grasp

thee till some touch of torment thou

RIEGO and

The drama closes in the Hall of Audience. DONA THERESA left to a brief interview, quickly understand the false representations made to each of the acquiescence of the other in FERDINAND's infamous designs, and renew vows of unchanged affection. FERDINAND returns to learn their determination. At this moment, ALAGON enters, wounded, and informs him of the escape of MINA, effected by DIAZ, and of their attempt to rescue RIEGO-in which attempt DIAZ had wounded ALAGON, and had himself been slain by the guard. RIEGO now announces the unalterable determination of DONA THERESA and himself to live or die together. The King orders his instant execution. RIEGO, in pursuance of a resolution previously taken by himself and DONA THERESA, as the last means of freeing themselves from the Tyrant, aims a dagger he had obtained from her at her breast: but his arm is seized by SAEZ. DONA THERESA is borne off to an apartment of the palace; and RIEGO to suffer his ignominious punishment. UGARTE enters with intelligence of the death of ALAGON; and presently after SAEZ announces the execution of RIEGO. The King about to repair to the apartment of DONA THERESA, is met by INEZ, who informs him of the delirious anguish of DONA THERESA, occasioned by seeing her husband borne to a shameful and horrid death.

Should'st feel like that thou giv'st; then leave thy carcass News now arrives of the destruction of the Inquisition, Fit morsel for the toads this vault engenders.

in a fit of disappointment, terror and remorse.

and the rapid advance of MINA, who had placed himself at Saez. That fate be thine !-or worse. But mark me well the head of the insurgents, to the palace. FERDINAND flies Don Rafael may reject the boon his King Would grant; and not the less yield her on whom Ferdinand will not be foiled in schemes Of love. When thou shalt in thy grave unquietly Be laid, thy beauteous dame in his embrace Shall find a solace for her loss.

He doats.

The scene changes to a public street in MADRID. A procession enters, bearing the body of RIEGO, which is momentarily arrested by the approach of MINA and his troops. MINA, in a brief address, deplores the tragic close of the great struggle in which he had taken so deep an interest; and pays a passing tribute to the worth of RIEGO; whose bereaved and unhappy widow he resolves to accompany to England. He offers up a fervent prayer for the deliverance of Spain. The procession moves on with solemn musicand the curtain falls.

RHODODAPHNE.

DOUBTS ABOUT THE AUTHORSHIP.

the notice of British critics and reviewers. I am informed, on undoubted authority, that the attention of some of the most distinguished literati of the North, was specially invoked to the rare merits and beauties of Rhododaphne, after its publication in this country-and that they had neither seen any reference to it in the numerous English magazines which reached them-nor, indeed, had ever heard of its existence. A literary friend tells me, that the only exception from this general silence of the British press-of which he is aware-is to be found in a volume of collections of American poetry, published several years since in England, (perhaps by the son of Roscoe,) which assigns a conspicuous place to this beautiful production. If this be so; (I do not know that the friend referred to speaks entirely on his own knowledge ;)—what a conclusive and important fact in refutation of the English claim?

The short communication which was prefixed to the first part of the Poem of Rhododaphne, in the last number of the Messenger, has attracted the notice of a highly respected and intelligent correspondent, who adduces plausible evidence to prove that the authorship of the poem referred to, was erroneously ascribed to the late Richard Dabney of Virginia. The evidence consists principally of the fact that, in the latter four or five years of Mr. Dabney's life, they were neighbors and on intimate terms, and that the poet "once at least, and perhaps more than once during that time, assured" my correspondent "that he was not the author of Rhododaphne." In further corroboration of the truth of this denial, my correspondent quotes from a letter of the late Matthew Carey of Philadelphia, (who, after Mr. Dabney's death, was appealed to, But it may be said that the work may be Amerias the publisher of the poem, for correct informa- can, and yet not the production of Richard Dabtion on the subject,) in which Mr. Carey says, " Rho-ney. This is true--yet I still cling to the fond and dodaphne was an English production, as my son possibly delusive thought that it might have been, informs me. I had quite forgotten it." Whilst it and really was, the genuine creation of that unforis admitted that the first impression produced by tunate and ill-fated child of genius. Among others, these circumstances, is unfavorable to the claim of I have the following reasons and inducements for Mr. Dabney's authorship, yet, when duly considered, cherishing this belief: in connection with other circumstances, leading to 1st. The poem was generally ascribed to him on a different conclusion, it may, perhaps, be best to its first appearance. My impression is, that when pause until some other sources of information can it issued from the press, Dabney had ceased to be be consulted, or at least, until the claims of the a resident of Richmond, certainly of the house real author, if any other person than him, can be where we first became intimately acquainted. I clearly established. My respected correspondent do not remember, therefore, ever to have conversed himself, admits that he had at first supposed that with him on the subject, but there can be no doubt Mr. Dabney's denial might have proceeded from that in the reading and literary circles, the credit "the success with which authors of highly sensi- of the authorship was awarded to him. tive minds will sometimes maintain an incognito, till their works are sealed beyond controversy by public approbation"-and he does not appear to Notwithstanding their great merit, they attracted have fully renounced the conviction that the poem but little notice, comparatively. Various causes was the genuine offspring of his gifted friend, until combined to produce this disheartening result. the receipt of Mr. Carey's letter, which refers it to They did not come from the English mint, but were an English origin. In answer to this view of the of homely domestic origin. They were, moreover, subject, is it unreasonable to contend that Mr. Ca- accompanied and illustrated by elaborate and learned rey's remark is too vague and indefinite to be con- references to authors in the dead and living lanclusive on a point so important? His son might, guages, which at once placed them beyond the symdoubtless, have been informed that Rhododaphne pathy of the indolent and unlearned, and even of was an English production, and it is even probable those who might have dipped with pleasure into the (though not so stated) that the work was first pub- deep current of thought and feeling which pervaded lished in England; and yet it might have been ac- the work. It should be added also in justice--that tually written in Virginia. I have before me, in the author possessed the gloomy and melancholy the Analectic Magazine for January, 1820, (pub- temperament of Cowper, without the consoling lished in Philadelphia,) a complimentary review of faith and Heaven directed philosophy of that gifted the poem, in which the writer makes no allusion to man. Whatever the causes of failure were, it is its supposed English paternity-but speaks of it as certain that Dabney derived neither fame nor profit the rumored production of a lady. It is somewhat remarkable that if this gem of sparkling beauty was really the offspring of British genius, and first saw the light in that land of poetry and taste, it should, nevertheless, have almost entirely escaped

2nd. His acknowledged poems were published in Philadelphia, by Matthew Carey, in the year 1815.

from the publication of his poems; and, upon the
supposition that he afterwards wrote Rhododaphne,
nothing was more natural than the suppression and
concealment of his name.
But

3rdly. There is a curious resemblance, in several

"Evangelist. Art thou not the man that I found crying plain." without the walls of the city of Destruction?

Christian. Yes, dear sir, I am the man.

Evangelist. Did not I direct thee in the way to the little rows. wicket-gate?

Evangelist. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned wanting to your happiness? In the prime of man

"Your difficulty," said Mrs. Hall, smiling, "I thought. After walking for an hour, and listening perceive to be repletion and not inanition; and in to Mrs. Hall, rather than conversing with her, Mr. judicious hands, I doubt not, you might yet be Barrows abruptly said— brought to consider life, and the blessings you pos- "I look on you with astonishment, Mrs. Hall! sess, exceedingly valuable. If I mistake not, I what is the secret of your enjoyment? your hapcould myself prescribe for you, to some considera-piness? You have lived in this wearisome world ble advantage. What would induce you to put ten years, perhaps, longer than I have.” “Fifyourself a little under my care and direction?" teen, at least, Mr. Barrows," interrupted Mrs. "I would gladly put myself under the care of any one, were there but the shadow of hope of relief from this burden, which presses upon me like an incubus."

"Well, then," said Mrs. Hall, "come to me, at ten o'clock, to-morrow morning, if the weather be good, and I will begin my attempt at a cure, by taking a walk with you. Nay-look not so disconcerted-and so doubtful of the wisdom of my prescription. Judge not, till you see the result. You know a patient must be put in a proper state, even to take medicine to advantage."

"Well, I will come," said Barrows; "at least it may help to take the weight from the wheels of one more hour. I might always say, that Phoebus' steeds are foundered,' time drags along so heavily."

"Your patient has come, you perceive," said Barrows, with a sickly, joyless smile, as he entered Mrs. Hall's parlor the next morning; "I hope nothing has occurred to deprive me of the benefit you proposed for me."

"Nothing," said Mrs. Hall. "Am happy to see you, and will be ready for our walk in five minutes."

The lady left the room, but very soon returned, prepared to go out, and they immediately left the house.

"And now which way shall we walk?" asked Mrs. Hall, as soon as they were in the street, affecting to leave the choice to her companion.

"I am under your guidance, you know," said Barrows.

"So far as to secure walking," said Mrs. Hall; "but that gained, I can indulge my patient so far as to let him choose his own path, if he happen to have a preference."

Hall-" and have drank such cups of sorrow," pursued Barrows, "as have never fallen to my lot. How then are you so contented? so cheerful? so happy?"

Playfully, but with more seriousness than had hitherto marked her tone, Mrs. Hall replied. "Now you may be sure, Mr. Barrows, that I shall not impart to you so important a secret, as the source of my happiness; yet," she added with a still deeper seriousness, "there is an alchemy by which we may extract sweetness from the bitterest draught.”

"No one can see you, and still doubt it," said Mr. Barrows; " and I would willingly drain a cup of sorrow like yours, could I in the bottom find the same contentment and peace."

"You know not what you say, Mr. Barrows," said Mrs. Hall; "alas, you know not what you say!" Mrs. Hall had stopped before a very meanlooking tenement, as she uttered the last sentence, and now added-"But we are growing too serious; and we will now part, for I am going in here. You will pardon me, I know," she added, smiling, "for not seeing you safe home."

"But for what are you going into such a place as this?" inquired Barrows.

"A few days ago," answered Mrs. Hall, “I chanced to see a poor suffering lady, who lodges here. I then promised to come again soon; and as I am now at the door, it will save me the walk to-morrow, if I fulfil my engagement now." "A poor lady, did you say ?” asked Barrows. "Yes-a lady," Mrs. Hall replied, "if we may be permitted to judge of one's claim to that title, by manners and conversation, rather than by the trappings of wealth and fashion."

"I have no fancy for finishing my walk alone," said Barrows, "and will pace backward and for"I have no preference," said Barrows. "All ward here till you come out again, for 1 suppose paths, with me, end in the same thing-weariness-your stay will not be long. Though I should satiety." rather," he added, "go in with you, if it would not be deemed an intrusion. It might give some variety to my monotonous life."

"Come, then," said Mrs. Hall; "we will take this straight and pleasant street to the suburbs, and then, for variety's sake, fetch a circuit, and come home by some other way."

"It would be an intrusion or otherwise, Mr. Barrows, just according to your feelings in making It was December, and cold, even for that free- the visit. If you call on a poor lady with the zing and cheerless month; but the breeze was pure same feeling of respect and deference that you would and bracing, and gave a fine color to the cheeks of have in calling on a rich one, there can be nothing the pedestrians, as they pursued their walk. Mrs. uncivil in it; otherwise, there would be." Hall was in fine spirits. She seemed prepared to "Well," said Barrows, "I will go in, if you will inhale enjoyment with every breath. Her conver-permit it, and see if I do not practice all due coursation was animated, diversified and instructive, tesy."

and seemed the result of feeling rather than of "You may do as you will," said Mrs. Hall; "but

take my word for it, you will witness a scene very | stand, or occupy the foot of the bed. She chose different from anything you have hitherto been the latter-evidently shrinking as much as possible acquainted with; and which may give you more from observation. The only thing to relieve the pain, in various ways, than you might knowingly, feelings, on viewing this scene, was the scrupulous and voluntarily, be willing to encounter. You had cleanliness of the room, and all that it contained. better proceed homeward, or walk up and down the Even Kate, who must have all the work to do, that street, as you proposed.” was to be done, was perfectly neat, and even genteel in her appearance, though clad in the much worn and faded remnants of better days.

Mrs. Hall's seeming opposition, only increased the desire of Mr. Barrows to attend her; and accordingly, without further delay, she knocked for admission. A dirty little girl answered the summons, of whom Mrs. Hall asked "if she could see Mrs. Halley."

"She don't live in our room, ma'am," said the girl, "but I guess you can see her, for she's sick. This is her door"—and the child went forward, and threw it open, followed by Mrs. Hall, and her young friend.

Had there been any gross ill-breeding, or any squalid filthiness, in this abode of the poor and afflicted, the fastidious refinement of Mr. Barrows would have revolted from the exhibition-and his pity would have been swallowed up in disgust-for his benevolence was not a principle but an impulse; but as in this miserable habitation, poverty had done her best to conceal her own deformity, his pity, his sympathy, were awakened in a high degree. He On a small and low bed, placed in a corner of soon grew impatient for Mrs. Hall to take leave, the nearly naked room, into which the visitors were that he might learn from her something more conushered, lay an elderly woman, on whose counte-cerning these respectable sufferers, than could be nance were deeply imprinted, sickness, care and gained by the eye. sorrow. On a stool, at the bed-side, sat a pale and delicate looking girl of fourteen or fifteen, holding a bowl of gruel in her hand, of which she was striving to persuade her grandmother to partake-to understand what she said. assuring her, in the gentlest tone, that "it would do her good."

Mr. Barrows, with hat in hand, stood near the door; while Mrs. Hall advanced immediately to the side of the bed, and taking the sufferer's hand, expressed her deep regret at seeing her look so ill. This done, she added, "that she had taken the liberty to permit a young friend, Mr. Barrows, with whom she had been walking, to come in with her." Mrs. Halley acknowledged this introduction by a faint smile, and a slight motion of the head-while Kate, the granddaughter, blushing very deeply, handed the stranger a chair, leaving her stool for the use of Mrs. Hall.

It was not long before Mrs. Hall arose; and she held the sick woman by the hand, as she spoke some parting words in a tone too low for Barrows

"Thank you," said Mrs. Halley, in a clear, though feeble voice; "Heaven bless you with its choicest blessings. But you will be blest, for you are a blessing to others."

Mrs. Hall turned, and said a few kind and cheering words to Kate; then advancing to the little boys, patted their rosy cheeks, and found something to say to them, which occasioned a grateful, though timid smile, and then turned toward the door to depart.

Mr. Barrows rose. He found himself in a most embarrassing position. He felt that he ought to speak to Mrs. Halley, but what could he say? In addressing a wealthy lady, or a common beggar, he While his companion, with the bowl of gruel in would have found no difficulty; but here was a case her hand, which she had taken from Kate, was talk-that required peculiar tact. How much easier would ing in a low voice with Mrs. Halley-Mr. Bar- he have found it, to acquit himself with propriety rows, though without any rude staring, took a sur-at the court of any monarch in Europe! He felt a vey of the premises and its occupants. Of the respect for Mrs. Halley, and a fear of wounding latter there were two, beside those already men- her feelings, such as had never before been awationed—a pair of little boys, some five or six years kened within him. But he must address her; for old, who, from similarity of size and feature, seem-utter neglect would be almost the worst course that ed to be twins. They were sitting on a low bench, could be pursued. He went to the bed-side, and near the chimney corner, each with an arm lovingly taking the pale, thin hand that lay on the coverlid, encircling the other, while each had a roasted po- said he knew not what he said, of his sympathy tato, partly eaten, in the spare hand. They stopt for her sufferings; but as it came warm from the eating, or did it only by stealth, after the strangers heart, it went to the heart-and the grateful tear came in; and sat perfectly still, watching their that filled the eye of the afflicted and helpless grandmother and sister, with looks of childish and widow, he felt to be a more precious treasure, than doubtful anxiety, and the visitors with curiosity. would have been the purest pearl that ever helped The room was as bare of furniture as one could to gem the caves of the ocean. He pressed her well be, to accommodate four inhabitants. There hand, and bade her adieu; bowed to Kate-and was not even a superfluous seat; for Mrs. Hall and opening the door for Mrs. Hall, they withdrew. Mr. Barrows being provided for, Kate must either' The two friends walked on for some time in silence,

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