
In mine!—The race of Siegendorf is past!

THE END.

I.

The «good old times»-all times, when old, are good— Are gone; the present might be, if they would;

Great things have been, and are,

and greater still Want little of mere mortals but their will:

A wider space, a greener field is given

To those who play their «< tricks before high Heaven. >>
I know not if the angels weep, but men
Have wept enough-for what?-to weep again.

II.

All is exploded-be it good or bad.

Reader! remember when thou wert a lad,
Then Pitt was all; or, if not all, so much,

His

very rival almost deem'd him such.
We, we have seen the intellectual race
Of giants stand, like Titans, face to face-
Athos and Ida, with a dashing sea
Of eloquence between, which flow'd all free,
As the deep billows of the Ægean roar
Betwixt the Hellenic and the Phrygian shore.
But where are they-the rivals ?—a few feet
Of sullen earth divide each winding sheet.
How peaceful and how powerful is the grave
Which hushes all! a calm, unstormy wave
Which oversweeps the world. The theme is old
Of << dust to dust; » but half its tale untold.
Time tempers not its terrors-still the worm

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