the high and the lowly of earth, the most important moral lesson that the light and darkness of this strange life can teach to tried, allured, rational yet corruptible, intellectual yet sense-involved beings the most important we are capable of giving or receiving. The scenes, characters, and events in these dramas are, as in human life, exceedingly various, and exceedingly diversified in their degrees of moral purity or turpitude; but if they are allowed only to be such as fall really within the scope of our nature, they need no defence, for they must be full of lessons of wisdom and of stimulus to good. THE SEVEN TEMPTATIONS. In a gloomy chaotic region of universal space inhabited by the Spirits of Evil, who, enraged at their expulsion from heaven, still endeavoured to revenge themselves upon the justice of God, by overturning or defacing the beauty of his moral creation in the spirit of man, sate three of the lower order of Spirits. Among them was, Achzib the liar, or the runner to and fro,-a restless, ambitious spirit, who, hating good, coveted distinction among the bad. For a long time they had sate in silence, each occupied by his own cogitations; and there is no telling how much longer they might have remained so, had not the attention of the youngest been diverted by a gloomily magnificent procession, which was dimly seen passing in the distance. Achzib was upon earth. He took up his abode in a famous city, and assuming the character of a philosopher, inquired out their most learned men. All told him of a poor scholar. Achzib saw him and conversed with him. He found him young, worn out with study, and as simple, unpractised and inexperienced in the ways of men as a child. This shall be my first essay, said Achzib; and accordingly, accumulating learned treatises and immeasurably long parchments of puzzling but unsound philosophy, he made his attempt. Whether Achzib or the Poor Scholar triumphed, shall be seen. THE POOR SCHOLAR. PERSONS. THE POOR SCHOLAR. The Scholar's Room. - Evening. THE POOR SCHOLAR AND LITTLE BOY. Little Boy, reading. "These things I have spoken "Another of the favoured ones," said he, "is this unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the day crowned!" "Ay," replied Achzib, "it is an easy thing for some to obtain distinction! I have desired it for long; I have done services to merit it; but my merits, like my desires, are fruitless." "Hast thou," inquired the eldest of the three, "proved the supremacy of evil? hast thou shown that we are stronger than God?” "I have done much," said Achzib, "as ye all know!" "But, if thou have failed to do this,' rejoined the other, "thou canst not have deserved the distinction thou desirest!" "But that is soon done!" answered Achzib. Not so soon!" interrupted the youngest spirit. "I have tried to prove it till I am weary; and now I unreluctantly make the confession, that though we are mighty, God is mightier than we-his mercy is stronger than our hate, his integrity than our craft!" "I deny all this," said Achzib, "and I will prove it beyond controversy! I will directly ascend to the earth and of the human spirits whom I will tempt, I will win the greater number, if not all of them, to their ruin!" "If thou do this," said the eldest spirit, "thou wilt indeed deserve to be crowned like him whose hon world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." Here endeth the 16th chapter of the Gospel according to St. John. Poor Scholar. Most precious words! Now go your way; The summer fields are green and bright; Sir, when my mother has been ill, Schol. Thank you! but yet you must not stay; Still, still my boy, before we part Receive my blessing-'tis my last! Life is in thee a fountain strong; Yet look upon a dying man, Receive his words and keep them long! Fear God, all-wise, omnipotent, In him we live and have our being; Fear him, and love, and praise, and trust: The poet's soul, the sage's sense, And these demand thy reverence. But, boy, remember this, e'en then Revere the gifts, but not the men! Obey thy parents; they are given To guide our inexperienced youth; Types are they of the One in heaven, Chastising but in love and truth! Keep thyself pure-sin doth efface The beauty of our spiritual life: The mental power which God has given, In his good book delight; there lies The highest knowledge, which will make The city of his rest! My boy Farewell-I have had joy in thee; I go to higher joy-oh, follow me! Boy. Kind sir, good night! I will return with morning light. [He goes out. [The Poor Scholar sits for some time as in meditation, then rising and putting away all his books, except the Bible, he sits down again. Life cannot comprehend thee, though thou showest The golden rooms of state, and all perforce The locked-up soul of sordid ignorance The ardent soul as the sun lures the eagle; Oh, I should long to die! To be among the stars, the glorious stars; The good, the glorified! to be with God, And Christ, who passed through death that I might live! Oh I should long for death, but for one tie, I have derived from her! has she not laboured Schol. Now, now I need them not, I've done with Some irremediable woe befals! them. I need not blind philosophy, nor dreams Of speculating men, entangling truth One word read by that child is worth them all! Surely ere long thou wilt be at my side, That I have asked thy presence! Oh! come, come, After your health. I saw your class depart, Schol. To-night I must decline your friendship, sir. Just tottering on eternity! Delusion, Pardon me, sir, Are they not full of lofty argument More innocent, and yet more filled with wisdom, Schol. And where is the Utopian code of morals For knowing as I do your graceful mind, Schol. I cannot praise-I cannot say one word Philos. Enough, enough! Will heap upon you honours at my asking. Schol. There was a time these things had been a snare; But the near prospect of eternity Takes from the gauds of earth their tempting'st lure; Which then was hot within me, and, thank God, Philos. Nay, but my friend, Schol. Can such poor, empty honours compensate Unto a childless mother for her son? You know her not, and me you know not either! Philos. But think you, my young friend, learning is honoured By every honour paid to its disciples: Philos. Not to be great — Schol. Sir, had the will of God ordained a wider, A nobler sphere of usefulness on earth, He would have given me strength, and health, and power For its accomplishment. I murmur not Phalos. Nay, I must serve you! Let me but con- Full of redeeming knowledge, making wise Here have I lived-here from my boyhood lived; And that poor pallet has so oft given rest To my o'erwearied limbs, there will I die! Nor got by fraud, nor wrung from poverty- God comfort her poor heart, and heal its wounds, Philos. But you do need physicians-here is gold, Which will bleed fresh when she shall break this seal. I know the scholar's fee is scant enough! I will go hence, and send you an attendant. Schol. I cannot take your gold, I want it not. My sickness is beyond the aid of man; And soon, even now, I did expect my mother. Philos. [affecting sorrow.] My dear young friend, I have to ask your pardon; The letter that I promised to deliver, I did forget - indeed I gave it not! Schol. How have I trusted to a broken reed! Oh my mother- "Get thee behind me, Satan!" Leave me now- [The Philosopher goes out, abashed. Tis night-fall now- and through the uncurtained I see the stars; there is no moon to-night. Let me now [Shortly after this is done, he becomes sud denly palera convulsive spasm passes Schol. Almighty God! look down And let not faith be dim! How poor, how needy, stained with sin! Thy kingdom, and behold thy face! Without sustaining knowledge to the grave! I bless thee for the life which thou hast crowned For pleasures that were found Like wayside flowers in quiet solitude. I bless thee for the love that watch'd o'er me For mourning give it joy, and praise for heaviness! Schol. [looking up faintly.] Mother, is't thou? [He opens his Bible and inscribes it. And of thy pallid cheek and trembling hand ;— This I return to thee, my dearest mother, Sorrowing for all, but sorrowing most because He lays a small sum of money with the Bible. Lightens the distant mountains, I shall be Thou blessed book, I see as 't were heaven opened, and a troop Of beautiful spirits waiting my release! talents, and friends, yet has the moments when the soul, reacting upon itself, prays to be disenthralled. Mother. My son! my son! and thou so young, so None are retrieveless; none are utterly alien to good, wise, Time is done, Joy is won, Come to glory infinite! Hark! the angel-songs are pealing! Come and see, oh come and see! Here the living waters pour, No more toiling no more sadness! Beauty and unending youth! Come to the eternal truth! Achzib was surprised at the ill success of his attempt upon the Poor Scholar. He was humiliated to feel how powerfully he had been rebuked by one comparatively a youth-one who was poor, and who had so little knowledge of men. It was before the authority of virtue he had shrunk, but he had never believed till that moment, that virtue possessed such authority; and almost confounded, he walked forth from the door of the Poor Scholar into the fields that surrounded the city. Achzib had done unwisely in making too direct an attack. The integrity of principle may be undermined, but is seldom taken by storm. save the victim of avarice; for when did the soul, abandoned to this vice, feel misgivings? when did it feel either pity or love? or when did it do one good thing, or repent of one evil thing? It will strip without remorse, the fatherless, the widow, nay even the very sanctuary of God! Avarice is the Upas of the soul-no green thing flourishes below it, no bird of heaven flies over it; and the dew and the rain, and the virtues of the earth, become pestilential because of it! It shall be the love of gold which shall be my next temptation." THOMAS OF TORRES. PERSONS. THOMAS OF TORRES. ACHZIB, A STRANGER. THE SECOND LORD OF TORRES. AND OTHER SUBORDINATE CHARACTERS. Time occupied, one-and-twenty years SCENE I. A green hill overlooking a broad valley, in the centre Thomas. That was my home-the noble hall of mine, - yon bright lake was When Achzib had duly pondered upon the cause of his failure, his desire was only redoubled to make a fresh attempt. “I will neither choose a dying man, a scholar, nor one of inflexible virtue," said he, "and yet my triumph shall be signal and complete." He thought over the baits for human souls-love-A spendthrift fool, who is become a proverb! ambition-pleasure; but all these he rejected. My father was a good and quiet man"For," said he, "is not avarice more absorbingly, He wedded late in life; and I was born more hopelessly cruel than all these? The lover may The child of his old age; my mother's face be fierce, ungovernable, extravagant; still is the I knew not, saving in its gilded frame, passion in itself amiable. The man of ambition may Where, in the chamber of her loving husband, wade through blood to a kingdom; yet even in his It hung before his bed. My father died career, give evidence of good and great qualities. The When I was in my nonage. Marvellous pains, votary of pleasure, though he sacrifice health, wealth, Reading of books, study, and exercise, |