The Tiffin weekly tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1859-1868, 1868-05-21
ACT FIRST.

Scene 1st-Jeon Dubois discorcred
standing L. C--trecs, rocks, DC,
IN back ground.
JEAN DUBoIs-For years have |
dwelt here at 0lderuu, w;:''7 the
sight of you tall mountain peaks,
whose grand heads do pierce the pass
ing clouds, aud grasp the snowy ieath
ers from their wings to twine in
wreaths Of spotless purity, around
about their grand eternal brows.
Here have l lived Of living it be call.
cd, this dull routine of toll from
morn till night,) for twenty years.
the span of my short life. Yet
have / longed to see the outside
world, to know how joys or passion S
tides, may move the soul of man to
struggle after fame. As | stand here,
aud watch the Aocks of sheep, in
snowy lines, climb up the winding
path, that leads them to the pastures
on the hills, the thought will come
that shall strive to climb the path
that leads the way up wisdom's hill,
where might see my cherished hopes
fulfilled, Of gaining wisdom, and an
honored name. Still, as | turn and
gaze along the vale, there, also, l be-
hold the grazing herds who gain their
pas,urage not by arduous toll, and
dargerS braved, to climb the weary
hill. And then | ask shall l content
myself to pass through life alons its
humber walks, or wear my soul, by
rough collision with the hinty rocks
and thorns of busy life2 This quiet
place, (untroubled by the storms, the
vexing winds and clouds that blind
ing whirl above the sea Of busy fret.
full lile,) is dear to me. l love this
cherished spot. l love to watch the
shepherd and the sheep, (when the
long shadows iengthen to the east, }
wind down along the path upon the
hills, to seek for safety in the shell
tered folds ere night shall bring
abroad the prowling wolf. love to
gaze upon the river Doin, to see it
leap the fOaming precipice, ana burst
in rain6ows on the rocks below, then
rambling through the fields aud YER
dant wales, sweep southward to the
distant middle sea. Too see our
maidens tripping to the stream to ill
their pitchers from its crystal tide,
then bear them homeward on their
graceful heads in imitation of the
eastern style. Aud the old mill
whose green a ID ruml ling wheel, for
fifty years, has c. aseless rolled
around. Its o d ro,f, whereou the
cooling dove would gather moss to
line her downy nest. The old stone
bridge, spanning the river Dcin,
across whose trembling top the lum
bering cart bears to the mill the pro-
duce of the farm. All these are deai
to me; love them all. Associated
with my youthful days, I've learneo
to look upon them all as friends
Could | but know the wish that fill,
my heart would be fNlfilled, then
should be content here | could liv,
in peace, and pass that space Of tim
that links the past with future years
the unknown past, before that W
we're born. aud unknown future, afte
we shall die. He who hath seen fai
Eleanor Estell, eau we'll conceive tn
restlessness of mind, that | hay
known, since first l learned to love
Could | but know, my love would b.
returned, desert life, or some lonl
ocean isle, would be t. me thoughl
of perfect bliss. Looking oG H.
Here comes poor blanco; he, whose
darkened mind leads him to wander
lonely on the hills away from men
How sad must be fate that shuts hin
thus away from hope or love. If il
be true that there's a future life
where every soul shall gain highel
stale, and what we learn in thii
life will be there expanded to perfec
tion's full extent, he'll be condemn
ed to carry with him there the empty
ness of what his life has been, u dul
and dreary blank. [Goes Il on stage
Enter Bidnco Il. head bent toriCad
and takesPosition on The stage at b, {
front.
BLANco.-The sun shines brightly
Fion the crags aud eaverns of til
tall Pyrenees, the joyous day, come
wandering to the wales, bringin,
gladness, alike to the Cottage o
the peasants and tue Mansions Of tn
rich, The lambkins gambol besid,
their danes, and the young ibex
bounds along the mountain steep
All is JOY and gladness, except in tn
heart Of Blaneo, There, all is night
Grim silent darkness sits snthroned
where joy, aud bright thoughts shoul,
hold their sway. Oh i Death Tho
of the sable wing and 10y breath
4 How Oft hast thou, with thy col,
clammy hand, quenched the spiritua
light, that beumed from the eyes O
those we loved. How oft hast thou
ca,t the funeral pail of sorrow, owe
all iuturity. What wonder then
that the soul of Blanoo reels, o
that his mind grOvels in the dark
when from his gaze was drawn tn,
heavenly light, that from her truthful
e es, CLEANED Ger his early days
| approaches Jean Young man
la darkness, at midhour Of 'the van
ished night l stood alone upon th'
mountains. eommuning with the stars
] over hoard the Whisnared snaech