The British drama

To light and shame, has, in his own security,
Found these.

Mayor. Here seize them all-this instant:
[Alicia faints.

Look to the lady. This may be but feigned.
Your charge but goes along with my suspicions.
Brad. And mine.

A. Fowl. And mine.

Frank. First hear me, and then judge,
Whether, on slight presumptions, I accuse them.
These honest men (neighbours and townsmen all)
Conducted me, dropping with grief and fear,
To where the body lay: with them I took these
notes,

Not to be trusted to the faithless memory.

Huge clots of blood, and some of Arden's hair,
May still be seen upon the garden-wall;
Many such rushes, as these floors are strewed with,
Stick to his shoes and garments; and the prints
Of several feet may in the snow be traced,

From the stark body to the very door!

These are presumptions he was murdered here,
And that the assassins, having borne his corpse
Into the fields, hither returned again.

Mos. Are these your proofs?

Green. These are but circumstances, And only prove thy malice.

Frank. And this scarf,

Known to be Arden's, in the court was found,
All blood.-

Mayor. Search them.

Mich. I thought I'd thrown it down the well. [Aside. Mayor. [To an Officer] Enter that room, and search the lady there;

We may, perhaps, discover more.

[Officer goes out, and re-enters; in the
mean time, another Officer searches
Mosby and Green.

1. Offi. On Arden's wife I found this letter.
2. Offi. And I this ring on Mosby.
Mayor. Righteous Heaven!

Well may'st thou hang thy head, detested villain!
This very day did Arden wear this ring;

I saw it on his hand.

Mos. I freely yield me to my fate.

Enter another Officer.

B. Will. Since we are sure to die, though I could wish it were in better company (for I hate that fawning rascal, Mosby), I will tell the truth for once. He has been long engaged in an affair with Arden's wife there; but fearing a discovery, and hoping to get into his estate, hired us to hide him. That's all.

Mayor. And you the horrid deed performed? Shake. We did, with his assistance, and Green's and Michael's.

Mayor. This letter proves Alicia, from the
first,

Was made acquainted with your black design.
B. Will. I know nothing of that; but if she
was, she repented of it afterwards. So, I think,
you call a change of mind.

Mayor. That may avail her at the bar of hea

May suffer in bad fellowship.-And Bradshaw,
My honest neighbour Bradshaw, too: I read it
With grief and wonder.-

Brad. Madam, I appeal

To you; as you are shortly to appear
Before a judge, that sees our secret thoughts,
Say, had I knowledge, or

Alic. You brought the letter,

But well I hope, you knew not the contents. Mayor. Hence with them all, till time and farther light

Shall clear these mysteries.

A. Fowl. If I'm condemned,

My blood be on his head, that gives the sentence.

Offi. We've seized two men behind some stalks I'm not accused, and only ask for justice.

of wood.

Mayor. Well, bring them in.

BLACK WILL and SHAKEBAG brought in.
They answer the description;
But let them wait, till I have done with these.
Heavens! what a scene of villany is here!
[Having read the letter.

Frank. You shall have justice all, and rigorous
justice.

So shall the growth of such enormous crimes,
By their dread fate, be checked in future times.
Of avarice, Mosby a dread instance prove,
And poor Alicia of unlawful love! ·

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE I.-The inside of the copper-mines of
Dalecarlia

Enter ANDERSON, ARNOLDUS, and Servants,
with torches.

And. You tell me wonders!
Arn. Soft, behold, my lord,

[Points behind the Scenes.
Behold him stretched, where reigns eternal night!
The flint his pillow, and cold damps his covering!
Yet, bold of spirit, and robust of limb,
He throws inclemency aside, nor feels
The lot of human frailty.

Ne'er hold their den, but where some glimmer-
ing ray

May bring the cheer of morn. What, then, is he?
His dwelling marks a secret in his soul,
And whispers somewhat more than man about
him.

Arn. Draw but the veil of his apparent wretch-
edness,

And you shall find, his form is but assumed,
To hoard some wondrous treasure, lodged within.
And. Let him bear up to what thy praises
speak him,
And I will win him, spite of his reserve,

And. What horrors hang around! the savage Bind him, with sacred friendship, to my soul,

race

And make him half myself,

Were there a prince, throughout the sceptered globe,

Who searched out merit, for its due preferment,
With half that care our tyrant seeks it out
For ruin; happy, happy were that state,
Beyond the golden fable of those pure
And early ages. Wherefore this, good Heaven?
Is it of fate, that, who assumes a crown,
Throws off humanity?

Arn. So Cristiern holds.

He claims our country as by right of conquest,
A right to every wrong. Even now, 'tis said,
The tyrant envies what our mountains yield
Of health, or aliment; he comes upon us,
Attended by a numerous host, to seize
These last retreats of our expiring liberty.
And. Say'st thou ?

Arn. This rising day, this instant hour,
Thus chaced, we stand upon the utmost brink
Of steep perdition, and must leap the precipice,
Or turn upon our hunters.

And. Now, Gustavus!

Thou prop and glory of inglorious Sweden, Where art thou, mightiest man?-Were he but here!

I'll tell thee, my Arnoldus, I beheld him, Then when he first drew sword, serene and dreadful,

As the browed evening ere the thunder break; For soon he made it toilsome to our eyes

To mark his speed, and trace the paths of conquest.

In vain we followed, where he swept the field; 'Twas death alone could wait upon Gustavus.

Arn. He was, indeed, whate'er our wish could
form him.

And. Arrayed and beauteous in the blood of
Danes,

The invaders of his country, thrice he chaced
This Cristiern, this fell conqueror, this usurper,
With rout and foul dishonour at his heels,
To plunge his head in Denmark.

Arn. Nor ever had the tyrant known return,
To tread our necks, and blend us with the dust,
Had he not dared to break through every law
That sanctifies the nations, seized our hero,
The pledge of specious treaty, tore him from

us,

And led him, chained, to Denmark.

And. Then we fell.

If still he lives, we yet may learn to rise,

Unknown, unfriended, compassed round with wretchedness,

Conceals some mighty purpose in his breast,
Now labouring into birth.

And. When came he hither?

Arn. Six moons have changed upon the face of night,

Since here he first arrived, in servile weeds,
But yet of mein majestic. I observed him,
And, ever as I gazed, some nameless charm,
A wondrous greatness not to be concealed,
Broke through his form, and awed my soul be-
fore him.

Amid these mines, he earns the hireling's portion;

His hands out-toil the hind; while, on his brow,
Sits Patience, bathed in the laborious drops
Of painful industry—I oft have sought,
With friendly tender of some worthier service,
To win him from his temper; but he shuns
All offers, yet declined with graceful act,
Engaging beyond utterance: and, at eve,
When all retire to some domestic solace,
He only stays, and, as you see, the earth
Receives him to her dark and cheerless bosom.

And. Has no unwary moment e'er betrayed
The labours of his soul, some favourite grief,
Whereon to raise conjecture?

Arn. I saw, as some bold peasants late deplored

Their country's bondage, sudden passion scized And bore him from his seeming; strait his form Was turn'd to terror, ruin filled his eye,

And his proud step appeared to awe the world: When checked, as though an impotence of

rage,

Damp sadness soon usurped upon his brow,
And the big tear rolled graceful down his vi-

sage.

And. Your words imply a man of much importance.

Arn. So I suspected, and at dead of night Stole on his slumbers; his full heart was busy, And oft his tongue pronounced the hated name Of-bloody Cristiern-there he seemed to

pause;

And, recollected to one voice, he cried,

‘O Sweden ! O my country! Yet I'll save thee.' And. Forbear he rises-Heavens, what majesty!

Enter GUSTAvus.

And. Your pardon, stranger, if the voice of virtue,

If cordial amity from man to man,
And somewhat that should whisper to the soul,
To seek and cheer the sufferer, led me hither,

Impatient to salute thee. Be it thine
Alone to point the path of friendship out;
And my best power shall wait upon thy fortunes.
Gust. Yes, generous man! there is a wond-

rous test,

The truest, worthiest, noblest cause for friendship;

Dearer than life, than interest, or alliance,
And equal to your virtues.

And. Say-unfold.

-no

Is briefly this; your friendship has my thanks,
But must not my acceptance: never-
First sink, thou baleful mansion, to the centre!
And be thy darkness doubled round my head,
'Ere I forsake thee for the bliss of paradise,
To be enjoyed beneath a tyrant's sceptre !
No, that were slavery-Freedom is
The brilliant gift of Heaven, 'tis reason's self,
The kin of Deity-I will not part it.

And. Nor I, while I can hold it; but alas!

Gust. Art thou a soldier, a chief lord in Swe- That is not in our choice.

den?

And yet a stranger to thy country's voice,
That loudly calls the hidden patriot forth?
But what's a soldier? What's a lord in Sweden?
All worth is fled, or fallen-nor has a life
Been spared, but for dishonour; spared to breed
More slaves for Denmark, to beget a race
Of new-born virgins for the unsatiated lust
Of our new masters. Sweden ! thou'rt no more!
Queen of the North! thy land of liberty,
Thy house of heroes, and thy seat of virtues,
Is now the tomb, where thy brave sons lie speech-
less,

And foreign snakes engender.

And. O'tis true.

But wherefore? To what purpose?
Gust. Think of Stockholm!
When Cristiern seized upon the hour of
peace,
And drenched the hospitable floor with blood;
Then fell the flower of Sweden, mighty names!
Her hoary senators, and gasping patriots.
The tyrant spoke, and his licentious band
Of blood-trained ministry were loosed to ruin.
Invention wantoned in the toil of infants
Stabbed on the breast, or reeking on the points
Of sportive javelins. Husbands, sons, and sires,
With dying ears drank in the loud despair
Of shrieking chastity. The waste of war
Was peace and friendship to this civil massacre.
O heaven and earth! Is there a cause for this?
For sin without temptation, calm, cool villany,
Deliberate mischief, unimpassioned lust,
And smiling murder? Lie thou there, my soul;
Sleep, sleep upon it! image not the form
Of any dream but this, 'till time grows pregnant,
And thou canst wake to vengeance.
And. Thou hast greatly moved me.
tears start forth.

Ha! thy

Yes, let them flow, our country's fate demands them;

I too will mingle mine, while yet 'tis left us
To weep in secret, and to sigh with safety.
But wherefore talk of vengeance? 'Tis a word
Should be engraven on the new fallen snow,
Where the first beam may melt it from obser-

vance.

Vengeance on Cristiern! Norway and the Dane, The sons of Sweden, all the peopled North, Bends at his nod: my humbler boast of power Meant not to cope with crowns.

Gust. Then what remains

Gust. Why? where's that power whose engines are of force

To bend the brave and virtuous man to slavery?
Base fear, the laziness of lust, gross appetites,
These are the ladders, and the grovelling foot-
stool,

From whence the tyrant rises on our wrongs,
Secure and sceptered in the soul's servility.
He has debauched the genius of our country,
And rides triumphant, while her captive sons
Await his nod, the silken slaves of pleasure,
Or fettered in their fears.

And. I apprehend you.

No doubt, a base submission to our wrongs
May well be termed a voluntary bondage;
But think the heavy hand of power is on us;
Of power, from whose imprisonment and chains
Not all our free-born virtue can protect us.

Gust. 'Tis there you err, for I have felt their force;

And had I yielded to enlarge these limbs,
Or share the tyrant's empire, on the terms
Which he proposed-I were a slave indeed.
No-in the deep and deadly damp of dungeons
The soul can rear her sceptre, smile in anguish,
And triumph o'er oppression.

And. O glorious spirit! think not I am slack
To relish what thy noble scope intends;
But then the means! the peril! and the consc-
quence!

Great are the odds, and who shall dare the trial?
Gust. I dare.

O wert thou still that gallant chief,
Whom once I knew! I could unfold a purpose
Would make the greatness of thy heart to swell,
And burst in the, conception.

And. Give it utterance.

Perhaps there lie some embers yet in Sweden, Which, wakened by thy breath, might rise in flames,

And spread vindictive round--You say you know

me;

But give a tongue to such a cause as this,
And, if you hold me tardy in the call,
You know me not-But thee I've surely known;
For there is somewhat in that voice and form,
Which has alarmed my soul to recollection;
But 'tis as in a dream, and mocks iny reach.
Gust. Then name the man whom it is death

to know,

Or knowing to conceal-and I am he.

And. Gustavus! Heavens! 'tis he! 'tis he him- | And he, who breaks their sanction, breaks all self!

Enter ARVIDA, speaking to a servant.

Aro. I thank you, friend, he's here, you may retire.

And. Good morning to my noble guest; you're
early!
[Gustavus walks apart.
Arv. I come to take a short and hasty leave:
'Tis said, that from the mountain's neighbouring
brow,

The canvas of a thousand tents appears,
Whitening the vale-Suppose the tyrant there;
You know my safety lies not in the interview-
Ha! What is he, who in the shreds of slavery
Supports a step, superior to the state
And insolence of ermine?

Gust. Sure that voice,

Was once the voice of friendship and Arvida!
Arv. Ha! Yes—'tis he!-ye powers! it is
Gustavus.

Gust. Thou brother of adoption! In the bond
Of every virtue wedded to my soul,
Enter my heart! it is thy property.

Arv. I'm lost in joy and wond'rous circum

stance.

Gust. Yet, wherefore, my Arvida, wherefore is it,

That in a place, and at a time like this,

We should thus meet? Can Cristiern cease from cruelty?

Say, whence is this, my brother? How escaped you?

Did I not leave thee in the Danish dungeon?

Arv. Of that hereafter. Let me view thee first.
How graceful is the garb of wretchedness,
When worn by virtue! Fashions turn to folly;
Their colours tarnish, and their pomps grow poor
To her magnificence.

Gust. Yes, my Arvida.

Beyond the sweeping of the proudest train,
That shades a monarch's heel, I prize these weeds,
For they are sacred to my country's freedom.
A mighty enterprize has been conceived,
And thou art come auspicious to the birth,
As sent to fix the seal of Heaven upon it.
Arv. Point but thy purpose
bleed-

Gust. Your hands, my friends!
All. Our hearts.

Gust. I know they're brave.

law,

And infinite connection.
Arn. True, my lord.

And. And such the force I feel.

Aro. And I.

All. And all.

Gust. Know then, that ere our royal Stenon
fell,

While thus my valiant cousin and myself,
By chains and treachery, lay detained in Den-
mark,

Upon a dark and unsuspected hour

The bloody Cristiern sought to take my head.
Thanks to the ruling power, within whose eye
Imbosomed ills and mighty treasons roll,
Prevented of their blackness, I escaped,
Led by a generous arm, and some time lay
Concealed in Denmark-for my forfeit head
Became the price of crowns, each port and path
Was shut against my passage-'till I heard
That Stenon, valiant Stenon, fell in battle,
And freedom was no more. O then, what bounds
Had power to hem the desperate! I o'erpassed
them,

Traversed all Sweden, through ten thousand foes,
Impending perils, and surrounding tongues,
That from himself enquired Gustavus out.
Witness my country, how I toiled to wake
Thy sons to liberty! In vain-for fear,
Cold fear had seized on all-Here last I came,
And shut me from the sun, whose hateful beams
Served but to shew the ruins of my country.
When here, my friends, 'twas here at length I
found,

What I had left to look for, gallant spirits,
In the rough form of untaught peasantry.

And. Indeed they once were brave; our Dale-
carlians

Have oft been known to give a law to kings;
And as their only wealth has been their liberty,
From all the unmeasured graspings of ambition
Have held that gem untouched-though now 'tis
feared-

Gust. It is not feared-I say they still shall
hold it.

let it be to I've searched these men, and find them like the soil,

Of such the time has need; of hearts like yours,
Faithful and firm, of hands inured and strong;
For we must ride upon the neck of danger,
And plunge into a purpose big with death.
And. Here let us kneel, and bind us to thy side,
By all-

Gust. No, hold-if we want oaths to join us,
Swift let us part, from pole to pole asunder.
A cause like ours is its own sacrament;
Truth, justice, reason, love, and liberty,
The eternal links that clasp the world, are in it,

Barren without, and to the eye unlovely,

But they've their mines within; and this the day
In which I mean to prove them.

Arn. O Gustavus!

Most aptly hast thou caught the passing hour,
Upon whose critical and fated hinge
The state of Sweden turns.

Gust. And to this hour
I've therefore held me in this darksome womb,
That sends me forth as to a second birth
Of freedom, or through death to reach eternity.
This day, returned with every circling year,
In thousands pours the mountain peasants forth,
Each with his battered arms and rusty helm,

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