You deem, I do not, in Louis Philippe

That you possess a certain guarantee

For Europe's general peace. But grant it such;
On what depends this peace? Upon a thread,
On one man's life. Who to his throne succeeds?
For. Ag. (laughing.) Prince Rosolin.*
Zumal. (smiling.)

And is, in the political world, as yet

An answer all-sufficient.

One problem solved, one single question settled?
Is not your knot, instead of disentangled,
Daily more complicated; by the sword

Only to be undone? (a pause.) Around you look
Through Europe; every where will you discern
Forebodings dark of war, the imminent,
The unavoidable; upon men's tongues
Dwells peace, but war is every-where preparing.
Factions are sharply charactered and severed;
Superfluous it were to give them names,
Since unto each is, by the course of things,
Its proper place assigned, and petty views
Are silenced when existence is at stake.
Concede you this, few words it will require
To sketch your necessary operations.

Close but the Dardanelles, close but the Sound,

An easy task, to you so near, so distant

From th' enemy; this done, you're safe entrenched.

Your empire's forces, in their rear secured,

Ready for action and disposable,

You have in hand. Press forward, ever forward,

With strength concentrated; bold enterprize

Invigorates the confidence of friends,

Alarms the foe. And who is your opponent ?

Sits he so firmly on his throne, that he

Can venture to collect his kingdom's powers

Against the foreigner t'employ? And should he,
-Domestic factions will revive-at home,

Anarchy, civil war, abroad, the foe

(A sharp fire of musketry heard. He listens for a moment, then proceeds.)

The continental nickname of the Duke of Orleans.

-Act whilst time favours, whilst we yet maintain
Our ground, and first and most especially
Acknowledge Charles the Fifth as King of Spain
And of the Indies--(The firing continues.)
For. Ag. (interrupting him.) Were you in Madrid,
Or marching with your army on Castile,
As though to seize the capital ye purposed,
Then, haply(The firing ceases.)

Zumal.

Never! 'Twere insanity

These mountain bulwarks to forsake, and risk
Our army on vast plains, whilst unprovided
With cavalry and with artillery,

Such as on equal ground, and in pitched battle,
Might fit us with the foe to cope

(distant muffled drums.)

Such faults

Would our opponents turn to good account,
Would seize upon our country, cut us off
From ground well known, propitious to our arms-
(The drums approach.)

Our stronghold are these mountains, to our foes
Destruction, we, amidst them, can withstand
Christina's hosts, and here Don Carlos' crown-

(The drums are now close at hand. Again he listens a moment, then proceeds.)

Will we preserve, until the hour arrives

To place it on his head.

(A military funeral, with muffled drums, enters at the back of the stage.)

What should this be?

(Enter SAGASTIBELZA and DON JUAN, with soldiers, &c. SAGASTIBELZA, advancing slowly towards ZUMALA CARREGUI, and speaking in a hollow monotonous voice.)

But if, which God forefend! the prisoner's blood

Have streamed, or shall stream, then, by my salvation

I swear, the blood of our antagonists

In equal quantities forthwith shall flow

Thus Zumalacarregui lately spoke.

Zumal. Sagastibelza !

Sag.

Of that name the last!"

With sad but solemn resolution, Zumalacarregui, upon receiving Don Juan's report, orders the execution of a number of his prisoners, equal to the number of Carlists slaughtered in Bilbao, and some just taken are included, to make up the amount. The humane bishop in vain intercedes in their behalf. The firing that announces their fate is heard; and Zumalacarregui, left alone, exclaims,

"Would I had never left my father's house!

Lo! twenty innocent men are led away

To suffer death, and 'tis by my command!
Wherefore, great Lord of Heaven, didst thou give me
This tender heart for such tremendous duties?

A duty 'twas that to my troops I owe,
Even should mine own flesh and blood-

A woman (in deep mourning, who has approached unnoticed.)

Already it has streamed!

Zumal.

Thy blood?

Ha! What is that?

The woman. Maria 'tis, thy sister.

Zumal. (trying to take her hand.) What brings thee,
Maria, to thy brother's camp?

He lies

D. Mar. Only his corse.
Zumal.

How! Mighty God!

D. Mar. (pointing after the prisoners.)

Yonder, a soulless corse, and he whose voice
Sentenced him was the brother of his mother.
Zumal. Oh Lord my God! How heavily thy hand
Presses on me!

D. Mar.

'Twill press yet heavier. Prophecy dwells within the mother's heart, Who weeps her only son."

Zumalacarregui mourns over the breaking of one friendly and family tie after another, but appears unmoved by his bereaved sister's prophetic denunciation, which is, however, speedily fulfilled. The fourth act is occupied with Isidora's love and anxiety for her bridegroom and her father, with her father's tender care for her happiness, and his going forth upon a reconnoissance. From this he returns, when she watches him from her window, and observes with alarm that he does not look up to her, and walks languidly. Presently the Bishop Anselmo visits her, and we extract his communication to Isidora of her misfortune. "Anselmo. Earth's joys and sorrows, like our earthly frame, Are transitory, and the hand of God

It is that all inflictions lays upon us.

Isidora. All righteous God! What am I doomed to hear?
Ans. Our Saviour Christ, when, in Gethsemane,
His soul, ev'n unto death, was sorrowful,
Bowed down his face to earth, and to his father
In Heaven thus prayed: If it be possible,

'Oh let this cup pass from me! Ne'ertheless,

Father, not as I will, but as thou wilt!'

That bitter cup Heaven oft to those assigns
Whom most it favours, trying thus their faith,
Whether it lively, strong, submissive be.

Isid. (falteringly.) I am a woman, feeble is my strength.
Ans. But mighty is the strength of God, and still

Is't in the feeble the most glorified.

We are but pilgrims, tow'rds a better home
Still journeying, for us this lower world

Is no abiding place, and best through sorrows
To Heaven's eternal joys may we attain.
Happy, who in the Lord have fallen asleep!

Isid. Delay not! In this wounded heart plunge quickly
The dagger!Mine Antonio-

Ans. (with deep feeling.)

All life's pains

For him are over, and before the face

Of God he stands.

Isid.

Oh my foreboding soul !
(Looking up wildly.)

And by my father's hand the blow was dealt!
Ans. That is the grief that bows him to the earth,
Therefore does he avoid his daughter's sight,

And blameless though he be, condemns himself."

Isidora is led off, stupefied by this fulfilment of her worst fears, and passes her father without seeing him. He looks after her, exclaiming,

"My most unhappy child! Too hard this blow

Falls on her heart, beyond her strength to bear.

Ans. (solemnly and significantly.) Yet other heads there are, to thee

as dear,

As precious.

Zumal.

Gracious God! My wife and child?

Ans. (with deep feeling.) They both are prisoners to the enemy."

Thus ends the fourth act, and the fifth, a very short one, is wholly devoted to the fate of Zumalacarregui. We first find him reading the Bible, and seeking consolation in religion. He then sends for the generals and other chief officers; and, whilst awaiting them, dwells upon his sorrows :

My bosom's friend, tried ev'n from youth, and still

Found faithful, stands amongst mine enemies :

-Too happy if I meet him not in battle!

My sister of her son have I deprived,

My daughter of her bridegroom

*

*

My wife and child in hands of foes athirst
For blood of mine, on the grave's brink my sister,
My darling daughter, of my children dearest,
With frenzy threatened-Nothing am I now;

Nothing, not husband, brother not, not father;
There lie my sacrifices, victims all

Offered upon the altar of my country!

(Recovering himself.) The general I still am, and will be, wholly. Enter the Generals and other officers.)

Sagastibelza, I, like thee, am childless!

Sagas. Then live henceforth for vengeance!
Zumal. For my duty,

Mine austere duty, will I live."

Zumalacarregui then makes his arrangements, gives his final orders for the storming of Bilbao, and goes forth to direct the attack in person. The fatal shot is fired, with needless circumstances of treachery, by a woman whose lover had fallen in one of the retributive massacres of prisoners, inexorably commanded by Zumalacarregui. As he is dying, Don Carlos enters with his suite, and we must needs extract the only scene in which it has been our fortune to see a living King, or at least royal Pretender, brought upon the stage.

"Don Carlos. Oh Zumalacarregui ! Zumal.

My lord and king?

Is 't yourself,

D. Car.
And must I find thee thus !
With thee will all my best hopes be interred.
Zumal. My king, upon the justice of thy cause
Rely. A gallant army thou still hast

To place thy rightful crown upon thy head;
Men daily die, yet still the world goes on,
And no man's head is indispensable.
(A pause.) My royal master of my family
Will be the guardian.- -When upon thy head
God has confirmed thy crown, oh king, forget not
That thou hast bought it with thy people's blood,
And to that people be thou a just ruler-(Dies.)

D. Car. (bending over him.) In this one man more than an army
dies!"

Upon this most true exclamation the curtain falls; and we will only add, by way of epilogue, that Don Carlos has accepted and executed his guardianship, as far as his power yet allows, by conferring a dukedom upon Zumalacarregui's eldest daughter, with remainder to her sisters, in default of her children. She, not our broken-hearted Isidora, but Doña Ignacia, a yet heartwhole little girl, is now Duchess of Victoria.