*c. ll.j THE TrMPHKH IS • ti fcl -. 05 So dreams that sho has wings. Yet can sho fly ?— She can bat coil in circles, nothing more !— M'iiaï. Fie ! from thy spirit no such emblem sprang ! Fllll If. It eamo not with my «pirit to thin world ; Men wrote it there in character" of blood. MOLAT. And would'tt thon blame tho firmament, because 'Tis mirror'd turbidly in tnrbid eyes ? FRANK (teith ble*ling hund, rum ing in). (To PHILIP.) Water! old fellow! (Perceiving MOLAT.) Pardon, noble Sir ! PHILIP. What ails you, then ? FRANK. I lay immersed in thought Hep-wing 'neath tho shadow of yon tree, When near me drew a confident gazelle, Lured by tho fragrance of tho juicy crops. MOLAT. My little favourite ! PHILIP. Well?— FRANK. Somo evil star Next sent a jackal, nowiso of tho smallest. He, furious, seized tho tremulous beast, and rent My heart with pity, and I uprose in wrath, And ere ho could destroy tho gentlo thing I struck him, being unarmed, with my bare fist, A blow that told. Tho slayer I destroyed, And saved the victim,—and that's all. F