SCENE I-A Room hung with black; on one side Lothario's body on a bier; on the other a table, with a skull and other bones, a book and a lamp on it.

Calista is discovered on a couch, in black; her hair hanging loose and disordered. After soft music, she rises and comes forward.

SONG.

Hear, you midnight phantoms, hear,
You who pale and wan appear,
And fill the wretch who wakes with fear;
You, who wander, scream and groan
Round the mansions once your own ;
You, who still your crimes upbraid;
You, who rest not with the dead;

From the coverts where you stray,
Where you lurk and shun the day,
From the charnel and the tomb,
Hither haste ye, hither come.

Chide Calista for delay,
Tell her, 'tis for her you stay ;
Bid her die and come away.
See the sexton with his spade,
See the grave already made;
Listen, fair one, to thy knell,
This music is thy passing bell.

Enter SCIOLTO.

Sci. This dead of night, this silent hour of
darkness,

Nature for rest ordained, and soft repose;
And yet distraction, and tumultuous jars,
Keep all our frighted citizens awake:
The senate, weak, divided, and irresolute,
Want power to succour the afflicted state.
Vainly in words and long debates they are wise,
While the fierce factions scorn their peaceful or-
ders,

And drown the voice of law in noise and anar

chy.

Amidst the general wreck, see where she stands, [Pointing to Calista. Like Helen, in the night when Troy was sacked, Spectatress of the mischief which she made.

Cal. It is Sciolto! Be thyself, my soul; Be strong to bear his fatal indignation, That he may see thou art not lost so far, But somewhat still of his great spirit lives In the forlorn Calista.

Sci. Thou wert once

My daughter.

Cal. Happy were it had I died,

And never lost that name.

Sci. That's something yet;

Thou wert the very darling of my age:

I thought the day too short to gaze upon thee,

of horror,

Are fit to feed the frenzy in my soul.

Here's room for meditation even to madness; Till the mind burst with thinking. This dull flame

Sleeps in the socket. Sure the book was left
To tell me something; for instruction then-
He teaches holy sorrow and contrition,
And penitence. Is it become an art, then?
A trick, that lazy, dull, laxurious gownmen
Can teach us to do over? I'll no more on't;
[Throwing away the book.
I have more real anguish in my heart,
Than all their pedant discipline ever knew.
What charnel has been rifled for these bones?
Fie! this is pageantry; they look uncouthly.
But what of that, if he or she, that owned
them,

Safe from disquiet sit, and smile to see
The farce their miserable relicks play?
But here's a sight is terrible indeed!

Is this that haughty, gallant, gay, Lothario?
That dear perfidious-Ah! how pale he looks!
How grim with clotted blood, and those dead
eyes!

Ascend, ye ghosts, fantastic forms of night,
In all your different dreadful shapes ascend,
And match the present horror, if ye can!

By cares on earth, and by my prayers to Hea

How thy account may stand, and what to answer?

Cal. I have turned my eyes inward upon myself,

Where foul offence and shame have laid all waste;

Therefore my soul abhors the wretched dwelling,
And longs to find some happy place of rest.
Sci. 'Tis justly thought, and worthy of that
spirit,

That dwelt in antient Latian breasts, when Rome
Was mistress of the world. I would go on
And tell thee all my purpose; but it sticks
Here at my heart, aad cannot find a way.

Sci. Would it were otherwise but thou must die.

Cal. That I must die, it is my only comfort; Death is the privilege of human nature, And life without it were not worth our taking: Thither the poor, the prisoner, and the mourner, Fly for relief, and lay their burthens down. Come then, and take me into thy cold arms, Thou meagre shade; here let me breathe my last,

Charmed with my father's pity and forgiveness, More than if angels tuned their golden viols, And sung a requiem to my parting soul.

Sci. I am summoned hence; ere this my friends expect me.

Forgot their office, and confessed the father.
At length the stubborn virtue has prevailed,
It must, it must be so-Oh! take it then,
[Giving the dagger.

And know the rest untaught!
Cal. I understand you.

It is but thus, and both are satisfied.

[She offers to kill herself: Sciolto catches hold of her arm.

Sci. A moment, give me yet a moment's space. The stern, the rigid judge has been obeyed; Now nature, and the father, claim their turns. I've held the balance with an iron hand, And put off every tender human thought, To doom my child to death; but spare my eyes The most unnatural sight, lest their strings crack,

My old brain split, and I grow mad with horror! Cal. Ha! Is it possible! and is there yet Some little dear remain of love and tenderness For poor, undone Calista, in your heart!

Sci. Oh! when I think what pleasure I took

in thee,

Cal. Now think, thou cursed Calista! now behold

The desolation, horror, blood, and ruin,
Thy crimes and fatal folly spread around,
That loudly cry for vengeance on thy head.
Yet Heaven, who knows our weak, imperfect na-
tures,

How blind with passions, and how prone to evil,
Makes not too strict inquiry for our offences,
But is atoned by penitence and prayer:
Cheap recompence! herc 'twould not be recei-
ved,

Nothing but blood can make the expiation,
And cleanse the soul from inbred, deep pollu-
tion.

And see, another injured wretch is come,
To call for justice from my tardy hand.

I bore my load of infamy with patience,
As holy men do punishment from Heaven;
Nor thought it hard, because it came from thee.
Oh, then, forbid me not to mourn thy loss,
To wish some better fate had ruled our loves,
And that Calista had been mine, and true.

Cal. Oh, Altamont! 'tis hard for souls like
mine,

Haughty and fierce, to yield they've done amiss.
But, oh, behold! my proud disdainful heart
Bends to thy gentler virtue. Yes, I own,
Such is thy truth, thy tenderness, and love,
Such are the graces that adorn thy youth,
That, were I not abandoned to destruction,
With thee I might have lived for ages blessed,
And died in peace within thy faithful arms.

Alt. Then happiness is still within our reach.
Here let remembrance lose our past misfortunes,
Tear all records that hold the fatal story;
Here let our joys begin, from hence go on,
In long successive order.

Cal. What! in death?

Alt. Then, art thou fixed to die?-But be it so; We'll go together; my adventurous love Shall follow thee to those uncertain beings. Whether our lifeless shades are doomed to wander

In gloomy groves, with discontented ghosts; Or whether through the upper air we flit, And tread the fields of light; still I'll pursue thee, 'Till fate ordains that we shall part no more. Cal. Oh, no! Heaven has some other better lot in store

To crown thee with. Live, and be happy long; Live, for some maid that shall deserve thy good

ness,

Some kind, unpractised heart, that never yet
Has listened to the false ones of thy sex,

Nor known the arts of ours; she shall reward thee,

Meet thee with virtues equal to thy own, Charm thee with sweetness, beauty, and with truth;

Be blest in thee alone, and thou in her.

Enter HORATIO.

Hor. Now, mourn indeed, ye miserable pair;
For now the measure of your woes is full.
Alt. What dost thou mean, Horatio?
Hor. Oh, 'tis dreadful!

The great, the good Sciolto dies this moment.
Cal. My father!

Alt. That's a deadly stroke, indeed.

Hor. Not long ago he privately went forth, Attended but by few, and those unbidden. I heard which way he took, and straight pursued him;

But found him compassed by Lothario's faction, Almost alone, amidst a croud of foes.

Too late we brought him aid, and drove them

But at that beauty must of force relented,
Melted to pity, love, and to forgiveness ?
Sci. Oh, turn thee from that fatal object, Al-
tamont !

Come near, and let me bless thee, ere I die.
To thee, and brave Horatio, I bequeath
My fortunes-Lay me by thy noble father,
And love my memory, as thou hast his;
For thou hast been my son-Oh, gracious Heaven!
Thou that hast endless blessings still in store
For virtue, and for filial piety,

Let grief, disgrace, and want be far away;
But multiply thy mercies on his head.

Let honour, greatness, goodness, still be with him,
And peace in all his ways-
[He dies.