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long day of an Asiatic sun's unvarying brightness. He wandered out of the village, which consisted but of a few mud dwellings, and sought the retirement of an old ruined mosque, which stood close to an ancient cemetery, shaded by a number of lofty palms, and there he passed his time among the tombs, like him of old who was tormented of a devil, and whose fate, in one sense, he might be said to share; for he was possessed by an unholy spirit of unsubmission, whose conflicting passions tore and rent his soul. But at length, late in the evening, the faithful Turk returned, and his cheerful voice and smile dispelled at once a host of bitter fancies that were persecuting him-showing how great is the power one mortal has over another, and how vile the egotism which would allow some secret grief to cloud the brow and dim the eye, when by a sunny aspect and a few gay words we may chase for a time the black shade from a fellow-creature's breast.

Manouk had the best possible news to give his employer; his success had been even greater than he had looked for. On arriving at the palace, which he described as being the abode of every luxury which could avail to render the summer months agreeable, he had for a moment altogether despaired of even effecting an entrance within it, for he found that the whole enclosure of kiosks, gardens, and pavilions was surrounded by an enormously high wall, with but one jealously-guarded opening, where he was obstinately refused admittance by the black who acted as porter. Having wandered round it several times in vain, he fortunately perceived at length an object perched on the top of the wall, which looked uncommonly like an ape, engaged in smoking a long pipe; on coming nearer, however, he found it was a little comical-looking Armenian, who held the distinguished post of harem doctor, and who, being as dwarfish in stature as he was corrupt in mind, had found no difficulty in clambering to this elevated position, where he en joyed the fresh morning air, along with an extensive view over the plain. Manouk immediately began to display to him the wonders of his singular art as serpent-charmer, the secret of which he really did possess, and the little doctor bestowed much applause on his

performance, though he made not the slightest attempt to reward it otherwise. This was so unusual a meanness in the east, where every species of amusement is handsomely recompensed, that it gave the Turk at once a clue to the Armenian's ruling passion, and he instantly turned that cupidity to his own purposes, by offer ing the doctor nearly half the sum with which Lester had provided him, if he would procure him an opportu nity of displaying his powers before the ladies of the seraglio.

The Armenian at first vehemently declared that he would not run the risk of the Pasha's displeasure, but the sight of the gold suddenly tempered his zeal, and desiring Manouk to wait a moment, he slid down into the garden, in order to cause all the women to be closely veiled, and then returning, he admitted the supposed negro into their presence. Manouk then found himself in company with a number of muffled and shrouded figures, whose age or sex it was impossible to distinguish; and with a nearly equal proportion of women, young and old, of whom no such scrupulous care was taken, as they were not the harem slaves, but merely employed as servants to the favourite ladies.

Amongst these his quick eyes speedily detected a young girl, whose flowing fair hair and regular features at once stamped her as a Greek. Nor was he long left in doubt that she was the person he was in search of, as he heard her name repeatedly called, and observed that she could not speak Turkish, as the women seemed to find some difficulty in communicating with her. He would not, however, venture to address her in Greek, lest any one present might understand that language, but he made it a part of his ceremonies, in charming the snakes, to speak to them in a sort of gibberish, into which he introduced very dexterously a few words of Albanian-a dialect as certain to be unknown to the Turks, as it was likely to be familiar to the Greek. He was not mistaken; the kindling eye and trembling frame of the young Cyllene, showed at once that she understood him; and he proceeded rapidly to entreat she would maintain an appearance of indifference, while he explained to her that her mother had

found a friend willing to deliver her from her hateful captivity, as soon as they could devise some means for her

rescue.

The young girl was evidently as quick-witted as the Greeks almost invariably are. Seeming to be occupied in carelessly watching the extraordinary evolutions of the charmed snakes, she began to sing in a low voice a wild Albanian dirge, in which she succeeded in informing Manouk that such was the misery she endured, in her exile and captivity, that there was no danger she would not risk, no means she would not employ, to escape from her bitter slavery. At the same time, she owned that her rescue would be a task most difficult to accomplish, as the Pasha was so immensely rich as to be altogether proof against temptations of that nature,

whilst any secret escape seemed to her almost impossible, for his harem had the reputation of being more strictly guarded than any other in Turkey, which implied a degree of rigid watchfulness certainly not easily to be deceived. Manouk begged her, in reply, not to despair, but to be ready to seize the first opportunity, and, above all, to be on the watch to detect and avail herself of any stratagem or disguise they might employ. He was then obliged to retire, for the patience of the Armenian was quite exhausted, who, having received his payment, had not the slightest desire that the poor prisoners should have any amusement longer than he could help; and Manouk, exchanging a last look of intelligence with the young Greek, left the palace and returned to the village.

SONNETS.

HOMER.

The world was in its prime, the men were brave,
The women beautiful. Truth without guile,
And magnanimity, that scorned as vile

All rights save those which sovereign nature gave,
Whose voice proclaims the base-born and the slave—
These stamped the hero.
From the banks of Nile

A blind old man of Scio's rocky isle,

Heard the shore chafe with its Ionian wave,

And wandered with his harp. Where'er he went

Showering its sounds, that like eve's nurturing dews,

Tho' sprung from earth, on airy courses sent,

Came back all heavenly. The world might lose

Its music, and, as if an infant sprung

From chaos, learn what was from Homer's tongue.

MILTON.

Milton in thee a soul celestial seem'd,

As in the Olympic games of old, to wait
The signal for the race, with breast elate,
And big with an immortal hope, that lean'd
On no earth-worship, no fair guerdon dream'd,
By fond self-flattery, blind to adverse fate.
Thine was a scope, an aim beyond the date

Time could assign. A light within thee beam'd,

By no Promethean theft half hid in clay

To animate cold ashes; but instinct

With the pure element, thou held'st thy way
Alone, sublime, in lofty numbers linked

Time to eternity, earth's prison bars

O'er-leaped, and trod heaven's concave paved with stars.

B. B. FELTUS.

SCENES AND STORIES FROM THE SPANISH STAGE.NO. II.

TO LOVE AFTER DEATH.*

FROM the time that Spain had been liberated from the Moorish yoke by Ferdinand and Isabella, the descendants of the Arabs had continued to live upon the same soil as their conquerors, and in its most favoured portion, until the 1st of January, 1567, when the edict of Philip II., which had for its object the extirpation of all Moorish customs, was published at Grenada. This edict, which was strenuously opposed by the Duke of Alva himself, was quite in keeping with the absolute spirit and violent character of the king. It contained, against the Moors, conditions of the utmost severity; not only those which Calderon has particularised in the first act of this play, such as the prohibition of the Moorish language, the preventing the Moors from entering the public baths, and from using silk in their dresses; but others, which were still more intolerable to the feel

ings of that people, namely, the preventing the Moorish women from appearing veiled in the public streets, and the compelling their houses to remain open during the celebration of their religious festivals. On the promulgation of the edict, the principal Moors of Grenada, and of the kingdom, sent addresses and petitions to the president, to the captain-general, and to the king; but all in vain. Every day they saw themselves exposed to every species of insulting and vexatious annoyance; until at length they resolved to have recourse to arms -an extreme step, on which, however, their brethren of the humbler classes had already decided. They employed nearly two years in preparations, and at length, in the month of December,

1568, the insurrection burst out in the Alpujarra. At first the insurgents had the advantage, but, towards the end of 1570, divisions having arisen amongst them, they were defeated, and a general amnesty being then offered by the conquerors, the insurrec tion was finally put down.

It is on a very affecting incident, to which this struggle gave rise, that Calderon has founded the play, a few scenes of which we are about presenting to the reader. This incident is related at some length, and with much feeling, in the "History of the Civil Wars of Grenada, by Gines Perez de Hyta;" and what renders the narrative still more interesting is the fact, that the historian received it from the lips of the hero himself.§ It may be curious to compare the dramatic with the historical version of the story, and we therefore give Gines Perez's ac count with some abridgment. After describing the taking and destruction of Galera, which took place in the January of 1570, he continues:—

The news of this event flew rapidly over the entire of Spain, and reached Algiers at the very moment when Ochali, the king of that place, was about despatching an army of 2,000 men to the assistance of the insurgents in the Alpujarra. But so disheartened was he by the capture of so strong a fortress as Galera, that he abandoned his project altogether. No one trembled more at the intelligence than did the Captain Malec; for at that time his young and beautiful sister Maleca was residing at Galera, on a visit with some of her relatives, and it was rumoured that she, with many other women, had been slain in the

* "Amar despues de la Muerte." By Calderon.

†The Alpujarra is a chain of mountains situated in the kingdom of Grenada. I "Guerras Civiles de Granada.” Por Gines Perez de Hyta. Paris: Baudry, 1847.

§ Page 432.

In Perez de Hyta, the name is Maleh, and that of his sister is Maleha. In Cal deron, they are Malec and Maleca. Calderon also makes Maleca the daughter and

not the sister of Malec.

assault. It was stated that her beauty was of the highest order, so much so, that it was celebrated, and universally praised, all through the kingdom of Grenada.

It was in Purchena that the Captain Malec learned intelligence of these events. He was greatly afflicted, and commenced seeking some one who would go secretly to Galera to learn the fate of his sister-to discover her body among the corses of those who were slain, if she were dead, or the place of her captivity, if she had been made a prisoner.

A Moorish youth, who loved her much, who had been her suitor for many years, and who wished to be the brother-in-law of Malec, said that he would go to Galera, and bring back intelligence of the certain fate of Maleca. His intention was, in case of the beautiful Moor being a captive, to go and throw himself at the feet of Don John of Austria, to implore of him to receive ransom for his beloved, and then, having married her, to settle at Huescar, or to depart with her into Murcia, where they would live together. With this design he took his leave of Malec, and having mounted a mettlesome steed, took the road to Galera. Having arrived at Orca, he found it completely deserted; but, nevertheless, he entered a house which he knew, and where he secured his horse. Towards the middle of the night, and in the midst of incessant rain, he entered Galera, where he was overwhelmed with consternation at the ruin and the devastation which he beheld. At every step his feet stumbled against a human body, and his eyes were bewildered by the changes which the city had undergone, and thus he was compelled to await the light of day to discover the house in which his mistress resided, although he knew it well. He spent the night in an entrenchment, but was unable to close his eyes even for a moment, as well from the torments of his imagination as from the mournful howlings of the dogs and other animals, which seemed to lament his misfortune in the cries which they uttered for the loss of their masters. At break of dawn the courageous Moor sought a position from which he could descry the entire camp of Don John, and was astonished at its immense extent, and then returned to search for the house in which

his mistress had lived. Upon entering the court-yard he found many Moorish men lying dead, and a little further on, many Moorish women also dead, among whom he soon discovered the beautiful and lost Maleca, whose image was stamped upon his heart. Although she was dead three days, she was still as beautiful as when she was living, except for the extreme paleness of her face, which was occasioned by the loss of so much blood. The beautiful Maleca was in her chemise, which indicated that the Christian who had slain her possessed at least some little nobility of soul, since, although he had deprived her of her outer dress, he had left her this, which was very rich, and worked with green silk, after the custom of the Moors. After the taking of the city the victors had retired at nightfall, and the rain and snow had been so incessant during the following day, that they had not returned to destroy the fortifications, according to the orders of Don John. It was for this reason that the body of Maleca remained thus in her bloody garment. She had received two wounds, both in the breast, and it was a spectacle worthy of the greatest compassion, to see so much beauty treated with so much barbarity. When the Moor saw and recognised his lady, oppressed with great grief of heart, he took her in his arms, and pouring forth a torrent of tears, he kissed her a thousand times upon her cold mouth, and said, "My delight! hope of my consolation! I did not think, even at the end of the seven long years that I have served you, to have the glory of joining my lips to yours, cold though they be, and with their beauty triumphed over by death. Cruel Christian! how had you the courage to snatch her from the world? Didst thou ever experience the blessedness of love?-Hast thou ever known what a beautiful woman was? If you did not, I do not wonder at the brutal cruelty of this action; but if you did, why did you not recall to mind the object of your affection ? You might have seen her picture mirrored in the eyes of this most beautiful lady, which would have turned your furious hand from inflicting these mortal wounds. If, by chance, a Moor had wounded or of fended you, at a favourable opportu nity you might have revenged the

wrong upon him. But how did an angel merit this punishment, she who was made to be but the object of adoration? Do you think, wretch, that the glory of a general, when he triumphs over his enemy, is to murder a beauty, than which none greater was ever seen in the kingdom of Grenada? Ah! badly have you thought, and worse have you acted, since your cruelty has slain her whose eyes gave life and death, and on whose glances a thousand souls hung suspended! Say, villain, instead of killing her, why were you not ambitious of the greater glory of making her a captive, whose beauty has captivated so many? I would have gone to seck her-instead of one slave, you would have two, for as such I would have served you, delivering myself into your hands! Badly have you acted, Christian, but I swear to you, by the soul of her who was my happiness, to seek you whereever you may be, and to pay you the guerdon your villanous hand has merited." The Moor having thus given a free vent to his grief, and having embraced and kissed his dead mistress a thousand times, resolved to await the darkness of the night, in order to convey the body away to the valley of the Almanzora; but seeing the difficulty of executing this project, he changed

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"Here the fair Maleca lies,
Victim of the foulest murder;
With a thousand tears and sighs,

I, her lover, have interred her.
For she was my life of life-
My dream! my joy! my virgin wife!
A coward wretch-a Christian hound,
Slew this wonder of the land:
Him I'll seek the whole earth round,
Until he dies beneath my hand.”

Tuzani, for so was the Moor called, having finished the foregoing epitaph, took his departure from Galera, and returned to Purchena without being discovered. He then related to Malec all that he had seen-of the great slaughter of the Moors-of the number of Moorish women and children he had seen lying dead in the streets and houses; and how he had discovered the body of his beautiful sister, and had given it burial. At which Malec was deeply afflicted, weeping bitterly the loss of his beloved Maleca, as is described in the following

"ROMANCE.

I.

"In Purchena Malec waiteth, gates are closed, portcullis down, Longing to obtain some tidings from Galera's leagured town. And one day amid his council, formed of many a Moorish chief,

Thus with sighs proclaimed his wishes-thus expressed his bosom's grief;—

II.

"Much I long to know the tidings from Galera's leagured town,

Whether its strong walls are standing, or have tumbled headlong down.
I will give, as wife, my sister, she the beautiful and small,
Unto him who seeks Galera, and returning tells me all.

III.

"If 'tis taken, or not taken-if 'tis hopeful, or appalled, For within it dwells my sister, she who is Maleca called

She, of all Grenada's maidens, fairest, brightest, gentlest one,

There is visiting her kindred— would to heaven she ne'er had gone !"

IV.

"Then a Moorish youth advancing, spoke with rapture in his eyes,
I will go upon this journey for so great and fair a prize.
Seven long years I've wooed thy sister, with a fond and faithful love-
Ah! how faithful and how tender, let this hidden picture prove!"

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