ly expressing his abhorrence of all murderers

" Whether their hests they do with pill or poniard,

The ambush'd pistol, or the bludgeon rude,

That strews the road with brains." pretty plainly insinuating that he considers the friar as one of those bad characters,

"Who make no pause in their fell purposes."

The friar, who is a very honest man, though longing a little for promotion in the church, which, by the way, is a natural enough feeling in a clergyman,-justly indignant at the imputation of the secretary of state, breaks out, after that minister has made his exit, into this noble soliloquy:

Your threat'ning gestures volumes tell t Of something dreadful in the womb of tim Hatching between you and that wicke prelate.

[Exit the Friar; the Count follows him few paces with his sword drawn, bi suddenly checks himself, and returnin sheathes it.]

Count. Back to thy home, my brigl and trusty blade;

father,

Can that which nothing is, be guilt, that is A thing most heinous both in earth and

heaven?

Friar. There's atheism in such subtlety. I pray thee, son, to change these desperate thoughts;

They smack of sin, and may draw down forever

That winged thing that is more truly thee, Than is the clothes of flesh and bone thou wear'st,

Loading its pinions, that would else expand, And eagle like, soar onward to the skies.

I'll not commission thee for aught so mea Thy prey is royalty-a jibing priest Would but impair the lustre of the steel Yet he suspects, and may to others tell His shrewd conjectures, and a search dete Administer to bold ambition's purpose.' The Count then retires, and tl scene changes to a hall in the palac where the Queen, in her robes of stat is addressed by the old gypsey.

"Gyp. Stop, lady fair, with jewel hair, And something gie, to hear frae me, That kens what is, and what shall be. Queen. Alas, poor soul! take that sm change, and go

I have no time to list my fortune's spaei
This is the coronation-day, and I,
That am the queen of this resplendent lar
Have a great part in that solemnity.

Gyp. Pause and ponder, noble dame. Swords have points, and lamps have flan

Gyp. I heard a tale, I may not tell,

I saw a sight, I saw it well;
In priestly garb the vision sped,
And then a body without head;
A traitor died, a hangman stood,
He held it up red stream'd the blood;
The people shouted one and all,
As people should when traitors fall;
But O, thou Queen of high degree,
What 'vails the gladsome shout to thee.
Queen. This is mere rave-I understand
it not

Away, poor wretch, I'll send for thee again!" The gypsey is accordingly dismissed with "the small change” which her majesty had bestowed; for "it is a law of our nature," in such circumstances, to deride admonition, and the author evinces his profound knowledge of man, in thus representing the Queen, reckless alike of her prophetic dream, and the gypsey's prediction, diction. still still going undismayed to the coronation.

The next scene represents an apart

ment where the regalia of Sicily is kept. The crown and the other ensigns of royalty are seen on a table, and among them an ivory pigeon, with a golden collar round its neck. The arch

bishop enters with an officer, the keeper of the regalia, and the following brief, but striking conversation, ensues. "Archb. Are all things now prepared? Off. They are, my lord. Arch. Clean'd and made ready for their solemn use?

Off. They have been all done newly up, your grace,

For, in the time of old Queen Magdalen, Whose sordid nature history well records, Some of the gems and precious stones were stolen.

Archb. So I have read, and that one day the lord,

Who then with justice held the seals of state,

Did catch her with the crown upon her lap, Digging the jewels with her scissars out, To sell them to a Jew.

Still, when 'tis needed, is the pigeon fullBut go and bring a cloth to wipe that up.[Exit the Officer; in his absence the Archbishoptakes a phial out of his pocket, and, unscrewing the head of the dove, empties the poison into the hollow which held the oil, saying,]

Now this will do for who shall dare to

question

The miracle that doth replenish still
This legendary bauble?

[Re-enter Officer with a towel.] Archb. Officer, Be ye in readiness; the charter'd nobles, Appointed ted to to bring forth these hallow'd ensigns,

Will soon be here to bear them to the pre

sence.

[Exit the Archbishop; and the Officer is seen wiping up the holy oil as the drop scene falls.]"

The whole of this act is perfect, the dialogue rich and appropriate, and the action never flags for a moment, but proceeds with an awful and appalling rapidity.

The drama is very properly divided into only three acts or parts, the beginning, the middle, and the end, which the author tastefully denominates "the preparation," "the operation," and "the consummation;" :" and the third and last opens with the peasants and Palermitans assembled to see the coro

nation procession, and all talking Scotch in the most natural manner.

"Gaffer Curioso. Hoots, ye stupit muckle stot; what gart you tread on my taes, ye sumph that ye are?

Cit. Taes! ha'e ye taes? I'm sure a brute like you should ha'e been born baith wi' horns and clutes.

Gaffer Curioso. I'll tell you what it is, gin ye speak in that gait to me, deevil do me gude o' you, but I'll split your harnpan.

1 Fem. Cit. Black and sour, honest folk, for gudesake dinna fight.

2 Fem. Cit. Wheesht, wheesht, it's coming noo! [The Procession enters with solemn music; the crowd increases, and the Friar comes in at one side, and the old Gypsey woman at the other.]

Gyp. Wo. That's the friar who bought the venom frae me at the well-I'll watch him-For what, I wonder, did he buy the venom ?

Friar. As the Archbishop passes to the church

I'll mark him well-for, in my heart, I fear He meant no virtue, when he me entreated To give the deadly ointment to his care.

Gyp. Wo. The friar's surely no right in the head He's speaking to himsel-I'll hearken to what he's saying.

H

Friar. How he deceived me! no preferment yet

Has recompensed me for the fatal phial. Gyp. Wo. Fatal phial! - He's talking about my wee bottle.

Friar. The fell Archbishop, and the
Count Butero,

With others of the baronage, have long
Been justly deem'd much discontented

men.

Gyp. Wo. That's nae lie; for wha's no discontented noo a-days?

Friar. The two have plotted; stratagems and spoil

Were in the gesture of the choleric count, What time we spoke together, and his look Told me the prelate was with him concern'd

To work some dire and woeful overthrow; Would that I ne'er had parted with that phial

To the proud metropolitan.

Gyp. Wo. Eh, megsty! he's gi'en the bottle to the Archbishop!

1 Fem. Cit. See ye that poor doited monk? he's been mumbling to himsel, and never looking at the show.

Fem. Cit. And the tinkler wife has been harkening to every word he said.

1 Fem. Cit. But look, oh, there's the Archbishop carrying the holy doo-and see Count Butero with the crown - Oh me! what a grand like thing it is.

Cit. Noo, lads, be ready the King's minister's coming. - Tune your pipes for a gude hiss to him for the new tax on kail pots and amries.

[As the prime minister passes, the mob all hiss and howl.]

Friar. The prelate look'd at me as he

pass'd by,

And there was meaning in his scowling glance.

Gyp. Wo. I'll gie the King warning o' the plot, and may be he'll help me to another ass and creels.

1 Fem. Cit. Ah, me! what a lovely lovely gown the Queen's got on.

Cit. Now, three cheers for the King. [The King and Queen enter under a cloth

of state, supported by Bashaws, and the People sing a verse of "God save the King," at the end of which the Gypsey Woman rushes forward.]

Gyp. Halt, King, and list beware, be

ware,

For traitors' hands have laid a snare.

Queen. Come in, my liege, 'tis but a crazy hag,

That makes her living by predicting woe. King. Her voice is most portentous, it The manhood of my bosom, dearest chuck; And I would fain, till some more happy

King. Alas, my heart misgives!-An unaccustom'd load

Doth hang on my stuff'd stomach, and forbids

All cheer to enter with my boding fanciesWould that most ominous wretch were well

away;

Avaunt! thou raving Pythia-hie thee hence!

1 Fem. Cit. Eh me! how the spae-wife has terrified the King!

Cit. Down wi' the auld radical jaud, she's no canny. [The mob seize the Gypsey Woman and carry her off, and then the second verse of "God save the King" is sung, and the Procession passes."]

"It is a law of our nature" to have oppressive presentiments on those occasions when we have prepared ourselves to enjoy the greatest pleasure; and our author has, in the foregoing scene, handled this with a free and delicate pencil, happily representing Carlo Aurenzebe, in the very high and palmy state of his coronation, afflicted with thick coming fancies. The undaunted confidence of the Queen, and her contempt of the omens, is impressively illustrative of the blindness of mankind to impending misfortunes. We do not recollect that "this law of our nature" has ever been illustrated in poetry or the drama before. The action, too, of the spectators, is singularly felicitous in this scene. Nothing can be more natural, than that in a crowd people should tread on one another's toes; and the various shades of popular feeling are exhibited with great address. The first lord of the treasury is hissed for having levied a new tax; but the universal respect for the character and office of the monarch, is finely displayed in the burst of indignation with which the populace seize the sybil, and drag her to immediate punishment. They do not, however, put her to death, as might be supposed from what takes place, and by which the interest of the plot, now hastening rapidly to an issue, is so much augmented, for she is afterwards seen dripping wet in the grand assemblage of all the dramatis persone at the catastrophe, having only, as her condition implies, been pumped upon.

The second scene presents the inte rior of the cathedral, and the ceremo ny of the coronation going forward The archbishop prepares to anoint, and he looks pale and agitated. The friar who had followed him closely, observe his agitation, and also the interest and anxiety with which Count Butero watches the action.

"Friar. Why should his hand so shake? -that iv'ry dove,

Framed guileless from the Afric beast's huge tooth,

Can have no harm in it. He takes the spoon

What spell of witchery is in that spoon, Tomake his hand so palsied as with dread?He pours the oil into its golden mouth ; And now he sets the pigeon on the altar, And 'gins to drop the unction on the head. Ye gods, why should his majesty so start, As if the ointment were the oil of vitriol ?

King. Hold, my Lord Archbishop, I pray thee hold,

Thou droppest fire upon me. Treason, ho! I burn, I burn! for some quenching engine

To lave my kindled head-O! water, water! My love, Splendora, I am scorch'd with something

flames ?

Hotter than fire! Do'st see if my head [A great commotion takes place in the church; the Queen faints as Carlo Au

renzebe rushes distracted off the stage.]

Archb. He's mad! the man is cursed by heaven with craze,

And fate has will'd Butero for our king.

Friar. "Twas you that did it! thou wicked prelate !

Noble Sicilians, draw your swords, and

seize

eyes,

And like a lighted torch he burning stood Nosuccour offer'd--allthetrembling throng, Transfix'd, look'd on, incapable to aid."

Here properly the drama should have ended, but the author, conscious of his strength, changes the scene, and introduces the Queen again, but in a mad state, followed by her ladies, wringing their hands.

"Queen. I had a lover once-where is he now?

Oft in his vows he spoke of darts and flames;

Alas! I heeded not that too fond tale,

But I have liv'd to see him burn indeed;

O ye cool fountains and ye flowing springs, Where were your waters in that fatal hour ? Could I have wept like you, my copious

tears

fire.

Had been sufficient to have quench'd the Ha! thou foreboding owl, thou gypsey hag, Why didst thou warn me of this woeful chance,

And charm me to despise the admonition?" "The law of our nature," which thus induces her majesty at once to acknowledge the truth of the gypsey's predictions, and to accuse the old woman of having rendered her incredulous, every man who has had any experience of himself must have felt, and cannot but be alive to the simplicity and beauty of Splendora's address to the Doctor's Cassandra. But we must come to a conclusion; the extracts which we have so largely given, will enable the public to appreciate the merits of this extraordinary performance, and we trust and hope the sale will be such as to induce the author to favour the world soon again with some new effort of his impressive talent. Whether "The Fatal Unction" is calculated to succeed in representation, we cannot undertake to determine; but we do not think that