Victim of an unjust and deadly dart,
Silent I stand.-My soul, in sad amaze,
Yields to the blow that slays.

So near, so near to recompense so tender.
O God, the wondrous pain!

My father's name insulted, and the offender
The father of Chimène.

What bitter strife within me burns!
Against my honor my affections move.
I must avenge my sire-and lose my love.
One stirs my soul, my arm the other turns.
O bound to such sad choice!-her heart to break,
Or bear shame for her sake.

On either side my woe is infinite.

O God, the bitter pain!

Accept the insult, and refrain to slay
The father of Chimène.

My father-my betrothed; honor or love.
O noble tyranny, O high constraint!

My pleasures all are dead, my glories faint.
Unworthy or unhappy I must prove.

What dear and cruel hope dost thou discover
To generous son and lover,

O noble enemy of all my joy,

Sword that bring'st nought but pain!
To 'venge my sire must I thy blade employ,
And lose by thee Chimène?

THE CID AND CHIMÈNE.

RODERIGO, the Cid, having vindicated his father's honor by slay. ing the Count de Gormas in a duel, makes his way to his betrothed Chimène, the Count's daughter, and offers her his sword that she may take vengeance for the death of her father. But she rejects the proposal with horror. Roderigo declares that he has justly incurred her wrath, and cannot live to hear her reproach him. Then Chimène replies:

Chimène. Ah, Roderigo, though thy foe I be,

I blame thee not to have fled this infamy;
And howsoe'er my misery outwards flows,
Without accusing thee I weep my woes.

I know for such a wrong what cruel art
Honor demands from every generous heart.
Thou hast done only what the brave must do,
But in the act I learn my part from you:
Thy fatal valor and sad victory show
What to my father and my house I owe.

Mine the same care:
bound for my misery
T' avenge my sire, and
win my fame in thee.
Alas! thy part in this is
my despair.

Had I from other hand

such woe to bear, My soul had found in

thee the sole relief, The only solace for her

bitter grief.

What help, what strength

in sorrow's evil day
If thy dear hand had
wiped my tears away!
But think not in my heart
that love has room
With coward thoughts
to save thee from thy
doom,
Although affection fain
would break thy bonds,

My courage, generous too, to thine responds.
Thou prov'st thee worthy me in wounding me;
And by thy death I'll prove me worthy thee.

Roderigo. Do not borrow another arm, O my Chimène! believe me, this is not a fit return. My arm alone avenged my offence; thy hand alone should take vengeance for thine.

Chim. Cruel! why torture me with this persistence? You avenged yourself without aid, but you would help me to my vengeance. No, I will follow your example; I have too much courage to share my glory with thee.

Rod. Can I not obtain this last favor? For the sake of your dead father, for the sake of our love, strike me, for vengeance or for pity!

Chim. Go! I hate you not.
Rod. But I deserve your hatred.

Chim. Go! I cannot give it.

Rod. Care you so little for blame and public reproach? When it is known that you love me still, what will envy and malice say? Silence them, and slay me for your good fame.

Chim. My good fame shall shine the brighter that I let thee live. The blackest envy will applaud me and lament my sorrows when they see that I adore thee, yet pursue thee.

Rod. Let me die!

Chim. Go! go!

Rod. What purpose is in thy mind?

Chim. To avenge my father in spite of our love. But notwithstanding the rigor of this cruel duty, my only hope is to fail in it.

Rod. O miracle of love!

Chim. O crown of misery!

Rod. What grief and tears will our fathers cost us!

Chim. Roderigo, who could have believed it?

Rod. Chimène, who would have uttered it?

Chim. That our joy so nigh was so soon lost! Rod. That close to port, unlikely as it seemed, A sudden storm should shipwreck all our hopes! Chim. Ah! fatal griefs!

Rod. Ah! profitless regrets!

EMILIA.

CORNEILLE considered his "Cinna" as the finest of his classical dramas. It relates to the plots in the household of the Emperor Augustus. He had, beyond his usual generosity to former enemies, been liberal to Cinna, the grandson of Pompey, and to Æmilia, the daughter of Toranius. Yet Æmilia cannot forgive him for causing the death of her father Toranius, who had been proscribed during the Triumvirate. She persuades her lover Cinna to engage in a conspiracy gainst the Emperor. The following soliloquy in the opening of the play expresses her feeling, and gives the keynote to the drama.

Ye impatient longings for a signal revenge,
Whose origin is due to my father's death,
Headstrong children of my resentment,
Whom my misguided grief blindly embraces,
Ye assume too potent sway over my soul.

Suffer me to breathe yet for a few moments,
And to consider, in this state where I am,
Both what I venture and what I pursue.

When I behold Augustus in the midst of his glory,
And when you reproach my sad memory

That my father, slain by his own hand,

Was the first step to the throne where I see him-
When you offer me this picture of blood,

The cause of my hatred, the result of his fury,
I abandon myself to your burning transports,
I feel that for one death, I owe him a thousand.
And yet, amidst a rage so founded on reason,
Still more love I Cinna than I hate Augustus,
And I feel this seething passion grow cool,
When to effect it, I must expose my lover.

THE TRAITOR LOVERS.

THE Emperor Augustus, having been informed of Cinna's conspiracy, sends for him and rehearses all its details. He shows that from it no good can result for Cinna or for Rome. The conspirator admits his guilt and professes his readiness to suffer the extreme penalty, but Augustus allows him to choose his own punishment. Then Livia, the emperor's wife, enters with Emilia, his adopted daughter. The latter, to his astonishment, declares that she alone is responsible for Cinna's crime.

Livia. You know not yet all his accomplices.
Your Æmilia is one of them; behold her.
Cinna. O heavens! It is herself.

Augustus. And you, my daughter, too!

Emilia. Yes; all that he did, he did to please me;

Of it, my lord, I was the cause and the reward.

Aug. What! Does the love which yesterday I caused to

spring

Move you already to die for him to-day?

Your soul yields itself too much to that passion,

It is too soon to love the lover that I gave you.

Emil. This love which subjects me to your resentment

Is not the prompt effect of your commands;

Without your order these flames arose in our hearts,
They are the secret of more than four years.
But though I loved him, and he burned for me,

IL

L