1823.] 
Josephine.—1 must hope better still: at least we 
ave yet 
Beffled the long pursuit of Stralenheim. 
Werner.—We should have done, but for this fatal 
sickness,— 
More fatal than a mortal malady, 
Because it takes uot life, but life’s sole solace : 
Even now I feel my spirit girt about 
By the snares of this avaricious fiend. 
The dreaded enemy alluded to in 
the last very impracticable line of this 
extract, and the long-sought-for son, 
now make their appearance together, 
in the persons of a nobleman, who has 
been rescued from the rising waters 
of the river, and of his deliverer 
Ulric, a youth of imposing stature, 
fierceness, and strength. The parents 
recognize their child, and are them- 
selves discovered by their enemy, 
Stralenheim. The matiers in dispute 
are thus brought to a crisis, and the 
result is, that this unfortunate inter- 
loper is robbed by the father, and 
murdered by the son; but without the 
knowledge of the father, who confines 
himself to the inferior felony. This is 
the only tragic incident in the piece ; 
and, consisting merely in the violent 
death of an oppressor, in whom we 
have no manner of interest, totally 
fails to excite our sympathy. The ca- 
tastrophe, which turns upon the dis- 
tovery to Werner of his son’s guilt, 
falls equally inefficient and pointless 
to the ground. Ulric freely confesses 
and justifies the deed, and preserves 
in every scene the utmost calmness of 
temper, and cheerful resolution and 
love of crime. He winds up the story 
by quitting his parents and betrothed 
bride with great coolness, to join in 
the forest his friends, the banditti,— 
of whom he has long been the con- 
cealed leader. Such is the general 
outline of the plot, which will be more 
fully developed in the succeeding ex- 
tracts. We have mentioned above 
that Werner robs Stralenheim, to ob- 
tain the means of prosecuting his 
journey. He re-appears after com- 
mitting the deed. 
{Enter Werner hastily, with a knife tn his hand, 
by the secret pannel, which he cluses hurriedly 
after him.| 
Werner.—( Not at first recognizing Josephine, ) 
Discover’d! then rile cr raeonnteing her,) ‘ 
Ah! Josephine, 
What rest? My God! 
Why art thou not at rest? 
Josephine. 
What doth this mean? 
Werner (showing a rouleau).—Here’s gold,— 
gold, Josephine, 
Will rescue us from this detested dungeon. 
Josephine.—Aud how obtain’d?—that knife ! 
Werner. Tis bloodless—yet. 
Away—we must to our chamber. 
Josephine. But whence com’st thou? 
Werner.—Ask not! but let us think where we 
shall go. 
Montuiy Mac. No. 376. 
Lord Byron’s Tragedy of ‘‘ Werner.” 
505 
This—this will make us way—(showing the gold)— 
Ill fit them now. 
yossinde! dare not think thee gullty of dis- 
donour. 
Werner.—Dishonour ! 
Josephine. I have said it. 
Werner. Let us hence; 
Tis the last night, I trust, that we need pass here. 
Josephine.—And not the worst, I hope. 
Werner. Hope! I make sure— 
But let us to our chamber. A 
Josephine. Yet one question— 
What hast thou done? 
Werner ( fiercely).—Left one thing wndone,which 
Had mide all well: let me not think of it. 
A Volephine-Alaa | that I should doubt of thee! 
[E£veunt. 
The suspicions excited by the rob- 
bery are thrown by circumstances 
upon Gabor, a casual companion of 
Ulric, who is secreted by Werner in 
the private passage leading to Stralen- 
heim’s apartments. He there is wit- 
ness to the assassination of that noble- 
man by Ulric, and becomes the depo- 
sitory of both these family secrets. 
Upon him, however, Ulric fixes the 
imputation of murder, and, with this 
impression on his mind, Werner de- 
parts with his wife and son, and is 
reinstated in the full possession of his 
lands and honours. 
In the fourth act we find Wemer 
peaceably established in his castle of 
Siegendorf, and principally occupied 
in promoting a match between his 
promising son Ulric, and the orphan 
daughter of the murdered Stralen- 
heim, Ida, whom he has taken under 
his protection. ‘lwo things only mo- 
lest his peace: the one is the recollec- 
tion of his disgraceful attempt on 
Stralenheim’s purse, which he repairs 
by appropriating the gold to pious 
offices; and the other, an impolitic 
desire to discover the supposed mur- 
derer of that nobleman, which he gra- 
tifies to his own ruin and confusion. 
In these embarrassments, he muses on 
his son’s want of affection, and his own 
unfortunate situation. 
Too much of duty, and too little love! 
He pays me in the coin he owes me not: 
For such hath been my wayward fate, 1 could not 
Fulfil a parent’s duties by his side 
Till now; but Jove he owes me,—for my thoughts 
Ne’er left him, nor my eyes long’d without tears 
To see my child again; and now I have found him, 
But how! obedient, but with colduess; duteous 
In my sight, but with carelessness; mysterious, 
Abstracted—distant—much given to long absence ; 
And where—none know: in league with the most 
riotous ts 
Of our young nobles; though, to do him justice, 
He never stoops down to their vulgar pleasures. 
Yet there’s some tie between them—which J cannot 
Unravel. They look up to him—consult him— 
Throng round him as a leader: but with me 
He hath no confidence! Ah! ean] Rove th 
After-———W hat! doth my father’s curse descend 
Even to my child? Or is the Hungarian near 
To shed more blood? or——Oh! if it should be! 
Spirit of Stralenheim ! dost thou walk these walls 
To wither him and his,—who, tho’ they slew not, 
3T Unlatch’d 
