For which I mourn, and will forever mourn: Or ever taste content, or peace of heart, While I have life, and thought of my Alphonso. LEONORA. Look down, good Heaven, with pity on her sorrows, And grant that time may bring her some relief. ALMERIA. Oh, no, time gives increase to my afflictions. The circling hours, that gather all the woes Which are diffused through the revolving year, Come, heavy-laden with the oppressing weight, To me; with me, successively, they leave The sighs, the tears, the groans, the restless cares, Hark! LEONORA. [Shouts at a distance. Oh, cease, for Heaven's sake, assuage a little ALMERIA. And joy he brings to every other heart, For with him Garcia comes Garcia, to whom I must be sacrificed, and all the vows I gave my dear Alphonso basely broken. No, it shall never be; for I will die First, die ten thousand deaths! Look down, look down, Alphonso, hear the sacred vow I make; And bend thy glorious eyes to earth and me; To that bright heaven where my Alphonso reigns, If ever I do yield, or give consent, By any action, word, or thought, to wed Another lord, may then just Heaven shower down (If such there be in angry Heaven's vengeance) [Kneels. [Rising. My heart has some relief; having so well LEONORA. My heart, my life, and will, are only yours. LEONORA. Alas! I fear some fatal resolution. And more at large, since I have made this vow. LEONORA. I will attend you. ALMERIA IN THE MAUSOLEUM. Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA. ALMERIA, It was a fancied noise, for all is hushed. LEONORA. It bore the accent of a human voice. ALMERIA. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind Whistling through hollows of this vaulted aisle. We'll listen. LEONORA. Hark! ALMERIA. No, all is hushed and still as death. - 'Tis dreadful! How reverend is the face of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, ALMERIA. It may my fears, but cannot add to that. Lead me o'er bones and skulls and mouldering earth Or wind me in the shroud of some pale corse Are lost in dread of greater ill. Then show me, Where I may kneel, and pay my vows again To him, to Heaven, and my Alphonso's soul. LEONORA. I go; but Heaven can tell with what regret. The Scene opening discovers a place of tombs; one monument fronting the view greater than the rest. Enter HELI. HELI. I wander through this maze of monuments, Yet cannot find him.- Hark! sure 't is the voice Of one complaining. There it sounds; I'll follow it. LEONORA. Behold the sacred vault, within whose womb The poor remains of good Anselmo rest, Yet fresh and unconsumed by time or worms! ALMERIA. Sure, 't is the friendly yawn of death for me; Invites me to the bed where I alone Shall rest; shows me the grave, where nature, weary My soul, enlarged from its vile bonds, will mount, Of that refulgent world, where I shall swim Help me, Alphonso; take me, reach thy hand; [Exit. OSMYN ascends from the tomb. OSMYN. Who calls that wretched thing that was Alphonso? ALMERIA. Angels, and all the host of heaven, support me! OSMYN. Whence is that voice, whose shrillness, from the grave, And growing to his father's shroud, roots up Alphonso? ALMERIA. Mercy! Providence! O speak! Speak to it quickly, quickly! speak to me, Leonora, in thy bosom, from the light, And from my eyes! OSMYN. Amazement and illusion! Rivet and nail me where I stand, ye powers; [Coming forward. That motionless I may be still deceived. Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolve I'll catch it ere it goes, and grasp her shade. 'Tis life! 't is warm! 't is she! 't is she herself! ROSE TERRY COOKE COOKE, ROSE (TERRY), an American story-writer and poet, was born at West Hartford, Conn., February 17, 1827; died in Pittsfield, Mass., July 18, 1892. She was a cousin of General Alfred H. Terry, who rendered signal service to the cause of the Union during the Civil War by the part he took in the capture of Fort Fisher, N. C. She was educated at Hartford Female Seminary, from which she graduated in 1843. She married Rollin H. Cooke in 1873. She wrote stories and poems in various periodicals, some of which have been collected into volumes. Among these are "Happy Dodd" (1879); "Somebody's Neighbors" (1881); "Root-bound" (1885); "The Sphinx's Children" (1886); "Poems" (1888); "Steadfast" (1889); and "Huckleberries" (1892). THE DEACON'S WEEK.1 (From "The Sphinx's Children.") THE Communion service of January was just over in the church at Sugar Hollow; and people were waiting for Mr. Parkes to give out the hymn; but he did not give it out, - he laid his book down on the table, and looked about on his church. He was a man of simplicity and sincerity, fully in earnest to do his Lord's work, and do it with all his might; but he did sometimes feel discouraged. His congregation was a mixture of farmers and mechanics, for Sugar Hollow was cut in two by Sugar Brook, a brawling, noisy stream that turned the wheel of many a mill and manufactory; yet on the hills around it there was still a scattered population, eating their bread in the full perception of the primeval curse. So he had to contend with the keen brain and sceptical comment of the men who piqued themselves on power to hammer at theological problems as well as hot iron, with the jealousy and repulsion and bitter feeling that has bred the communistic hordes abroad and at home; while perhaps he had a still harder task to awaken the 1 By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. |