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FRAGMENTS OF AN UNFINISHED DRAMA.
The following fragments are part of a Drama, undertaken for the amusement of the individuals who composed our intimate society, but left unfinished. I have preserved a sketch of the story as far as it had been shadowed in the poet's mind.
An Enchantress, living in one of the islands of the Indian Archipelago, saves the life of a Pirate, a man of savage but noble nature. She becomes enamoured of him; and he, inconstant to his mortal love, for a while returns her passion; but at length, recalling the memory of her whom he left, and who laments his loss, he escapes from the enchanted island and returns to his lady. His mode of life makes him again go to sea, and the Enchantress seizes the opportunity to bring him, by a spirit-brewed tempest, back to her island.
Scene before the Cavern of the Indian Enchantress.
The Enchantress comes forth.
He came like a dream in the dawn of life,
He fled like a shadow before its noon; He is gone, and my peace is turned to strife, And I wander and wane like the weary moon.
O sweet Echo, wake,
And for my sake
But my heart has a music which Echo's lips,
Though tender and true, yet can answer not, And the shadow that moves in the soul's eclipse
Can return not the kiss by his now forgot ;
Sweet lips! he who hath
On my desolate path Cast the darkness of absence, worse than death!
The Enchantress makes her spell : she is answered by a Spirit.
Within the silent centre of the earth
A good Spirit, who watches over the Pirate's fate, leads, in a mysterious manner, the lady of his love to the Enchanted Isle. She is accompanied by a youth, who loves her, but whose passion she returns only with a sisterly affection. The ensuing scene takes place between them on their arrival at the Isle.
INDIAN YOUTH AND LADY.
And if my grief should still be dearer to me
Than all the pleasures in the world beside,
I offer only That which I seek, some human sympathy In this mysterious island.
Oh ! my friend,
Peace, perturbed heart! I am to thee only as thou to mine, The passing wind which heals the brow at noon, And may
strike cold into the breast at night, Yet cannot linger where it soothes the most, Or long soothe could it linger.
You also loved ?
Loved ! Oh, I love. Methinks This word of love is fit for all the world, And that for gentle hearts another name
Would speak of gentler thoughts than the world
owns. I have loved.
And thou lovest not? If so Young as thou art, thou canst afford to weep.
Oh! would that I could claim exemption
Showered on us, and the , dove mourned in the
pine, Sad prophetess of sorrows not her own.
Your breath is like soft music, your words are
He was so awful, yet So beautiful in mystery and terror, Calming me as the loveliness of heaven Soothes the unquiet sea :—and yet not so, For he seemed stormy, and would often seem A quenchless sun masked in portentous clouds; For such his thoughts, and even his actions were; But he was not of them, nor they of him, But as they hid his splendour from the earth. Some said he was a man of blood and peril, And steeped in bitter infamy to the lips. More need was there I should be innocent, More need that I should be most true and kind, And much more need that there should be found
one To share remorse, and scorn, and solitude, And all the ills that wait on those who do The tasks of ruin in the world of life. He fled, and I have followed him.