644 Retrospect of Domestic Literature—Novels and Romances. 
the circumstance of some robbers attack- 
mg the castle of a Norman Baron, after 
the hour of Curfew. The scene in the 
second act, between Robert and Flo- 
rence, bears a strong resemblance to that 
of Hubert and Arthur in King John; 
though this is probably to be attributed 
to coincidence. As a specimen of the 
language, we shall quote the Baron’s ad- 
dress to Matilda. 
Bar. Now observe her then. 
Woman, stand forth and answer to our charge. 
‘The universal cry is loud against you 
For practised witchcraft—the consuming 
plagues 
Of murrain, blight, and mildew, that make 
vain 
The peasant’s labour, blasting his full hopes, 
Are laid to your account—they charge more- 
over 
Your skill in noxious herbs, and ev’ry weed 
Of pois’nous growth, the teeming earth is 
rank with, 
Fatal to man and beast--that these collecting 
By the full moon with wicked industry 
You do apply to hellish purposes ; 
"Fo shrink up the sound limb, and with a 
touch 
Plant wrinkles on the blooming cheek of 
youth. 
This is not all—they urge most veliemently 
hat you usurp the night’s solemnity 
For deeds of darkness, horrible to think of! 
That when the yawning church-yards vomit 
forth 
The grisly troops of fiends, that haunt the 
night, 
You have been heard to mutter mischief with 
them, 
Dancing around a pile of dead men’s bones 
To your own howling, and with hideous yells 
Invoking curses for the coming day. 
How answer you to this? 
Another portion of a dialogue between 
the Baron and Fitzharding, the captain 
of the robbers, affords a specimen still 
more striking: 
Bar. It was a galling wrong, but thou for- 
gav’st it. 
Fitz. Iseemingly forgave it--thou believd’st 
me, 
And when thou held’st me to thy cred’lous 
breaft 
I did not ftrangle thee.—We drank together, 
And fill I mix’d no poison with thy wine. 
Alone, at midnight, o’er a dreary heath 
Have we pass’>d—on the extremeft verge 
Of asea-impending cliff, yet I abftained.— 
Ask me why, thus so often ftrangely tempted, 
I have witheld the blow?—’Twas not in 
mercy ;—= 
Say, was not this an honourable scar 
(stripping his arm.) 
To stamp upon a young and gallant soldier? 
‘A same which on my body isso fix’d, 
That I must be half rotted in my grave 
E’re death can cancel it-Thou thought’st 
me dead, 
And so I was toallbut my revenge. 
The man whom thou didst find in thy wife’s 
chamber 
Was I.—The letters sent to thee were mine; 
And often under terrible affliction 
When thou bow’d to Heaven’s mysterious 
chiding, 
This arm, like thunder from a cloud has 
reach’d thee. 
Bar. And are you not content ? 
Fitz. No jot appeased! 
Tho’ I should kill thee with extremest tor- 
ture, 
To ’suage the burning thirst of my revenge— 
Drink thy blood life-warm ; tear those trem- 
bling limbs, 
And scatter them as whirlwinds strew the 
dust 
Mid the triumphant pantings of my soul, 
Vengeance would weep to think thy pangs 
were mortal. 
Among the Bagateiles of the Drama, 
we place Mr. Dimonp’s * Young Hus- 
sar :’’ an operatic piece in two acts. In 
criticising its contents, we shall use the 
author’s own words, ‘* To praise it highly 
is impossible. To censure it severely 
would be ill-natured.” The stage-direc- 
tion at the close we consider as a good 
caricature of the finale in the getierality 
of modern plays. “ Music—The lovers 
fall into each others arms—The parents 
bend over them in benediction—BoNncouR, 
Ninerte, and the Military dispose them- 
selves in different attitudes of surprize and 
joy. The Curtain drops upon the groupe.” 
“ Town and Country,” a comedy by 
Mr. Morton, may be well adapted te 
the stage, but we cannot say much for its 
perusal in the closet. ‘There it wants the 
aids both of scenery and acting, —_ 
“< Peter the Great,” by Mr. CuErry, 
is not inferior to some of his former pro- 
ductions. 
NOVELS AND ROMANCES. 
The last half-year has been abundant- 
ly prolific in works of this description ; 
but they have been almost without ex- 
ception worthless. Miss Porrer’s “ Hun- 
garian Brother,” must be mentioned -as 
an exception; and it stands with no in- 
considerable share of honourable distince 
tion, in a class of productions, in which 
almost all the rest that have appeared 
are characterised by their insipidity, their 
immorality, or their defamation. We 
mentioned on a former occasion the croud 
of servile imitators of the title (but alas! 
nothing but the title) of ““ A Winter im 
Londen,” and we have now to add to a 
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