But to Mrs Hemans' _Vespers of Palermo_. It was not the natural bent of genius which led her to the selection of the dramatic form; and when we become thoroughly acquainted with her temperament, and the feelings she loved to indulge, we are rather surprised that she performed the task she undertook with so much spirit, and so large a measure of success, than that she falls short in some parts of her performance. Nothing can be better conceived, or more admirably sustained, than the character of Raimond de Procida. The elder Procida, and the dark revengeful Montalba, are not so successfully treated. We feel that she has designed these figures with sufficient propriety, but she has not animated them; she could not draw from within those fierce emotions which were to infuse life into them. The effort to sympathise, even in imagination, with such characters, was a violence to her nature. The noble and virtuous heroism of the younger Procida was, on the contrary, no other than the overflow of her own genuine feeling. Few modern dramas present more spirit-stirring scenes, than those in which Raimond takes the leading part. Two of those we would particularly mention--one when, on joining the patriot-conspirators, and learning the mode in which they intended to free their country, he refuses, even for so great an object, to stain his soul with assassination and murder; and the other, where, towards the close of the piece, he is imprisoned by the more successful conspirators--is condemned to die for imputed treachery to their cause, and hears that the _battle_ for his country, for which his spirit had so longed, is going forward. We cannot refrain from making a quotation from both these parts of the drama. We shall take the liberty of omitting some lines, in order to compress our extracts. The conspirators have met, and proclaimed their intended scheme-- _Sicilians._ Be it so! If one amongst us stay the avenging steel For love or pity, be his doom as theirs! Pledge we our faith to this. _Raim._ (_rushing forward indignantly._) Our faith to _this!_ No! I but _dreamt_ I heard it: Can it be? My countrymen, my father!--Is it thus That freedom should be won?--Awake!--awake To loftier thoughts!--Lift up, exultingly, On the crowned heights, and to the sweeping winds, Your glorious banner!--Let your trumpet's blast Make the tombs thrill with echoes! Call aloud, Proclaim from all your hills, the land shall bear The stranger's yoke no longer!--What is he Who carries on his practised lip a smile, Beneath his vest a dagger, which but waits Till the heart bounds with joy, to still its beatings? That which our nature's instinct doth recoil from, And our blood curdle at--ay, yours and mine-- A murderer! Heard ye?--Shall that name with ours Go down to after days?