Pol. And he shall die!

(Exit.)

Lal. (after a pause). And-he-shall-die--alas !
Castiglione die? Who spoke the words?
Where am I?-what was it he said?-Politian !
Thou art not gone-thou art not gone, Politian!
I feel thou art not gone-yet dare not look,
Lest I behold thee not-thou couldst not go
With those words upon thy lips-O, speak to me!
And let me hear thy voice-one word—one word,
To say thou art not gone,-one little sentence,
To say how thou dost scorn-how thou dost hate
My womanly weakness. Ha! ha! thou art not gone-
O, speak to me ! I knew thou wouldst not go!

I knew thou wouldst not, couldst not, durst not go.
Villain, thou art not gone-thou mockest me!
And thus I clutch thee-thus!

Gone-gone.

Where am I?

-He is gone, he is gone-'tis well-'tis very well!

So that the blade be keen-the blow be sure, 'Tis well, 'tis very well-alas! alas!

V.

The suburbs. POLITIAN alone.

I am faint,

Politian. This weakness grows upon me.
And much I fear me ill-it will not do
To die ere I have lived!-Stay-stay thy hand,
O Azrael, yet awhile!-Prince of the Powers
Of Darkness and the Tomb, O, pity me!
O, pity me! let me not perish now,
In the budding of my Paradisal Hope!
Give me to live yet-yet a little while:
'Tis I who pray for life-I who so late
Demanded but to die!-what sayeth the Count?

Enter Baldazzar.

Baldazzar. That, knowing no cause of quarrel or of feud

Between the Earl Politian and himself,

He doth decline your cartel.

VOL. III.

E

Pol. What didst thou say?

What answer was it you brought me, good Baldazzar?
With what excessive fragrance the zephyr comes
Laden from yonder bowers!—a fairer day,
Or one more worthy Italy, methinks

No mortal eyes have seen!--what said the Count?
Bal. That he, Castiglione, not being aware

Of

any feud existing, or any cause

Of quarrel between your lordship and himself,
Cannot accept the challenge.

Pol. It is most true

All this is very true.

When saw you, sir,

When saw you now, Baldazzar, in the frigid
Ungenial Britain which we left so lately,
A heaven so calm as this-so utterly free
From the evil taint of clouds ?—and he did say
?
Bal. No more, my lord, than I have told you,
The Count Castiglione will not fight,
Having no cause for quarrel.

Pol. Now this is true

All very true. Thou art my friend, Baldazzar,
And I have not forgotten it-thou'lt do me
A piece of service; wilt thou go back and say
Unto this man, that I, the Earl of Leicester,
Hold him a villain ?—thus much, I prythee, say
Unto the Count-it is exceeding just

He should have cause for quarrel.

Bal. My lord!-—my friend!

Pol. (aside). 'Tis he-he comes himself! (aloud). Thou reasonest well.

I know what thou wouldst say-not send the message—
Well!-I will think of it-I will not send it.

Now prythee, leave me hither doth come a person
With whom affairs of a most private nature

I would adjust.

Bal. I go-to morrow we meet,

Do we not at the Vatican.

Pol. At the Vatican.

(Exit Bal.)

Enter Castiglione.

Cas. The Earl of Leicester here!

Pol. I am the Earl of Leicester, and thou seest, Dost thou not, that I am here?

Cas. My Lord, some strange,

Some singular mistake-misunderstanding—
Hath without doubt arisen: thou hast been urged
Thereby, in heat of anger, to address

Some words most unaccountable, in writing,
To me, Castiglione; the bearer being
Baldazzar, Duke of Surrey. I am aware

Of nothing which might warrant thee in this thing,
Having given thee no offence. Ha!-am I right?
"Twas a mistake ?-undoubtedly-we all

Do err at times.

Pol. Draw, villain, and prate no more!

Cas. Ha!-draw-and villain? have at thee then at

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 of the stage.)

Of Lalage!

Hold off-thy sacred hand!—avaunt I say!

Avaunt I will not fight thee-indeed I dare not.

Pol. Thou wilt not fight with me didst say, Sir Count? Shall I be baffled thus ?-now this is well;

Cas. I dare not-dare not

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.)

It is it is-most true.

I am the veriest coward.
Pol. (greatly softened).
Cas. And Lalage-

Alas! my lord,

In such a cause

O pity me!

Alas!-I do-indeed I pity thee.

Pol. Scoundrel!—arise and die!

Cas. It needeth not be-thus-thus-O let me die

Thus on my bended knee. 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. Strike thou home

(baring his bosom).

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

Pol. 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-before

The eyes 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.

SCIENCE! 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 poemst-have induced me, after some hesitation, to re-publish 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.

This refers to the accusation brought against Poe that he was a copyist of Tennyson.-Ed.