De Bell—­Thou must die. (Draws his sword.) Prepare to meet thy
  Maker. (Stabs him.)

  Reginald (falling)—­I see angels. (Dies.)

De Bell—­Now, leave me, good Smythe; I fain would rest. (Exit Smythe.) O Maud, Maud, my spotless pearl, what craven hand has snatched thee from our midst?  But I will follow thee.  Aha, what have we here?  A phial of poison secreted in the stump of this gnarled oak!  I thank thee, auspicious heaven, for this sweet boon! (Drinks poison.) Farewell, my native land, I die for thee. (Falls and writhes.) Oh, horror! what if the poison be drugged—­no, no—­it must not be—­I must die—­O Maud—­O flag—­O my sweet country!  I reel, I cannot see—­my heart is bursting—­Oh! (Dies.) (Enter troops.)

General Glynne—­Aha!  My daughter!  And Bellville, too!  Both dead!  How sad—­how mortifying.  Convey them to yonder cemetery, and bury them side by side under the weeping-willow.  They were separated in life—­in death let them be united. (Slow curtain.)

During the preliminary campaign of 1884 Field had no end of fun with what he called the “Logan Lyrics,” after this manner: 

  LOGAN’S LAMENT

  We never speak as we pass by—­
  Me to Jim Blaine nor him to I;
  ’Twixt us there floats a cloud of gloom
  Since I have found he’s got a boom.

  We never speak as we pass by,
  We simply nod and drop our eye;
  Yet I can tell by his strange look
  The reason why he writ that book.

  We never speak as we pass by;
  No more we’re bound by friendly tie. 
  The cause of this is very plain—­
  He’s not for me; he’s for Jim Blaine._

As a sequel to the preceding verse, the following touching reminiscence may be read with interest by those familiar with what befell in the fall of 1884: 

  BAR HARBOR:  A REMINISCENCE

  Upon the sandy, rock-ribb’d shore
    One year ago sat you and I,
  And heard the sullen breakers roar,
    And saw the stately ships go by;
  And wanton ocean breezes fanned
    Your cheeks into a ruddy glow,
  And I—­I pressed your fevered hand—­
    One year ago.

  II

  The ocean rose, the mountains fell—­
    And those fair castles we had reared
  Were blighted by the breath of hell,
    And every prospect disappeared;
  Revenge incarnate overthrew
    And wrapped in eternal woe
  The mutual, pleasing hopes we knew
    One year ago!

  III

  I sit to-night in sorrow, and
    I watch the stately ships go by—­
  The hand I hold is not your hand—­
    Alas! ’tis but a ten-spot high! 
  This is the hardest deal of all—­
    Oh! why should fate pursue me so,
  To mind me of that cruel fall—­
    One year ago!_