4 Of the interesting character of The Maiden Queen we shall say nothing more, except that the winding up of the plot is very unsatisfactory and inartificial; but proceed to our business of pointing out the poetical beauties. Philocles, when speaking of the unknown lover who has neglected the Queen's advances, says, "He's blind, indeed! So the dull beasts in the first paradise With levell❜d eyes gaz'd each upon their kind; Act III. A lover thus speaks of the happiness he should enjoy with the object of his affections: "All my ambition will in you be crown'd; And those white arms shall all my wishes bound. And like chaf'd odours melt in sweets away; Ibid. We glean the following passages, the first of which is very lovely: "Then, setting free a sigh, from her fair eyes Which better did, what she design'd, pursue, Without her crime, to give her pow'r to you. Act IV. Philocles enters, and thus addresses the loved Candiope: "Phil. How now, in tears, my fair Candiope? So through a wat'ry cloud The sun at once seems both to weep and shine. For what forefather's sin do you afflict Those precious eyes! For sure you have None of your own to weep. Cand. My crimes both great and many needs must shew, Since heav'n will punish them with losing you. Phil. Afflictions sent from heav'n without a cause, Make bold mankind inquire into its laws. But heav'n, which, moulding beauty takes such care, And destiny, that sees them so divine, Spins all their fortune in a silken twine: No mortal hand so ignorant is found To weave coarse work upon a precious ground." Act III. Of the Duke of Guise only the first scene, the fourth act, and the better part of the fifth, are by Dryden. The rest is the production of Nat. Lee. The following speech of Guise is marked by the powerful pen of Dryden. "Poison on her name! Take my hand on't, that cormorant dowager His op'ning nostrils, and his dropping lids- Almost the only beautiful lines besides these in this play, are Lee's; a poet who has not had justice done him. We select the few passages that follow, which will perhaps dispose the reader to think more favorably of one, whose name is only associated with an idea of rant and fustian. Malicorne is taunting Grillon with a false accusation of his daughter. "Yet I have brain, and there is my revenge; Therefore I say again, these eyes have seen And fleck'd with blushes, like a rifled maid; Nay, by the gleamy fires that melted from her, Fast sighs and smiles, swol'n lips and heaving breasts, My soul presages." And in the speech of Marmoutiere, that shortly follows, there is an affecting simplicity which was out of Dryden's vein. "O Heav'ns! Did ever virgin yet attempt An enterprize like mine? I that resolv'd On the green carpets of some guiltless grove, The king says, "O Marmoutiere! now will I haste to meet thee; Looks like the midnight-moon upon a murther." The following is a beautiful, though fanciful reason, for attributing an awful importance to the last words of a dying man: "For souls just quitting earth, peep into heaven, Make swift acquaintance with their kindred forms, And partners of immortal secrets grow." Many fine passages also occur in the Edipus, by Lee, which, as well as the Duke of Guise, was written in conjunction with Dryden. We question whether extracts of greater beauty than those we shall now quote from that play are to be found in Dryden-certainly not of tenderer cast. Tiresias, feeling the inspiration of the god, thus addresses his daughter Manto, who is leading him : "I feel him now, Like a strong spirit charm'd into a tree, That leaps, and moves the wood without a wind? Like parchment, crackles at the hallow'd fire; O charm this god, this fury in my bosom, Edipus, talking in his sleep, thus addresses his wife : Starv'd soldier lies on the cold ground; For this he bears the storms Of winter camps, and freezes in his arms; Jocasta, finding him in this situation, says, "Then my fears were true. Methought I heard your voice, and yet I doubted- After the dreadful yell, sink murmuring down, Jocasta, finding the internal misery of Edipus, thus refuses consolation: "In vain you sooth me with your soft endearments, And set the fairest countenance to view; Your gloomy eyes, my lord, betray a deadness And inward languishing: that oracle Eats like a subtle worm its venom'd way, Preys on your heart, and rots the noble core, When Edipus hears his name called out by the Ghost, he falls into this soliloquy, which reminds us more nearly of Shakespear, than any thing we have had the good fortune to discover in the plays of Dryden. "Ha! again that scream of woe? Thrice have I heard, thrice since the morning dawn'd- Call'd from some vaulted mansion,-Edipus ! Or is it but the work of melancholy! When the sun sets, shadows, that shew'd at noon We could sustain' the burden of the world." What can be more beautiful than the " these lines: "Of no distemper, of no blast he dy'd, "Till, like a clock worn out with eating time, Or than the easy and natural picture thus drawn. Charm'd with the conversation of a man : Whose point he often offer'd at your throat; "Till he at last in fury threw it from him, And cry'd aloud; the gods forbid thy death." dying fall" of We cannot omit this awful description of the eclipsed moon. "Ha! my Jocasta, look! the silver moon! Truly, in spite of the serious blemishes which disfigure the Edipus, it is a very powerful drama, and though the dramatic points of the fable are not seized with the taste, nor worked up with the masterly genius of Sophocles, yet it contains scenes of almost awful grandeur. Excepting a few lines, the opening scene is worthy of being quoted. The effect it produces upon the mind, is almost as dreary as the pestilence itself; the sentences seem to drop from the lips of the speakers, as if, amidst the wreck of all things, they hardly thought it worth while to finish them. The only brisk speech in it, is |