"Hast thou forgotten all-all-all, my father?

"My bursting heart wants words-o'erwhelmed beneath "The rushing recollection of those days.

"Thou wert the first to bid me love Alasco,

"And I obeyed too well.-'Twas in thy glass,

"Held up, with studied purpose, to my view, "That my young heart beheld him-glowing-bright"Arrayed in every virtue.-The shaft sunk deep"Deep in the very core of my existence;

"Then marvel not, if thus drawn rudely forth"The life-blood follow it."

WALSINGHAM.

Thou breakest my heart!

By Heaven! I loved Alasco as my son;

And now, to save him, would resign with joy,
Life's dearest objects;-give up life itself—
Yield all things but my honor.

AMANTHA.

Heaven preserve it!

It has cost thee dear !-but I reproach thee notThough from thy hand, my father, fell the blow That crushed us to the earth;—" though at the shrine "Where thou hast worshipped with so warm a zeal, "Thou hast offered up thy child, with all her hopes ;— "Her love-her life-her heart-her soul-her husband!"

WALSINGHAM.

If thou hast mercy, speak not to me thus !

Thy words sink deep into my soul, and seem
To shed a curse upon my age.-My child!
Thou wilt not curse thy father ?—

AMANTHA.

Curse thee, my father!

Hear, all ye sacred hosts of heaven! my prayer!
Bless-bless my father!-on his reverend head,
Pour this world's blessings-honor-health and joy!
Ye ministering angels, wait upon his age!—
Chase from his couch the fiends of pain and care;
And let no thought of his unhappy child,

Disturb his spirit, or molest his peace.

WALSINGHAM.

My heart's sole bliss !-unmixed with thought of thee, There is nor hope, nor joy, nor peace for Walsingham! "Wilt thou not live to be a comfort to him?

AMANTHA.

"Heaven knows I wished to be a comfort to thee!

"But now all's desolation here-I feel

"The hand of Fate-the torpor of Despair"My heart is seared to Nature's thrilling touch, "And shut to all appeal of earth, or heaven.”

WALSINGHAM.

Think on thy pious mother! think, my child!
Her gentle spirit warns thee, from the tomb,

Weeps o'er thy words, and shudders at their import.

AMANTHA (clasping her hands with emotion.)
Mother! oh! my mother! how my heart melts
Within me at that name!-Blest saint above!
Dost thou behold thy poor-loved-lost Amantha!
Borne down and blasted in a storm of sorrows,
Writhing in misery-maddening in despair!-
My husband-my Alasco, they would tear,
Relentless, from my heart-but I will hold him
In the firm grasp of death-they shall not part us!
Heaven will have mercy on a suffering wretch,
That shrinks appalled before the frowns of life,
And rushes to the refuge of the

grave.

[Exit AMANTHA.

WALSINGHAM.

Her desperate purpose speaks in every look,
To my distracted soul-

How my brain throbs with anguish!-one resource
I yet may try, to save him-Yes!--the King
Is looked for in the camp-perchance arrived—
My Sov'reign will not slight a veteran's prayer,

Whose blood has flowed to serve him-he will hear me.
Heaven stores his mercy in the hearts of Kings,
That Power may wrest the sword from Passion's hand,
And wipe all stain of cruelty from justice.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Another Apartment in the Castle.

Enter SWARTSBurg, Malinski, and an Officer.

SWARTSBURG, (to the officer.)

To-morrow, at first dawn, call forth the guard!

And let the Castle bell proclaim around

Alasco's execution.

MALINSKI.

Why not now?

By Heav'n, there's danger in an hour's delay!

SWARTSBURG

"A quicker process would provoke remark,

"And look too much like vengeance."

MALINSKI.

Vengeance!-well!

"The Baron's death demands it-what do

you

fear?

"You're now the Governor-you have the power,

"And cannot want the will to avenge your friend."

SWARTSBURG.

"Rather than he should 'scape the death that waits him, "By Hell! I'd seize him in the sanctuary,

"And stab him on the altar."

Are you secure, their idol as he is,

That his mad followers may not rally still,

And rescue him?—there's yet a nearer danger ;-
"Tis said the King has reached the neighb'ring camp;
And should old Walsingham once gain his ear,
Trust me, his favor will stand good for more,
Than Count Alasco's pardon.

SWARTSBURG.

That resolves me,

He dies to-day-We'll put

him past reprieve

And should our haste be questioned, call it zeal,

And loyal promptitude.

[Exit SWARTSburg.

MALINSKI, (solus.)

I will not trust

This wavering fool-'twere well to make all sure,

Myself-beside my views upon his wife,

Alasco knows too much of me, to live,

If I can shove him from the brink he stands on:

His pardon were my sentence.

[Exit.