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What was his crime ?


No crime.
He did -perhaps too readily—resent
An insult to his honor, and struck down
A foolish youth of an illustrious house.
Aud, well thou know'st, no mercy would be shown
To one judged guilty of a noble's death.


Do I not know it? Wherefore am I here,
Consorting with the outcasts of my kind ?
An Ishmael 'gainst whom are all men's hands,
As now this hand is against every man ?
Feared, hated, banned a miserable robber?
Why, that in reckless youth, in heat of blood,
Set boiling by a gibe at my condition-
An honest poor man's son—by a proud noble,
A silken, soft patrician, who had come
Between me and the maid whose troth I held,
And bade me stand aside while he should pour
The poison of his words into her ear,
Did I become a homicide ;—the blow
I struck at random reached the villain's heart;
And knowing well what justice would be dealt
To one of my estate, I fled the city,
To be the scourge of yonder bloated tyrants.


Then must thou see my father cannot go
To Rome in safety. O do not refuse
To let me be the bearer of thy message,
For sake of this poor prisoner. Why pause ?
I know thou think'st me not what I

appear, And thou art right.

PERELLI, (aside to her.)

Art mad ?


Not mad, dear father. I do but throw away a useless mask To show an honest face. (TO MALDONADO.) But not

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A fault in duty or a broken pledge,
And, on the honor of a Roman maiden,
Howe'er I speed, I will return to share
The fortunes of my father.


Yet her word Has ne'er been falsified, and will not now. Then prithee let her go.


It cannot be.
If thou wilt bear my message, well ; if not,
Stay here in safety;—some one else will go
Upon mine errand. But I cannot part,
And will not, with this maiden. Giacomo !
The throne of the Campagna, where alone,
For ten long years, have I-a mateless eagle,
Upon the topmost bough of blasted tree-
Set in unsocial power, may well afford
Room for another, and no one more fit
To fill the place an empress need not scorn
Than this fair Roman. Giacomo !

GIACOMO, (entering.)

My chief ?

Go send thy wife into my grot, and bid her,
From out the costliest robes she there will find,
Choose those best fitted for a queen.

[Exit Giacomo. (TO ENRICA.) Thy hand.

ENRICA. What dost thou mean?


To lead thee to the throne Where thou art hence to share my sovereignty.

Do not presume upon


that Heaven
Permits thee o'er my liberty to hold.
Nor o'er my liberty alone, but life,
For both are in thy hands. But as with one,
So can I with the other freely part

At honor's bidding. Sir, I am not free
To choose the man whom I would own for lord,
For I've already chosen; and this hand
No more is mine to give, or to withhold,
Than if the church had blessed my union with
My heart's sole master. Thine I cannot be.
Then let me go upon this errand, and
So earn my father's freedom and my own.

I have decided. Thou remainest here,
To be my queen—the sharer of my power,
Or else my-slave.


Thy slave then, if I must,
For not in servitude, or forced or free,
Can there be degradation. But to share
The power which thou by violence hast won,
I cannot and I will not. Do not glare
Thus fiercely on me. I would not offend;
But neither will I bow my head in silence,
And yield me to a wrong I can avert.


I'll do the bidding of this man, my child.
I will to Rome; and should I ne'er return
To claim thy freedom, thou hast still one friend
Who will not rest and thee in bondage. Sir,
Prepare thy missive with what speed thou may’st,
And let me hence.

[MALDONADO withdraws.


O jeopard not thy life
For me, my father. I've no fear of aught
That man can do if Heaven be on my side.
And though my guardian angel for a time,
To prove my strength, his radiant face may hide,
He will not in this strait abandon me.


The purpose of this man speaks in his eyes;
And more-far more-than life is now in danger.
Thy purity, which not the breath of slander yet
Has ever touched, will he tread in the mire,
Till thou become as vile a thing as he.

0 I would risk all blessings this side Heaven
To save thee from the dark, the dreadful fate
That threats thee here. Yes, I'll to Rome, and there,
To guard against mishap, first seek Orazio,
And let him know thy peril. Should I fail-


Dear father!


Nay, my child, fear not that I
Will seek out danger. But should danger come,
There will be one on whom thou may'st rely
For present help, and future guardianship;
And who, when I am gone-


O talk not thus !
Such words will make a coward of me when
I should be bravest.

MALDONADO, (returning.)

To the Count Orsini
This letter bear. His son Ottavio
Is prisoner here ; and for his ransom this
Demands five thousand scudi. Why dost stare ?


The Count Orsini ?


Thou hast doubtless heard That name ere now?


Alas for me! I have. And he of all men living is the last Whom I would choose to meet. One of his house Was the unhappy youth my madness slew.

O, then, to thee it is I am indebted
For the good chance that makes mine enemy
An instrument the coffers to replenish
Of our poor band? for he thou deemest slain
The prisoner is who lies in yonder tent.


Can this be true ?


O Heaven! most heartily
I thank thee, that the stain of blood rests not
Upon my father's hands! All evils now,
Since thy dear life is sacred from the laws,
I cheerfully can meet. Go then to Rome;
And in thine absence do not fear that harm
Shall fall on me.

And tell Orazio,
Though we should never meet again on earth,
When meet we do, I shall not be less his
Than when we parted. Now good angels speed thee.

PERELLI, (embracing her.)
And guard from every ill mine only treasure !

[Enrica remains looking after PERELLI, while MALDONADO

stands gazing earnestly upon her.” Perelli departs, and falls in with the band of armed citizens, with Orazio at their head. Enrica remains in the power of Maldonado, and bravely resists his suit, and in the nick of time gains a respite through the intervention of Gian-Angelo ; and, before the robber can renew it, Orazio, and the citizens, guided by a traitor in the robber band, fall upon the robbers in their concealment. Orazio and Maldonado fight; Maldonado's sword is broken, and being overcome, Orazio is about to despatch him, when Gian-Angelo rushes between them, and receives Orazio's sword in his breast, and saves his brother from instant death. GianAngelo dies ; Maldonado is made prisoner, repents, and is led off ; Orazio recovers his bride, and the curtain drops. The copious extracts we have made, and the analysis of the plot we have given, will enable our readers to judge for themselves of the merits of the Sculptor's Daughter, either as an acting play or as a dramatic poem. It is in our judgment too hurried in the last act, and the characters are not sufficiently well marked. We should also object to the sympathy the author enlists with the robber chief,—a man covered with crimes, which are represented as nearly overbalanced by a few generous feelings, and not ignoble sentiments retained.

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