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SIXTH SCENE.

KING RENE, ALMERIK, TRISTAN in complete armour, with his train. Afterwards JAUFFRED, with his train.

(During the progress of this scene, the evening red spreads over the valley and the distant hills, and remains so till the close of the piece.)

TRISTAN.-Give back! The force, that sought to keep the pass,
Has yielded to our arms. Do you surrender?
RENE.-How now! What man art thou, whose ruffian hands
With shock of arms doth desecrate this ground?
Stand, or my wrath shall strike thee to the dust!
TRISTAN.-Husband thy words, old man. I have no fears.
I do believe, this place is in the thrall

Of some unholy and malignant power,

Which keeps thee trembling, but gives nerve to me.
If that thou be'st a sorcerer, and dost hope

For aid from magic spells, despair thy charm;
For know, the pope did consecrate this sword;
This scarf was woven, too, by holy hands
Within the Mary Convent at Avignon,

And, 'neath this mail of proof, abides the will
To quell thee, as Saint George the dragon quell'd.
RENE.-Deluded man, what motive brings thee here?
TRISTAN.-Reply to me! Art thou this valley's lord?
RENE. Truly I am this valley's lord, I own-

Nor ends my title there. But who art thou?

(Enter JAUFFRED, with his train.) JAUFFRED. What do I see? King René!-(kneels) noble king! TRISTAN.-What's here! King René!

RENE.

JAUFFRED.

Jauffred, thou in league

With one that is thy monarch's foe?

Your pardon!

He posted on before-I came too late. RENE (to TRISTAN).-Yet tell me, who art thou? TRISTAN.

My name is Tristan

Of Vaudemont-a name you well do know.
RENE.-HOW, Tristan? (To JAUFFRED.) Is this true?

'Tis as he says.

JAUFFRED.-
RENE (musing).-And so 'twas you belike, as I conclude,
Were here to-day already?

TRISTAN.

Yes, my liege,
Chance, not presumption, led me to this place.
I did not dream, that you were ruler here.
RENE. But say, what motive brings you back again?
TRISTAN.-You know it.

RENE.

Nay, I know it not. Explain.
TRISTAN.-You jest with me. Within this blooming vale,
Where all is marvellous, there lives conceal'd,
And its most foremost wonder, a fair girl,
Whose praise not all Provence's troubadours
Could chaunt in measures equal to her worth.

RENE. And this fair girl, you say? Continue, sir!
TRISTAN.-Upon my soul such impress deep hath wrought,
That I am bound her slave for evermore.

RENE.-And know you who she is?

TRISTAN.

No. Yet there's proof
Upon her countenance, and in her words,
Of high degree, and inborn nobleness.
RENE. And have you noted not, that nature, who
In all things else hath been so bountiful,
Gave her one fault?

TRISTAN.

Ah yes, alas! she's blind!
Yet glows there still within her soul a light,
That makes all luminous, which else were dark!
RENE. And though you are aware that she is blind-?
TRISTAN.-Yet, at her feet with rapture would I lay
The golden circle of my earldom down.

RENE. Now by the holy image in Clairvaux,

You are the rarest marvel of our vale!

You press in here with weapons in your hand,
To bear off that, which hath for years been yours,
Yet which you now insultingly contemn.

TRISTAN.-How so, my liege?

RENE.

Know then, that this fair girl,
Who took your heart a prisoner, is my daughter.

TRISTAN.-Your daughter, she?
RENE.-

TRISTAN.-

My daughter, my young count:
The same whom you, as this your letter bears,
Can in no wise consent to take for bride;
The same who raised in you dislike so strong,
That, but to 'scape from her, you were content
To quit your claims for ever to Lorraine ;
The same, moreover, whom you so have charm'd,
That I might almost doubt, if the poor girl
So lightly would abandon you.

My liege,

Oh! is it really so? Your language thrills me. RENE. 'Tis e'en as I have said.

TRISTAN.

But why was she-
RENE.-Within this vale? That shall you learn anon.
You little deem, my lord, that you are come
At a momentous crisis. Iolanthe,

My darling child, perchance, e'en while we talk,
Sinks into darkest night for evermore,

Or 'wakes, perchance, to taste the glorious day.

TRISTAN.-What sayest thou, my liege?

RENE.

This very hour

Has the physician, Ebn Jahia, chosen

To see, if possibly-(approaches the house)-But hush! methinks,
There is a stir within. Keep silence, all!

She speaks. Oh, Tristan, hear! Iolanthe speaks!

Ah, are these sounds of pleasure or of wail,

That murmur o'er my darling angel's lips?
-But some one comes.

BERTRAND.—

SEVENTH SCENE.

To the others enter BERTRAND—afterwards MARTHA, IOLANTHE, and EBN Jahia.

RENE (to BERTRAND, who enters from the house).—

Quick, Bertrand, quick and tell me,
How goes on all within ?

Alas! I know not.
She has awaked, and it is nearly over;
But I ran forth in terror.

(Enter MARTHA hastily.)

MARTHA.-
RENE. HOW, Martha, see?
TRISTAN.-

She can see!
Oh, grant it, Heaven!

MARTHA.

Hush, hush!

She's coming forth.

IOLANTHE

(Enter EBN JAHIA, leading IOLANTHE by the hand. He beckons to the others to retire.)

Where art thou leading me?

Oh, God, where am I? Support me-oh, support me!

EEN JAHIA.-Calm thee, my child!
IOLANTHE.

Support me-Oh, stand still!

Support me!

I ne'er was here before-what shall I do
In this strange place? Oh, what is that?
It comes so close on me, it gives me pain.
EBN JAHIA.-Iolanthe! Calm thee! Look upon the earth!
That still hath been to thee thy truest friend,
And now, too, greets thee with a cordial smile.
-This is the garden thou hast ever tended.

IOLANTHE.-My garden-mine? Alas, I know it not.

ERN JAHIA,

IOLANTHE.

The plants are terrible to see-take care!
They're falling on us!

Cease your fears, my child.
These stately trees are the date-palms, whose leaves
And fruit to thee have long been known.

Ah, no!

Indeed, I know them not! (Raises her eyes towards the sky.) This
radiance too,

That everywhere surrounds me-yon great vault,
That arches there above us-oh, how high!
What is it? Is it God? Is it his spirit,
Which, as you said, prevades the universe?

EBN JAHIA.-Yon radiance is the radiance of the light.
God is in it, like as he is in all.

Yon blue profound, that fills yon airy vault,
It is the heaven, where, as we do believe,
God hath set up His glorious dwelling-place.

Kneel down, my child! and raise your hands on high,
To heaven's o'erarching vault-to God-and pray!

IOLANTIIE.—Ah, teach me then to pray to him as I ought.
No one hath ever told me, how I should
Pray to this deity who rules the world!

EEN JAHIA. Then kneel thee down, my darling child, and say-
"Mysterious Being, who to me hast spoken,

When darkness veil'd mine eyes, teach me to seek Thee,
In Thy light's beams, that do illume this world;
Still, in the world, teach me to cling to Thee!"

IOLANTHE (kneels).-Mysterious Being, who to me hast spoken
When darkness veil'd mine eyes, teach me to seek Thee,

In Thy light's beams, that do illume this world;

Still, in the world, teach me to cling to Thee!
-Yes, He hath heard me. I can feel He hath,
And on me pours the comfort of His

He is the only one that speaks to me,
Invisible and kindly, as before.

peace.

EBN JAHIA.-Arise, arise, my child, and look around.
IOLANTHE.-Say what are these, that bear such noble forms!
EBN JAHIA.Thou know'st them all.

IOLANTHE.

Ah, no, I can know nothing.

RENE (approaching IOLANTHE).—Look on me, Iolanthe-me, thy father! IOLANTHE (embracing him).—My father! Oh, my God! Thou art my father !

I know thee now-thy voice, thy clasping hand.
Stay here! Be my protector, be my guide!

I am so strange here in this world of light.
They've taken all that I possessed away-
All that in old time was thy daughter's joy.
RENE. I have cull'd out a guide for thee, my child.
IOLANTHE.-Whom mean'st thou?

RENE (pointing to TRISTAN).-See, he stands expecting thee. IOLANTHE.-The stranger yonder? Is he one of those

Bright cherubim, thou once didst tell me of?

Is he the angel of the light come down?

RENE. Thou knowest him-hast spoken with him. Think!

IOLANTHE. With him—with him? (Holds her hands before her eyes.) Father, I understand.

In yonder glorious form must surely dwell
The voice, that late I heard-gentle, yet strong,
The one sole voice that lives in nature's round.

(To TRISTAN, who advances towards her.)
Oh, but one word of what thou saidst before!

TRISTAN.-Oh, young and beautous lady! IOLANTHE.

List, oh, list!

With these dear words the light's benignant rays
Found out a way to me; and these sweet words
With my heart's warmth are intimately blent.
TRISTAN (embraces her).-Iolanthe! Dearest !
RENE.-

Blessings on you both
From God, whose wondrous works we all revere!
(Curtain drops.)

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A new Tributary-Carrigadrohid Castle, and its origin-The martyred Bishop-Oak grove-Scenery-The Dripscy-The Vale of Inniscarra-The Bride River-Kilcrea Friary and Castle-Ballincollig-The Castle of Carrigrohan-Blarney-Western approach to Cork-Origin of the City-The Vikings-Religious Houses The new Cemetery-Scientific Bodies-Literature of Cork-The Streets-Some abstersive Suggestions Environs on the East-Glanmire, or the Happy Valley-Views-The River-Lough MahonPassage-Monkstown-A Castle built for a Groat-The "haven roiall" of Cork-Town of Cove-Clonmel Churchyard- The Harbour and its Islands-Fortifications-Conclusion.

WITHIN a mile from its junction with the Sullane, below Macroom, the Lee receives another tributary-one of less importance the Buinea. This streamlet flows through the wild and uninteresting parish of Kilmurry, and is only remarkable as being one of the few which fall into the Lee on the south side. A little above the confluence of the rivers stands Mashanaglass (My Stronghold), the square massive fortalice of the Mac Swineysa sept, like their neighbours the O'Sullivans, renowned for limitless hospitality. King James I. addressed a letter to Sir Arthur Chichester, the Lord Deputy, bearing date the 13th of April, 1612, on behalf of Owen Mac Swiney of Mashanaglass. The Deputy was commanded to accept the surrender of Mac Swiney's lands, and to regrant them to him, by patent, as reward for his faithful services to the crown of England during the wars of Elizabeth. But Mac Swiney's son, who bore the same name, forfeited these estates, for his participation in the great revolt of 1641. The highroad between Macroom and Cork passes, at the north of this castle, through the picturesque glen of Ummeragh, anciently called Glen-caum (the Crooked Glen), where is a covert well known to the riders of the Muskerry hunt. It thus avoids a tortuous winding of the river, and rejoins it at Carrigadrohid. The portion of the Lee thus, in a manner, shut from the tourist, is of little interest. To the north stretches the parish of Aghinagh, and to the south that of Cannaway, the river forming the boundary between them. The church of the latter parish forms a conspicuous object. It is built on a high rising ground, and

possesses a fine tower; but in the minor architectural details it presents the wonted homely aspect of these structures in Ireland.

Carrigadrohid, where we now arrive, is an inconsiderable hamlet, that doubtless grew around the singular castle here erected in, and not on, the Lee. Its name correctly given would be Carraig-an-droichid (the Rock of the Bridge); and this appellative correctly describes its romantic position. The castle was built on a huge cliff, rising from the river's bed. A bridge, of probably coeval date, passes by its side, and connects it with the mainland on either hand. The founders of both bridge and castle were most probably the M'Carthys, but some ascribe the buildings to the O'Learys; and there is a tale-wild and fanciful as the castle-site itself-which informs us, that "ladye-love," omnipotent in its requirements at all times, selected the old brown rock, around whose base the boiling waves of the Lee madly chafe in mid-winter, as a test of the truth of passion which had pledged itself to her. O woman! wayward in thy use of a brief-lived mastery, how humbly doth the proud lord of creation, when wooing thy favour, stoop to thy behests! — nought is too difficult, nought too hazardous to be ventured on, when thy speaking eyes issue their injunctions.

"I will dwell in no customary halls!" was the half-pettish exclamation of the fair Una O'Carroll, as she walked by the margin of the yellow Lee, in company with her enamoured suitor, Dermid Oge Mac Carthy. "I am wearied with the trammels of fashion-with the confining bawn, and the gloomy turrets and walls of castles,

and the everlasting coming and going of guests, and the noisy men-at-arms. Oh, that I could inhabit a sparry cave on the grand sea-shore; or dwell, like the nymphs, a thousand fathoms down among the pearly palaces of the seaking. Life is barren and tame-such life as ordinary men lead; and, Mac Carthy such wearisome existence shall never be mine!"

"Speak but the command, dearest Una, and a home worthy thine own sweet self shall soon rear its head anywhere in my father's domains."

"I care not for state-I despise your wealth. What I seek is something new, uncommon, unthought of; something that may remove me from everyday scenes and thoughts, and may. "What will you, Una?"

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"See you that massive, smooth rock in the midst of the river? Often have

I, in my childhood, marked its lone position, untrodden by man, undefiled by his presence-until my dreaming fancy peopled it with bright, living inhabitants of another world. There, among the spiritual beings of my imagination, I would fain dwell. There, if you love me, I build me a home."

And tradition tell us, that before the next sun had gone down, there were piles and planks binding the rock of Carrigadrohid to each bank of the Lee, and workmen busily calling to one another from the islet and mainland; and that, before the luminary had, on that day year reached, again his place in the heavens, the Castle in the River was completed and occupied-its lord and lady being Dermid Mac Carthy and the lovely Una O'Carroll.

In 1641, the bridge was the scene of many conflicts, as it commanded one of the chief passes of the Lee; and the castle was differently occupied according to the result of these engagements. In May, 1650, Carrigadrohid was in the hands of the Irish, and was besieged by Lord Broghill, the Commonwealth general. Broghill, as we have previously mentioned, defeated the native forces, headed by the titular bishop of Ross, at Macroom, on the 10th of this month, taking their episcopal leader prisoner. Immediately after the engagement, the English general marched on Carrigadrohid, where the bishop of Ross had left a garrison; and, by the way, he informed his captive that a pardon awaited him if he prevailed on

the garrison to surrender. The bishop declared he would "speak to them according to the best of his ability,” and was thereupon conducted, under a flag of truce, to the castle. When he came before it, the devoted enthusiast exhorted the garrison never to lay down their arms save with their lives, and to continue a struggle which, he told them, was for the maintenance of their religion and the salvation of their country. The conclusion is painful. The heroic prelate (we can laud his devotion, without identifying ourselves with his principles) was straightway hanged within sight of the besieged. But the example did not terrify them, so excited had they become by his stimulating words. Soon after, Lord Broghill took the castle by an easy stratagem. Having procured two or three team of oxen, he made them draw to and fro, opposite the castle, several trunks of trees shapen like heavy ordnance; and the Irish, mistaking these for the objects they were intended to represent, demanded a parley, and surrendered on conditions.

On the south bank of the Lee, nearly opposite Carrigadrohid, is the pretty little village of Killinardrish; and in its immediate vicinity is Nettleville, the handsome seat of Richard Neville Nettles, Esq., descended from a Herefordshire family of that name. The river now bends to the north-east, and improves in character considerably. At Oakgrove it is seen to great advantage, winding away through picturesque sylvan glades. We paused here for a long time on a bright summer's day, entranced with the prospect. The channel is narrowed by rocks, adown which the river rushes with a precipitate dash that the peasants call Leam-a-thoun (the Wave-Leap); but far away in the eastern distance, we saw that it flowed through the midst of tranquil woods, its waters sparkling and shining in the noonday sun. Near Oakgrove, the river Glashagariff falls into the Lee. This tributary, small in size, is rich in beauty. Halfway on its course it expands into a small lake, and soon after descends the glen of Mullen-Assig by a leaping waterfall. After receiving the Glashagariff, the Lee turns again to the south, and the seats of the gentry on its banks begin to multiply. We may specify Carhue, Classas, Riversdale, Nadrid,

and

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