THE DOUBLE SACRIFICE.-ARTHUR WM. AUSTIN. "And so thou say'st, my brother, to-morrow the end shall be, And I must perish amid the flames of the awful auto-da-fe! "Thus let it be; for 'tis well to die, that the word of the Lord may live: O blessed Jesu! be near to the last, that I, like thee, may forgive." On the damp dungeon-floor she knelt, and prayed in a tremulous voice For strength to endure the fiery trial, and faith to retain her choice; While the cowled priest stood muțe, and gazed through the strong bars, yellow with rust, And trembled, as in her pallid face he read an unfaltering trust. At last he whispered, "O sister mine! recant ere it be too late. In the youthful bloom of a beautiful life, why choose ye so cruel a fate? "Renounce thine heresies even now, and the condemnation dire Of the Inquisition shall be revoked,-the torturing death by fire! "O sister beloved! remember well, thou art last of our kin and race: The name of our father is dear to the land; shall it fade in this cloud of disgrace? "Great Galileo at Rome hath knelt, and abjured his errors vain: Why do ye not even as he hath done, while the way of escape is plain?” So pleaded the priest, though he knew for nought, as she rose in the dismal gloom, Possessed of the hope and the peace not of earth, fixed far beyond terror of doom. More beautiful then, in her strength of soul, she seemed than whenever of old, She had graced the palace or regal court, radiant with jewels and gold. No lady of all the wide kingdom of Spain, from the Pyre. nees to the sea, Might boast of a lineage prouder than hers, or a name fron reproach more free. And he, the priest, though a soldier bred, yet forced from the glory and strife, For the solemn peace and the sacred vows of the stern monastic life. And she answered him, "I will never renounce the priceless vows of my faith, But brave the impotent curse of the Church, and choose the heretic's death! "Thou servest the Church; but I serve Him whose temple is built above, And will die as the martyred saints of old, for the sake of the truth I love." The hour had come; and they led her forth, in the yellow robe arrayed; And she stood among the group of the doomed, still fearless and undismayed. And she saw not the eager multitude, nor the king enthroned on high, Nor the stern Inquisitors, robed in black, who had judged her worthy to die. They bound her fast to the fatal stake, and piled the fagots around, Then paused till the solemn chant had ceased, and the signal of doom should sound. Then the flames burst forth, and the smoke rolled high, and blinded her lifted eyes; And she murmured in agony, "Courage, O soul! thou hast almost gained the prize!" And he who had stood at the dungeon-door, and strove to save her in vain, When he saw her thus in the grasp of death, swift madness seized his brain. With the strong resolve of a frenzied hope, he sprang in the midst of the fire, Which rose and leaped like a wrathful fiend, hissing with baleful ire. Too late, alas! the vengeful flame withered the outstretched hand, And the two freed souls together passed into the spirit land! 79* THE SARACEN BROTHERS. Attendant. A stranger craves admittance to your highness. Saladin. Whence comes he? Atten. That I know not. Enveloped with a vestment of strange form, Atten. Thy royal brother! Whom? Bring him instantly. [Exit ATTENDANI. Now, with his specious, smooth, persuasive tongue, To dissipate my anger. He shall die. [Enter ATTENDANT and MALEK ADHEL. Leave us together. [Exit ATTENDANT.] [Aside.] I should know that form. Now summon all thy fortitude, my soul, Nor though thy blood cry for him, spare the guilty! Malek Adhel. Behold it, then! Sal. Mal. Ad. A brother's! Sal. No! I see a traitor's visage. Saladin owns no kindred with a villain. Mal. Ad. Oh, patience, Heaven! Had any tongue but thine Uttered that word, it ne'er should speak another. Sal. And why not now? Can this heart be more pierced By Malek Adhel's sword than by his deeds? Oh, thou hast made a desert of this bosom! For open candor, planted sly disguise; For confidence, suspicion; and the glow Of generous friendship, tenderness, and love, Forever banished! Whither can I turn, When he by blood, by gratitude, by faith, By every tie, bound to support, forsakes me? Who, who can stand, when Malek Adhel falls? Henceforth I turn me from the sweets of love: The smiles of friendship, and this glorious world, In which all find some heart to rest upon, Shall be to Saladin a cheerless void, His brother has betrayed him! Thou art softened; Mal. Ad. Thou hast betrayed me in my fondest hopes! Dissembler? 'Tis not written in thy face; Think'st thou I'm softened? By Mohammed! these hands Should crush these aching eyeballs, ere a tear Fall from them at thy fate! O monster, monster! The brute that tears the infant from its nurse Is excellent to thee, for in his form The impulse of his nature may be read; Mal. Ad. Go on! go on! 'Tis but a little while to hear thee, Saladin; And, bursting at thy feet, this heart will prove Its penitence, at least. Sal. Too noble for a traitor! That were an end The bowstring is A more appropriate finish! Thou shalt die! Mal. Ad. And death were welcome at another's mandate! What, what have I to live for? Be it so, If that, in all thy armies, can be found An executing hand. Oh! doubt it not! Sal. So black as thine, effaces from their minds, Mal. Ad. Defer not then their wishes. Saladin, If e'er this form was joyful to thy sight, This voice seemed grateful to thine ear, accede Sal. And vengeance it shall have! What, ho! who waits there? [Enter ATTENDANT. Atten. Did your highness call? [Exit ATTENDANT. Mal. Ad. Now, Saladin, The word is given, I have nothing more Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem, Sal. Speak, then; but ask thyself if thou hast reason Mal. Ad. I have not! Yet will I ask for it. We part forever; Then be thine eye unmoistened; let thy voice Unmoved, behold this stiff and blackened corse; From that stern eye one solitary tear Oh! torturing recollection!-one kind word From the loved tongue which once breathed naught but kindness. Still silent? Brother! friend! beloved companion Of all my youthful sports!-are they forgotten? Strike me with deafness, make me blind, O Heaven! Smile at my agonies! nor hear that voice Pronounce my doom, which would not say one word, For the last time, and call him— Sal. [seizing his hand.] Brother! brother! Mal. Ad. [breaking away.] Now call thy followers. Death has not now a single pang in store. Proceed! ready. I'm |