Your hall 's my court, your heart is my tribunal. You! base calumniator! Gabor. I. Twill rest With me at last to be so. In secret passages known to You concealed me— You said, and to none else. At dead of night, Sieg. Asleep. And yet You slew him!-Wretch ! Gabor. He was already slain, And bleeding like a sacrifice. My own Sieg. But he was all alone! You saw none else? You did not see the Gabor. No, [He pauses from agitation. He, whom you dare not name, nor even I Scarce dare to recollect, was not then in The chamber. Sieg. [To ULRIC.] Then, my boy! thou art guiltless still Thou bad'st me say I was so once-oh, now Do thou as much! Gabor. Be patient! I can not Recede now, though it shake the very walls A man who washed his bloody hands, and oft With stern and anxious glance gazed back upon Gabor. I beheld his features As I see yours-but yours they were not, though Gabor. [Interrupting him.] Nay, but hear me to the end! The victim of your guilt; and my first thought That morning-either in address or force. I turned and fled-i' the dark: chance rather than Sieg. And yet I had horrid dreams! and such brief sleep, Then stars had not gone down when I awoke. Why didst thou spare me? I dreamt of my father- Gabor. 'Tis not my fault, If I have read it.-Well, I fled and hid me- You sought me and have found me-now you know Sieg. [After a pause.] Indeed! Gabor. Is it revenge or justice which inspires Your meditation? Sieg. Neither. I was weighing The value of your secret. Gabor. You shall know it At once ;- -When you were poor, and I, though poor, As might have envied mine, I offered you My purse-you would not share it :-I'll be franker Sieg. Yes. Gabor. Not quite. You think me venal, and scarce true: 'Tis no less true, however, that my fortunes Have made me both at present. You shall aid me; I would have aided you-and also have Been somewhat damaged in my name to save Yours and your son's. Weigh well what I have said. BYRON. 323 HUMOROUS PIECES. ADDRESS TO AN EGYPTIAN MUMMY. Extracted, by permission of Henry Colburn, Esq., from the late HORACE SMITH'S " Gaieties and Gravities." AND thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) Speak for thou long enough hast acted dummy,— Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, Tell us, for doubtless thou canst recollect, To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame? Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect, Of either pyramid that bears his name? Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer? Perhaps thou wert a mason, and forbidden By oath, to tell the mysteries of thy trade; Then say what secret melody was hidden In Memnon's statue, which at sun-rise played? Perhaps thou wert a priest, and hast been dealing In human blood, and horrors past revealing. Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass, A torch at the great temple's dedication. I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, Antiquity appears to have begun, Long after thy primeval race was run. Thou couldst develop, if that withered tongue Still silent, incommunicative elf! Art sworn to secresy? then keep thy vows; But prythee tell us something of thyself, Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house! Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumbered, What thou hast seen, what strange adventures numbered? Since first thy form was in this box extended, We have, above-ground, seen some strange mutations; The Roman empire has begun and ended, New worlds have risen-we have lost old nationsAnd countless kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head, And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, |