The desolation, horror, blood, and ruin,

Thy crimes and fatal folly spread around,

That loudly cry for vengeance on thy head;

Yet Heav'n, who knows our weak, imperfect natures, How blind with passions, and how prone to evil, Makes not too strict inquiry for offences,

But is aton'd by penitence and pray'r :

Cheap recompence! here 'twould not be receiv'd,
Nothing but blood can make the expiation,
And cleanse the soul from inbred, deep pollution.
And see, another injur'd wretch is come,
To call for justice from my tardy hand.

Enter ALTAMONT.

160

Alt. Hail to you, horrors! hail, thou house of death!

And thou, the lovely mistress of these shades,
Whose beauty gilds the more than midnight darkness,
And makes it grateful as the dawn of day.
Oh, take me in, a fellow-mourner, with thee,
I'll number groan for groan, and tear for tear;
And when the fountain of thy eyes are dry,

Mine shall supply the stream, and weep for both.

Cal. I know thee well, thou art the injur'd Altamont; Thou com'st to urge me with the wrongs I've done thee;

But know, I stand upon the brink of life,

And in a moment mean to set me free

From shame and thy upbraiding.

Alt. Falsely, falsely

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Dost thou accuse me! When did I complain,
Or murmur at my fate?" For thee I have
"Forgot the temper of Italian husbands,
"And fondness has prevail'd upon revenge.”
I bore my load of infamy with patience,
"As holy men do punishment from Heav'n;"
Nor thought it hard, because it came from thee.
Oh, then, forbid me not to mourn thy loss,
To wish some better fate had rul'd our loves,
And that Calista had been mine, and true.

Cal. Oh, Altamont! 'tis hard for souls like mine,
Haughty and fierce, to yield they've done amiss.
But, Oh, behold! my proud disdainful heart
Bends to thy gentler virtue. Yes, I own,
Such is thy truth, thy tenderness, and love;
"Such are the graces that adorn thy youth,"
That, were I not abandon'd to destruction,
With thee I might have liv'd for ages bless'd,
And dy'd in peace within thy faithful arms.

Alt. Then happiness is still within our reach. Here let remembrance lose our past misfortunes, 200 Tear all records that hold the fatal story;

Here let our joys begin, from hence go on,

In long successive order.

Cal. What! in death?

Alt. Then, art thou fix'd to die?

-But be it so ;

We'll go together; my advent'rous love

Shall follow thee "to those uncertain beings. "Whether our lifeless shades are doom'd to wander

"In gloomy groves, with discontented ghosts;

"Or whether thro' the upper air we fleet,

"And tread the fields of light; still I'll pursue thee," 'Till fate ordains that we shall part no more.

Cal. Oh, no! Heav'n has some other better lot in

store

To crown thee with. Live, and be happy long;
Live, for some maid that shall deserve thy goodness,
Some kind, unpractis'd heart, that never yet
Has listen'd to the false ones of thy sex,

Nor known the arts of ours; she shall reward thee,
Meet thee with virtues equal to thy own,

Charm thee with sweetness, beauty, and with truth; 220 Be blest in thee alone, and thou in her.

Enter HORATIO.

Hor. Now, mourn indeed, ye miserable pair;
For now the measure of your woes is full.
Alt. What dost thou mean, Horatio ?

Hor. Oh, 'tis dreadful!

The great, the good Sciolto dies this moment.
Cal. My father!

Alt. That's a deadly stroke, indeed.

Hor. Not long ago he privately went forth, Attended but by few, and those unbidden.

I heard which way he took, and straight pursu'd him; But found him compass'd by Lothario's faction, Almost alone, amidst a crowd of foes.

Too late we brought him aid, and drove them back; Ere that, his frantic valour had provok'd

The death he seem'd to wish for from their swords.

Cal. And dost thou bear me yet, thou patient

earth?

Dost thou not labour with thy murd'rous weight?
And you, ye glitt'ring, heav'nly host of stars,
Hide your fair heads in clouds, or I shall blast you; 240
For I am all contagion, death, and ruin,

And nature sickens at me.

Rest, thou world,

This parricide shall be thy plague no more;

Thus, thus I set thee free.

Hor. Oh, fatal rashness!

[Stabs herself.

Alt. Thou dost instruct me well. To lengthen life, Is but to trifle now.

[Altamont offers to kill himself; Horatio prevents him, and wrests his sword from him.

Hor. Ha! what means

The frantic Altamont? Some foe to man

Has breath'd on ev'ry breast contagious fury,

And epidemic madness.

Enter SCIOLTO, pale and bloody, supported by servants. Cal. Oh, my heart!

Well may'st thou fail; for see, the spring that fed

Thy vital stream is wasted, and runs low.

My father! will you now, at last, forgive me,
If, after all my crimes, and all your suff'rings,
I call you once again by that dear name?
Will you forget my shame, and those wide wounds?
Lift up your hand, and bless me, ere I go

Down to my dark abode ?

Sci. Alas, my daughter!

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Thou hast rashly ventur'd in a stormy sea,

Where life, fame, virtue, all were wreck'd and lost. But sure thou hast borne thy part in all the anguish, And smarted with the pain. Then, rest in peace: Let silence and oblivion hide thy name,

And save thee from the malice of posterity;

And may'st thou find with Heav'n the same forgive

ness,

As with thy father here.- -Die, and be happy.
Cal. Celestial sounds! Peace dawns upon my soul,
And ev'ry pain grows less-Oh, gentle Altamont!
Think not too hardly of me when I'm gone;
But pity me -Had I but early known
Thy wond'rous worth, thou excellent young man,
We had been happier both-Now, 'tis too late;
And yet my eyes take pleasure to behold thee;
Thou art their last dear object-Mercy, Heav'n!
[She dies.
Alt. Cold! dead, and cold! and yet thou art not

chang'd,

But lovely still. Hadst thou a thousand faults,
What heart so hard, what virtue so severe,
But at that beauty must of force relented,
Melted to pity, love, and to forgiveness?

280

Sci. Oh, turn thee from that fatal object, Alta

mont,

Come near, and let me bless thee, ere I die.
To thee, and brave Horatio, I bequeath
My fortunes-Lay me by thy noble father,
And love my memory, as thou hast his;