CLAUDE MELNOTTE'S APOLOGY.-BULWER.

In the popular drama, "The Lady of Lyons," Claude Melnotte, who had received many indignities to his slighted love, from Pauline, was induced to marry her under the false appearance of an Italian prince. This extract represents their arrival at his humble home and the exposure of his deception. There, however, he repents his bitter revenge; makes immediate amends by restoring the lady to her parents; enters the army and gains an honorable position, after which he becomes, in fact, her husband.

Thy curse would blast me less than thy forgiveness.

PAULINE (laughing wildly). This is thy "palace, where the perfumed light

Steals through the mist of alabaster lamps,

And every air is heavy with the sighs

Of orange-groves, and music from sweet lutes,
And murmurs of low fountains, that gush forth

I' the midst of roses!" Dost thou like the picture?
THIS is my bridal home, and THOU my bridegroom!
O fool! O dupe!-O wretch!-I see it all—
The by-word and the jeer of every tongue

In Lyons! Hast thou in thy heart one touch
Of human kindness? If thou hast, why, kill me,
And save thy wife from madness. No, it cannot,

It cannot be! this is some horrid dream :

I shall wake soon. (Touching him.) Art flesh? art man ? or but The shadows seen in sleep?-It is too real.

What have I done to thee, how sinned against thee,

That thou shouldst crush me thus?

Pauline, by pride

MELNOTTE.
Angels have fallen ere thy time; by pride,-
That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould,-
The evil spirit of a bitter love

And a revengeful heart had power upon thee.
From my first years my soul was filled with thee;
I saw thee midst the flowers the lowly boy
Tended, unmarked by thee,-a spirit of bloom,
And joy, and freshness, as if spring itself
Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape!
I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man
Entered the breast of the wild dreaming boy;
And from that hour I grew-what to the last
I shall be-thine adorer! Well, this love,

Vain, frantic,-guilty, if thou wilt, became
A fountain of ambition and bright hope;

I thought of tales that by the winter hearth

Old gossips tell,—how maidens sprung from kings

Have stooped from their high sphere; how Love, like Death, Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook

Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home

In the soft palace of a fairy future!

My father died; and I, the peasant-born,
Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise
Out of the prison of my mean estate;

And, with such jewels as the exploring mind
Brings from the caves of knowledge, buy my ransom
From those twin jailors of the daring heart,—
Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image,
Glassed in my soul, took all the hues of glory,
And lured me on to those inspiring toils
By which man masters men! For thee, I grew
A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages!
For thee, I sought to borrow from each grace
And every muse such attributes as lend
Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee,
And passion taught me poesy,—of thee,
And on the painter's canvas grew the life
Of beauty!-Art became the shadow

Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes!

Men called me vain,-some, mad,—I heeded not;
But still toiled on, hoped on, for it was sweet,

If not to win, to feel more worthy, thee!

PAULINE. Has he a magic to exorcise hate?
MELNOTTE. At last, in one mad hour, I dared to pour
The thoughts that burst their channels into song,
And sent them to thee,-such a tribute, lady,
As beauty rarely scorns, even from the meanest.
The name-appended by the burning heart
That longed to show its idol what bright things

It had created-yea, the enthusiast's name,

That should have been thy triumph, was thy scorn!
That very hour-when passion, turned to wrath,

Resembled hatred most; when thy disdain

Made my whole soul a chaos-in that hour

The tempters found me a revengeful tool

For their revenge! Thou hadst trampled on the worm,It turned, and stung thee!

CONSCIENCE AND FUTURE JUDGMENT.

I sat alone with my conscience,
In a place where time had ceased,
And we talked of my former living
In the land where the years increased;
And I felt I should have to answer
The question it might put to me,
And to face the question and answer
Throughout an eternity.

The ghosts of forgotten actions
Came floating before my sight,

And things that I thought had perished
Were alive with a terrible might;

And the vision of life's dark record
Was an awful thing to face-
Alone with my conscience sitting
In that solemnly silent place.

And I thought of a far-away warning,
Of a sorrow that was to be mine,
In a land that then was the future,
But now is the present time;

And I thought of my former thinking
Of the judgment day to be;

But sitting alone with my conscience
Seemed judgment enough for me.

And I wondered if there was a future
To this land beyond the grave;
But no one gave me an answer

And no one came to save.

Then I felt that the future was present,

And the present would never go by,
For it was but the thought of a future
Become an eternity.

Then I woke from my timely dreaming,
And the vision passed away;

And I knew the far-away warning

Was a warning of yesterday.

And I pray that I may not forget it

In this land before the grave,

That I may not cry out in the future,
And no one come to save.

I have learned a solemn lesson
Which I ought to have known before,

And which, though I learned it dreaming,
I hope to forget no more.

So I sit alone with my conscience

In the place where the years increase,
And I try to fathom the future,

In the land where time shall cease.
And I know of the future judgment,
How dreadful soe'er it be,

That to sit alone with my conscience
Will be judgment enough for me.

THE WANTS OF MAN.-J. Q. ADAMS. "Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long."

"Tis not with me exactly so;

But 'tis so in the song.

My wants are many, and, if told,
Would muster many a score;
And were each wish a mint of gold,
I still should long for more.

What first I want is daily bread;

And canvas-backs-and wine;

And all the realms of nature spread
Before me, when I dine.

Four courses scarcely can provide

My appetite to quell;

With four choice cooks from France, beside,

To dress my dinner well.

What next I want, at princely cost,

Is elegant attire;

Black sable furs for winter's frost,

And silks for summer's fire,

And Cashmere shawls, and Brussels lace

My bosom's front to deck,

And diamond rings my hands to grace,
And rubies for my neck.

I want (who does not want?) a wife,-
Affectionate and fair;

To solace all the woes of life,
And all its joys to share;
Of temper sweet, of yielding will,
Of firm, yet placid mind;

With all my faults to love me still
With sentiment refined.

And as Time's car incessant runs,
And Fortune fills my store,
I want of daughters and of sons
From eight to half a score.
I want (alas! can mortal dare
Such bliss on earth to crave?)
That all the girls be chaste and fair,-
The boys all wise and brave.

I want a warm and faithful friend,
To cheer the adverse hour;
Who ne'er to flattery will descend,
Nor bend the knee to power,—

A friend to chide me when I'm wrong,
My inmost soul to see;

And that my friendship prove as strong
For him, as his for me.

I want the seals of power and place,
The ensigns of command;

Charged by the people's unbought grace
To rule my native land.

Nor crown nor sceptre would I ask

But from my country's will,

By day, by night, to ply the task,
Her cup of bliss to fill.

I want the voice of honest praise
To follow me behind,

And to be thought in future days
The friend of human-kind,
That after ages, as they rise,
Exulting may proclaim,
In choral union to the skies,
Their blessings on my name.

These are the Wants of mortal man,-
I cannot want them long,
For life itself is but a span,

And earthly bliss, a song.