tympanum, which had a communication with an adjoining room, where Dionysius spent the greatest part of his time, to hear whatever was said by those whom his suspicion and cruelty had confined in the apartment above. The artists that had been employed in. making this cave, were all put to death by order of the tyrant, for fear of their revealing to what pur. pose a work of such uncommon construction was to be appropriated." It may, perhaps, be objected to this quotation, that there is no specific charge of cruelty, save in the instance of the massacred artists, brought against the tyrant; that the precautions which he thought necessary to take for the security of his life, are no proof of crime. Admitted. But we must recollect, that this is not the only instance of barbarity which can be adduced. The murder of Phyton and his son stands too conspicuous to be easily lost sight of, nor can the atrocity of that inhuman act be frittered away by the learning and ingenuity either of Mitford or of H. As for the tyrant's cautious timidity, (to give his fearful distrust of his subjects its gentlest name) it certainly conveys no proof, but unquestionably a strong presumption of crime. "Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind:" the text is Shakespeare's, and I hope none of my readers will be at a loss for a commentary. But "before," says 66 we place implicit confidence in the authorities from whom we have our accounts of this great man, we should weigh, with accuracy and impartiality, the motives which swayed with each, as well as the party which each historian favoured." By this criterion, then, let us try the historian, whose single remark is sufficient, in the opinion of H., to confute all the charges which have been heaped upon Dionysius. Mitford has, doubtless, displayed immense learning and research in his history of Greece, yet

H.,

he is notorious for his decided partiality to arbitrary power. This author's "great pleasure," says a noble bard, unhappily no more, consists in praising tyrants, and abusing Plutarch*." Now, if this statement be correct, and I see no reason to doubt its truth, the testimony of Mitford is as little to be relied upon as the evidence of the most determined republican. Dazzled by the splendour of the military and political abilities of Dionysius, he seems to think that the possession of talent will atone for the absence of every amiable quality, and lays great stress upon the means by which he rendered himself absolute at Syracuse. If, however, his conduct in the acquisition of supreme authority be impartiality examined, he will appear more indebted for his lofty station to the exertion of consummate hypocrisy, than to gigantic talents. Into his ability or inability to manage what he had so most infamously usurped, I shall not stop to enquire; be the trancendency of his genius what it may, it can hardly be brought forward to palliate "the terrific magnitude" of his vices. Even in the division of property, which is the nearest approach to any thing like a popular measure, the tyrant seems to have been actuated more by motives of a selfish policy, that by the pure dictates of a generous patriotism. The loudest declaimers of the present day for a partition of lands, would not much congratulate themselves upon obtaining one similar to that which was effected by Dionysius; the best of the lands being selected and bestowed upon the creatures of the monarch, and the officers of his making. I am ready, however, to give him credit for this act of liberality, with one solitary qualification, "that a whole life of deliberate iniquity," 'tis Junius who speaks, "is ill atoned for by doing now

* See Notes to Don Juan, Canto XII, Stanza XIX.

and then a laudable action upon a mixed or doubtful principle."

To sum up the character of Dionysius in a few words, I shall adduce, as a counterpoise to the encomium of Isocrates, the testimony of Seneca, “Sanguine humano non tantum gaudet sed pascitur: sed et supplicüs omnium ætatum crudelitatem insatiabilem explet." R. W.

God! this should seem

A confirmation strange of what, till now,
I have not even feared or thought upon.
Why was this agitation? why this paleness?
What caused this loud expression of wild fear?
I saw her feeling when I named him first;
And, when I spoke of his perfections, saw
Her eyes attest the truth of all I said,
With the expressive, though mute eloquence
Of love, not to be conquered or concealed.
I marked it, God of Heaven, I marked it well!
And I am wretched! and this suicide hand
Itself has drugged the bowl whose poisoned stream
Shall chase the life from every shrinking vein!
And when I named the bower-scene, did I not
Perceive, with horror words may ne'er express,
How her strained eye and heaving breast proclaimed
Her fear, her guilt, her love, her jealousy!
Oh, I am nothing now! yet am I that

Scarce human thing that dreadful wrongs create,
Whose vital life is the supporting hope

Of vengeance, sweeping, deep, and deadly ven

geance! [Pauses. One hope remains. Although she may have erred, Although she may have tempted him, my friend Would still be true to me and to himself;

The noble Beaumont would not injure me:
This is some comfort yet.

Oh, pitying Heaven!

That lookest down upon mine agony
With a benignant and compassionate eye,
To thee I make a confident appeal!

Was not the crime of my proud love---excess?
And was not thy high worship scorned, that she
Might have my soul's unshared idolatry?
Did I not worship her? Did I not kneel,
Forgetting she was human, and adore

This piece of falsehood and consummate cunning?
But I am punished for my crime, and she
Is made the instrument; 'tis very well;
'Tis fitting that my punishment should be
Even of the heaviest; and as she confers it,
It has a savour of the deepest hell!

SCENE II.

The Chamber of Madame Manuel.

LOUISE AND MARIE.

Marie. Your illness should induce you to forego This promised meeting; it will injure you,

Besides the danger.

Louise. Sickness and risk are nought;

He waits, and I must go.

Marie. Let me implore

My Louise to be wary.

Much I fear,

Something informs my heart, I augur ill
Of this night's trysting. Manuel is near!

Louise. 'Tis Destiny impels me on. Though death, Or what were worse, although detection stood

Visible in my path, still must I on!

Marie. Go, then!

And if it be not sin to pray

For safety to a sinful woman, may

You shun the danger that I fear awaits you!

For your own sake, and scarcely less for mine,
That concealed till now,
you
Ere now, had been contemned.

Philip. That was my fear.

that which, if told

Manuel. Knowing the worst, you cannot deem how calm

My heart lies in my bosom. How is this?
The dullest fool that calls himself a husband,
Would feel his sluggish soul awakened now;
Would find a heart to prompt, a head to plan,
An arm to execute some vengeful act!
While I---pshaw! I'll go pray.

Philip. Thank Heaven, Sir,

That you can bear this bitter suffering
With such composure.

Manuel. Sneer not at me, Philip.
Remembrance may inkindle in my soul
A flame that shall be most destructive.

Leave me.

Philip. Will you go to the house at which they meet, to-morrow?

Manuel. To-morrow? Ay, to-morrow I will seek Their obscene dep. I'll have the damning proof.