and the children of her children.- Terror implore him not to forsake ire Thou knowest, for I have often re. in the agonies of death. lated it to thee, the state of Adam at Seth. O, my beloved father, I will the moment of his creation : now how die with thee. Why dost thou leave changed! how altered !--now I must me, father? die: my children too must die; and I Adam. To adore the power of God. their faiber noust bring that death upon them. O, that thought lies as heavy

Eighth Scene, as a mountain on ne: it is a thought

SETH solus). most horrible. Go, my son, and cheer my Selima: I will retire, and, close

0, inexpressible grief! not to be to the altar, make myself a grave.

named by hunian lips: it will prev on Scth. I will not leave thee, nor shalt my life till my bones are laid with his

. thou make for thyself a grave:-0, I

O thou first and best of fathers-father conjure thee, by the mercy of that of the yet unborn; parent of the liuBeing who has hitherto supported man race; this day is the day of his thee, make you for thyself a grave,

death-the day of the death of my Adam. Abel is buried there, and father. How soon has it arrived, atthere will I be buried too. Would tended with all its terrors, to ask me, you wish to see me mouldering before with a warning voice, if in my hear:

I fear the Almighty. 0, I will repair your eyes ? Seth. 0! thou great God, whose to my father, and, by bis side, pro.

strate myself before the altar, ! 'his judgment is suspended over us! Ädum. Tlic terrors of the Almighty his grave. O! the grave of my father

trembling arm shall assist him to dig are around me: I inust avert my face from thee, my son. It is a day ofierror. and thou terrible voice, -" Ere the What is it that moves yonder :-Dost sun has set behind yon cudar woud!" thou not sce the socks tremble, my

SECOND ACT.- First Scene. Le approaches ! — Dost thou

ADAM. SETH. not hear his steps? Dout thou net now behold licw violently the hill near our Adam (who stands leaning on the albut is agitated! On that hill he stands, tar, close to his grure). It is terrible, Dost thou not behold him in his ter- my son. Here, indeed, the rose spreads rors clad?

its fragrance, and the cedar lifts its Seth. Da'kness surrounds me!-my branches on high; but still it is tervision is dimmed; but I can hear.

rible. Here I must sink into cor. Adam fto Seth). Then hear him toption: I, who sprang forth from the and me. (To the Angel of Death) I plastic hand of the Almighiy; know thy tontsteps wel, Messenger of bom of mortal; 1, the first of Leings, the Judgment!' Angel of Death! and Edlen's blissful tenant. Now Detrover-bere ain i.

corruption, with its dread attendants, The singel of Death. Thus He says, stands before me. Vy eve grows diui: lewhotion dust created tlice man, my arm trembles : wiib difficulty line ere the sun has set behind yon cedar hale the breaid of life. I feel the chillwood, ihou shalt die the death. Alany less of death creeping slowly over me: of thy face will die; many will sink I feel it bere-here in ini licart--nov into death in peace; but, thou shalt ansiously throbbing with the last pulse die the death. When I return, and of life. I shall die the death: Ishall with my presence shake the-e rocks, not sink into dual, as sleep falls on that they together tali, – then choti iliepies of the ivfaut.

Ny eve still shalt die. Thine eve will become diarli, grois dimmer: come, my son, ele and thou shalt not see';. but thine (ar creation, with all its fuir forms, is will hear the thundering roar of the closed upon liie', lei se once more falling rocks, cre the sun has set be- survev one litile pari of be glorious bind von cedar wood.

cart-uy materiali: open wie Adum. Tell Him, who from cleinst the door of my lwi, and let the procreated me man), and who has visiiod spect in tovarate Scien. • me with his judgment, that I will p!<)

Seth. Louder lie the mountains of strate myself betone lim, and adore Eden. his power.

And (), thou Angel of Adam. I cannot sce the mountains.

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Is the sun wholly covered with clouds, strikes terror to my soul! Thou art myson?

terribly pale, my father: I did not see Seth. There are many clouds, and Abel in his death, but I have seen a heavily they roll; but the sun is not youth, who died, ere a few slimmers wholly covered.

had given strength to his form, and Adam. Is it far from the cedarwood? whose death was concealed from but do not tell me; in a short time I you,will ask thee again.

Adam. Then shall I, with my Abel, Seth. Now, by heavy clouds, the sun meet one more of my children? Ah! is obscured; black, as when the tem- they have, perhaps, concealed, both pest rages.

from thee and me, the death of many. Adam. I see them not; vor, when Did the youth fear the Almighty? the sun again emerges, shall I behold Seth. His soul was good. No fear it: for, when I once again return to my pervaded me when he died, for ho grave, I shall never leave it. Come, died with the smile of an angel: but Ay son, let me rest on tlice.

I could not support the view of him Seth. My father!

when he was dead. - But Selima Adam. Ye beautiful plains ! ye lofty comes. mountains! ye cool amd shady vallies! Adam. Ah! Sunim, my younger ve flowers of the fields, which yield to son !--my Sunim is not yei found. the foot of the wanderer! ye trees,

Second Scene. which, on the mountain's top, pene

SELIMA. The Former. trate ihe clouds! ye blissful fields, in which, with joy, I have wandered; in

Selima. Be not angry, my father, which Liobaled life and health in that I again trespass against your which I have been so long and so often commands: but hear me, my father. happy; in which I have seen all my chil. There is a man walking round our dren, and so many living beings around but,-a man, such as before I have me! And thou, superior to all, thou never seen. He says, he comes to Eden-but I cannot speak the bliss [ Adam: but, when I view him, a ter- • there enjoyed; for now, with the re- sible shivering passes over me. Some meinbrance of that bliss, inust my tears men musť elsewhere reside, who are be mingled; and, in this solcmn hour, not thy sons; för Adam's son is this with my tears I will not profane it. man not. On this day, from all ye beloved ob.

Adum. How is this man form d, jects, I take my last farewel:-on this Selima? day, on which I cease to be a mortal.

Selima. Tall, with a threatening Yet, ye will not cease to bear the mien. His eyes are sunk, and wildly marks of the curse which, with my they roll about, as if in search of some mortality, was pronounced upon you.

particular object. He has covered I will retire, my son, for I can now himself with spotted skins; and, in scarcely distinguish the river from the his hand, he bears a heavy knotted plain. What will my feelings be, club. He seems burnt by the sun, when I shall no longer be able to dis- and yet looks paie; but not so pale as tinguish the best of my sons? ( Aside) thou art, my father. he trembles; I must collect myself.

Adam. Did not the man uncover (To Seth) i am fearful that Selima his forehead? will join us : 0, how could I support

Selima. Yes, he did expose it; and the grief and melancholy of that ten- on it there was something, which I der innocent!

cannot describe; for I trembled as I Seth. I can no longer conceal it beheld it :-it appeared as if it had from you, my father, I have lately been scorched by' lightning. seen Selima pass several times anxious- Adain. It is Cain! Seth, it is Cain! ly before the hut.

The Almighty has sent him to make Adam. Tell me, my son, shall I be my death still more bitter. Go, and able to conceal from her the melan- learn if it be he: go, and tell him to choly truth? Sits the paleness of death betake himself to ibe woods; that I already on my cheeks? Thou turnest will not view his face: but, if he be away from me!

resolved to come, then has God seut Seth. Each word thou speakest him hither, and I have merited it: UNIVERSAL Mag. VOL. XIV,

2 A


my father?

but, first conceal the altar, that he may then I will answer thine. Who is the not view his brother's blood.

man who conducted me bither?

Adam. It is my second son, Seth. Third Scene.

Cain. I require not thy compassion: Selima. Oh! my father ! what abyss it is thy third son. And now I will is that before the altar?

answer thee:- I am come, Adam, to Adam. Hast thou never yet beheld

revenge myself on thee. a grave, Selima.

Seth. Wilt thou also murder my Selima. What is a grave, my father? father?

Adam ( aside). O, day of 'terror!. Cain. Ere thou wert born, was I Cain comes, and this innocent, be deeply sunk in misery: leave Adam loved child betore me.

and myself together; I will not kill Selima. O, speak to me, my father: thy father. thou art not angry with me: thou Adam. What cause hast thou, Cain, wert wont to call me thy Selima.

to revenge thyself on me? Adam. Thou art my Selima, my Cain. That thou gavest me existmuch beloved daughter. Selima. But, thou saidst, my father,

Adam. For that reason, my firstthat Cain was come to make thy born son? deaih still more bitter:-Oh! I can

Cain. Yes; and that I have murnot express anyself: thou wilt not die, dered my brother Abel; that his blood

cries aloud to the throne of the AlAdam. Be noi so afflicted, my Se, mighty; that anong all the children lima; thou koowest that God has told which have been born to thee, I am us, that we are made of dust, and that the most miserable of all that ever will to dust we shall return. My hairs have be born to thee: the most wretched, now long been grey; e'en they were that, burthened with this misery, I grey before thou wert born. – 0, that must stalk the earth and find no rest, Cain may not afflict me too much ing-place; nor even in Heaven shall I to-day!

find it: therefore I will revenge mySelima. O! for the sake of thy better self on thee. sons; for the sake of Abel, of Seth,and

Adam. Ere I commanded thee to Heman; for the sake of the infants shun my presence for ever, often have whom thou wilt bless, for the first I answered thy complaints; but never time, this day: for their sakes, 0 die bast thou so related them to me as on not, my father!

this most terrible of all my days. Adam. Weep not, my dear daughter.

Cain. Thou hast never answered me Rise, they approach.

them sufficiently; and, if thou this Fourth Scene.

day dost feel how strong and true they

are, still that is not the revenge I seek. CAIN. SETH. The Former.

For years, for many long and dismal Cain, Art thou Adam? Thou wert years, have I resolved to revenge mynot wont to turn pale at the sight of self on thee; and my revenge shall be those whom thou hast made miserable. keen, dreadful, and unparalleled :

Adam. Spare, at least, that weeping this day will I execute it. innocent, my Selima.

Seth. If thy rage dims not thy viCain. Has innocence e'er dwelt up- sion, look, Cain, look on bis grey on the earth since Adam was a fa. hairs ! ther?

Cain. Be he grey or bald, I am the Adam (to Selima). Leave us, my most wretched of his children, I will daughter: Seth shall call thee when revenge myself-revenge myself op Cain bath departed.

bim, for to him I owe my existence.

Adam (to Seth). His and my Judge Fifth Scene.

has sent him hither.What is then ADAM. CAIN. SETH.

thy revenge, Cain? Adam. Why hast thou travsgressed Cain. I will curse thee. my orders ? Why, with thy presence, Adam. That is too inuch, my son,bast thou disturbed the tranquillity of Cain: curse thy father not: for the

sake of that salvation which thou still Cain. First answer me one question, mayst fipd, curse Adam not.

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my hut?

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Cain. I will curse thee.

men themselves, for not giving them Adam. Come then, and I will shew the means to avoid superstition:thee the place where thou shalt curse Wherefore if their zeal has been inine. Come, this is thy father's grave: discreet, their intention has been this day is the day of my death : it has good: and we may venture to affirm, been announced to me by an angel of from the eagerness they shewed in death,

embracing religion and cleaving so Cain. And what altar is that? close to it under all the disadvantages

Seth. O, thou most unfortunate of it appeared to them in, they would men, because thou art the most cri- have as firmly adhered to true piety minal! that is Abel's altar, and on had they obtained a clearer light of it. these stones his blood.

What should hinder us from reguCain. The rage of Hell rises in me! lating our minds by the faith and That altar, that terrible aitar, lies like discipline of Christ and his church? a rock upon me. Where am I? Where If we laid the foundation of philosois Adam? Hear me, Adai: my curse phy and scholastic divinity ; should begins :-On the day on which thou, we not be as able as the men, in the wilt die, Adan-on the last of thy progress of our studies, to understand, davs, may the agonics of seven thou- compare and interpret the holy scripsand dying inortals seize thee: may tures, the writings of the fathers and the image of corruption

the sacred canons ? Might we not quaAdam. It is too much; it is too lify our minds and hearts to compose much, my first born. Now I fully religious works, to preach, to confute comprehend thee, thou sentence of novelties, to regulate ourselves and death, which above was pronounced others, to remove their scruples, and upon me: I understand it willy. to resolve cases of conscience, as well Cease, Occase, my first-boro son!

as the most learned casuists living? Cain. Ah! Ah! have I shed my Thus far I insist, there is no science father's blood? Where am I? Who or public office in a state, which will lead ine from this appalling scene women are not as much qualified for -who will lead me that I may find by nature as the ablest of men. With 1.- abyss of Hell? But my failer is regard however to divinity, our patubere! Is it he bimself? or doth he ral capacity has been restrained by a appear to me? Avert thy face from positive law of God; and therefore me, that I may fly! (He hastes away), we know better than to lay claimi to

R. H. what we could not practise without To be concluded in our next.] sacrilegious intrusion. Though, by

the bye, let it be observed that the bar which our Divine Saviour has put to

our exercising any religious functions, SEARCE TRACTS.

neither bars us from any other public

ottices, nor proves us upworthy or No. II.

naturally incapable of exercising even WOMAN not inferior to MAN. them. That he forbad us those func

tions proves us naturally apt for them. (Continued from p. 104.] But why he forbad us, it would be

presumptuous to enquire. However PRACTICE sufficiently speaks as if it is lawtul to reason at all upon the we receive the gospel with reverence reason, whicri carries its own probabiand bumility, and submit to its doc- lity with it and rather redounds to the trines and precepts in a more exen- bonour than disrepute of our sex. plary manner than the generality of God undoubtedly knew the general thein. Í own, some of our sex have tendency of the men to impiery and carried their worship to superstitious irreligion; and therefore why might lengths ; but have not many of the he not conting the functions of remen done so too? And yet the latter ligion to that sex, to attract some of are the most culpable : since the igno- them at least to those duties they bave sance in which the foriner have been such a general apathy for ? Especially bred reflects all the reproach on the since the natural propensity of our




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done us.

sex to virtue and religion, made it un- her; content to see the work already necessary to add any of those external done to my hand, by that sex itselt: helps to his divine grace, in order and therefore refer


readers for a to win us to what our hearts lead farther account of this true woman

to what the Reverend Mr. Birch says If then we set custom and preju- of her in the History of the Works of dice aside, where would the oddity the Learned : * which is so much the be to see us dictating sciences from a more to be relied on as it comes from university chair ; since to name but a man ; one of that sex which seems one of a thousand, that foreign young to pique itself with no other degree lady, whose extraordinary merit and of equity, than that of never praising capacity but a few years ago forced a any of ours beyond their desert. It university in Italy to break through the comparison, this candid gentlethe rules of pariiality, custom, and man there makes between the talents prejudice, in her favour, to confer on of our sex and his own, should prove her a Doctor's degree, is a living proof too galling for their innate jealousy; that we are as capable, as any of the let the men excuse him at least, and men, of the highest eminences in the pacify themselves with the reflection sphere of learning, if we had justice on the thanks they all oue him for

giving us this fresh instance, in his It is not so much to do justice to own person, of the possibility of findniy own sex, that I quote this in- ing a man who can ihrow off passion stánce, as to favour the men, by and prejudice, for the sake of truth shewing that it is not absolutely im- and honesty. possible for them to be sometimes We may easily conclude then, that, just, without a miracle. Indeed it if our sex, as it hitherto appears, might require, in all probability, the have all the talents requisite to learn Jabours of' a wandering Jew, to pro- and teach those sciences, which qualiduce a few more instances of the like fy men for power and dignity; they equity towards us in that jealous, un- are equally capable of applying their generous sex. But to find many knowledge to practice, in exercising ladies nothing inferior in merit to the that power and dignity. And since, last-mentioned, we need veither the as we have said, this nation has seen pains of running back to antiquity, many glorious instances of women, nor the expence of a voyage to foreign severally qualified to have all public climes. Our own age and country authority centered in them: why may may boast of more than one Sappho, they noi be as qualified at least for the numbers of Cornelias, and no scarcity subordinate offices of ministers of of Schurmans and Daciers. If I state, vice-queens, governesses, secrechose to unite the several excellences taries, privy-counsellors, and treasuof all these illustrious names in one, I rers? Or why may they not, without might quote an Eliza not more to be oddity, be even generals of armies, envied for the towering superiority of and admirals of fleets. But this will her genius and judgmert, than ho- be more proper to consider sepanoured for the use she makes of them. rately. Her early advances in ancient and modern learning in general having raised her above the imitation of the Whether IVomen are naturally qualimen, as the many excellent virtues,

fied for militury offices, or not. added to her extensive knowledge, have secured her the esteem of the I must confess, I cannot find how women; it is no wonder that, wbile the oddity would be greater, to see a the former are forced to admire her lady with a truncheon in her hand, in spite of prejudice, we are at liberty than with a crown on her head; or to do justice to her merit without why it should create more surprise, 10 fearing the suspicion of partiality to see her preside in a council of war, wards her. However, as her own iban in a council of state. Why excellence has extorted her just may she not be as capable of heading praise from the mouth of prejudice itself, I shall forbcar to characterise

* For June, 1799.


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