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THE REFUGEE. 





BY THE AUTHOR OF THE " MERCHANT* OF LONDON." 



SCENE. A Drawing-room, simply but elegantly furnished, opening to a 

 Laiun, with a quiet picturesque Landscape : deep Woods in 

 the half-distance. A Summer's Evening just after Sunset. 



CHARACTERS. The Earl of -- ; Ladij Julia, his daughter; the 

 Conde de - - ; Don Ribeiro de -- ; other Guests t 

 male and female, Foreigners and Natives. 



EARL. That was a sweet air, Julia, one of those 

 On which the pleas'd ear lingers. There are melodies 

 That never pall the sense, and this is one 

 To me. 



CONDE. Tis beautiful. 



RIBEIRO. Ay, very beautiful, 



And sweetly sung. 



CONDE. And blends deliciously 



With the mellow sunset. 



JULIA. You haveta'en perhaps 



Its tone hence, and the fine association 

 Pleases you. 



CONDE. Nay 



JULIA. There are some Spanish airs 



Which I have heard, that speak true poetry 

 Of music : such as burst from the full heart 

 In the natural shout of triumph, or the wailings 

 Of tenderness ill-fated, or break forth 

 In throes of o'ercharged pleasure : some, the echoes 

 Of nature's solitudes, sometimes simply telling 

 Of peace arid beauty, sometimes raised aloud 

 To piety and worship. Every land 

 Hath legends of the soul like these. Old lays 

 Echoing th'eternal passions ; thoughts still new 

 In their pure wisdom, sounds still new in beauty, 

 And far more touching than the lays of Spain. 



RIBEIRO. There is a rough war-song 



CONDE. A war note comes 



From Don Ribeiro like the fiery snortings 

 Of a charger before battle, when his nature 

 Is waken'd by the trumpet. 



EARL. Sing it, sing it ! 



At such a moment even I could sing ; 

 'Tis part of conversation. 



RIBEIRO. You shall have it. 



2 Y2 



