Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,

To cure this deadly grief.

Macd. He has no children.

Did you say, all?

All my pretty ones?

What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,

At one fell swoop?

Mal. Dispute it like a man.

Macd. I shall do so;

But I must also feel it as a man:

I cannot but remember such things were,

That were most precious to me. - Did Heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,

They were all struck for thee! naught that I am!
Not for their own demerits but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now!
Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue! - But, gentle Heaven,
Cut short all intermission; front to front,

Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too!

Mal. This tune goes manly.

Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth

Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above

Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long, that never finds the day.

36*

[Exeunt.

LESSON CL.

The Murderer's Confession. - HORACE SMITH.

I PAUSED not to question the devil's suggestion,
But o'er the cliff, headlong, the living was thrown,
A scream and a plashing, a foam and a flashing,
And the smothering water accomplished his slaughter,
All was silent, and I was alone.

With heart-thrilling spasm, I glanced down the chasm;
There was blood on the wave that closed over his head,
And in bubbles his breath, as he struggled with death,
Rose up to the surface. I shuddered and fled.

With footsteps that staggered, and countenance haggard,
I stole to my dwelling, bewildered, dismayed,
Till whisperings stealthy said" Psha! he was wealthy-
Thou 'rt his heir - no one saw thee-then be not afraid."

I summoned the neighbors, I joined in their labors,
We sought for the missing by day and by night;
We ransacked each single height, hollow, and dingle,
Till shoreward we wended, when starkly extended,

His corpse lay before us -O, God! what a sight!

And yet there was nothing for terror or loathing;
The blood had been washed from his face and his clothing,
But by no language, those life-like wide open

Eyes can be painted ;

They stared at me, flared at me, angrily glared at me,
I felt murder-attainted;

Yet my guilty commotion seemed ruth and devotion,
When I shuddered and fainted.

No hint finds emission that breathes of suspicion,
None dare utter a sound when an in'quest has found

His death accidental;

Whence then and wherefore, having nothing to care for,

These agonies mental?

Why grieve, and why sicken, frame-withered, soul-stricken?

Age-paralyzed, sickly, he must have died quickly,
Each day brought some new ill;

Why leave him to languish and struggle with anguish ?
The deed that relieved him from all that aggrieved him,
Was kindly, not cruel.

In procession extended, a funeral splendid,

With bannered displays and escutcheons emblazoned,
To church slowly passed,

When a dread apparition astounded my vision:
Like an aspen-leaf shaking, dumb-founded and quaking,
I stood all aghast!

From its nailed coffin prison, the corpse had arisen,
And in all its shroud vesture, with menacing gesture,

And eye-balls that stared at me, flared at me, glared at me,
It pointed it flouted its slayer, and shouted,

In accents that thrilled me,

"That ruthless dissembler, that guilt-stricken trembler,

Is the villain who killed me!"

'T was fancy's creation.

mere hallucination

A lucky delusion, for again my confusion,

Guilt's evidence sinister, seemed to people and minister,
The painful achievement of grief and bereavement.

Then why these probations, these self-condemnations,
Incessant and fearful?

Some with impunity snatch opportunity,

Slay and exult in concealment's immunity,

-

Free from forebodings and heartfelt corrodings

They fear no disclosure, no public exposure,

And sleeping unhaunted, and waking undaunted,
Live happy and cheerful.

To 'scape the ideal let me dwell on the real.
I, a pauper so lately,

In abundance possessing life's every blessing,
Fine steeds in my stable, rare wines on my table,
Servants dressed gayly, choice banquets daily,
A wife fond and beautiful, children most dutiful,
I, a pauper so lately, live richly and greatly,
In a mansion house stately.

Life's blessings?

- O, liar! all are curses most dire -

In the midst of my revels,

His eyes ever stare at me, flare at me, glare at me.
Before me, when treading my manors outspreading
There yawns an abysmal cliff precipice dismal;
Isolation has vanished, all silence is banished,
Where'er I immew me, his death-shrieks pursue me,
I am haunted by devils.

My wine, clear and ruddy, seems turbid and bloody :
I cannot quaff water-recalling his slaughter,

My terror it doubles, 't is beaded with bubbles,

Each filled with his breath,

And every glass in each hisses

"Assassin!

My curse shall affright thee, haunt, harrow, and blight thee,
In blight and in death!"

My daughters, their mother, contend with each other,
Who will show most affection, best soothe my dejection.
Revolting endearments! their garments seem cerements,
And I shudder with loathing at their grave-tainted clothing.
Home and the mercies,

That to others are dearest, to me are the drearest

And deadliest curses.

When free from this error, I thrill with the terror, (Thought horrid to dwell on !)

That the wretch whom they cherish may shamefully perish Be publicly gibbeted, branded, exhibited,

As a murderous felon ! ·

O punishment hellish! the house I embellish,
From centre to corner upbraids its adorner,
A door's lowest creaking swells into a shrieking;
Against me each column bears evidence solemn,
Each statue's a Nemesis ;

They follow, infest me, they strive to arrest me,
Till, in terrified sadness, that verges on madness,
I rush from the premises.

The country's amenity brings no serenity,

Each rural sound seeming a menace or screaming;
There is not a bird or beast but cries, "Murder!
There goes the offender!

Dog him, waylay him, encompass him, slay him,
And make him surrender!"

My flower-beds splendid seem eyes

blood-distended

His eyes, ever staring, and flaring, and glaring!

I turn from them quickly, but phantoms more sickly
Drive me hither and thither;

I would forfeit most gladly wealth stolen so madly,
Quitting grandeur and revelry to fly from this devilry,
But whither-O! whither?

Hence, idle delusions! hence, fears and confusions!
Not a single friend's severance lessens men's reverence,
No neighbor of rank quits my sumptuous banquets
Without lauding their donor.

Throughout the wide county I'm famed for my bounty
All hold me in honor.