to
the perfidious arts of a crafty traitor. She was beautiful, virtuous,
accomplished, and affectionate; he was fraught with sensibility and love.
Doubtless his heart must have deeply suffered; his behaviour denotes the
keenness of his woe; his eyes are everflowing fountains of tears; his
bosom the habitation of sighs; five hundred leagues hath he measured in a
pilgrimage to her tomb; nightly he visits the dreary vault where she now
lies at rest; her solitary grave is his couch; he converses with darkness
and the dead, until each lonely aisle re-echoes his distress. What would
be his penance, had he my cause! were he conscious of having murdered a
beloved wife and darling daughter! Ah wretch!--ah cruel homicide!--what
had those dear victims done to merit such a fate? Were they not ever
gentle and obedient, ever aiming to give thee satisfaction and delight?
Say, that Serafina was enamoured of a peasant; say, that she had
degenerated from the honour of her race. The inclinations are
involuntary; perhaps that stranger was her equal in pedigree and worth.
Had they been fairly questioned, they might have justified, at least
excused, that conduct which appeared so criminal; or had they owned the
offence, and supplicated pardon--O barbarous monster that I am! was all
the husband--was all the father extinguished in my heart? How shall my
own errors be forgiven, if I refused to pardon the frailties of my own
blood--of those who are most dear to my affection? Yet nature pleaded
strongly in their behalf!--My heart was bursting while I dismissed them
to the shades of death. I was maddened with revenge! I was guided by
that savage principle which falsely we call honour.

"Accursed phantom! that assumes the specious title, and misleads our
wretched nation! Is it then honourable to skulk like an assassin, and
plunge the secret dagger in the heart of some unhappy man, who hath
incurred my groundless jealousy or suspicion, without indulging him with
that opportunity which the worst criminal enjoys? Or is it honourable to
poison two defenceless women, a tender wife, an amiable daughter, whom
even a frown would almost have destroyed?--O! this is cowardice,
brutality, hell-born fury and revenge! Heaven hath not mercy to forgive
such execrable guilt. Who gave thee power, abandoned ruffian! over the
lives of those whom God hath stationed as thy fellows of probation;--over
those whom he had sent to comfort and assist thee; to swee