and prove his devotion by delivering her over | had chanced to Cleora, and dreading to hear. in safety and purity to his rival. Again, with her permission, he pressed a kiss upon her hand, and averring that such a favour had paid him for all past and future sufferings, he left her. Timoleon had led the Syracusans to victory: the Carthaginians were slaughtered in thousands; and the remnant, with their helpless admiral Gisco, fled to their ships and made sail for their savage city. Syracuse was saved, and the armies marched back to it in triumph. But there were no signs of welcome-no procession of virgins with the statues of the gods, no laurel crowns and hymns. The gates were shut, and above them and on the walls were the defiant slaves, headed by Marullo. To the furious demands of the masters a mocking slave replied by informing them of what had been done in their absence, and his ribald boasts drove them to fury. Then, in a nobler vein, Marullo, at the call of the rest, spoke out, told the lords that slaves ought to be treated as in the good old times (so you see that there were good old times to be regretted even then), and not with the cruelty and brutality which the slaves of Syracuse had endured. They had been forced into revolt, and unless redress were given they would defend them selves with the strong hand. He demanded pardon for all that had been done, liberty for those who chose to leave the island, and for those who remained to serve competent maintenance. The masters, in a whirlwind of rage, rejected all his proposals and rushed to the assault, thinking to sweep away the defenders of the gates; but Marullo cheered his friends to the fight, and they fought bravely; and the masters, baffled, were forced to retreat, foaming with new rage. Again Timoleon came to their aid, and he gave them counsel. It was based on the veteran's long acquaintance with human nature brutalized by slavery. They will fight, he said, while the arms of a soldier are brought against them-their pride is roused, and they show themselves men. And they have never learned to fear the sword. Show them that which they have learned to fear: go out against them again, but instead of swords-brandish your whips. His counsel was taken, and it gave the day to the masters. The sight of the weapons of torture struck abject terror into the hearts of the slaves, and they fled from the presence of their lords. The gates were opened, and Syracuse was again in the hands of its aristocracy. Foremost rushed in Leosthenes to learn what He sought her house, and hardly dared to question her maid; but at length, when he was assured that Cleora had been unharmed and was ready to be led forth to him, the demon of suspicion again arose from the deeps and whispered. The true and faithful girl came forth, still wearing the bandage which he had bound upon her brow. He removed the kerchief, and received back from her the kiss which she said she had but borrowed when last they met. Leosthenes was happy for the moment, and his natural generosity was shown in his instant demand for the name of the man who had preserved her. He would load him with gold, if his station permitted such reward, or labour to win him honours, if of higher rank. Then Cleora, all truth, told him the whole story, and that she had been saved by one who hated him and loved her, and she dwelt on all his reverent tenderness. But you withhold his name," impatiently cried Leosthenes. "Marullo, my father's bondman." Leosthenes broke into angry laughter, which yielded to fiercer utterance as Cleora, with generous gratitude for her salvation, remonstrated with him for his scorn of one who had acted so nobly. Again she dwelt upon the chivalry of the slave (it was in days before chivalry was so called, but the quality was there), and bade Leosthenes consider how grandly Marullo, with all in his power, had borne himself. And she then asked, as of right, that whatever vengeance might be reserved for other rebels, Marullo, for what he had done for her, was to be unharmed. the voice in the jealous eye of Leosthenes she answered that she could not be so greatly injured as by unjust suspicion, and that she loved the mind of Marullo, not his person. And Leosthenes remaining darkly moody, Cleora left him. But Marullo, who had instinctively remained in his mistress' house, was instantly seized, and after a fearless declaration that he loved Cleora, and even had deserved her, was loaded with chains and dragged away to a dungeon. To This was unknown to Cleora, who sought her father, and after telling him of her fears that the nature of Leosthenes, noble as he was, would bar their happiness, she obtained a promise that Archidamus would do all he could to serve Marullo. But when the maiden learned from her attendant that he had been hurried away to the jail, her spirit flashed up once more, and she followed him thither. Gold made way for her: a bribe to the jailer, and Marullo's chains fell; and Cleora told him her sense of the wrong that was done him. She would do her utmost to serve him, and weep for that which she could not prevent. Marullo's nature was not to be subdued by chain and cell, and again kneeling to her, he besought her pardon for having dared to love her, and assured her that he should die in happiness if certain of her forgiveness. And then the power of an earnest love in a noble heart began to tell upon Cleora, fresh from a scene in which her long penance and her faithfulness had been forgotten and insulted, and she even gave Marullo some words of hope,and they were overheard by Leosthenes and her brother. Timoleon, for the third time a friend to Syracuse, had restrained the vengeful masters, and had reminded them that to work upon the slaves the cruel punishments which they meditated, was to destroy their own wealth. And it turned out that there had been no outrages that needed to be atoned for with blood. The slaves, male and female, had indeed made free with their masters' property, and had visited retributory justice on some cruel mistresses by making them wait as servants, starve for long hours, and linger till the late revel should be over, but nought worse had been done. But for Marullo, who had dared to love the child of the prætor, and to declare his love-nay, to extract from her lips words of hope for a slave-there could be no mercy. Timoleon had forbidden that aught of violence should be done save under his rule, and all our personages met in a chamber of justice. There Leosthenes confronted Cleora, and there Marullo was brought; and in the presence of Timoleon the jealous and now savage lover broke out into reproaches to Cleora for the favour she had shown the slave, and he dared to call upon her to clear herself by solemn declaration of having given Marullo her love. At this, Cleora proudly silent, Marullo himself flamed up like fire, and declared that, though a slave and in all respects unworthy of Cleora, he was more worthy of her than Leosthenes, for he would never dare to suspect her of aught that was evil. There was a fierce cry among the lords for vengeance on the daring slave, but he, opposing them with an equal fierceness, tore away some disguises that he had worn, and discovered himself as Pisander of Thebes! Do you not guess all the rest? The gallant lover, banished by intrigue, had come back as a slave, to be near his mistress-had borne for her all the humiliations of slave-life, and had seized occasion to help those to justice whose sorrows he had thus discerned. He had watchfully guarded her amid all the dangers, and would have shown his loyalty by yielding her to another had that other been worthy. But now, Cleora insulted beyond pardon, Pisander claimed the love (already half-given) and the hand of the beautiful maiden. How Leosthenes, conscience-struck, confessed not only that he ought to surrender Cleora, but found the best reason for it in the form of another lady whom he had wedded and abandoned, and how the stern dictator blessed the nuptials of Pisander and Cleora, I need not tell. I have not satisfied myself; but yet I think I will name my friend. He lies in a nameless grave by St. Saviour's, Southwark—ought it to be so?-but in the register is set down, "March 20. 1639-40-buried, Philip Massinger, a Stranger." SONG OF THE VIRGINS OF ISRAEL. [William Sotheby's principal poems are Saul, published in 1807 (London), and Constance de Castile, 1810. He translated Wieland's Oberon and Virgil's Georgics. He died in 1833, and his works are now almost entirely forgotten, although they were numerous and attracted considerable attention during the poet's lifetime.] Daughters of Israel! praise the Lord of Hosts! Shout ye! and ye, make answer! Saul hath slain |