tween the bandit and the monarch. They result in the flight of Hernani; and Dona Sol, believing him lost to her forever, consents in despair to marry the old noble. On the eve of their wedding, a wandering pilgrim asks hospitality at the gate of the castle of Ruy Gomez. Hernani, in disguise, is admitted, questioned by the Duke, and informed that Dona Sol is to be his Duchess. At this announcement, he turns round and cries in a loud voice: "Qui veut gagner ici mille carolus d'or ?" proclaiming himself to the domestics as the robber Hernani, on whose head a vast price has been set. De Silva, astonished, bids him beware, for he cannot answer for his servants; Dona Sol, in a low voice, entreats him to be silent; but the bandit calls repeatedly on them to seize and bind him and gain the reward. To the Duke he says: "My bride, too, waits for me. She is less fair Than yours, my lord; but not less faithful she; Don Ruy Gomez determines to save his guest's life, and goes out to arm his household, and close the gate. During his absence, in a brief, impassioned dialogue, Hernani learns that Dona Sol is still faithful, and resolved to die rather than wrong her love to him. She shows him a dagger at the bottom of a casket filled with bridal jewels. In the midst of their tears and embraces, the Duke returns; the lovers acknowledge their mutual and long cherished affection. He is filled with jealousy and resentment; at the same moment trumpets sound without, and the King demands admittance. The Duke, who cannot sacrifice his guest, conceals Hernani in a hiding-place behind his portrait; and the King enters with armed followers. They have traced the outlaw to the palace, and know that he is concealed within it; but neither commands nor threats can compel the old Castilian to betray to certain death one who has claimed his hospitality. The Duke, with lofty pride, points to the portraits on the wall, of a long line of ancestors, each renowned for some deed of valor. Then he passes to his own, and while the king furiously demands his prisoner, says with dignity: "This portrait-it is mine. Thanks-royal sir; The King, baffled in his vengeance, seizes Dona Sol, and carries her off as a hostage. The old Duke, left alone, in the anguish of this cruel bereavement, releases Hernani, informs him of what has taken place, and challenges him to mortal combat. The bandit craves life and liberty only long enough to accomplish the rescue of the lady. When she is restored, he pledges himself to surrender his life, at any time or place designated, the signal being the sound of a horn, which he gives to his rival. The fourth act is occupied by a conspiracy against the King of Spain, in which the Duke de Silva and Hernani take part. The meeting is held in a vault of Aix-la-Chapelle; the conspirators draw lots to see who shall strike the fatal blow, and the lot falls on Hernani. Here occurs a most admirable and striking dramatic situation. The election for the Emperor of Germany is at that time taking place; the choice is to be announced by the firing of cannon; by one report if the Duke of Saxony is elected,by two, if the King of France,—if the King of Spain, by three. Don Carlos is concealed within the tomb of Charlemagne. He is aware of the conspiracy, and has his armed force, commanded by the Duke d'Alcala, ready at his signal, to seize upon the traitors, but every thought is absorbed in keen suspense. The conspirators solemnly consecrate Hernani to the work of vengeance, and swear the death of Carlos; at the moment they elevate their swords, a distant report of cannon is heard. The door of the tomb opens a little, and Don Carlos, pale and breathless, appears upon the threshold. A second report is heard; a third; and the monarch, suddenly throwing open the door, exclaims aloud: "Messieurs, allez plus loin! l'EMPEREUR vous entend !" The conspirators instantly extinguish their torches; but a blow of the iron key on the bronze door of the tomb, fills the vault with armed men. The traitors are disarmed and separated; the Spanish nobles being removed from the commoners, whom the Emperor scorns to punish. Hernani is left among these last, but suddenly announces his real name and rank, as John of Arragon and Duc de Ségorbe, etc., the proscribed son of a father put to death by the King. He claims the right, as a grandee of Spain, to remain covered in the presence, and to endure imperial punishment. At the entreaty of Dona Sol, the Emperor pardons him and restores his titles, bestowing the lady upon him as his bride. The wedded lovers, on their bridal evening quit the scene of gaiety for a walk in the palace gardens; and it is here, when at the summit of all his wishes, in the possession of all that could make life precious, that the bridegroom receives the fatal summons. The Duke de Silva, masked, appears on the scene, reminds the victim of his oath, and presents him with a cup of poison, of which the bride also drinks. Both die a lingering death; and Silva, overtaken by a too late remorse, stabs himself. One of the scenes in this piece containing much poetic beauty, is that between Silva and Dona Sol at the commencement of the third act, where he laments the disparity of their years. Much will undoubtedly be lost in a close translation, but we shall venture upon a few verses: "SILVA. Alas, one old like me, who loves like me, Cruel, and jealous? Wherefore? They are old. Shame! that this crippled love, that fills our hearts With shadow dark-have I not murmured oft, I soon must join-for his new cottage roof, But wherefore dream I thus? I-young and beauteous! DONA SOL. Who knows? SILVA. Yet these light cavaliers, believe me, Have no more love than wastes itself in words. One of these doth a maiden love and trust; She dies he laughs. All these young birds, with wings Do with their plumage moult their love. The old, Whose hues are faded, and whose song is mute, And many other ways; as one doth love The dawn, the flowers, the blue and smiling heaven. Of grace-thy pure brow, and thine eyes' sweet light,— DONA SOL. Ah me! SILVA. Then, too, the world esteems it good, That woman, pure in angel innocence, Should watch o'er him, and shelter him, and deign This final task of a devoted heart, That soothes the dying-to the last sad hour, There is a touching pathos in the last scene, when the hero is alone with his bride, and when, amid the fateful dreariness that hangs over him, he calls to mind the rich joys in his possession, like a miser counting over hoards from which he is presently to part. He entreats that she will not call him Hernani, a naine fraught with so many unhappy recollections: "I know that in a dream, in other days, Lived one Hernani; one whose eye had all The falchion's lightning; 'twas a man of night The dire word "vengeance" every where was written; A wretch that ever bore with him a curse; I know not this Hernani. I delight In sports-the feast. I am a Spanish noble, DONA SOL. I am happy! The rags which, entering, at the door I flung? And lo! an angel greets me on the threshold! I have seen nothing-nothing said nor done; I recommence-I blot out all-forget Let it be wisdom, or delirium,— Thou art my good; I have thee-I adore thee!" * "DONA SOL. Let us look out upon the lovely night, My Duke-but for a moment: only time To breathe and see! Lo-all the lights have vanished; Come, breathe with me the air embalmed in roses. While thou wast speaking; and her trembling light How calm I feel-how joyous! O my love, |