last, and with an action of extreme tenderness takes leave of her. Melville and Bland accompany him.)
Honora. Now we will go. Come, love! Where is he?
All gone!—I do remember—I awake—
They have him. Murder! Help! O, save him! save him!
(Honora attempts to follow, hut falls. Mrs. Bland kneels to assist her. Scene closes.)
Scene, the Encampment.
(Procession to the execution of André. First enter Pioneers—Detachment of Infantry—Military Band of Music—Infantry. The Music having passed off, enter André between Melville and American Officer; they sorrowful, he cheerfully conversing as he passes over the stage.)
André. It may in me be merely prejudice,
The effect of young opinion deep engraved
Upon the tender mind by care parental;
But I must think your country has mistook
Her interests. Believe me, but for this I should
Not willingly have drawn a sword against her.
(They how their heads in silence.)
Opinion must, nay, ought to sway our actions;
Therefore—
(Having crossed the stage, he goes out as still conversing with them. Another detachment of Infantry, with muffled and craped drums, closes the procession; as soon as they are off—
Scene.
draws and discovers the distant view of the encampment.)
(Procession enters in same order as before, proceeds up the stage, and goes off the opposite side.)
(Enter M'Donald, leading Bland, who looks wildly back.)
Bland. I dare not thee resist. Yet why, O why
Thus hurry me away?—
M'Donald. Would'st thou behold—
Bland. O, name it not!
M'Donald. Or would'st thou, by thy looks
And gestures wild, o'erthrow that manly calmness
Which, or assumed or felt, so well becomes thy friend?
Bland. What means that cannon's sound?
M'Donald. (After a pause.) Signal of death
Appointed. André, thy friend, is now no more.
Bland. Farewell, farewell, brave spirit! O! let my countrymen,
Henceforward when the cruelties of war
Arise in their remembrance; when their ready
Speech would pour forth torrents in their foe's dispraise,
Think on this act accurst, and lock complaint in silence.
M'Donald. Such are the dictates of the heart, not head.
O, may the children of Columbia still
Be taught by every teacher of mankind,
Each circumstance of calculative gain,
Or wounded pride, which prompted our oppressors;
May every child be taught to lisp the tale;
And may, in times to come, no foreign force,
No European influence, tempt to mis-state,
Or awe the tongue of eloquence to silence.
Still may our children's children deep abhor
The motives, doubly deep detest the actors;
Ever remembering that the race who plann'd,
Who acquiesced, or did the deeds abhor'd,
Has pass'd from off the earth; and, in its stead,
Stand men who challenge love or detestation
But from their proper, individual deeds
Never let memory of the sire's offence
Descend upon the son.
CURTAIN DROPS.
