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Higher than earth e'er own'd, in such pure bliss
As human heart conceives not,-if my life,
With its imperfect virtue, find acceptance
From pardoning love and mercy; but, if otherwise,
That I shall pass into a state of misery
With souls of wicked men and wrathful demons.
That I believe this earth on which we stand
Is but the vestibule to glorious mansions,
Through which a moving crowd for ever press;
And do regard the greatest Prince, who now
Inflicts short torment on this flesh, as one
Who but in passing rudely rends my robe.
And thinkest thou that I, believing this,
Will shrink to do his will whom I adore ?
Or thinkest thou this is a senseless charm,
Which soon will pass away?

Nero. High words, indeed, if resting on good

proof!

A maniac's fancies may be grand and noble.

Cor. Ay, now thou listenest, as a man should
listen,

With an inquiring mind. Let me produce
The proofs which have constrain'd me to believe,
From written law and well-attested facts;—
Let me produce my proofs, and it may be,

The Spirit of Truth may touch thy yielding heart,
And save thee from destruction.

Nero. Ha! dost thou think to make of me a con

vert?

Away, weak fool! and most audacious rebel!
Give proofs of thy obedience, not thy faith,

If thou wouldst earn thy pardon.

Cor. If thou condemn me in the flames to die

I will and must obey thee; if to live,
Disgraced by pardon won through treachery

To God, my King supreme, and his bless'd Christ,

I am, indeed, thy disobedient rebel.

Orc. Noble Cordenius! can thy martial spirit
Thus brook to be a public spectacle,
Fighting with savage beasts, the sport of fools,
Till thou shalt fall, deform'd and horrible,
Mangled and piece-meal torn? It must not be.

Cor. Be not so moved, Orceres ; I can bear it
The God I worship, who hath made me humble,
Hath made me dauntless too. And for the shame
Which, as I guess, disturbs thee most, my Master,
The Lord and Leader I have sworn to follow,
Did as a malefactor end his days,

To save a lost, perverted race: shall I
Feel degradation, then, in following him?

Orc. In this, alas! thou'lt follow him too surely;
But whither, noble Maro?

Cor. E'en to my destined home, my Father's house.

Orc. And where is that? O, canst thou tell me where ?

Beyond the ocean or beneath the earth?

Be there more worlds than this, beyond our ken
In regions vast, above the lofty stars?
Could we through the far stretch of space descry
E'en but the distant verge, though dimly mark'd,
Of any other world, I would believe
That virtuous men deceased have in good truth
A destined place of rest.

Cor. Believe it-0, believe it, brave Orceres!
Orc. I'll try to do it. I'll become a Christian,
Were it but only to defy this tyrant.

Cor. Thou must receive with a far different spirit
The faith of Jesus Christ. Perhaps thou wilt.
My heart leaps at the thought. When I am dead,
Remain in Rome no longer. In the East
Search thou for Ethocles, whom I have rescued;
And if he shall convert thee, O, how richly
He will repay all I have done for him!

Nero. And shall as such, most dearly pay the But, I would now withdraw a little space,

forfeit.

Out!-take him from my presence till the time
Of public execution.

Cordenius Maro, thou shalt fall this day

By no ignoble foe ;--a noble lion,
Famish'd and fierce, shall be thy adversary.
Ard dost thou smile and raise thy head at this,
In stately confidence?

Cor. God will deliver me from every adversary.
And thou too smilest.-Yes; he will deliver
That which I call myself. For this poor form
Which vests me round, I give it to destruction
As gladly as the storm-beat traveller,
Who, having reach'd his destined place of shelter,
Drops at the door his mantle's cumbrous weight.
Nero. (going.) Then to thy visionary hopes I
leave thee,

Incorrigible man! Here, in this chamber
Keep him secure till the appointed hour.

To pour my thoughts in prayer and thankfulness
To Him, the great, the good, the wise, the just,
Who holds man's spirit in his own high keeping,
And now supports my soul, and will support it,
Till my appointed task is done. In secret
The hearts by Jesus taught, were bid to pray,
And, if it be permitted, so will I.

(To the Guards, who advance as he speaks to
them.)

My guards and, some time past, my fellow soldiers,
Let me remain alone a little while,

And fear not my escape. If ye distrust me,
Watch well the door, and bind my hands with

chains.

First Offi. Yes, brave Cordenius, to another
chamber

Thou mayst retire, and we will watch without.
But be thy person free: we will not bind,
With felon cord or chain, those valiant hands
(To the Officers, &c.) Which have so often for thy country fought,
Until we are commanded.

Off, good Sulpicius! hang not on me thus !
Sul. O, mighty Cæsar! countermand your orders:
Delay it but a month, a week, a day.

[EXEUNT Nero, Sulpicius, Senators, &c. Sulpicius
still keeping close to Nero in the act of sup-
plication. Orceres, Cordenius, and Guards
remain, the Guards standing respectfully at a
distance in the back-ground.

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SCENE III-A CROWDED AMPHITHEATRE: NERO
AND THE SENATORS DISCOVERED IN THE BACK-
GROUND SITTING IN STATE, PORTIA BY THE SIDE
OF NERO, IN THE ACT OF SUPPLICATION.

E'en to be spent in want and contumely,
Rather than grieve thy kind and tender heart,
My dearest, gentlest friend! I had accepted:
But to deny my God, and put dishonour
Upon the noblest, most exalted faith
That ever was to human thoughts reveal'd,
Is what I will not-yea, and though a Roman,
A noble Roman, and a soldier too,

I dare not do. Let Nero have this answer.

Por. No, not this answer, Maro; not this an-
swer!

Cast not life from thee, dear, most dear Cordenius!
Life, too, which I should spend my life in cheering,
Cast it not from thee like a worthless thing.

Cor. Because it is not worthless but most pre-
cious,

Enter SULPICIUS on the front, meeting with another noble And now, when dear to thee, more precious far Than I have e'er esteem'd it, 'tis an offering More meet for God's acceptance;

ROMAN.

Sul. (eagerly.) Is he advancing?

Noble Rom.

Yes, and close at hand, Withheld from Him, not e'en thyself, sweet maid,
Couldst cheer its course, nor yet couldst thou be

Surrounded by a group of martial friends.
Oft have I seen him on a day of battle
March to the charge with noble, portly gait,
But now he treads the ground with buoyant steps
Which from its surface spring, as though he press'd
Substance of renovating power. His form
Seems stately and enlarged beyond its wont;
And in his countenance, oft turn'd to heaven,
There is a look as if some god dwelt in him.
Sul. How do the people greet him?
Noble Rom.

happy.

Por. Nay, but I could!-to see thee still alive, And by my side, mine own redeemed friend, Should I not then be happy?

Cor. I should be by thy side, dear love! but

thou,

With all thy excellence, couldst have no happiness,
Mated with one, whose living form alone
Could move upon the earth, whilst far adrift
Every face His mind would dwell, by ceaseless meditation,
In other worlds of blessedness or wo;
Lost to the one, and to the other link'd
By horrid sympathy, till his wrench'd nature
Should to a demon's fell and restless spirit
At last be changed.

Gazing upon him, turns, with transit quick,
Pity to admiration. Warlike veterans
Are shedding tears like infants. As he pass'd
The legion he commanded in Armenia,
They raised a shout as if a victor came,
Saluting him with long and loud applause
None daring to reprove them.

(Noise without of shoutings.)
Hark! he comes.

Enter CORDENIUS, followed by ORCERES and SYLVIUS,
and attended by other friends, with GUARDS, &c.
Sul. (advancing eagerly to meet him.) Cordenius,
O Cordenius! hear a friend,

A faithful, ancient friend; thy Portia's father!
At Nero's footstool she is pleading for thee,
And will not plead in vain, if thou wilt testify
A yielding mind, a willingness to live.

Por. Alas, alas! and dost thou then believe
That naught remains for thee but death or misery?
Cor. No, gentle Portia! firmly I believe
That I shall live in endless happiness,
And with the blest hereafter shall behold
Thy blessed self, with ecstasy of love,
Exceeding every thought of earth-born passion,
As the fair morning star in lovely brightness
Excels a night-fly, twinkling through the gloom.
Live in this hope, dear Portia! hold it fast;
And may his blessing rest upon thy head,
Who loves the loving and the innocent!
Farewell, in love and hope! farewell, in peace!

Cor. I am so pleased to die, and am so honour'd, Farewell, in quickening faith,-in holy joy!

In dying for the pure and holy truth,

That nature's instinct seems in me extinguish'd.
But if the emperor freely pardon me,

I shall believe it is the will of God

That I should yet on earth promote his service,
And, so believing, am content to live;
Living or dying, to his will resign'd.

Enter PORTIA on the front, and catching hold of CORDE-
NIUS with eagerness and great agitation.

Por. Cordenius, thou art pardoned. Nero spares
thee,

If thou wilt only say thou art a Roman,

In heart and faith as all thy fathers were,

Or but forbear to say thou art a Christian.

Por. (clasping his knees.) Nay, let me yet con-
jure thee!

Make me not wretched, me who once was happy,
Ay, happiest of all in loving thee.

Cor. This is mine anguish and my suffering!
O, good Sulpicius! bear her to her home.
Sul. (leading her gently away, while she still
clings to him.) Forbear, my child, thy
tears are all in vain.

Enter a LICTOR.

Lic. Cæsar forbids all further interruption
To his imperial sentence. Let Cordenius
Forthwith prepare him for the fatal fight.

Cor. Thanks, gentle Portia! life preserved by This is mine office, and I must perform it.

thee,

(Begins to disrobe Cordenius, while Portia shrieks

aloud, and is carried off in the arms of her
father.)

Disrobe thee, Maro, of those martial weeds.
Cor. Gladly; for him I serve,-my glorious
Master

Hath braced me with an armour that defies

All hostile things; in which I'll strive more proudly
Than I have ever fought in field or breach
With Rome's or Nero's foes.

Lic. Cæsar desires thee also to remember,
That no ignoble audience, e'en thy emperor,
And all the states of Rome, behold thy deeds.

NOTE TO THE DRAMA.

FOR the better understanding of different allusions in the foregoing drama, I beg to transcribe a few passages from Fox's History of Martyrs, taken from book i., which contains an account of the ten persecutions of the primitive church.

He says, on the authority of Justin Martyr,-"And whether earthquake, pestilence, or whatever public calamity befell, it was attributed to the Christians;" (then is added) "over and besides all these, a great occasion that stirred up the emperors against the Christians came by one Publius Tarquinius, the chief prelate of the

Cor. Tell him my deeds shall witness'd be by idolatrous sacrifices, and Mamertinus, the chief governor

those

Compared to whom the emperor of Rome,
With all her high estates, are but as insects
Hovering at midday o'er some tainted marsh.
I know full well that no ignoble audience
Are present, though from mortal eyes conceal'd.
Farewell, my friends! kind, noble friends, farewell!
Apart to Sylvius, while Orceres goes off, reap-
pearing in another part of the theatre.)
Sylvius, farewell! If thou shouldst e'er be call'd
To die a holy martyr for the truth,

God give thee then the joy which now I feel.
But keep thy faith conceal'd, till useful service
Shall call thee to maintain it. God be with thee!
(Looking round.)
Where is Orceres gone? I thought him near me.
Syl. 'Tis but a moment since he left thy side
With eager haste.

of the city, in the time of Trajanus, who, partly with money, partly with sinister, pestilent counsaile, partly with infamous accusations, (as witnesseth Nauclerus) incensed the mind of the emperor so much against God's people."

In the account of the third persecution (an. 100,) Eustasius, a great and victorious captain, is mentioned as suffering martyrdom by order of the Emperor Adrian, the barbarians; but upon Eustasius's refusing on the way to do sacrifice to Apollo for his victory, brought him to Rome, and had him put to death.

who went to meet him on his return from conquest over

In the fourth persecution, (an. 162,) it is mentioned that many Christian soldiers were found in the army of Marcus Aurelius.

"As these aforesaid were going to their execution, there was a certain soldier who in their defence took part against those who railed upon them, for the which cause the people crying out against him, he was appre hended, and being constant in his profession, was forthwith beheaded."

In the persecutions of Decius, several soldiers are Cor. He would not see my death. I'm glad he's mentioned as martyrs, some of whom had before con

gone.

Say I inquired for him, and say I bless'd him.
-Now I am ready. Earthly friends are gone.
Angels and blessed spirits, to your fellowship
A few short pangs will bring me.
-O, Thou, who on the cross for sinful men
A willing sufferer hung'st! receive my soul!
Almighty God and sire, supreme o'er all!
Pardon my sins and take me to thyself!
Accept the last words of my earthly lips :
High hallelujah to thy holy name !

cealed their faith; and in the tenth persecution, Mauritius, the captain of the Theban band, with his soldiers, to the number of 6666, (a number probably greatly exaggerated,) are recorded as having been slain as martyrs by the order of Maximinian.

Tertullian, in his Apology for the Christians, mentions the slanderous accusations against them, of putting to death children and worshipping an ass's head. And when we consider how fond the ignorant are of excite ment arising from cruel, absurd, and wonderful stories, and how easily a misapprehended and detached expression may be shaped by conjecture into a detailed transaction, such accusations were very probable and (A Lion now appears, issuing from a low door might be naturally expected; particularly when the at the end of the Stage, and Cordenius, advan-unoffending meekness of their behaviour made supposed cing to meet it, enters the Arena, when Orceres hidden atrocities more necessary for the justification of their persecutors. from a lofty stand amongst the spectators, sends an arrow from his bow, which pierces Cordenius through the heart. He then disappears, and re-entering below, catches hold of his hand as Sylvius supports him from falling to the ground.)

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

Orc. (to Cordenius.) Have I done well, my Is there a man, that from some lofty steep,

friend?-this is a death

More worthy of a Roman.

I made a vow in secret to my heart,

That thou shouldst ne'er be made a mangled sight
For gazing crowds and Nero's ruthless eye.

Views in his wide survey the boundless deep,
When its vast waters, lined with sun and shade,
Wave beyond wave, in seried distance, fade
To the pale sky;-or views it, dimly seen,
The shifting screens of drifted mist between

Syl. That dying look, which almost smiles upon As the huge cloud dilates its sable form,
thee,

Says that thou hast done well; though words no

more

When grandly curtain'd by th' approaching storm,-
Who feels not his awed soul with wonder rise
To Him whose power created sea and skies,

May pass from these closed lips, whose last bless'd Mountains and deserts, giving to the sight
utterance

Was the soul's purest and sublimest impulse.

(The curtain drops.)

The wonders of the day and of the night?
But let some fleet be seen in warlike pride,
Whose stately ships the restless billows ride,

While each, with lofty masts and brightening sheen
Of fair spread sails, moves like a vested queen ;-
Or rather, be some distant bark, astray,
Seen like a pilgrim on his lonely way,
Holding its steady course from port and shore,
A form distinct, a speck, and seen no more,-
How doth the pride, the sympathy, the flame,
Of human feeling stir his thrilling frame!
"O Thou! whose mandate dust inert obey'd!

With heavy sigh and look depress'd,
The greatest men will sometimes hear
The story of their acts address'd
To the young stranger's wandering ear,
And check the half-swoln tear.
Is it or modesty or pride
Which may not open praise abide?
No; read his inward thoughts! they tell,
His deeds of fame he prizes well.

What is this creature man whom thou hast made !" But, ah! they in his fancy stand,

I.

On Palos' shore, whose crowded strand
Bore priests and nobles of the land,
And rustic hinds and townsmen trim,
And harness'd soldiers stern and grim,
And lowly maids and dames of pride,
And infants by their mother's side,-
The boldest seaman stood that e'er
Did bark or ship through tempest steer;
And wise as bold, and good as wise;
The magnet of a thousand eyes,
That on his form and features cast;
His noble mien and simple guise,
In wonder seem'd to look their last.

A form which conscious worth is gracing,
A face where hope, the lines effacing
Of thought and care, bestow'd, in truth,
To the quick eyes' imperfect tracing
The look and air of youth.

II.

Who, in his lofty gait, and high
Expression of th' enlighten'd eye,
Had recognised in that bright hour

The disappointed suppliant of dull power,
Who had in vain of states and kings desired
The pittance for his vast emprise required ?—
The patient sage, who, by his lamp's faint light,
O'er chart and map spent the long silent night?
The man who meckly fortune's buffets bore,
Trusting in One alone, whom heaven and earth
adore ?

III.

Another world is in his mind,
Peopled with creatures of his kind,

With hearts to feel, with minds to soar,
Thoughts to consider and explore;

Souls, who might find, from trespass shriven,
Virtue on earth and joy in heaven.
"That power divine, whom storms obey,"
(Whisper'd his heart,) a leading star,
Will guide him on his blessed way;
Brothers to join by fate divided far.
Vain thoughts! which heaven doth but ordain
In part to be, the rest, alas! how vain!

IV.

But hath there lived of mortal mould,
Whose fortunes with his thoughts could hold
An even race? Earth's greatest son
That e'er earn'd fame, or empire won,
Hath but fulfill'd, within a narrow scope,
A stinted portion of his ample hope.

As relics of a blighted band,
Who, lost to man's approving sight,
Have perish'd in the gloom of night,
Ere yet the glorious light of day
Had glitter'd on their bright array.
His mightiest feat had once another,

| Of high imagination born,—
A loftier and a nobler brother,
From dear existence torn;

And she for those, who are not, steeps
Her soul in wo,-like Rachel, weeps.

V.

The signal given, with hasty strides
The sailors climb'd their ships' dark sides;
Their anchors weigh'd; and from the shore
Each stately vessel slowly bore.
High o'er the deeply shadow'd flood,
Upon his deck their leader stood,
And turn'd him to the parted land,

And bow'd his head and waved his hand.

And then, along the crowded strand,

A sound of many sounds combined,
That wax'd and waned upon the wind,
Burst like heaven's thunder, deep and grand;
A lengthen'd peal, which paused, and then
Renew'd, like that which loathly parts,
Oft on the ear return'd again,

The impulse of a thousand hearts.
But as the lengthen'd shouts subside,
Distincter accents strike the ear,
Wafting across the current wide,
Heart-utter'd words of parting cheer:
"O! shall we ever see again

ઃઃ

Those gallant souls recross the main ?
God keep the brave! God be their guide!
God bear them safe through storm and tide!
Their sails with favouring breezes swell!
O brave Columbus! fare thee well!"

VI.

From shore and strait, and gulf and bay,
The vessels held their daring way,
Left far behind, in distance thrown
All land to Moor or Christian known,
Left far behind the misty isle,
Whose fitful shroud, withdrawn the while,
Shows wood and hill and headland bright
To later seamen's wondering sight,
And tide and sea left far behind
That e'er bore freight of human kind;
Where ship or bark to shifting gales,
E'er tack'd their course or spread their sails.
Around them lay a boundless main
In which to hold their silent reign;

But for the passing current's flow,

And cleft waves, brawling round the prow, They might have thought some magic spell

A gentler mien; relations, friends, Glare on him now like angry fiends; And, as he moves, ah, wretched cheer!

Had bound them, weary fate! for ever there to Their mutter'd curses reach his ear:

dwell.

VII.

What did this trackless waste supply
To soothe the mind or please the eye?
The rising morn through dim mist breaking,
The flicker'd east with purple streaking;
The midday cloud through thin air flying,
With deeper blue the blue sea dying;
Long ridgy waves their white mains rearing,
And in the broad gleam disappearing ;
The broaden'd, blazing sun declining,
And western waves like fire flood shining;
The sky's vast dome to darkness given,
And all the glorious host of heaven.

VIII.

Full oft upon the deck, while other's slept,
To mark the bearing of each well-known star
That shone aloft, or on th' horizon far,
The anxious Chief his lonely vigil kept;
The mournful wind, the hoarse wave breaking near,
The breathing groans of sleep, the plunging lead,
The steersman's call, and his own stilly tread,
Are all the sounds of night that reach his ear.
His darker form stalk'd through the sable gloom
With gestures discomposed and features keen,
That might not in the face of day be seen,
Like some unblessed spirit from the tomb.

Night after night, and day succeeding day,
So pass'd their dull, unvaried time away;

But all undaunted, firm and sage,

He scorns their threats, yet thus he soothes their

rage:

"I brought you from your native shore

An unknown ocean to explore.

I brought you, partners, by my side,
Want, toil, and danger, to abide.

Yet weary stillness hath so soon subdued

The buoyant soul, the heart of pride,

Men who in battle's brunt full oft have firmly stood.
That to some nearing coast we bear,
How many cheering signs declare!
Wayfaring birds the blue air ranging,
Their shadowy line to blue air changing,
Pass o'er our heads in frequent flocks;
While seaweed from the parent rocks
With fibry roots, but newly torn

In tressy lengthen'd wreaths are on the clear wave borne.

Nay, has not e'en the drifting current brought
Things of rude art,-of human cunning wrought?
Be yet two days your patience tried,
And if no shore is then descried,
E'en turn your dastard prows again,
And cast your leader to the main."

XI.

And thus a while with steady hand He kept in check a wayward band, Who but with half-express'd disdain Their rebel spirit could restrain.

Till hope, the seaman's worshipp'd queen, had flown The veteran, rough as war-worn steel,

From every valiant heart but his alone;

Where still, by day, enthroned, she held her state With sunny look and brow elate.

IX.

Oft spurn'd the deck with grating heel;

The seaman, bending o'er the flood,
With stony gaze all listless stood;

The sturdy bandit, wildly rude,
Sung, as he strode, some garbled strain,

But soon his dauntless soul, which naught could Expressive of each fitful mood,

bend,

Nor hope delay'd, nor adverse fate subdue,

With more redoubled danger must contend

Than storm or wave-a fierce and angry crew.
"Dearly," say they, "may we those visions rue
Which lured us from our native land,

A wretched, lost, devoted band,
Led on by hope's delusive gleam,
The victims of a madman's dream!
Nor gold shall e'er be ours, nor fame;
Not e'en the remnant of a name,
On some rude-letter'd stone to tell
On what strange coast our wreck befell.
For us no requiem shall be sung,
Nor prayer be said, nor passing knell
In holy church be rung."

X.

To thoughts like these, all forms give way
Of duty to a leader's sway;
All habits of respect that bind
With easy tie the human mind.
E'en love and admiration throw
Their nobler bands aside, nor show

Timed by his sabre's jangling chain
The proud Castilian, boasted name!

Child of an ancient race

Which proudly prized its spotless fame,
And deem'd all fear disgrace,

Felt quench'd within him honour's generous flame,
And in his gather'd mantle wrapp'd his face.

XII.

So pass'd the day, the night, the second day With its red setting sun's extinguish'd ray. Dark, solemn midnight coped the ocean wide, When from his watchful stand Columbus cried, "A light, a light!"-blest sounds that rung In every ear. At once they sprung With haste aloft, and, peering bright, Descried afar the blessed sight. "It moves, it slowly moves like ray Of torch that guides some wanderer's way! And other lights more distant, seeming As if from town or hamlet streaming! 'Tis land, 'tis peopled land; man dwelleth there, And thou, O God of heaven! hast heard thy servant's prayer!"

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