Having given thee no offence. Ha!- am I right?

'T was a mistake? — unaloubtedly — we all Do err at times

Pol. Draw, villain, and prate no more!

draw!- - and villain! have at thee then

(Draws.)

Pol (drawing). Thus to the expiatory tomb, Untimely sepulchre, I do devote thee

In the name of Lalage!

Cas. (letting fall his sword and recoiling to the extremity

Pol. Thou wilt not fight with me didst say, Sir Count? Shall I be baffled thus?

thou darest not?

now this is well;

Didst say

Ha!

Hold off thy hand

with that beloved name

So fresh upon thy lips I will not fight thee

I cannot

dare not.

Pol. Now by my halidom

I do believe thee ! — coward, I do believe thee!

Cas.

Ha!- coward!

this may not be !

(Clutches his sword, and staggers towards Politian, but his purpose is changed before reaching him, and he falls upon his knee at the feet of the Earl.)

8

Fol.

Cas.

Scoundrel! — arise and die!

It needeth not be Thus on my bended knee.

- thus - thus O let me die

It were most fitting
That in this deep humiliation I perish.

For in the fight I will not raise a hand
Against thee, Earl of Leicester.

(baring his bosom).

Strike thou home —

Here is no let or hinderance to thy weapon –
Strike home. I will not fight thee.

Fol. Now s'Death and Hell!

Am I not - am I not sorely-grievously tempted
To take thee at thy word? But mark me, sir:
Think not to fly me thus. Do thou prepare

For public insult in the streets

The

eyes

- before

of the citizens. I'll follow thee

Like an avenging spirit I'll follow thee

Even unto death. Before those whom thou lovest

Before all Rome I'll taunt thee, villain—I'll taunt thee, Dost hear? with cowardice- thou wilt not fight me?

Cas. Now this indeed is just!

Most righteous, and most just, avenging Heaven.

(Exit.)

POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.*

SONNET-TO SCIENCE.

CIENCE! true daughter of Old Time thou art ! Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart, Vulture, whose wings are dull realities? How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise, Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies, Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing? Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car? And driven the Hamadryad from the wood To seek a shelter in some happier star?

Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood, The Elfin from the green grass, and from me The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?

* Private reasons- some of which have reference to the sin of plagiarism, and others to the date of Tennyson's first poems - have induced me, after some hesitation, to republish these, the crude compositions of my earliest boyhood. They are printed verbatim, without alteration from the original edition, the date of which is too remote to be judiciously acknowledged. E. A. P.

AL AARAAF.*

PART I.

! NOTHING earthly save the ray
(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye,
As in those gardens where the day

Springs from the gems of Circassy-
O nothing earthly save the thrill
Of melody in woodland rill-
Or (music of the passion-hearted)
Joy's voice so peacefully departed
That like the murmur in the shell,
Its echo dwelleth and will dwell
O nothing of the dross of ours
Yet all the beauty — all the flowers

That list our Love, and deck our bowers
Adorn yon world afar, afar

The wandering star.

'Twas a sweet time for Nesace- - for there

Her world lay lolling on the golden air,

Near four bright suns —

a temporary rest

An oasis in desert of the blest.

* A star was discovered by Tycho Brahe, which appeared suddenly in the heav. ens; attained, in a few days, a brilliancy surpassing that of Jupiter; then as sud. denly disappeared, and has never been seen since.

Away-away-'mid seas of rays that roll
Empyrean splendor o'er the unchained soul-
The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense)
Can struggle to its destin'd eminence –

To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode,
And late to ours, the favor'd one of God —
But, now, the ruler of an anchor'd realm,
She throws aside the sceptre - leaves the helm,
And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns,
Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.

Now happiest, loveliest in yon lovely Earth,
Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth,
(Falling in wreaths thro' many a startled star,
Like woman's hair 'mid pearls, until, afar,
It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt)
She look'd into Infinity – and knelt.

Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled ·
Fit emblems of the model of her world ·
Seen but in beauty-not impeding sight
Of other beauty glittering thro' the light-
A wreath that twined each starry form around,
And all the opal'd air in color bound.

All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed
Of flowers of lilies such as rear'd the head
On the fair Capo Deucato,* and sprang
So eagerly around about to hang

*On Santa Maura- -olim Deucadia.