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diff --git a/old/fs33w10.txt b/old/fs33w10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b83d9e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/fs33w10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4591 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook The Bride of Messina (play), by Schiller + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy + +Author: Frederich Schiller + +Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6793] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on January 28, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIDE OF MESSINA, BY SCHILLER *** + + + +This eBook was produced by Tapio Riikonen +and David Widger, widger@cecomet.net + + + + + + + THE BRIDE OF MESSINA + + AND + + ON THE USE OF THE CHORUS IN TRAGEDY. + + + By Frederich Schiller + + + + + +THE BRIDE OF MESSINA + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +ISABELLA, Princess of Messina. +DON MANUEL | her Sons. +DON CAESAR | +BEATRICE. +DIEGO, an ancient Servant. +MESSENGERS. +THE ELDERS OF MESSINA, mute. +THE CHORUS, consisting of the Followers of the two Princes. + + + +SCENE I. + + A spacious hall, supported on columns, with entrances on both sides; + at the back of the stage a large folding-door leading to a chapel. + + DONNA ISABELLA in mourning; the ELDERS OF MESSINA. + +ISABELLA. +Forth from my silent chamber's deep recesses, +Gray Fathers of the State, unwillingly +I come; and, shrinking from your gaze, uplift +The veil that shades my widowed brows: the light +And glory of my days is fled forever! +And best in solitude and kindred gloom +To hide these sable weeds, this grief-worn frame, +Beseems the mourner's heart. A mighty voice +Inexorable--duty's stern command, +Calls me to light again. + Not twice the moon +Has filled her orb since to the tomb ye bore +My princely spouse, your city's lord, whose arm +Against a world of envious foes around +Hurled fierce defiance! Still his spirit lives +In his heroic sons, their country's pride: +Ye marked how sweetly from their childhood's bloom +They grew in joyous promise to the years +Of manhood's strength; yet in their secret hearts, +From some mysterious root accursed, upsprung +Unmitigable, deadly hate, that spurned +All kindred ties, all youthful, fond affections, +Still ripening with their thoughtful age; not mine +The sweet accord of family bliss; though each +Awoke a mother's rapture; each alike +Smiled at my nourishing breast! for me alone +Yet lives one mutual thought, of children's love; +In these tempestuous souls discovered else +By mortal strife and thirst of fierce revenge. + +While yet their father reigned, his stern control +Tamed their hot spirits, and with iron yoke +To awful justice bowed their stubborn will: +Obedient to his voice, to outward seeming +They calmed their wrathful mood, nor in array +Ere met, of hostile arms; yet unappeased +Sat brooding malice in their bosoms' depths; +They little reek of hidden springs whose power +Can quell the torrent's fury: scarce their sire +In death had closed his eyes, when, as the spark +That long in smouldering embers sullen lay, +Shoots forth a towering flame; so unconfined +Burst the wild storm of brothers' hate triumphant +O'er nature's holiest bands. Ye saw, my friends, +Your country's bleeding wounds, when princely strife +Woke discord's maddening fires, and ranged her sons +In mutual deadly conflict; all around +Was heard the clash of arms, the din of carnage, +And e'en these halls were stained with kindred gore. + +Torn was the state with civil rage, this heart +With pangs that mothers feel; alas, unmindful +Of aught but public woes, and pitiless +You sought my widow's chamber--there with taunts +And fierce reproaches for your country's ills +From that polluted spring of brother's hate +Derived, invoked a parent's warning voice, +And threatening told of people's discontent +And princes' crimes! "Ill-fated land! now wasted +By thy unnatural sons, ere long the prey +Of foeman's sword! Oh, haste," you cried, "and end +This strife! bring peace again, or soon Messina +Shall bow to other lords." Your stern decree +Prevailed; this heart, with all a mother's anguish +O'erlabored, owned the weight of public cares. +I flew, and at my children's feet, distracted, +A suppliant lay; till to my prayers and tears +The voice of nature answered in their breasts! + +Here in the palace of their sires, unarmed, +In peaceful guise Messina shall behold +The long inveterate foes; this is the day! +E'en now I wait the messenger that brings +The tidings of my sons' approach: be ready +To give your princes joyful welcome home +With reverence such as vassals may beseem. +Bethink ye to fulfil your subject duties, +And leave to better wisdom weightier cares. +Dire was their strife to them, and to the State +Fruitful of ills; yet, in this happy bond +Of peace united, know that they are mighty +To stand against a world in arms, nor less +Enforce their sovereign will against yourselves. + + [The ELDERS retire in silence; she beckons to + an old attendant, who remains. + + Diego! + +DIEGO. + Honored mistress! + +ISABELLA. +Old faithful servant, then true heart, cone near me; +Sharer of all a mother's woes, be thine +The sweet communion of her joys: my treasure +Shrined in thy heart, my dear and holy secret +Shall pierce the envious veil, and shine triumphant +To cheerful day; too long by harsh decrees, +Silent and overpowered, affection yet +Shall utterance find in Nature's tones of rapture! +And this imprisoned heart leap to the embrace +Of all it holds most dear, returned to glad +My desolate halls; + So bend thy aged steps +To the old cloistered sanctuary that guards +The darling of my soul, whose innocence +To thy true love (sweet pledge of happier days)! +Trusting I gave, and asked from fortune's storm +A resting place and shrine. Oh, in this hour +Of bliss; the dear reward of all thy cares. +Give to my longing arms my child again! + + [Trumpets are heard in the distance. + +Haste! be thy footsteps winged with joy--I hear +The trumpet's blast, that tells in warlike accents +My sons are near: + + [Exit DIEGO. Music is heard in an opposite direction, + and becomes gradually louder. + + Messina is awake! +Hark! how the stream of tongues hoarse murmuring +Rolls on the breeze,--'tis they! my mother's heart +Feels their approach, and beats with mighty throes +Responsive to the loud, resounding march! +They come! they come! my children! oh, my children! + + [Exit. + + The CHORUS enters. + + (It consists of two semi-choruses which enter at the same time + from opposite sides, and after marching round the stage range + themselves in rows, each on the side by which it entered. One + semi-chorus consists of young knights, the other of older ones, + each has its peculiar costume and ensigns. When the two choruses + stand opposite to each other, the march ceases, and the two leaders + speak.) [The first chorus consists of Cajetan, Berengar, Manfred, + Tristan, and eight followers of Don Manuel. The second of Bohemund, + Roger, Hippolyte, and nine others of the party of Don Caesar. + + First Chorus (CAJETAN). + + I greet ye, glittering halls + Of olden time + Cradle of kings! Hail! lordly roof, + In pillared majesty sublime! + + Sheathed be the sword! + In chains before the portal lies + The fiend with tresses snake-entwined, + Fell Discord! Gently treat the inviolate floor! + Peace to this royal dome! + Thus by the Furies' brood we swore, + And all the dark, avenging Deities! + + Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). + + I rage! I burn! and scarce refrain + To lift the glittering steel on high, + For, lo! the Gorgon-visaged train + Of the detested foeman nigh: + Shall I my swelling heart control? + To parley deign--or still in mortal strife + The tumult of my soul? + Dire sister, guardian of the spot, to thee + Awe-struck I bend the knee, + Nor dare with arms profane thy deep tranquillity! + + First Chorus (CAJETAN). + + Welcome the peaceful strain! + Together we adore the guardian power + Of these august abodes! + Sacred the hour + To kindred brotherly ties + And reverend, holy sympathies;-- + Our hearts the genial charm shall own, + And melt awhile at friendship's soothing tone:-- + But when in yonder plain + We meet--then peace away! + Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray! + + The whole Chorus. + + But when in yonder plain + We meet--then peace away! + Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray! + + First Chorus (BERENGAR). + + I hate thee not--nor call thee foe, + My brother! this our native earth, + The land that gave our fathers birth:-- + Of chief's behest the slave decreed, + The vassal draws the sword at need, + For chieftain's rage we strike the blow, + For stranger lords our kindred blood must flow. + + Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). + + Hate fires their souls--we ask not why;-- + At honor's call to fight and die, + Boast of the true and brave! + Unworthy of a soldier's name + Who burns not for his chieftain's fame! + + The whole Chorus. + + Unworthy of a soldier's name + Who burns not for his chieftain's fame! + + One of the Chorus (BERENGAR). + + Thus spoke within my bosom's core + The thought--as hitherward I strayed; + And pensive 'mid the waving store, + I mused, of autumn's yellow glade:-- + These gifts of nature's bounteous reign,-- + The teeming earth, and golden grain, + Yon elms, among whose leaves entwine + The tendrils of the clustering vine;-- + Gay children of our sunny clime,-- + Region of spring's eternal prime! + Each charm should woo to love and joy, + No cares the dream of bliss annoy, + And pleasure through life's summer day + Speed every laughing hour away. + We rage in blood,--oh, dire disgrace! + For this usurping, alien race; + From some far distant land they came, + Beyond the sun's departing flame. + And owned upon our friendly shore + The welcome of our sires of yore. + Alas! their sons in thraldom pine, + The vassals of this stranger line. + + A second (MANFRED). + + Yes! pleased, on our land, from his azure way, + The sun ever smiles with unclouded ray. + But never, fair isle, shall thy sons repose + 'Mid the sweets which the faithless waves enclose. + On their bosom they wafted the corsair bold, + With his dreaded barks to our coast of old. + For thee was thy dower of beauty vain, + 'Twas the treasure that lured the spoiler's train. + Oh, ne'er from these smiling vales shall rise + A sword for our vanquished liberties; + 'Tis not where the laughing Ceres reigns, + And the jocund lord of the flowery plains:-- + Where the iron lies hid in the mountain cave, + Is the cradle of empire--the home of the brave! + + [The folding-doors at the back of the stage are thrown open. + DONNA ISABELLA appears between her sons, DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR. + + Both Choruses (CAJETAN). + + Lift high the notes of praise! + Behold! where lies the awakening sun, + She comes, and from her queenly brow + Shoots glad, inspiring rays. + Mistress, we bend to thee! + + First Chorus. + + Fair is the moon amid the starry choir + That twinkle o'er the sky, + Shining in silvery, mild tranquillity;-- + The mother with her sons more fair! + See! blooming at her side, + She leads the royal, youthful pair; + With gentle grace, and soft, maternal pride, + Attempering sweet their manly fire. + + Second Chorus (BERENGAR). + + From this fair stem a beauteous tree + With ever-springing boughs shall smile, + And with immortal verdure shade our isle; + Mother of heroes, joy to thee! + Triumphant as the sun thy kingly race + Shall spread from clime to clime, + And give a deathless name to rolling time! + +ISABELLA (comes forward with her SONS). +Look down! benignant Queen of Heaven, and still, +This proud tumultuous heart, that in my breast +Swells with a mother's tide of ecstasy, +As blazoned in these noble youths, my image +More perfect shows;--Oh, blissful hour! the first +That comprehends the fulness of my joy, +When long-constrained affection dares to pour +In unison of transport from my heart, +Unchecked, a parent's undivided love: +Oh! it was ever one--my sons were twain. +Say--shall I revel in the dreams of bliss, +And give my soul to Nature's dear emotions? +Is this warm pressure of thy brother's hand +A dagger in thy breast? + [To DON MANUEL. + Or when my eyes +Feed on that brow with love's enraptured gaze, +Is it a wrong to thee? + [To DON CAESAR. + Trembling, I pause, +Lest e'en affection's breath should wake the fires +Of slumbering hate. + [After regarding both with inquiring looks + Speak! In your secret hearts +What purpose dwells? Is it the ancient feud +Unreconciled, that in your father's halls +A moment stilled; beyond the castle gates, +Where sits infuriate war, and champs the bit-- +Shall rage anew in mortal, bloody conflict? + + Chorus (BOHEMUND). + + Concord or strife--the fate's decree + Is bosomed yet in dark futurity! + What comes, we little heed to know, + Prepared for aught the hour may show! + +ISABELLA (looking round). +What mean these arms? this warlike, dread array, +That in the palace of your sires portends +Some fearful issue? needs a mother's heart +Outpoured, this rugged witness of her joys? +Say, in these folding arms shall treason hide +The deadly snare? Oh, these rude, pitiless men, +The ministers of your wrath!--trust not the show +Of seeming friendship; treachery in their breasts +Lurks to betray, and long-dissembled hate. +Ye are a race of other lands; your sires +Profaned their soil; and ne'er the invader's yoke +Was easy--never in the vassal's heart +Languished the hope of sweet revenge;--our sway +Not rooted in a people's love, but owns +Allegiance from their fears; with secret joy-- +For conquest's ruthless sword, and thraldom's chains +From age to age, they wait the atoning hour +Of princes' downfall;--thus their bards awake +The patriot strain, and thus from sire to son +Rehearsed, the old traditionary tale +Beguiles the winter's night. False is the world, +My sons, and light are all the specious ties +By fancy twined: friendship--deceitful name! +Its gaudy flowers but deck our summer fortune, +To wither at the first rude breath of autumn! +So happy to whom heaven has given a brother; +The friend by nature signed--the true and steadfast! +Nature alone is honest--nature only-- +When all we trusted strews the wintry shore-- +On her eternal anchor lies at rest, +Nor heeds the tempest's rage. + +DON MANUEL. + My mother! + +DON CAESAR. + Hear me + +ISABELLA (taking their hands). +Be noble, and forget the fancied wrongs +Of boyhood's age: more godlike is forgiveness +Than victory, and in your father's grave +Should sleep the ancient hate:--Oh, give your days +Renewed henceforth to peace and holy love! + + [She recedes one or two steps, as if to give them space + to approach each other. Both fix their eyes on the ground + without regarding one another. + +ISABELLA (after awaiting for some time, with suppressed emotion, + a demonstration on the part of her sons). +I can no more; my prayers--my tears are vain:-- +'Tis well! obey the demon in your hearts! +Fulfil your dread intent, and stain with blood +The holy altars of your household gods;-- +These halls that gave you birth, the stage where murder +Shall hold his festival of mutual carnage +Beneath a mother's eye!--then, foot to foot, +Close, like the Theban pair, with maddening gripe, +And fold each other in a last embrace! +Each press with vengeful thrust the dagger home, +And "Victory!" be your shriek of death:--nor then +Shall discord rest appeased; the very flame +That lights your funeral pyre shall tower dissevered +In ruddy columns to the skies, and tell +With horrid image--"thus they lived and died!" + + [She goes away; the BROTHERS stand as before. + + Chorus (CAJETAN). + + How have her words with soft control + Resistless calmed the tempest of my soul! + No guilt of kindred blood be mine! + Thus with uplifted hands I prey; + Think, brothers, on the awful day, + And tremble at the wrath divine! + +DON CAESAR (without taking his eyes from the ground). +Thou art my elder--speak--without dishonor +I yield to thee. + +DON MANUEL. + One gracious word, an instant, +My tongue is rival in the strife of love! + +DON CAESAR. +I am the guiltier--weaker---- + +DON MANUEL. + Say not so! +Who doubts thy noble heart, knows thee not well; +The words were prouder, if thy soul were mean. + +DON CAESAR. +It burns indignant at the thought of wrong-- +But thou--methinks--in passion's fiercest mood, +'Twas aught but scorn that harbored in thy breast. + +DON MANUEL. +Oh! had I known thy spirit thus to peace +Inclined, what thousand griefs had never torn +A mother's heart! + +DON CAESAR. + I find thee just and true: +Men spoke thee proud of soul. + +DON MANUEL. + The curse of greatness! +Ears ever open to the babbler's tale. + +DON CAESAR. +Thou art too proud to meanness--I to falsehood! + +DON MANUEL. +We are deceived, betrayed! + +DON CAESAR. + The sport of frenzy! +DON MANUEL. +And said my mother true, false is the world? + +DON CAESAR. +Believe her, false as air. + +DON MANUEL. + Give me thy hand! + +DON CAESAR. +And thine be ever next my heart! + + [They stand clasping each other's hands, + and regard each other in silence. + +DON MANUEL. + I gaze +Upon thy brow, and still behold my mother +In some dear lineament. + +DON CAESAR. + Her image looks +From thine, and wondrous in my bosom wakes +Affection's springs. + +DON MANUEL. + And is it thou?--that smile +Benignant on thy face?--thy lips that charm +With gracious sounds of love and dear forgiveness? + +DON CAESAR. +Is this my brother, this the hated foe? +His mien all gentleness and truth, his voice, +Whose soft prevailing accents breathe of friendship! + + [After a pause. + +DON MANUEL. +Shall aught divide us? + +DON CAESAR. + We are one forever! + + [They rush into each other's arms. + +First CHORUS (to the Second). + + Why stand we thus, and coldly gaze, + While Nature's holy transports burn? + No dear embrace of happier days + The pledge--that discord never shall return! + Brothers are they by kindred band; + We own the ties of home and native land. + + [Both CHORUSES embrace. + + A MESSENGER enters. + +Second CHORUS to DON CAESAR (BOHEMUND). +Rejoice, my prince, thy messenger returns +And mark that beaming smile! the harbinger +Of happy tidings. + +MESSENGER. + Health to me, and health +To this delivered state! Oh sight of bliss, +That lights mine eyes with rapture! I behold +Their hands in sweet accord entwined; the sons +Of my departed lord, the princely pair +Dissevered late by conflict's hottest rage. + +DON CAESAR. +Yes, from the flames of hate, a new-born Phoenix, +Our love aspires! + +MESSENGER. + I bring another joy; +My staff is green with flourishing shoots. + +DON CAESAR (taking him aside). + Oh, tell me +Thy gladsome message. + +MESSENGER. + All is happiness +On this auspicious day; long sought, the lost one +Is found. + +DON CAESAR. + Discovered! Oh, where is she? Speak! + +MESSENGER. +Within Messina's walls she lies concealed. + +DON MANUEL (turning to the First SEMI-CHORUS). +A ruddy glow mounts in my brother's cheek, +And pleasure dances in his sparkling eye; +Whate'er the spring, with sympathy of love +My inmost heart partakes his joy. + +DON CAESAR (to the MESSENGER). + Come, lead me; +Farewell, Don Manuel; to meet again +Enfolded in a mother's arms! I fly +To cares of utmost need. + + [He is about to depart. + +DON MANUEL. + Make no delay; +And happiness attend thee! + +DON CAESAR (after a pause of reflection, he returns). + How thy looks +Awake my soul to transport! Yes, my brother, +We shall be friends indeed! This hour is bright +With glad presage of ever-springing love, +That in the enlivening beam shall flourish fair, +Sweet recompense of wasted years! + +DON MANUEL. + The blossom +Betokens goodly fruit. + +DON CAESAR. + I tear myself +Reluctant from thy arms, but think not less +If thus I break this festal hour--my heart +Thrills with a holy joy. + +DON MANUEL (with manifest absence of mind). + Obey the moment! +Our lives belong to love. + +DON CESAR. + What calls me hence---- + +DON MANUEL. +Enough! thou leav'st thy heart. + +DON CAESAR. + No envious secret +Shall part us long; soon the last darkening fold +Shall vanish from my breast. + + [Turning to the CHORUS. + + Attend! Forever +Stilled is our strife; he is my deadliest foe, +Detested as the gates of hell, who dares +To blow the fires of discord; none may hope +To win my love, that with malicious tales +Encroach upon a brother's ear, and point +With busy zeal of false, officious friendship. +The dart of some rash, angry word, escaped +From passion's heat; it wounds not from the lips, +But, swallowed by suspicion's greedy ear, +Like a rank, poisonous weed, embittered creeps, +And hangs about her with a thousand shoots, +Perplexing nature's ties. + + [He embraces his brother again, and goes away + accompanied by the Second CHORUS. + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + Wondering, my prince, +I gaze, for in thy looks some mystery +Strange-seeming shows: scarce with abstracted mien +And cold thou answered'st, when with earnest heart +Thy brother poured the strain of dear affection. +As in a dream thou stand'st, and lost in thought, +As though--dissevered from its earthly frame-- +Thy spirit roved afar. Not thine the breast +That deaf to nature's voice, ne'er owned the throbs +Of kindred love:--nay more--like one entranced +In bliss, thou look'st around, and smiles of rapture +Play on thy cheek. + +DON MANUEL. + How shall my lips declare +The transports of my swelling heart? My brother +Revels in glad surprise, and from his breast +Instinct with strange new-felt emotions, pours +The tide of joy; but mine--no hate came with me, +Forgot the very spring of mutual strife! +High o'er this earthly sphere, on rapture's wings, +My spirit floats; and in the azure sea, +Above--beneath--no track of envious night +Disturbs the deep serene! I view these halls, +And picture to my thoughts the timid joy +Of my sweet bride, as through the palace gates, +In pride of queenly state, I lead her home. +She loved alone the loving one, the stranger, +And little deems that on her beauteous brow +Messina's prince shall 'twine the nuptial wreath. +How sweet, with unexpected pomp of greatness, +To glad the darling of my soul! too long +I brook this dull delay of crowning bliss! +Her beauty's self, that asks no borrowed charm, +Shall shine refulgent, like the diamond's blaze +That wins new lustre from the circling gold! + +Chorus (CAJETAN). +Long have I marked thee, prince, with curious eye, +Foreboding of some mystery deep enshrined +Within thy laboring breast. This day, impatient, +Thy lips have burst the seal; and unconstrained +Confess a lover's joy;--the gladdening chase, +The Olympian coursers, and the falcon's flight +Can charm no more:--soon as the sun declines +Beneath the ruddy west, thou hiest thee quick +To some sequestered path, of mortal eye +Unseen--not one of all our faithful train +Companion of thy solitary way. +Say, why so long concealed the blissful flame? +Stranger to fear--ill-brooked thy princely heart +One thought unuttered. + +DON MANUEL. + Ever on the wing +Is mortal joy;--with silence best we guard +The fickle good;--but now, so near the goal +Of all my cherished hopes, I dare to speak. +To-morrow's sun shall see her mine! no power +Of hell can make us twain! With timid stealth +No longer will I creep at dusky eve, +To taste the golden fruits of Cupid's tree, +And snatch a fearful, fleeting bliss: to-day +With bright to-morrow shall be one! So smooth +As runs the limpid brook, or silvery sand +That marks the flight of time, our lives shall flow +In continuity of joy! + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + Already +Our hearts, my prince, with silent vows have blessed +Thy happy love; and now from every tongue, +For her--the royal, beauteous bride--should sound +The glad acclaim; so tell what nook unseen, +What deep umbrageous solitude, enshrines +The charmer of thy heart? With magic spells +Almost I deem she mocks our gaze, for oft +In eager chase we scour each rustic path +And forest dell; yet not a trace betrayed +The lover's haunts, ne'er were the footsteps marked +Of this mysterious fair. + +DON MANUEL. + The spell is broke! +And all shall be revealed: now list my tale:-- +'Tis five months flown,--my father yet controlled +The land, and bowed our necks with iron sway; +Little I knew but the wild joys of arms, +And mimic warfare of the chase;-- + One day,-- +Long had we tracked the boar with zealous toil +On yonder woody ridge:--it chanced, pursuing +A snow-white hind, far from your train I roved +Amid the forest maze;--the timid beast, +Along the windings of the narrow vale, +Through rocky cleft and thick-entangled brake, +Flew onward, scarce a moment lost, nor distant +Beyond a javelin's throw; nearer I came not, +Nor took an aim; when through a garden's gate, +Sudden she vanished:--from my horse quick springing, +I followed:--lo! the poor scared creature lay +Stretched at the feet of a young, beauteous nun, +That strove with fond caress of her fair hands +To still its throbbing heart: wondering, I gazed; +And motionless--my spear, in act to strike, +High poised--while she, with her large piteous eyes +For mercy sued--and thus we stood in silence +Regarding one another. + How long the pause +I know not--time itself forgot;--it seemed +Eternity of bliss: her glance of sweetness +Flew to my soul; and quick the subtle flame +Pervaded all my heart:-- + But what I spoke, +And how this blessed creature answered, none +May ask; it floats upon my thought, a dream +Of childhood's happy dawn! Soon as my sense +Returned, I felt her bosom throb responsive +To mine,--then fell melodious on my ear +The sound, as of a convent bell, that called +To vesper song; and, like some shadowy vision +That melts in air, she flitted from my sight, +And was beheld no more. + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + Thy story thrills +My breast with pious awe! Prince, thou hast robbed +The sanctuary, and for the bride of heaven +Burned with unholy passion! Oh, remember +The cloister's sacred vows! + +DON MANUEL. + Thenceforth one path +My footsteps wooed; the fickle train was still +Of young desires--new felt my being's aim, +My soul revealed! and as the pilgrim turns +His wistful gaze, where, from the orient sky, +With gracious lustre beams Redemption's star;-- +So to that brightest point of heaven, her presence, +My hopes and longings centred all. No sun +Sank in the western waves, but smiled farewell +To two united lovers:--thus in stillness +Our hearts were twined,--the all-seeing air above us +Alone the faithful witness of our joys! +Oh, golden hours! Oh, happy days! nor Heaven +Indignant viewed our bliss;--no vows enchained +Her spotless soul; naught but the link which bound it +Eternally to mine! + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + Those hallowed walls, +Perchance the calm retreat of tender youth, +No living grave? + +DON MANUEL. + In infant innocence +Consigned a holy pledge, ne'er has she left +Her cloistered home. + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + But what her royal line? +The noble only spring from noble stem. + +DON MANUEL. +A secret to herself,--she ne'er has learned +Her name or fatherland. + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + And not a trace +Guides to her being's undiscovered springs? + +DON MANUEL. +An old domestic, the sole messenger +Sent by her unknown mother, oft bespeaks her +Of kingly race. + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + And hast thou won naught else +From her garrulous age? + +DON MANUEL. + Too much I feared to peril +My secret bliss! + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + What were his words? What tidings +He bore--perchance thou know'st. + +DON MANUEL. + Oft he has cheered her +With promise of a happier time, when all +Shall be revealed. + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + Oh, say--betokens aught +The time is near? + +DON MANUEL. + Not distant far the day +That to the arms of kindred love once more +Shall give the long forsaken, orphaned maid-- +Thus with mysterious words the aged man +Has shadowed oft what most I dread--for awe +Of change disturbs the soul supremely blest: +Nay, more; but yesterday his message spoke +The end of all my joys--this very dawn, +He told, should smile auspicious on her fate, +And light to other scenes--no precious hour +Delayed my quick resolves--by night I bore her +In secret to Messina. + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + Rash the deed +Of sacrilegious spoil! forgive, my prince, +The bold rebuke; thus to unthinking youth +Old age may speak in friendship's warning voice. + +DON MANUEL. +Hard by the convent of the Carmelites, +In a sequestered garden's tranquil bound, +And safe from curious eyes, I left her,--hastening +To meet my brother: trembling there she counts +The slow-paced hours, nor deems how soon triumphant +In queenly state, high on the throne of fame, +Messina shall behold my timid bride. +For next, encompassed by your knightly train, +With pomp of greatness in the festal show, +Her lover's form shall meet her wondering gaze! +Thus will I lead her to my mother; thus-- +While countless thousands on her passage wait +Amid the loud acclaim--the royal bride +Shall reach my palace gates! + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + Command us, prince, +We live but to obey! + +DON MANUEL. + I tore myself +Reluctant from her arms; my every thought +Shall still be hers: so come along, my friends, +To where the turbaned merchant spreads his store +Of fabrics golden wrought with curious art; +And all the gathered wealth of eastern climes. +First choose the well-formed sandals--meet to guard +And grace her delicate feet; then for her robe +The tissue, pure as Etna's snow that lies +Nearest the sun-light as the wreathy mist +At summer dawn--so playful let it float +About her airy limbs. A girdle next, +Purple with gold embroidered o'er, to bind +With witching grace the tunic that confines +Her bosom's swelling charms: of silk the mantle, +Gorgeous with like empurpled hues, and fixed +With clasp of gold--remember, too, the bracelets +To gird her beauteous arms; nor leave the treasure +Of ocean's pearly deeps and coral caves. +About her locks entwine a diadem +Of purest gems--the ruby's fiery glow +Commingling with the emerald's green. A veil, +From her tiara pendent to her feet, +Like a bright fleecy cloud shall circle round +Her slender form; and let a myrtle wreath +Crown the enchanting whole! + +Chorus (CAJETAN). + We haste, my prince. +Amid the Bazar's glittering rows, to cull +Each rich adornment. + +DON MANUEL. + From my stables lead +A palfrey, milk-white as the steeds that draw +The chariot of the sun; purple the housings, +The bridle sparkling o'er with precious gems, +For it shall bear my queen! Yourselves be ready +With trumpet's cheerful clang, in martial train +To lead your mistress home: let two attend me, +The rest await my quick return; and each +Guard well my secret purpose. + + [He goes away accompanied by two of the CHORUS. + + Chorus (CAJETAN). + + The princely strife is o'er, and say, + What sport shall wing the slow-paced hours, + And cheat the tedious day? + With hope and fear's enlivening zest + Disturb the slumber of the breast, + And wake life's dull, untroubled sea + With freshening airs of gay variety. + + One of the Chorus (MANFRED). + + Lovely is peace! A beauteous boy, + Couched listless by the rivulet's glassy tide, + 'Mid nature's tranquil scene, + He views the lambs that skip with innocent joy, + And crop the meadow's flowering pride:-- + Then with his flute's enchanting sound, + He wakes the mountain echoes round, + Or slumbers in the sunset's ruddy sheen, + Lulled by the murmuring melody. + But war for me! my spirit's treasure, + Its, stern delight, and wilder pleasure: + I love the peril and the pain, + And revel in the surge of fortune's boisterous main! + + A second (BERENGAR). + + Is there not love, and beauty's smile + That lures with soft, resistless wile? + 'Tis thrilling hope! 'tis rapturous fear + 'Tis heaven upon this mortal sphere; + When at her feet we bend the knee, + And own the glance of kindred ecstasy + For ever on life's checkered way, + 'Tis love that tints the darkening hues of care + With soft benignant ray: + The mirthful daughter of the wave, + Celestial Venus ever fair, + Enchants our happy spring with fancy's gleam, + And wakes the airy forms of passion's golden dream. + + First (MANFRED). + + To the wild woods away! + Quick let us follow in the train + Of her, chaste huntress of the silver bow; + And from the rocks amain + Track through the forest gloom the bounding roe, + The war-god's merry bride, + The chase recalls the battle's fray, + And kindles victory's pride:-- + Up with the streaks of early morn, + We scour with jocund hearts the misty vale, + Loud echoing to the cheerful horn + Over mountain--over dale-- + And every languid sense repair, + Bathed in the rushing streams of cold, reviving air. + + Second (BERENGAR). + + Or shall we trust the ever-moving sea, + The azure goddess, blithe and free. + Whose face, the mirror of the cloudless sky, + Lures to her bosom wooingly? + Quick let us build on the dancing waves + A floating castle gay, + And merrily, merrily, swim away! + Who ploughs with venturous keel the brine + Of the ocean crystalline-- + His bride is fortune, the world his own, + For him a harvest blooms unsown:-- + Here, like the wind that swift careers + The circling bound of earth and sky, + Flits ever-changeful destiny! + Of airy chance 'tis the sportive reign, + And hope ever broods on the boundless main + + A third (CAJETAN). + + Nor on the watery waste alone + Of the tumultuous, heaving sea;-- + On the firm earth that sleeps secure, + Based on the pillars of eternity. + Say, when shall mortal joy endure? + New bodings in my anxious breast, + Waked by this sudden friendship, rise; + Ne'er would I choose my home of rest + On the stilled lava-stream, that cold + Beneath the mountain lies + Not thus was discord's flame controlled-- + Too deep the rooted hate--too long + They brooded in their sullen hearts + O'er unforgotten, treasured wrong. In warning visions oft dismayed, + I read the signs of coming woe; + And now from this mysterious maid + My bosom tells the dreaded ills shall flow: + Unblest, I deem, the bridal chain + Shall knit their secret loves, accursed + With holy cloisters' spoil profane. + No crooked paths to virtue lead; + Ill fruit has ever sprung from evil seed! + +BERENGAR. +And thus to sad unhallowed rites +Of an ill-omened nuptial tie, +Too well ye know their father bore +A bride of mournful destiny, +Torn from his sire, whose awful curse has sped +Heaven's vengeance on the impious bed! +This fierce, unnatural rage atones +A parent's crime--decreed by fate, +Their mother's offspring, strife and hate! + + [The scene changes to a garden opening on the sea. + +BEATRICE (steps forward from an alcove. She walks to and fro with an + agitated air, looking round in every direction. Suddenly she + stands still and listens). +No! 'tis not he: 'twas but the playful wind +Rustling the pine-tops. To his ocean bed +The sun declines, and with o'erwearied heart +I count the lagging hours: an icy chill +Creeps through my frame; the very solitude +And awful silence fright my trembling soul! +Where'er I turn naught meets my gaze--he leaves me +Forsaken and alone! +And like a rushing stream the city's hum +Floats on the breeze, and dull the mighty sea +Rolls murmuring to the rocks: I shrink to nothing +With horrors compassed round; and like the leaf, +Borne on the autumn blast, am hurried onward +Through boundless space. + Alas! that e'er I left +My peaceful cell--no cares, no fond desires +Disturbed my breast, unruffled as the stream +That glides in sunshine through the verdant mead: +Nor poor in joys. Now--on the mighty surge +Of fortune, tempest-tossed--the world enfolds me +With giant arms! Forgot my childhood's ties +I listened to the lover's flattering tale-- +Listened, and trusted! From the sacred dome +Allured--betrayed--for sure some hell-born magic +Enchained my frenzied sense--I fled with him, +The invader of religion's dread abodes! +Where art thou, my beloved? Haste--return-- +With thy dear presence calm my struggling soul! + + [She listens. + +Hark! the sweet voice! No! 'twas the echoing surge +That beats upon the shore; alas! he comes not. +More faintly, o'er the distant waves, the sun +Gleams with expiring ray; a deathlike shudder +Creeps to my heart, and sadder, drearier grows +E'en desolation's self. + + [She walks to and fro, and then listens again. + + Yes! from the thicket shade +A voice resounds! 'tis he! the loved one! +No fond illusion mocks my listening ear. +'Tis louder--nearer: to his arms I fly-- +To his breast! + + [She rushes with outstretched arms to the extremity + of the garden. DON CAESAR meets her. + + DON CASAR. BEATRICE. + +BEATRICE (starting back in horror) +What do I see? + + [At the same moment the Chorus comes forward. + +DON CAESAR. + Angelic sweetness! fear not. + [To the Chorus. +Retire! your gleaming arms and rude array +Affright the timorous maid. + [To BEATRICE. + Fear nothing! beauty +And virgin shame are sacred in my eyes. + + [The Chorus steps aside. He approaches and takes her hand. + +Where hast thou been? for sure some envious power +Has hid thee from my gaze: long have I sought thee: +E'en from the hour when 'mid the funeral rites +Of the dead prince, like some angelic vision, +Lit with celestial brightness, on my sight +Thou shonest, no other image in my breast +Waking or dreaming, lives; nor to thyself +Unknown thy potent spells; my glance of fire, +My faltering accents, and my hand that lay +Trembling in thine, bespoke my ecstasy! +Aught else with solemn majesty the rite +And holy place forbade: + The bell proclaimed +The awful sacrifice! With downcast eyes, +And kneeling I adored: soon as I rose, +And caught with eager gaze thy form again, +Sudden it vanished; yet, with mighty magic +Of love enchained, my spirit tracked thy presence; +Nor ever, with unwearied quest, I cease +At palace gates, amid the temple's throng, +In secret paths retired, or public scenes, +Where beauteous innocence perchance might rove, +To mark each passing form--in vain; but, guided +By some propitious deity this day +One of my train, with happy vigilance, +Espied thee in the neighboring church. + + [BEATRICE, who had stood trembling with averted eyes, + here makes a gesture of terror. + + I see thee +Once more; and may the spirit from this frame +Be severed ere we part! Now let me snatch +This glad, auspicious moment, and defy +Or chance, or envious demon's power, to shake +Henceforth my solid bliss; here I proclaim thee, +Before this listening warlike train my bride, +With pledge of knightly honors! + [He shows her to the Chorus. + Who thou art, +I ask not: thou art mine! But that thy soul +And birth are pure alike one glance informed +My inmost heart; and though thy lot were mean, +And poor thy lowly state, yet would I strain thee +With rapture to my arms: no choice remains, +Thou art my love--my wife! Know too, that lifted +On fortune's height, I spurn control; my will +Can raise thee to the pinnacle of greatness-- +Enough my name--I am Don Caesar! None +Is nobler in Messina! + + [BEATRICE starts back in amazement. He remarks her agitation, + and after a pause continues. + + What a grace +Lives in thy soft surprise and modest silence! +Yes! gentle humbleness is beauty's crown-- +The beautiful forever hid, and shrinking +From its own lustre: but thy spirit needs +Repose, for aught of strange--e'en sudden joy-- +Is terror-fraught. I leave thee. + + [Turning to the Chorus. + From this hour +She is your mistress, and my bride; so teach her +With honors due to entertain the pomp +Of queenly state. I will return with speed, +And lead her home as fits Messina's princess. + + [He goes away. + + BEATRICE and the Chorus. + + Chorus (BOHEMUND). + + Fair maiden--hail to thee + Thou lovely queen! + Thine is the crown, and thine the victory! + Of heroes to a distant age, + The blooming mother thou shalt shine, + Preserver of this kingly line. + + (ROGER). + + And thrice I bid thee hail, + Thou happy fair! + Sent in auspicious hour to bless + This favored race--the god's peculiar care. + Here twine the immortal wreaths of fame + And evermore, from sire to son, + Rolls on the sceptered sway, + To heirs of old renown, a race of deathless name! + + (BOHEMUND). + + The household gods exultingly + Thy coming wait; + The ancient, honored sires, + That on the portals frown sedate, + Shall smile for thee! + There blooming Hebe shall thy steps attend; + And golden victory, that sits + By Jove's eternal throne, with waving plumes + For conquest ever spread, + To welcome thee from heaven descend. + + (ROGER.) + + Ne'er from this queenly, bright array + The crown of beauty fades, + Departing to the realms of day, + Each to the next, as good and fair, + Extends the zone of feminine grace, + And veil of purity:-- + Oh, happy race! + What vision glads my raptured eye! + Equal in nature's blooming pride, + I see the mother and the virgin bride. + +BEATRICE (awaking from her reverie). + + Oh, luckless hour! + Alas! ill-fated maid! + Where shall I fly + From these rude warlike men? + Lost and betrayed! + A shudder o'er me came, + When of this race accursed--the brothers twain-- + Their hands embrued with kindred gore, + I heard the dreaded name; + Oft told, their strife and serpent hate + With terror thrilled lay bosom's core:-- + And now--oh, hapless fate! + I tremble, 'mid the rage of discord thrown, + Deserted and alone! + + [She runs into the alcove. + + Chorus (BOHEMUND). + + Son of the immortal deities, + And blest is he, the lord of power; + His every joy the world can give; + Of all that mortals prize + He culls the flower. + + (ROGER). + + For him from ocean's azure caves + The diver bears each pearl of purest ray; + Whate'er from nature's boundless field + Or toil or art has won, + Obsequious at his feet we lay; + His choice is ever free; + We bow to chance, and fortune's blind decree. + + (BOHEMUND.) + + But this of princes' lot I deem + The crowning treasure, joy supreme-- + Of love the triumph and the prize, + The beauty, star of neighboring eyes! + She blooms for him alone, + He calls the fairest maid his own. + + (ROGER). + + Armed for the deadly fray, + The corsair bounds upon the strand, + And drags, amid the gloom of night, away, + The shrieking captive train, + Of wild desires the hapless prey; + But ne'er his lawless hands profane + The gem--the peerless flower-- + Whose charms shall deck the Sultan's bower. + + (BOHEMUND.) + + Now haste and watch, with curious eye, + These hallowed precincts round, + That no presumptuous foot come nigh + The secret, solitary ground + Guard well the maiden fair, + Your chieftain's brightest jewel owns your care. + + [The Chorus withdraws to the background. + + [The scene changes to a chamber in the interior of the palace. + DONNA ISABELLA between DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR. + +ISABELLA. +The long-expected, festal day is come, +My children's hearts are twined in one, as thus +I fold their hands. Oh, blissful hour, when first +A mother dares to speak in nature's voice, +And no rude presence checks the tide of love. +The clang of arms affrights mine ear no more; +And as the owls, ill-omened brood of night, +From some old, shattered homestead's ruined walls, +Their ancient reign, fly forth a dusky swarm, +Darkening the cheerful day; when absent long, +The dwellers home return with joyous shouts, +To build the pile anew; so Hate departs +With all his grisly train; pale Envy, scowling Malice, +And hollow-eyed Suspicion; from our gates, +Hoarse murmuring, to the realms of night; while Peace, +By Concord and fair Friendship led along, +Comes smiling in his place. + [She pauses. + But not alone +This day of joy to each restores a brother; +It brings a sister! Wonderstruck you gaze! +Yet now the truth, in silence guarded long, +Bursts from my soul. Attend! I have a daughter! +A sister lives, ordained by heaven to bind ye +With ties unknown before. + +DON CAESAR. + We have a sister! +What hast thou said, my mother? never told +Her being till this hour! + +DON MANUEL. + In childhood's years, +Oft of a sister we have heard, untimely +Snatched in her cradle by remorseless death; +So ran the tale. + +ISABELLA. + She lives! + +DON CAESAR. + And thou wert silent! + +ISABELLA. +Hear how the seed was sown in early time, +That now shall ripen to a joyful harvest. +Ye bloomed in boyhood's tender age; e'en then +By mutual, deadly hate, the bitter spring +Of grief to this torn, anxious heart, dissevered; +Oh, may your strife return no more! A vision, +Strange and mysterious, in your father's breast +Woke dire presage: it seemed that from his couch, +With branches intertwined, two laurels grew, +And in the midst a lily all in flames, +That, catching swift the boughs and knotted stems, +Burst forth with crackling rage, and o'er the house +Spread in one mighty sea of fire: perplexed +By this terrific dream, my husband sought +An Arab, skilled to read the stars, and long +The trusted oracle, whose counsels swayed +His inmost purpose: thus the boding sage +Spoke Fate's decrees: if I a daughter bore, +Destruction to his sons and all his race +From her should spring. Soon, by heaven's will, this child +Of dreadful omen saw the light; your sire +Commanded instant in the waves to throw +The new-born innocent; a mother's love +Prevailed, and, aided by a faithful servant, +I snatched the babe from death. + +DON CAESAR. + Blest be the hands +The ministers of thy care! Oh, ever rich +Of counsels was a parent's love! + +ISABELLA. + But more +Than Nature's mighty voice, a warning dream +Impelled to save my child: while yet unborn +She slumbered in my womb, sleeping I saw +An infant, fair as of celestial kind, +That played upon the grass; soon from the wood +A lion rushed, and from his gory jaws, +Caressing, in the infant's lap let fall +His prey, new-caught; then through the air down swept +An eagle, and with fond caress alike +Dropped from his claws a trembling kid, and both +Cowered at the infant's feet, a gentle pair. +A monk, the saintly guide whose counsels poured +In every earthly need, the balm of heaven +Upon my troubled soul, my dream resolved. +Thus spoke the man of God: a daughter, sent +To knit the warring spirits of my sons +In bonds of tender love, should recompense +A mother's pains! Deep in my heart I treasured +His words, and, reckless of the Pagan seer, +Preserved the blessed child, ordained of heaven +To still your growing strife; sweet pledge of hope +And messenger of peace! + +DON MANUEL (embracing his brother). + There needs no sister +To join our hearts; she shall but bind them closer. + +ISABELLA. +In a lone spot obscure, by stranger hands +Nurtured, the secret flower has grown; to me +Denied the joy to mark each infant charm +And opening grace from that sad hour of parting; +These arms ne'er clasped my child again! her sire, +To jealousy's corroding fears a prey, +And brooding dark suspicion, restless tracked +Each day my steps. + +DON CAESAR. + Yet three months flown, my father +Sleeps in the tranquil grave; say, whence delayed +The joyous tidings? Why so long concealed +The maid, nor earlier taught our hearts to glow +With brother's love? + +ISABELLA. + The cause, your frenzied hate, +That raging unconfined, e'en on the tomb +Of your scarce buried father, lit the flames +Of mortal strife. What! could I throw my daughter +Betwixt your gleaming blades? Or 'mid the storm +Of passion would ye list a woman's counsels? +Could she, sweet pledge of peace, of all our hopes +The last and holy anchor, 'mid the rage +Of discord find a home? Ye stand as brothers, +So will I give a sister to your arms! +The reconciling angel comes; each hour +I wait my messenger's return; he leads her +From her sequestered cell, to glad once more +A mother's eyes. + +DON MANUEL. + Nor her alone this day +Thy arms shall fold; joy pours through all our gates; +Soon shall the desolate halls be full, the seat +Of every blooming grace. Now hear my secret: +A sister thou hast given; to thee I bring +A daughter; bless thy son! My heart has found +Its lasting shrine: ere this day's sun has set +Don Manuel to thy feet shall lead his bride, +The partner of his days. + +ISABELLA. + And to my breast +With transport will I clasp the chosen maid +That makes my first-born happy. Joy shall spring +Where'er she treads, and every flower that blooms +Around the path of life smile in her presence! +May bliss reward the son, that for my brows +Has twined the choicest wreath a mother wears. + +DON CAESAR. +Yet give not all the fulness of thy blessing +To him, thy eldest born. If love be blest, +I, too, can give thee joy. I bring a daughter, +Another flower for thy most treasured garland! +The maid that in this ice-cold bosom first +Awoke the rapturous flame! Ere yonder sun +Declines, Don Caesar's bride shall call thee mother. + +DON MANUEL. +Almighty Love! thou godlike power--for well +We call thee sovereign of the breast! Thy sway +Controls each warring element, and tunes +To soft accord; naught lives but owns thy greatness. +Lo! the rude soul that long defied thee melts +At thy command! + [He embraces DON CAESAR. + Now I can trust thy heart, +And joyful strain thee to a brother's arms! +I doubt thy faith no more, for thou canst love! + +ISABELLA. +Thrice blest the day, when every gloomy care +From my o'erlabored breast has flown. I see +On steadfast columns reared our kingly race, +And with contented spirit track the stream +Of measureless time. In these deserted halls, +Sad in my widow's veil, but yesterday +Childless I roamed; and soon, in youthful charms +Arrayed, three blooming daughters at my side +Shall stand! Oh, happiest mother! Chief of women, +In bliss supreme; can aught of earthly joy +O'erbalance thine? + But say, of royal stem, +What maidens grace our isle? For ne'er my sons +Would stoop to meaner brides. + +DON MANUEL. + Seek not to raise +The veil that hides my bliss; another day +Shall tell thee all. Enough--Don Manuel's bride +Is worthy of thy son and thee. + +ISABELLA. + Thy sire +Speaks in thy words; thus to himself retired +Forever would he brood o'er counsels dark, +And cloak his secret purpose;--your delay +Be short, my son. + [Turning to DON CAESAR. + But thou--some royal maid, +Daughter of kings, hath stirred thy soul to love; +So speak--her name---- + +DON CAESAR. + I have no art to veil +My thoughts with mystery's garb--my spirit free +And open as my brows; which thou wouldst know +Concerned me never. What illumes above +Heaven's flaming orb? Himself! On all the world +He shines, and with his beaming glory tells +From light he sprung:--in her pure eyes I gazed, +I looked into her heart of hearts:--the brightness +Revealed the pearl. Her race--her name--my mother, +Ask not of me! + +ISABELLA. + My son, explain thy words, +For, like some voice divine, the sudden charm +Has thralled thy soul: to deeds of rash emprise +Thy nature prompted, not to fantasies +Of boyish love:--tell me, what swayed thy choice? + +DON CAESAR. +My choice? my mother! Is it choice when man +Obeys the might of destiny, that brings +The awful hour? I sought no beauteous bride, +No fond delusion stirred my tranquil breast, +Still as the house of death; for there, unsought, +I found the treasure of my soul. Thou know'st +That, heedless ever of the giddy race, +I looked on beauty's charms with cold disdain, +Nor deemed of womankind there lived another +Like thee--whom my idolatrous fancy decked +With heavenly graces:-- + 'Twas the solemn rite +Of my dead father's obsequies; we stood +Amid the countless throng, with strange attire +Hid from each other's glance; for thus ordained +Thy thoughtful care lest with outbursting rage, +E' en by the holy place unawed, our strife +Should mar the funeral pomp. + With sable gauze +The nave was all o'erhung; the altar round +Stood twenty giant saints, uplifting each +A torch; and in the midst reposed on high +The coffin, with o'erspreading pall, that showed, +In white, redemption's sign;--thereon were laid +The staff of sovereignty, the princely crown, +The golden spurs of knighthood, and the sword, +With diamond-studded belt:-- + And all was hushed +In silent prayer, when from the lofty choir, +Unseen, the pealing organ spoke, and loud +From hundred voices burst the choral strain! +Then, 'mid the tide of song, the coffin sank +With the descending floor beneath, forever +Down to the world below:--but, wide outspread +Above the yawning grave, the pall upheld +The gauds of earthly state, nor with the corpse +To darkness fell; yet on the seraph wings +Of harmony, the enfranchised spirit soared +To heaven and mercy's throne: + Thus to thy thought, +My mother, I have waked the scene anew, +And say, if aught of passion in my breast +Profaned the solemn hour; yet then the beams +Of mighty love--so willed my guiding star-- +First lit my soul; but how it chanced, myself +I ask in vain. + +ISABELLA. + I would hear all; so end +Thy tale. + +DON CAESAR. + What brought her to my side, or whence +She came, I know not:--from her presence quick +Some secret all-pervading inward charm +Awoke; 'twas not the magic of a smile, +Nor playful Cupid in her cheeks, nor more, +The form of peerless grace;--'twas beauty's soul, +The speaking virtue, modesty inborn, +That as with magic spells, impalpable +To sense, my being thralled. We breathed together +The air of heaven:--enough!--no utterance asked +Of words, our spiritual converse;--in my heart, +Though strange, yet with familiar ties inwrought +She seemed, and instant spake the thought--'tis she! +Or none that lives! + +DON MANUEL (interposing with eagerness). + That is the sacred fire +From heaven! the spark of love--that on the soul +Bursts like the lightning's flash, and mounts in flame, +When kindred bosoms meet! No choice remains-- +Who shall resist? What mortal break the band +That heaven has knit? Brother, my blissful fortune +Was echoed in thy tale--well thou hast raised +The veil that shadows yet my secret love. + +ISABELLA. +Thus destiny has marked the wayward course +Of my two sons: the mighty torrent sweeps +Down from the precipice; with rage he wears +His proper bed, nor heeds the channel traced +By art and prudent care. So to the powers +That darkly sway the fortunes of our house, +Trembling I yield. One pledge of hope remains; +Great as their birth--their noble souls. + + ISABELLA, DON MANUEL, DON CAESAR. + DIEGO is seen at the door. + +ISABELLA. + But see, +My faithful messenger returns. Come near me, +Honest Diego. Quick! Where is she? Tell me, +Where is my child? There is no secret here. +Oh, speak! No longer from my eyes conceal her; +Come! we are ready for the height of joy. + + [She is about to lead him towards the door. + +What means this pause? Thou lingerest--thou art dumb-- +Thy looks are terror-fraught--a shudder creeps +Through all my frame--declare thy tidings!--speak! +Where is she? Where is Beatrice? + + [She is about to rush from the chamber. + +DON MANUEL (to himself abstractedly). + Beatrice! + +DIEGO (holding back the PRINCESS). + Be still! + +ISABELLA. +Where is she? Anguish tears my breast! + +DIEGO. + She comes not. +I bring no daughter to thy arms. + +ISABELLA. + Declare +Thy message! Speak! by all the saints! +What has befallen? + +DON MANUEL. + Where is my sister? Tell us, +Thou harbinger of ill! + +DIEGO. + The maid is stolen +By corsairs! lost! Oh! that I ne'er had seen +This day of woe! + +DON MANUEL. + Compose thyself, my mother! + +DON CAESAR. +Be calm; list all this tale. + +DIEGO. + At thy command +I sought in haste the well-known path that leads +To the old sanctuary:--joy winged my footsteps; +The journey was my last! + +DON CAESAR. + Be brief! + +DON MANUEL. + Proceed! + +DIEGO. +Soon as I trod the convent's court--impatient-- +I ask--"Where is thy daughter?" Terror sate +In every eye; and straight, with horror mute, +I heard the worst. + + [ISABELLA sinks, pale and trembling, upon a chair; + DON MANUEL is busied about her. + +DON CAESAR. + Say'st thou by pirates stolen? +Who saw the band?--what tongue relates the spoil? + +DIEGO. +Not far a Moorish galley was descried, +At anchor in the bay---- + +DON CAESAR. + The refuge oft +From tempests' rage; where is the bark? + +DIEGO. + At down, +With favoring breeze she stood to sea. + +DON CAESAR. + But never +One prey contents the Moor; say, have they told +Of other spoil? + +DIEGO. + A herd that pastured near +Was dragged away. + +DON CAESAR. + Yet from the convent's bound +How tear the maid unseen? + +DIEGO. + 'Tis thought with ladders +They scaled the wall. + +DON CAESAR. + Thou knowest what jealous care +Enshrines the bride of Heaven; scarce could their steps +Invade the secret cells. + +DIEGO. + Bound by no vows +The maiden roved at will; oft would she seek +Alone the garden's shade. Alas! this day, +Ne'er to return! + +DON CAESAR. + Saidst thou--the prize of corsairs? +Perchance, at other bidding, she forsook +The sheltering dome---- + +ISABELLA (rising suddenly). + 'Twas force! 'twas savage spoil! +Ne'er has my child, reckless of honor's ties +With vile seducer fled! My sons! Awake! +I thought to give a sister to your arms; +I ask a daughter from your swords! Arise! +Avenge this wrong! To arms! Launch every ship! +Scour all our coasts! From sea to sea pursue them! +Oh, bring my daughter! haste! + +DON CAESAR. + Farewell--I fly +To vengeance! + [He goes away. + + [DON MANUEL arouses himself from a state of abstraction, + and turns, with an air of agitation, to DIEGO. + +DON MANUEL. + Speak! within the convent's walls +When first unseen---- + +DIEGO. + This day at dawn. + +DON MANUEL (to ISABELLA). + Her name +Thou say'st is Beatrice? + +ISABELLA. + No question! Fly! +DON MANUEL. +Yet tell me---- + +ISABELLA. + Haste! Begone! Why this delay? +Follow thy brother. + +DON MANUEL. + I conjure thee--speak---- + +ISABELLA (dragging him away). +Behold my tears! + +DON MANUEL. + Where was she hid? What region +Concealed my sister? + +ISABELLA. + Scarce from curious eyes +In the deep bosom of the earth more safe +My child had been! + +DIEGO. + Oh! now a sudden horror +Starts in my breast. + +DON MANUEL. + What gives thee fear? + +DIEGO. + 'Twas I +That guiltless caused this woe! + +ISABELLA. + Unhappy man! +What hast thou done? + +DIEGO. + To spare thy mother's heart +One anxious pang, my mistress, I concealed +What now my lips shall tell: 'twas on the day +When thy dead husband in the silent tomb +Was laid; from every side the unnumbered throng +Pressed eager to the solemn rites; thy daughter-- +For e'en amid the cloistered shade was noised +The funeral pomp, urged me, with ceaseless prayers, +To lead her to the festival of Death. +In evil hour I gave consent; and, shrouded +In sable weeds of mourning, she surveyed +Her father's obsequies. With keen reproach +My bosom tells (for through the veil her charms +Resistless shone), 'twas there, perchance, the spoiler +Lurked to betray. + +DON MANUEL (to himself). + Thrice happy words! I live! +It was another! + +ISABELLA (to DIEGO). + Faithless! Ill betide +Thy treacherous age! + +DIEGO. + Oh, never have I strayed +From duty's path! My mistress, in her prayers +I heard the voice of Nature; thus from Heaven +Ordained,--methought, the secret impulse moves +Of kindred blood, to hallow with her tears +A father's grave: the tender office owned +Thy servant's care, and thus with good intent +I wrought but ill. + +DON MANUEL (to himself). + Why stand I thus a prey +To torturing fears! No longer will I bear +The dread suspense---I will know all! + +DON CAESAR (who returns). + Forgive me, +I follow thee. + +DON MANUEL. + Away! Let no man follow. + + [Exit. + +DON CAESAR (looking after him in surprise). +What means my brother? Speak---- + +ISABELLA. + In wonder lost +I gaze; some mystery lurks---- + +DON CAESAR. + Thou mark'st, my mother, +My quick return; with eager zeal I flew +At thy command, nor asked one trace to guide +My footsteps to thy daughter. Whence was torn +Thy treasure? Say, what cloistered solitude +Enshrined the beauteous maid? + +ISABELLA. + 'Tis consecrate +To St. Cecilia; deep in forest shades, +Beyond the woody ridge that slowly climbs +Toward's Etna's towering throne, it seems a refuge +Of parted souls! + +DON CAESAR. + Have courage, trust thy sons; +She shall be thine, though with unwearied quest +O'er every land and sea I track her presence +To earth's extremest bounds: one thought alone +Disturbs,--in stranger hands my timorous bride +Waits my return; to thy protecting arms +I give the pledge of all my joy! She comes; +Soon on her faithful bosom thou shalt rest +In sweet oblivion of thy cares. + [Exit. + +ISABELLA. +When will the ancient curse be stilled that weighs +Upon our house? Some mocking demon sports +With every new-formed hope, nor envious leaves +One hour of joy. So near the haven smiled-- +So smooth the treacherous main--secure I deemed +My happiness: the storm was lulled; and bright +In evening's lustre gleamed the sunny shore! +Then through the placid air the tempest sweeps, +And bears me to the roaring surge again! + + [She goes into the interior of the palace, + followed by DIEGO. + + The Scene changes to the Garden. + + Both Choruses, afterwards BEATRICE. + + The Chorus of DON MANUEL enters in solemn procession, + adorned with garlands, and bearing the bridal ornaments + above mentioned. The Chorus of DON CAESAR opposes their + entrance. + +First Chorus (CAJETAN). +Begone! + +Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). + Not at thy bidding! + +CAJETAN. + Seest thou not +Thy presence irks? + +BOHEMUND. + Thou hast it, then, the longer! + +CAJETAN. +My place is here! What arm repels me? + +BOHEMUND, + Mine! + +CAJETAN. +Don Manuel sent me hither. + +BOHEMUND. + I obey +My Lord Don Caesar. + +CAJETAN. + To the eldest born +Thy master reverence owes. + +BOHEMUND. + The world belongs +To him that wins! + +CAJETAN. + Unmannered knave, give place! + +BOHEMUND. +Our swords be measured first! + +CAJETAN. + I find thee ever +A serpent in my path. + +BOHEMUND. + Where'er I list +Thus will I meet thee! + +CAJETAN. + Say, why cam'st thou hither +To spy?---- + +BOHEMUND. + And thou to question and command? + +CAJETAN. +To parley I disdain! + +BOHEMUND. + Too much I grace thee +By words! + +CAJETAN. + Thy hot, impetuous youth should bow +To reverend age. + +BOHEMUND. + Older thou art--not braver. + +BEATRICE (rushing from her place of concealment). +Alas! What mean these warlike men? + +CAJETAN (to BOHEMUND). + I heed not +Thy threats and lofty mien. + +BOHEMUND. + I serve a master +Better than thine. + +BEATRICE. + Alas! Should he appear! + +CAJETAN. +Thou liest! Don Manuel thousandfold excels. + +BOHEMUND. +In every strife the wreath of victory decks +Don Caesar's brows! + +BEATRICE. + Now he will come! Already +The hour is past! + +CAJETAN. + 'Tis peace, or thou shouldst know +My vengeance! + +BOHEMUND. + Fear, not peace, thy arm refrains. + +BEATRICE. +Oh! Were he thousand miles remote! + +CAJETAN. + Thy looks +But move my scorn; the compact I obey. + +BOHEMUND. +The coward's ready shield! + +CAJETAN. + Come on! I follow. + +BOHEMUND. +To arms! + +BEATRICE (in the greatest agitation). + Their falchions gleam--the strife begins! +Ye heavenly powers, his steps refrain! Some snare +Throw round his feet, that in this hour of dread +He come not: all ye angels, late implored +To give him to my arms, reverse my prayers; +Far, far from hence convey the loved one! + + [She runs into the alcove. At the moment when the two + Choruses are about to engage, DON MANUEL appears. + + DON MANUEL, the Chorus. + +DON MANUEL. +What do I see! + +First Chorus to the Second (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED). + Come on! Come on! + +Second Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE). + Down with them! + +DON MANUEL (stepping between them with drawn sword). +Hold! + +CAJETAN. + 'Tis the prince! + +BOHEMUND. + Be still! + +DON MANUEL. + I stretch him dead +Upon this verdant turf that with one glance +Of scorn prolongs the strife, or threats his foe! +Why rage ye thus? What maddening fiend impels +To blow the flames of ancient hate anew, +Forever reconciled? Say, who began +The conflict? Speak---- + +First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR). + My prince, we stood---- + +Second Chorus (ROGER, BOHEMUND) interrupting them. + They came + +DON MANUEL (to the First Chorus). +Speak thou! + +First Chorus (CAJETAN). + With wreaths adorned, in festal train, +We bore the bridal gifts; no thought of ill +Disturbed our peaceful way; composed forever +With holy pledge of love we deemed your strife, +And trusting came; when here in rude array +Of arms encamped they stood, and loud defied us! + +DON MANUEL. +Slave! Is no refuge safe? Shall discord thus +Profane the bower of virgin innocence, +The home of sanctity and peace? + [To the Second Chorus. + Retire-- +Your warlike presence ill beseems; away! +I would be private. + [They hesitate. + In your master's name +I give command; our souls are one, our lips +Declare each other's thoughts; begone! + [To the First Chorus. + Remain! +And guard the entrance. + +BOHEMUND. + So! What next? Our masters +Are reconciled; that's plain; and less he wins +Of thanks than peril, that with busy zeal +In princely quarrel stirs; for when of strife +His mightiness aweary feels, of guilt +He throws the red-dyed mantle unconcerned +On his poor follower's luckless head, and stands +Arrayed in virtue's robes! So let them end +E'en as they will their brawls, I hold it best +That we obey. + + [Exit Second Chorus. The first withdraws to the + back of the stage; at the same moment BEATRICE rushes + forward, and throws herself into DON MANUEL'S arms. + +BEATRICE. + 'Tis thou! Ah! cruel one, +Again I see thee--clasp thee--long appalled, +To thousand ills a prey, trembling I languish +For thy return: no more--in thy loved arms +I am at peace, nor think of dangers past, +Thy breast my shield from every threatening harm. +Quick! Let us fly! they see us not!--away! +Nor lose the moment. + Ha! Thy looks affright me! +Thy sullen, cold reserve! Thou tear'st thyself +Impatient from my circling arms, I know thee +No more! Is this Don Manuel? My beloved? +My husband? + +DON MANUEL. + Beatrice! + +BEATRICE. + No words! The moment +Is precious! Haste. + +DON MANUEL. + Yet tell me---- + +BEATRICE. + Quick! Away! +Ere those fierce men return. + +DON MANUEL. + Be calm, for naught +Shall trouble thee of ill. + +BEATRICE. + Oh, fly! alas, +Thou know'st them not! + +DON MANUEL. + Protected by this arm +Canst thou fear aught? + +BEATRICE. + Oh, trust me; mighty men +Are here! + +DON MANUEL. + Beloved! mightier none than I! + +BEATRICE. +And wouldst thou brave this warlike host alone? + +DON MANUEL. +Alone! the men thou fear'st---- + +BEATRICE. + Thou know'st them not, +Nor whom they serve. + +DON MANUEL. + Myself! I am their lord! + +BEATRICE. +Thou art--a shudder creeps through all my frame! + +DON MANUEL. +Far other than I seemed; learn at last +To know me, Beatrice. Not the poor knight +Am I, the stranger and unknown, that loving +Taught thee to love; but what I am--my race-- +My power---- + +BEATRICE. + And art thou not Don Manuel? Speak-- +Who art thou? + +DON MANUEL. + Chief of all that bear the name, +I am Don Manuel, Prince of Messina! + +BEATRICE. +Art thou Don Manuel, Don Caesar's brother? + +DON MANUEL. +Don Caesar is my brother. + +BEATRICE. + Is thy brother! + +DON MANUEL. +What means this terror? Know'st thou, then, Don Caesar? +None other of my race? + +BEATRICE. + Art thou Don Manuel, +That with thy brother liv'st in bitter strife +Of long inveterate hate? + +DON MANUEL. + This very sun +Smiled on our glad accord! Yes, we are brothers! +Brothers in heart! + +BEATRICE. + And reconciled? This day? + +DON MANUEL. +What stirs this wild disorder? Hast thou known +Aught but our name? Say, hast thou told me all? +Is there no secret? Hast thou naught concealed? +Nothing disguised? + +BEATRICE. + Thy words are dark; explain, +What shall I tell thee? + +DON MANUEL. + Of thy mother naught +Hast thou e'er told; who is she? If in words +I paint her, bring her to thy sight---- + +BEATRICE. + Thou know'st her! +And thou wert silent! + +DON MANUEL. + If I know thy mother, +Horrors betide us both! + +BEATRICE. + Oh, she is gracious +As the sun's orient beam! Yes! I behold her; +Fond memory wakes;--and from my bosom's depths +Her godlike presence rises to my view! +I see around her snowy neck descend +The tresses of her raven hair, that shade +The form of sculptured loveliness; I see +The pale, high-thoughted brow; the darkening glance +Of her large lustrous orbs; I hear the tones +Of soul-fraught sweetness! + +DON MANUEL. + 'Tis herself! + +BEATRICE. + This day, +Perchance had give me to her arms, and knit +Our souls in everlasting love;--such bliss +I have renounced, yes! I have lost a mother +For thee! + +DON MANUEL. + Console thyself, Messina's princess +Henceforth shall call thee daughter; to her feet +I lead thee; come--she waits. What hast thou said? + +BEATRICE. +Thy mother and Don Caesar's? Never! never! + +DON MANUEL. +Thou shudderest! Whence this horror? Hast thou known +My mother? Speak---- + +BEATRICE. + O grief! O dire misfortune! +Alas! that e'er I live to see this day! + +DON MANUEL. +What troubles thee? Thou know'st me, thou hast found, +In the poor stranger knight, Messina's prince! + +BEATRICE. +Give me the dear unknown again! With him +On earth's remotest wilds I could be blest! + +DON CAESAR (behind the scene). +Away! What rabble throng is here? + +BEATRICE. + That voice! +Oh heavens! Where shall I fly! + +DON MANUEL. + Know'st thou that voice? +No! thou hast never heard it; to thine ear +'Tis strange---- + +BEATRICE. + Oh, come--delay not---- + +DON MANUEL. + Wherefore I fly? +It is my brother's voice! He seeks me--how +He tracked my steps---- + +BEATRICE. + By all the holy saints! +Brave not his wrath! oh quit this place--avoid him-- +Meet not thy brother here! + +DON MANUEL. + My soul! thy fears +Confound; thou hear'st me not; our strife is o'er. +Yes! we are reconciled. + +BEATRICE. + Protect me, heaven, +In this dread hour! + +DON MANUEL. + A sudden dire presage +Starts in my breast--I shudder at the thought: +If it be true! Oh, horror! Could she know +That voice! Wert thou--my tongue denies to utter +The words of fearful import--Beatrice! +Say, wert thou present at the funeral rites +Of my dead sire? + +BEATRICE. + Alas! + +DON MANUEL. + Thou wert! + +BEATRICE. + Forgive me! + +DON MANUEL. +Unhappy woman! + +BEATRICE. + I was present! + +DON MANUEL. + Horror! + +BEATRICE. +Some mighty impulse urged me to the scene-- +Oh, be not angry--to thyself I owned +The ardent fond desire; with darkening brow +Thou listened'st to my prayer, and I was silent, +But what misguiding inauspicious star +Allured, I know not; from my inmost soul +The wish, the dear emotion spoke; and vain +Aught else:--Diego gave consent--oh, pardon me! +I disobeyed thee. + + [She advances towards him imploringly; at the same moment + DON CAESAR enters, accompanied by the whole Chorus. + + BOTH BROTHERS, BOTH CHORUSES, BEATRICE. + +Second Chorus (BOHEMUND) to DON CAESAR. + Thou heliev'st us not-- +Believe thine eyes! + +DON CAESAR (rushes forward furiously, and at the sight of his brother + starts back with horror). + Some hell-born magic cheats +My senses; in her arms! Envenomed snake! +Is this thy love? For this thy treacherous heart +Could lure with guise of friendship! Oh, from heaven +Breathed my immortal hate! Down, down to hell, +Thou soul of falsehood! + + [He stabs him, DON MANUEL falls. + +DON MANUEL. + Beatrice!--my brother! +I die! + + [Dies. BEATRICE sinks lifeless at his side. + +First Chorus (CAJETAN). +Help! Help! To arms! Avenge with blood +The bloody deed! + +Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). + The fortune of the day +Is ours! The strife forever stilled:--Messina +Obeys one lord. + +First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED). + Revenge! The murderer +Shall die! Quick, offer to your master's shade +Appeasing sacrifice! + +Second Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE). + My prince! fear nothing, +Thy friends are true. + +DON CAESAR (steps between them, looking around). + Be still! The foe is slain +That practised on my trusting, honest heart +With snares of brother's love. Oh, direful shows +The deed of death! But righteous heaven hath judged. + +First Chorus (CAJETAN). +Alas to thee, Messina! Woe forever! +Sad city! From thy blood-stained walls this deed +Of nameless horror taints the skies; ill fare +Thy mothers and thy children, youth and age, +And offspring yet, unborn! + +DON CAESAR. + Too late your grief-- +Here give your help. + [Pointing to BEATRICE. + Call her to life, and quick +Depart this scene of terror and of death. +I must away and seek my sister:--Hence! +Conduct her to my mother-- +And tell her that her son, Don Caesar, sends her! + + [Exit. + + [The senseless BEATRICE is placed on a litter and + carried away by the Second Chorus. The First Chorus + remains with the body, round which the boys who bear + the bridal presents range themselves in a semicircle. + + Chorus (CAJETAN). + + List, how with dreaded mystery + Was signed to my prophetic soul, + Of kindred blood the dire decree:-- + Hither with noiseless, giant stride + I saw the hideous fiend of terror glide! + 'Tis past! I strive not to control + My shuddering awe--so swift of ill + The Fates the warning sign fulfil. + Lo! to my sense dismayed, + Sudden the deed of death has shown + Whate'er my boding fears portrayed. + The visioned thought was pain; + The present horror curdles every vein + + One of the Chorus (MANFRED). + + Sound, sound the plaint of woe! + Beautiful youth! + Outstretched and pale he lies, + Untimely cropped in early bloom; + The heavy night of death has sealed his eyes;-- + In this glad hour of nuptial joy, + Snatched by relentless doom, + He sleeps--while echoing to the sky, + Of sorrow bursts the loud, despairing cry! + + A second (CAJETAN). + + We come, we come, in festal pride, + To greet the beauteous bride; + Behold! the nuptial gifts, the rich attire + The banquet waits, the guests are there; + They bid thee to the solemn rite + Of hymen quick repair. + Thou hear'st them not--the sportive lyre, + The frolic dance, shall ne'er invite; + Nor wake thee from thy lowly bed, + For deep the slumber of the dead! + + The whole Chorus. + + No more the echoing horn shall cheer + Nor bride with tones of sweetness charm his ear. + On the cold earth he lies, + In death's eternal slumber closed his eyes. + + A third (CAJETAN). + + What are the hopes, and fond desires + Of mortals' transitory race? + This day, with harmony of voice and soul, + Ye woke the long-extinguished fires + Of brothers' love--yon flaming orb + Lit with his earliest beams your dear embrace + At eve, upon the gory sand + Thou liest--a reeking corpse! + Stretched by a brother's murderous hand. + Vain projects, treacherous hopes, + Child of the fleeting hour are thine; + Fond man! thou rear'st on dust each bold design, + + Chorus (BERENGAR). + + To thy mother I will bear + The burden of unutterable woe! + Quick shall yon cypress, blooming fair, + Bend to the axe's murderous blow + Then twine the mournful bier! + For ne'er with verdant life the tree shall smile + That grew on death's devoted soil; + Ne'er in the breeze the branches play, + Nor shade the wanderer in the noontide ray; + 'Twas marked to bear the fruits of doom, + Cursed to the service of the tomb. + + First (CAJETAN). + + Woe to the murderer! Woe + That sped exulting in his pride, + Behold! the parched earth drinks the crimson tide. + Down, down it flows, unceasingly, + To the dim caverned halls below, + Where throned in kindred gloom the sister train, + Of Themis progeny severe, + Brood in their songless, silent reign! + Stern minister of wrath's decree, + They catch in swarthy cups thy streaming gore, + And pledge with horrid rites for vengeance evermore. + + Second (BERENGAR). + + Though swift of deed the traces fade + From earth, before the enlivening ray; + As o'er the brow the transient shade + Of thought, the hues of fancy flit away:-- + Yet in the mystic womb unseen, + Of the dark ruling hours that sway + Our mortal lot, whate'er has been, + With new creative germ defies decay. + The blooming field is time + For nature's ever-teeming shoot, + And all is seed, and all is fruit. + + [The Chorus goes away, bearing the corpse of DON MANUEL on a bier. + + + +SCENE--The hall of pillars. It is night. + + The stage is lighted from above by a single large lamp. + DONNA ISABELLA and DIEGO advance to the front. + +ISABELLA. +As yet no joyful tidings, not a trace +Found of the lost one! + +DIEGO. + Nothing have we heard, +My mistress; yet o'er every track, unwearied, +Thy sons pursue. Ere long the rescued maid +Shall smile at dangers past. + +ISABELLA. + Alas! Diego, +My heart is sad; 'twas I that caused this woe! + +DIEGO. +Vex not thy anxious bosom; naught escaped +Thy thoughtful care. + +ISABELLA. + Oh! had I earlier shown +The hidden treasure! + +DIEGO. + Prudent were thy counsels, +Wisely thou left'st her in retirement's shade; +So, trust in heaven. + +ISABELLA. + Alas! no joy is perfect +Without this chance of ill my bliss were pure. + +DIEGO. +Thy happiness is but delayed; enjoy +The concord of thy sons. + +ISABELLA. + The sight was rapture +Supreme, when, locked in one another's arms, +They glowed with brothers' love. + +DIEGO. + And in the heart +It burns; for ne'er their princely souls have stooped +To mean disguise. + +ISABELLA. + Now, too, their bosoms wake +To gentler thoughts, and own their softening sway +Of love. No more their hot, impetuous youth +Revels in liberty untamed, and spurns +Restraint of law, attempered passion's self, +With modest, chaste reserve. + To thee, Diego, +I will unfold my secret heart; this hour +Of feeling's opening bloom, expected long, +Wakes boding fears: thou know'st to sudden rage +Love stirs tumultuous breasts; and if this flame +With jealousy should rouse the slumbering fires +Of ancient hate--I shudder at the thought! +If these discordant souls perchance have thrilled +In fatal unison! Enough; the clouds +That black with thundering menace o'er me hung +Are past; some angel sped them tranquil by, +And my enfranchised spirit breathes again. + +DIEGO. +Rejoice, my mistress; for thy gentle sense +And soft, prevailing art more weal have wrought +Than all thy husband's power. Be praise to thee +And thy auspicious star! + +ISABELLA. + Yes, fortune smiled; +Nor light the task, so long with apt disguise +To veil the cherished secret of my heart, +And cheat my ever-jealous lord: more hard +To stifle mighty nature's pleading voice, +That, like a prisoned fire, forever strove +To rend its confines. + +DIEGO. + All shall yet be well; +Fortune, propitious to our hopes, gave pledge +Of bliss that time will show. + +ISABELLA. + I praise not yet +My natal star, while darkening o'er my fate +This mystery hangs: too well the dire mischance +Tells of the fiend whose never-slumbering rage +Pursues our house. Now list what I have done, +And praise or blame me as thou wilt; from thee +My bosom guards no secret: ill I brook +This dull repose, while swift o'er land and sea +My sons unwearied, track their sister's flight, +Yes, I have sought; heaven counsels oft, when vain +All mortal aid. + +DIEGO. + What I may know, my mistress, +Declare. + +ISABELLA. + On Etna's solitary height +A reverend hermit dwells,--benamed of old +The mountain seer,--who to the realms of light +More near abiding than the toilsome race +Of mortals here below, with purer air +Has cleansed each earthly, grosser sense away; +And from the lofty peak of gathered years, +As from his mountain home, with downward glance +Surveys the crooked paths of worldly strife. +To him are known the fortunes of our house; +Oft has the holy sage besought response +From heaven, and many a curse with earnest prayer +Averted: thither at my bidding flew, +On wings of youthful haste, a messenger, +To ask some tidings of my child: each hour +I wait his homeward footsteps. + +DIEGO. + If mine eyes +Deceive me not, he comes; and well his speed +Has earned thy praise. + + MESSENGER, ISABELLA, DIEGO. + +ISABELLA (to MESSENGER). + Now speak, and nothing hide +Of weal or woe; be truth upon thy lips! +What tidings bear'st thou from the mountain seer? + +MESSENGER. +His answer: "Quick! retrace thy steps; the lost one +Is found." + +ISABELLA. + Auspicious tongue! Celestial sounds +Of peace and joy! thus ever to my vows. +Thrice honored sage, thy kindly message spoke! +But say, which heaven-directed brother traced +My daughter? + +MESSENGER. +'Twas thy eldest born that found +The deep-secluded maid. + +ISABELLA. + Is it Don Manuel +That gives her to my arms? Oh, he was ever +The child of blessing! Tell me, hast thou borne +My offering to the aged man? the tapers +To burn before his saint? for gifts, the prize +Of worldly hearts, the man of God disdains. + +MESSENGER. +He took the torches from my hands in silence +And stepping to the altar--where the lamp +Burned to his saint--illumed them at his fire, +And instant set in flames the hermit cell, +Where he has honored God these ninety years! + +ISABELLA. +What hast thou said? What horrors fright my soul? + +MESSENGER. +And three times shrieking "Woe!" with downward course, +He fled; but silent with uplifted arm +Beckoned me not to follow, nor regard him +So hither I have hastened, terror-sped. + +ISABELLA. +Oh, I am tossed amid the surge again +Of doubt and anxious fears; thy tale appals +With ominous sounds of ill. My daughter found-- +Thou sayest; and by my eldest born, Don Manuel? +The tidings ne'er shall bless, that heralded +This deed of woe! + +MESSENGER. + My mistress! look around +Behold the hermit's message to thine eyes +Fulfilled. Some charm deludes my sense, or hither +Thy daughter comes, girt by the warlike train +Of thy two sons! + + [BEATRICE is carried in by the Second Chorus on a litter, + and placed in the front of the stage. She is still without + perception, and motionless. + + ISABELLA, DIEGO, MESSENGER, BEATRICE. + + Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE, and the other nine followers + of DON CAESAR.) + +Chorus (BOHEMUND). + Here at thy feet we lay +The maid, obedient to our lord's command: +'Twas thus he spoke--"Conduct her to my mother; +And tell her that her son, Don Caesar, sends her!" + +ISABELLA (is advancing towards her with outstretched arms, and starts + back in horror). +Heavens! she is motionless and pale! + +Chorus (BOHEMUND). + She lives, +She will awake, but give her time to rouse +From the dread shock that holds each sense enthralled. + +ISABELLA. +My daughter! Child of all my cares and pains! +And is it thus I see thee once again? +Thus thou returnest to thy father's halls! +Oh, let my breath relume thy vital spark; +Yes! I will strain thee to a mother's arms +And hold thee fast--till from the frost of death +Released thy life-warm current throbs again. + + [To the Chorus. + +Where hast thou found her? Speak! What dire mischance +Has caused this sight of woe? + +Chorus (BOHEMUND). + My lips are dumb! +Ask not of me: thy son will tell thee all-- +Don Caesar--for 'tis he that sends her. + +ISABELLA + 'Tell me +Would'st thou not say Don Manuel? + +Chorus (BOHEMUND). + 'Tis Don Caesar +That sends her to thee. + +ISABELLA (to the MESSENGER). + How declared the Seer? +Speak! Was it not Don Manuel? + +MESSENGER. + 'Twas he! +Thy elder born. + +ISABELLA. + Be blessings on his head +Which e'er it be; to him I owe a daughter, +Alas! that in this blissful hour, so long +Expected, long implored, some envious fiend +Should mar my joy! Oh, I must stem the tide +Of nature's transport! In her childhood's home +I see my daughter; me she knows not--heeds not-- +Nor answers to a mother's voice of love +Ope, ye dear eyelids--hands be warm--and heave +Thou lifeless bosom with responsive throbs +To mine! 'Tis she! Diego, look! 'tis Beatrice! +The long-concealed--the lost--the rescued one! +Before the world I claim her for my own! + +Chorus (BOHEMUND). +New signs of terror to my boding soul +Are pictured;--in amazement lost I stand! +What light shall pierce this gloom of mystery? + +ISABELLA (to the Chorus, who exhibit marks of confusion and + embarrassment). +Oh, ye hard hearts! Ye rude unpitying men! +A mother's transport from your breast of steel +Rebounds, as from the rocks the heaving surge! +I look around your train, nor mark one glance +Of soft regard. Where are my sons? Oh, tell me +Why come they not, and from their beaming eyes +Speak comfort to my soul? For here environed +I stand amid the desert's raging brood, +Or monsters of the deep! + +DIEGO. + She opes her eyes! +She moves! She lives! + +ISABELLA. + She lives! On me be thrown +Her earliest glance! + +DIEGO. + See! They are closed again-- +She shudders! + +ISABELLA (to the Chorus). + Quick! Retire--your aspect frights her. + + [Chorus steps back. + +RORER. +Well pleased I shun her sight. + +DIEGO. + With outstretched eyes, +And wonderstruck, she seems to measure thee. + +BEATRICE. +Not strange those lineaments--where am I? + +ISABELLA. + Slowly +Her sense returns. + +DIEGO. + Behold! upon her knees +She sinks. + +BEATRICE. + Oh, angel visage of my mother! + +ISABELLA. +Child of my heart! + +BEATRICE. + See! kneeling at thy feet +The guilty one! + +ISABELLA. + I hold thee in my arms! +Enough--forgotten all! + +DIEGO. + Look in my face, +Canst thou remember me? + +BEATRICE. + The reverend brows +Of honest old Diego! + +ISABELLA. + Faithful guardian +Of thy young years. + +BEATRICE. + And am I once again +With kindred? + +ISABELLA. + Naught but death shall part us more! + +BEATRICE. +Will thou ne'er send me to the stranger? + +ISABELLA. + Never! +Fate is appeased. + +BEATRICE. + And am I next thy heart? +And was it all a dream--a hideous dream? +My mother! at my feet he fell! I know not +What brought me hither--yet 'tis well. Oh, bliss! +That I am safe in thy protecting arms; +They would have ta'en me to the princess, mother-- +Sooner to death! + +ISABELLA. + My daughter, calm thy fears; +Messina's princess---- + +BEATRICE. + Name her not again! +At that ill-omened sound the chill of death +Creeps through my trembling frame. + +ISABELLA. + My child! but hear me---- + +BEATRICE. +She has two sons by mortal hate dissevered, +Don Manuel and Don Caesar---- + +ISABELLA. + 'Tis myself! +Behold thy mother! + +BEATRICE. + Have I heard thee? Speak! + +ISABELLA. +I am thy mother, and Messina's princess! + +BEATRICE. +Art thou Don Manuel's and Don Caesar's mother? + +ISABELLA. +And thine! They are thy brethren whom thou namest. + +BEATRICE. +Oh, gleam of horrid light! + +ISABELLA. + What troubles thee? +Say, whence this strange emotion? + +BEATRICE. + Yes! 'twas they! +Now I remember all; no dream deceived me, +They met--'tis fearful truth! Unhappy men! +Where have ye hid him? + + [She rushes towards the Chorus; they turn away from her. + A funeral march is heard in the distance. + +CHORUS. + Horror! Horror! + +ISABELLA. + Hid! +Speak--who is hid? and what is true? Ye stand +In silent dull amaze--as though ye fathomed +Her words of mystery! In your faltering tones-- +Your brows--I read of horrors yet unknown, +That would refrain my tongue! What is it? Tell me! +I will know all! Why fix ye on the door +That awe-struck gaze? What mournful music sounds? + + [The march is heard nearer. + +Chorus (BOHEMUND). +It comes! it comes! and all shall be declared +With terrible voice. My mistress! steel thy heart, +Be firm, and bear with courage what awaits thee-- +For more than women's soul thy destined griefs +Demand. + +ISABELLA. + What comes? and what awaits me? Hark +With fearful tones the death-wail smites mine ear-- +It echoes through the house! Where are my sons? + + [The first Semi-chorus brings in the body of DON MANUEL + on a bier, which is placed at the side of the stage. + A black pall is spread over it. + + ISABELLA, BEATRICE, DIEGO. + + Both Choruses. + + First Chorus (CAJETAN). + + With sorrow in his train, + From street to street the King of Terror glides; + With stealthy foot, and slow, + He creeps where'er the fleeting race + Of man abides + In turn at every gate + Is heard the dreaded knock of fate, + The message of unutterable woe! + + BERENGAR. + + When, in the sere + And autumn leaves decayed, + The mournful forest tells how quickly fade + The glories of the year! + When in the silent tomb oppressed, + Frail man, with weight of days, + Sinks to his tranquil rest; + Contented nature but obeys + Her everlasting law,-- + The general doom awakes no shuddering awe! + But, mortals, oh! prepare + For mightier ills; with ruthless hand + Fell murder cuts the holy band-- + The kindred tie: insatiate death, + With unrelenting rage, + Bears to his bark the flower of blooming age! + + CAJETAN. + + When clouds athwart the lowering sky + Are driven--when bursts with hollow moan + The thunder's peal--our trembling bosoms own + The might of awful destiny! + Yet oft the lightning's glare + Darts sudden through the cloudless air:-- + Then in thy short delusive day + Of bliss, oh! dread the treacherous snare; + Nor prize the fleeting goods in vain, + The flowers that bloom but to decay! + Nor wealth, nor joy, nor aught but pain, + Was e'er to mortal's lot secure:-- + Our first best lesson--to endure! + +ISABELLA. +What shall I hear? What horrors lurk beneath +This funeral pall? + + [She steps towards the bier, but suddenly pauses, + and stands irresolute. + + Some strange, mysterious dread +Enthrals my sense. I would approach, and sudden +The ice-cold grasp of terror holds me back! + + [To BEATRICE, who has thrown herself between her and the bier. + +Whate'er it be, I will unveil---- + + [On raising the pall she discovers the body of DON MANUEL. + + Eternal Powers! it is my son! + + [She stands in mute horror. BEATRICE sinks to the ground + with a shriek of anguish near the bier. + +CHORUS. +Unhappy mother! 'tis thy son. Thy lips +Have uttered what my faltering tongue denied. + +ISABELLA. +My soul! My Manuel! Oh, eternal grief! +And is it thus I see thee? Thus thy life +Has bought thy sister from the spoiler's rage? +Where was thy brother? Could no arm be found +To shield thee? Oh, be cursed the hand that dug +These gory wounds! A curse on her that bore +The murderer of my son! Ten thousand curses +On all their race! + +CHORUS. + Woe! Woe! + +ISABELLA. + And is it thus +Ye keep your word, ye gods? Is this your truth? +Alas for him that trusts with honest heart +Your soothing wiles! Why have I hoped and trembled? +And this the issue of my prayers! Attend, +Ye terror-stricken witnesses, that feed +Your gaze upon my anguish; learn to know +How warning visions cheat, and boding seers +But mock our credulous hopes; let none believe +The voice of heaven! + When in my teeming womb +This daughter lay, her father, in a dream +Saw from his nuptial couch two laurels grow, +And in the midst a lily all in flames, +That, catching swift the boughs and knotted stems +Burst forth with crackling rage, and o'er the house +Spread in one mighty sea of fire. Perplexed +By this terrific dream my husband sought +The counsels of the mystic art, and thus +Pronounced the sage: "If I a daughter bore, +The murderess of his sons, the destined spring +Of ruin to our house, the baleful child +Should see the light." + +Chorus (CAJETAN and BOHEMUND). + What hast thou said, my mistress? +Woe! Woe! + +ISABELLA. + For this her ruthless father spoke +The dire behest of death. I rescued her, +The innocent, the doomed one; from my arms +The babe was torn; to stay the curse of heaven, +And save my sons, the mother gave her child; +And now by robber hands her brother falls; +My child is guiltless. Oh, she slew him not! + +CHORUS. +Woe! Woe! + +ISABELLA. +No trust the fabling readers of the stars +Have e'er deserved. Hear how another spoke +With comfort to my soul, and him I deemed +Inspired to voice the secrets of the skies! +"My daughter should unite in love the hearts +Of my dissevered sons;" and thus their tales +Of curse and blessing on her head proclaim +Each other's falsehood. No, she ne'er has brought +A curse, the innocent; nor time was given +The blessed promise to fulfil; their tongues +Were false alike; their boasted art is vain; +With trick of words they cheat our credulous ears, +Or are themselves deceived! Naught ye may know +Of dark futurity, the sable streams +Of hell the fountain of your hidden lore, +Or yon bright spring of everlasting light! + + First Chorus (CAJETAN). + + Woe! Woe! thy tongue refrain! + Oh, pause, nor thus with impious rage + The might of heaven profane; + The holy oracles are wise-- + Expect with awe thy coming destinies! + +ISABELLA. +My tongue shall speak as prompts my swelling heart; +My griefs shall cry to heaven. Why do we lift +Our suppliant hands, and at the sacred shrines +Kneel to adore? Good, easy dupes! What win we +From faith and pious awe? to touch with prayers +The tenants of yon azure realms on high, +Were hard as with an arrow's point to pierce +The silvery moon. Hid is the womb of time, +Impregnable to mortal glance, and deaf +The adamantine walls of heaven rebound +The voice of anguish:--Oh, 'tis one, whate'er +The flight of birds--the aspect of the stars! +The book of nature is a maze--a dream +The sage's art--and every sign a falsehood! + + Second Chorus (BOHEMUND). + + Woe! Woe! Ill-fated woman, stay + Thy maddening blasphemies; + Thou but disown'st, with purblind eyes, + The flaming orb of day! + Confess the gods,--they dwell on high-- + They circle thee with awful majesty! + + All the Knights. + + Confess the gods--they dwell on high-- + They circle thee with awful majesty! + +BEATRICE. +Why hast thou saved thy daughter, and defied +The curse of heaven, that marked me in thy womb +The child of woe? Short-sighted mother!--vain +Thy little arts to cheat the doom declared +By the all-wise interpreters, that knit +The far and near; and, with prophetic ken, +See the late harvest spring in times unborn. +Oh, thou hast brought destruction on thy race, +Withholding from the avenging gods their prey; +Threefold, with new embittered rage, they ask +The direful penalty; no thanks thy boon +Of life deserves--the fatal gift was sorrow! + + Second Chorus (BERENGAR) looking towards the door + with signs of agitation. + + Hark to the sound of dread! + The rattling, brazen din I hear! + Of hell-born snakes the hissing tones are near! + Yes--'tis the furies' tread! + + CAJETAN. + + In crumbling ruin wide, + Fall, fall, thou roof, and sink, thou trembling floor + That bear'st the dread, unearthly stride! + Ye sable damps arise! + Mount from the abyss in smoky spray, + And pall the brightness of the day! + Vanish, ye guardian powers! + They come! The avenging deities + + DON CAESAR, ISABELLA, BEATRICE. The Chorus. + + [On the entrance of DON CAESAR the Chorus station themselves + before him imploringly. He remains standing alone in the + centre of the stage. + +BEATRICE. +Alas! 'tis he---- + +ISABELLA (stepping to meet him). + My Caesar! Oh, my son! +And is it thus I meet the? Look! Behold! +The crime of hand accursed! + + [She leads him to the corpse. + + First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR). + + Break forth once more + Ye wounds! Flow, flow, in swarthy flood, + Thou streaming gore! + +ISABELLA. +Shuddering with earnest gaze, and motionless, +Thou stand'st.--yes! there my hopes repose, and all +That earth has of thy brother; in the bud +Nipped is your concord's tender flower, nor ever +With beauteous fruit shall glad a mother's eyes, + +DON CAESAR. +Be comforted; thy sons, with honest heart, +To peace aspired, but heaven's decree was blood! + +ISABELLA. +I know thou lovedst him well; I saw between ye, +With joy, the bands old Nature sweetly twined; +Thou wouldst have borne him in thy heart of hearts +With rich atonement of long wasted years! +But see--fell murder thwarts thy dear design, +And naught remains but vengeance! + +DON CAESAR. + Come, my mother, +This is no place for thee. Oh, haste and leave +This sight of woe. + + [He endeavors to drag her away. + +ISABELLA (throwing herself into his arms). + Thou livest! I have a son! + +BEATRICE. +Alas! my mother! + +DON CAESAR. + On this faithful bosom +Weep out thy pains; nor lost thy son,--his love +Shall dwell immortal in thy Caesar's breast. + + First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED). + + Break forth, ye wounds! + Dumb witness! the truth proclaim; + Flow fast, thou gory stream! + +ISABELLA (clasping the hands of DON CAESAR and BEATRICE). +My children! + +DON CAESAR. + Oh, 'tis ecstasy! my mother, +To see her in thy arms! henceforth in love +A daughter--sister---- + +ISABELLA (interrupting him). + Thou hast kept thy word. +My son; to thee I owe the rescued one; +Yes, thou hast sent her---- + +DON CAESAR (in astonishment). + Whom, my mother, sayst thou, +That I have sent? + +ISABELLA. + She stands before thine eyes-- +Thy sister. + +DON CAESAR. + She! My sister? + +ISABELLA. + Ay, What other? + +DON CAESAR. +My sister! + +ISABELLA. + Thou hast sent her to me! + +DON CAESAR. + Horror! +His sister, too! + +CHORUS. + Woe! woe! + +BEATRICE. + Alas! my mother! + +ISABELLA. +Speak! I am all amaze! + +DON CASAR. + Be cursed the day +When I was born! + +ISABELLA. + Eternal powers! + +DON CAESAR. + Accursed +The womb that bore me; cursed the secret arts, +The spring of all this woe; instant to crush thee, +Though the dread thunder swept--ne'er should this arm +Refrain the bolts of death: I slew my brother! +Hear it and tremble! in her arms I found him; +She was my love, my chosen bride; and he-- +My brother--in her arms! Thou hast heard all! +If it be true--oh, if she be my sister-- +And his! then I have done a deed that mocks +The power of sacrifice and prayers to ope +The gates of mercy to my soul! + + Chorus (BOHEMUND). + + The tidings on thy heart dismayed + Have burst, and naught remains; behold! + 'Tis come, nor long delayed, + Whate'er the warning seers foretold: + They spoke the message from on high, + Their lips proclaimed resistless destiny! + The mortal shall the curse fulfil + Who seeks to turn predestined ill. + +ISABELLA. +The gods have done their worst; if they be true +Or false, 'tis one--for nothing they can add +To this--the measure of their rage is full. +Why should I tremble that have naught to fear? +My darling son lies murdered, and the living +I call my son no more. Oh! I have borne +And nourished at my breast a basilisk +That stung my best-beloved child. My daughter, haste, +And leave this house of horrors--I devote it +To the avenging fiends! In an evil hour +'Twas crime that brought me hither, and of crime +The victim I depart. Unwillingly +I came--in sorrow I have lived--despairing +I quit these halls; on me, the innocent, +Descends this weight of woe! Enough--'tis shown +That Heaven is just, and oracles are true! + + [Exit, followed by DIEGO. + + BEATRICE, DON CAESAR, the Chorus. + +DON CAESAR (detaining BEATRICE). +My sister, wouldst thou leave me? On this head +A mother's curse may fall--a brother's blood +Cry with accusing voice to heaven--all nature +Invoke eternal vengeance on my soul-- +But thou--oh! curse me not--I cannot bear it! + + [BEATRICE points with averted eyes to the body. + +I have not slain thy lover! 'twas thy brother, +And mine that fell beneath my sword; and near +As the departed one, the living owns +The ties of blood: remember, too, 'tis I +That most a sister's pity need--for pure +His spirit winged its flight, and I am guilty! + + [BEATRICE bursts into an agony of tears. + +Weep! I will blend my tears with thine--nay, more, +I will avenge thy brother; but the lover-- +Weep not for him--thy passionate, yearning tears +My inmost heart. Oh! from the boundless depths +Of our affliction, let me gather this, +The last and only comfort--but to know +That we are dear alike. One lot fulfilled +Has made our rights and wretchedness the same; +Entangled in one snare we fall together, +Three hapless victims of unpitying fate, +And share the mournful privilege of tears. +But when I think that for the lover more +Than for the brother bursts thy sorrow's tide, +Then rage and envy mingle with my pain, +And hope's last balm forsakes my withering soul? +Nor joyful, as beseems, can I requite +This inured shade:--yet after him content +To mercy's throne my contrite spirit shall fly, +Sped by this hand--if dying I may know +That in one urn our ashes shall repose, +With pious office of a sister's care. + + [He throws his arms around her with passionate tenderness. + +I loved thee, as I ne'er had loved before, +When thou wert strange; and that I bear the curse +Of brother's blood, 'tis but because I loved thee +With measureless transport: love was all my guilt, +But now thou art my sister, and I claim +Soft pity's tribute. + + [He regards her with inquiring glances, and an air of + painful suspense--then turns away with vehemence. + + No! in this dread presence +I cannot bear these tears--my courage flies +And doubt distracts my soul. Go, weep in secret-- +Leave me in error's maze--but never, never, +Behold me more: I will not look again +On thee, nor on thy mother. Oh! how passion +Laid bare her secret heart! She never loved me! +She mourned her best-loved son--that was her cry +Of grief--and naught was mine but show of fondness! +And thou art false as she! make no disguise-- +Recoil with horror from my sight--this form +Shall never shock thee more--begone forever! + + [Exit. + + [She stands irresolute in a tumult of conflicting + passions--then tears herself from the spot. + + Chorus (CAJETAN). + + Happy the man--his lot I prize + That far from pomps and turmoil vain, + Childlike on nature's bosom lies + Amid the stillness of the plain. + My heart is sad in the princely hall, + When from the towering pride of state, + I see with headlong ruin fall, + How swift! the good and great! + And he--from fortune's storm at rest + Smiles, in the quiet haven laid + Who, timely warned, has owned how blest + The refuge of the cloistered shade; + To honor's race has bade farewell, + Its idle joys and empty shows; + Insatiate wishes learned to quell, + And lulled in wisdom's calm repose:-- + No more shall passion's maddening brood + Impel the busy scenes to try, + Nor on his peaceful cell intrude + The form of sad humanity! + 'Mid crowds and strife each mortal ill + Abides'--the grisly train of woe + Shuns like the pest the breezy hill, + To haunt the smoky marts below. + + BERENGAR, BOHEMUND, and MANFRED. + + On the mountains is freedom! the breath of decay + Never sullies the fresh flowing air; + Oh, Nature is perfect wherever we stray; + 'Tis man that deforms it with care. + + The whole Chorus repeats. + + On the mountains is freedom, etc., etc. + + DON CAESAR, the Chorus. + +DON CAESAR (more collected). +I use the princely rights--'tis the last time-- +To give this body to the ground, and pay +Fit honors to the dead. So mark, my friends, +My bosom's firm resolve, and quick fulfil +Your lord's behest. Fresh in your memory lives +The mournful pomp, when to the tomb ye bore +So late my royal sire; scarce in these halls +Are stilled the echoes of the funeral wail; +Another corpse succeeds, and in the grave +Weighs down its fellow-dust--almost our torch +With borrowed lustre from the last, may pierce +The monumental gloom; and on the stair, +Blends in one throng confused two mourning trains. +Then in the sacred royal dome that guards +The ashes of my sire, prepare with speed +The funeral rites; unseen of mortal eye, +And noiseless be your task--let all be graced, +As then, with circumstances of kingly state. + +BOHEMUND. +My prince, it shall be quickly done; for still +Upreared, the gorgeous catafalque recalls +The dread solemnity; no hand disturbed +The edifice of death. + +DON CAESAR. + The yawning grave +Amid the haunts of life? No goodly sign +Was this: the rites fulfilled, why lingered yet +The trappings of the funeral show? + +BOHEMUND. + Your strife +With fresh embittered hate o'er all Messina +Woke discord's maddening flames, and from the deed +Our cares withdrew--so resolute remained, +And closed the sanctuary. + +DON CAESAR. + Make no delay; +This very night fulfil your task, for well +Beseems the midnight gloom! To-morrow's sun +Shall find this palace cleansed of every stain, +And light a happier race. + + [Exit the Second Chorus, with the body of DON MANUEL. + +CAJETAN. + Shall I invite +The brotherhood of monks, with rights ordained +By holy church of old, to celebrate +The office of departed souls, and hymn +The buried one to everlasting rest? + +DON CAESAR. +Their strains above my tomb shall sound for ever +Amid the torches' blaze--no solemn rites +Beseem the day when gory murder scares +Heaven's pardoning grace. + +CAJETAN. + Oh, let not wild despair +Tempt thee to impious, rash resolve. My prince +No mortal arm shall e'er avenge this deed; +And penance calms, with soft, atoning power, +The wrath on high. + +DON CAESAR. + If for eternal justice +Earth has no minister, myself shall wield +The avenging sword; though heaven, with gracious ear, +Inclines to sinners' prayers, with blood alone +Atoned is murder's guilt. + +CAJETAN. + To stem the tide +Of dire misfortune, that with maddening rage +Bursts o'er your house, were nobler than to pile +Accumulated woe. + +DON CAESAR. + The curse of old +Shall die with me! Death self-imposed alone +Can break the chain of fate. + +CAJETAN. + Thou owest thyself +A sovereign to this orphaned land, by thee +Robbed of its other lord! + +DON CAESAR. + The avenging gods +Demand their prey--some other deity +May guard the living! + +CAJETAN. + Wide as e'er the sun +In glory beams, the realm of hope extends; +But--oh remember! nothing may we gain +From Death! + +DON CAESAR. + Remember thou thy vassal's duty; +Remember and be silent! Leave to me +To follow, as I list, the spirit of power +That leads me to the goal. No happy one +May look into my breast: but if thy prince +Owns not a subject's homage, dread at least +The murderer!--the accursed!--and to the head +Of the unhappy--sacred to the gods-- +Give honors due. The pangs that rend my soul-- +What I have suffered--what I feel--have left +No place for earthly thoughts! + + DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, The Chorus. + +ISABELLA (enters with hesitating steps, and looks irresolutely + towards DON CAESAR; at last she approaches, and addresses + him with collected tones). +I thought mine eyes should ne'er behold thee more; +Thus I had vowed despairing! Oh, my son! +How quickly all a mother's strong resolves +Melt into air! 'Twas but the cry of rage +That stifled nature's pleading voice; but now +What tidings of mysterious import call me +From the desolate chambers of my sorrow? +Shall I believe it? Is it true? one day +Robs me of both my sons? + + Chorus. + + Behold! with willing steps and free, + Thy son prepares to tread + The paths of dark eternity + The silent mansions of the dead. + My prayers are vain; but thou, with power confessed, + Of nature's holiest passion, storm his breast! + +ISABELLA. +I call the curses back--that in the frenzy +Of blind despair on thy beloved head +I poured. A mother may not curse the child +That from her nourishing breast drew life, and gave +Sweet recompense for all her travail past; +Heaven would not hear the impious vows; they fell +With quick rebound, and heavy with my tears +Down from the flaming vault! + Live! live! my son! +For I may rather bear to look on thee-- +The murderer of one child--than weep for both! + +DON CAESAR. +Heedless and vain, my mother, are thy prayers +For me and for thyself; I have no place +Among the living: if thine eyes may brook +The murderer's sight abhorred--I could not bear +The mute reproach of thy eternal sorrow. + +ISABELLA. +Silent or loud, my son, reproach shall never +Disturb thy breast--ne'er in these halls shall sound +The voice of wailing, gently on my tears +My griefs shall flow away: the sport alike +Of pitiless fate together we will mourn, +And veil the deed of blood. + +DON CAESAR (with a faltering voice, and taking her hand). + Thus it shall be, +My mother--thus with silent, gentle woe +Thy grief shall fade: but when one common tomb +The murderer and his victim closes round-- +When o'er our dust one monumental stone +Is rolled--the curse shall cease--thy love no more +Unequal bless thy sons: the precious tears +Thine eyes of beauty weep shall sanctify +Alike our memories. Yes! In death are quenched +The fires of rage; and hatred owns subdued, +The mighty reconciler. Pity bends +An angel form above the funeral urn, +With weeping, dear embrace. Then to the tomb +Stay not my passage:--Oh, forbid me not, +Thus with atoning sacrifice to quell +The curse of heaven. + +ISABELLA. + All Christendom is rich +In shrines of mercy, where the troubled heart +May find repose. Oh! many a heavy burden +Have sinners in Loretto's mansion laid; +And Heaven's peculiar blessing breathes around +The grave that has redeemed the world! The prayers +Of the devout are precious--fraught with store +Of grace, they win forgiveness from the skies;-- +And on the soil by gory murder stained +Shall rise the purifying fane. + +DON CAESAR. + We pluck +The arrow from the wound--but the torn heart +Shall ne'er be healed. Let him who can, drag on +A weary life of penance and of pain, +To cleanse the spot of everlasting guilt;-- +I would not live the victim of despair; +No! I must meet with beaming eye the smile +Of happy ones, and breathe erect the air +Of liberty and joy. While yet alike +We shared thy love, then o'er my days of youth +Pale envy cast his withering shade; and now, +Think'st thou my heart could brook the dearer ties +That bind thee in thy sorrow to the dead? +Death, in his undecaying palace throned, +To the pure diamond of perfect virtue +Sublimes the mortal, and with chastening fire +Each gathered stain of frail humanity +Purges and burns away: high as the stars +Tower o'er this earthly sphere, he soars above me; +And as by ancient hate dissevered long, +Brethren and equal denizens we lived, +So now my restless soul with envy pines, +That he has won from me the glorious prize +Of immortality, and like a god +In memory marches on to times unborn! + +ISABELLA. +My Sons! Why have I called you to Messina +To find for each a grave? I brought ye hither +To calm your strife to peace. Lo! Fate has turned +My hopes to blank despair. + +DON CAESAR. + Whate'er was spoke, +My mother, is fulfilled! Blame not the end +By Heaven ordained. We trode our father's halls +With hopes of peace; and reconciled forever, +Together we shall sleep in death. + +ISABELLA. + My son, +Live for thy mother! In the stranger's land, +Say, wouldst thou leave me friendless and alone, +To cruel scorn a prey--no filial arm +To shield my helpless age? + +DON CAESAR. + When all the world +With heartless taunts pursues thee, to our grave +For refuge fly, my mother, and invoke +Thy sons' divinity--we shall be gods! +And we will hear thy prayers:--and as the twins +Of heaven, a beaming star of comfort shine +To the tossed shipman--we will hover near thee +With present help, and soothe thy troubled soul! + +ISABELLA. +Live--for thy mother, live, my son-- +Must I lose all? + + [She throws her arms about him with passionate emotion. + He gently disengages himself, and turning his face away + extends to her his hand. + +DON CAESAR. + Farewell! + +ISABELLA. + I can no more; +Too well my tortured bosom owns how weak +A mother's prayers: a mightier voice shall sound +Resistless on thy heart. + + [She goes towards the entrance of the scene. + + My daughter, come. +A brother calls him to the realms of night; +Perchance with golden hues of earthly joy +The sister, the beloved, may gently lure +The wanderer to life again. + + [BEATRICE appears at the entrance of the scene. + + DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, and the Chorus. + +DON CAESAR (on seeing her, covers his face with his hands). + My mother! +What hast thou done? + +ISABELLA (leading BEATRICE forwards). + A mother's prayers are vain! +Kneel at his feet--conjure him--melt his heart! +Oh, bid him live! + +DON CAESAR. + Deceitful mother, thus +Thou triest thy son! And wouldst thou stir my soul +Again to passion's strife, and make the sun +Beloved once more, now when I tread the paths +Of everlasting night? See where he stands-- +Angel of life!--and wondrous beautiful, +Shakes from his plenteous horn the fragrant store +Of golden fruits and flowers, that breathe around +Divinest airs of joy;--my heart awakes +In the warm sunbeam--hope returns, and life +Thrills in my breast anew. + +ISABELLA (to BEATRICE). + Thou wilt prevail! +Or none! Implore him that he live, nor rob +The staff and comfort of our days. + +BEATRICE. + The loved one +A sacrifice demands. Oh, let me die +To soothe a brother's shade! Yes, I will be +The victim! Ere I saw the light forewarned +To death, I live a wrong to heaven! The curse +Pursues me still: 'twas I that slew thy son-- +I waked the slumbering furies of their strife-- +Be mine the atoning blood! + +CAJETAN. + Ill-fated mother! +Impatient all thy children haste to doom, +And leave thee on the desolate waste alone +Of joyous life. + +BEATRICE. + Oh, spare thy precious days +For nature's band. Thy mother needs a son; +My brother, live for her! Light were the pang +To lose a daughter--but a moment shown, +Then snatched away! + +DON CAESAR (with deep emotion). + 'Tis one to live or die, +Blest with a sister's love! + +BEATRICE. + Say, dost thou envy +Thy brother's ashes? + +DON CAESAR. + In thy grief he lives +A hallowed life!--my doom is death forever! + +BEATRICE. +My brother! + +DON CAESAR. + Sister! are thy tears for me? + +BEATRICE. +Live for our mother! + +DON CAESAR (dropping her hand, and stepping back). + For our mother? + +BEATRICE (hiding her head in his breast). + Live +For her and for thy sister! + +Chorus (BOHEMUND). + She has won! +Resistless are her prayers. Despairing mother, +Awake to hope again--his choice is made! +Thy son shall live! + + [At this moment an anthem is heard. The folding doors + are thrown open, and in the church is seen the catafalque + erected, and the coffin surrounded with candlesticks. + +DON CAESAR (turning to the coffin). + I will not rob thee, brother! +The sacrifice is thine:--Hark! from the tomb, +Mightier than mother's tears, or sister's love, +Thy voice resistless cries:--my arms enfold +A treasure, potent with celestial joys, +To deck this earthly sphere, and make a lot +Worthy the gods! but shall I live in bliss, +While in the tomb thy sainted innocence +Sleeps unavenged? Thou, Ruler of our days, +All just--all wise--let not the world behold +Thy partial care! I saw her tears!--enough-- +They flowed for me! I am content: my brother! +I come! + + [He stabs himself with a dagger, and falls dead + at his sister's feet. She throws herself into her + mother's arms. + +Chorus, CAJETAN (after a deep silence). + In dread amaze I stand, nor know +If I should mourn his fate. One truth revealed +Speaks in my breast;--no good supreme is life; +But all of earthly ills the chief is--Guilt! + + +THE END + + + + + +ON THE USE OF THE CHORUS IN TRAGEDY. + + + +A poetical work must vindicate itself: if the execution be defective, +little aid can be derived from commentaries. + +On these grounds I might safely leave the chorus to be its own advocate, +if we had ever seen it presented in an appropriate manner. But it must +be remembered that a dramatic composition first assumes the character of +a whole by means of representation on the stage. The poet supplies only +the words, to which, in a lyrical tragedy, music and rhythmical motion +are essential accessories. It follows, then, that if the chorus is +deprived of accompaniments appealing so powerfully to the senses, it will +appear a superfluity in the economy of the drama--a mere hinderance to +the development of the plot--destructive to the illusion of the scene, +and wearisome to the spectators. + +To do justice to the chorus, more especially if our aims in poetry be of +a grand and elevated character, we must transport ourselves from the +actual to a possible stage. It is the privilege of art to furnish for +itself whatever is requisite, and the accidental deficiency of +auxiliaries ought not to confine the plastic imagination of the poet. He +aspires to whatever is most dignified, he labors to realize the ideal in +his own mind--though in the execution of his purpose he must needs +accommodate himself to circumstances. + +The assertion so commonly made that the public degrades art is not well +founded. It is the artist that brings the public to the level of his +own conceptions; and, in every age in which art has gone to decay, it has +fallen through its professors. The people need feeling alone, and +feeling they possess. They take their station before the curtain with +an unvoiced longing, with a multifarious capacity. They bring with them +an aptitude for what is highest--they derive the greatest pleasure from +what is judicious and true; and if, with these powers of appreciation, +they deign to be satisfied with inferior productions, still, if they have +once tasted what is excellent, they will in the end insist on having it +supplied to them. + +It is sometimes objected that the poet may labor according to an ideal-- +that the critic may judge from ideas, but that mere executive art is +subject to contingencies, and depends for effect on the occasion. +Managers will be obstinate; actors are bent on display--the audience is +inattentive and unruly. Their object is relaxation, and they are +disappointed if mental exertion be required, when they expected only +amusement. But if the theatre be made instrumental towards higher +objects, the diversion, of the spectator will not be increased, but +ennobled. It will be a diversion, but a poetical one. All art is +dedicated to pleasure, and there can be no higher and worthier end than +to make men happy. The true art is that which provides the highest +degree of pleasure; and this consists in the abandonment of the spirit to +the free play of all its faculties. + +Every one expects from the imaginative arts a certain emancipation from +the bounds of reality: we are willing to give a scope to fancy, and +recreate ourselves with the possible. The man who expects it the least +will nevertheless forget his ordinary pursuits, his everyday existence +and individuality, and experience delight from uncommon incidents:--if he +be of a serious turn of mind he will acknowledge on the stage that moral +government of the world which he fails to discover in real life. But he +is, at the same time, perfectly aware that all is an empty show, and that +in a true sense he is feeding only on dreams. When he returns from the +theatre to the world of realities, he is again compressed within its +narrow bounds; he is its denizen as before--for it remains what it was, +and in him nothing has been changed. What, then, has he gained beyond a +momentary illusive pleasure which vanished with the occasion? + +It is because a passing recreation is alone desired that a mere show of +truth is thought sufficient. I mean that probability or vraisemblance +which is so highly esteemed, but which the commonest workers are able to +substitute for the true. + +Art has for its object not merely to afford a transient pleasure, to +excite to a momentary dream of liberty; its aim is to make us absolutely +free; and this it accomplishes by awakening, exercising, and perfecting +in us a power to remove to an objective distance the sensible world; +(which otherwise only burdens us as rugged matter, and presses us down +with a brute influence;) to transform it into the free working of our +spirit, and thus acquire a dominion over the material by means of ideas. +For the very reason also that true art requires somewhat of the objective +and real, it is not satisfied with a show of truth. It rears its ideal +edifice on truth itself--on the solid and deep foundations of nature. + +But how art can be at once altogether ideal, yet in the strictest sense +real; how it can entirely leave the actual, and yet harmonize with +nature, is a problem to the multitude; and hence the distorted views +which prevail in regard to poetical and plastic works; for to ordinary +judgments these two requisites seem to counteract each other. + +It is commonly supposed that one may be attained by the sacrifice of the +other;--the result is a failure to arrive at either. One to whom nature +has given a true sensibility, but denied the plastic imaginative power, +will be a faithful painter of the real; he will adapt casual appearances, +but never catch the spirit of nature. He will only reproduce to us the +matter of the world, which, not being our own work, the product of our +creative spirit, can never have the beneficent operation of art, of which +the essence is freedom. Serious indeed, but unpleasing, is the cast of +thought with which such an artist and poet dismisses us; we feel +ourselves painfully thrust back into the narrow sphere of reality by +means of the very art which ought to have emancipated us. On the other +hand, a writer endowed with a lively fancy, but destitute of warmth and +individuality of feeling, will not concern himself in the least about +truth; he will sport with the stuff of the world, and endeavor to +surprise by whimsical combinations; and as his whole performance is +nothing but foam and glitter, he will, it is true, engage the attention +for a time, but build up and confirm nothing in the understanding. His +playfulness is, like the gravity of the other, thoroughly unpoetical. To +string together at will fantastical images is not to travel into the +realm of the ideal; and the imitative reproduction of the actual cannot +be called the representation of nature. Both requisites stand so little +in contradiction to each other that they are rather one and the same +thing; that art is only true insomuch as it altogether forsakes the +actual, and becomes purely ideal. Nature herself is an idea of the mind, +and is never presented to the senses. She lies under the veil of +appearances, but is herself never apparent. To the art of the ideal +alone is lent, or rather absolutely given, the privilege to grasp the +spirit of the all and bind it in a corporeal form. + +Yet, in truth, even art cannot present it to the senses, but by means of +her creative power to the imaginative faculty alone; and it is thus that +she becomes more true than all reality, and more real than all +experience. It follows from these premises that the artist can use no +single element taken from reality as he finds it--that his work must be +ideal in all its parts, if it be designed to have, as it were, an +intrinsic reality, and to harmonize with nature. + +What is true of art and poetry, in the abstract, holds good as to their +various kinds; and we may apply what has been advanced to the subject of +tragedy. In this department it is still necessary to controvert the +ordinary notion of the natural, with which poetry is altogether +incompatible. A certain ideality has been allowed in painting, though, I +fear, on grounds rather conventional than intrinsic; but in dramatic +works what is desired is allusion, which, if it could be accomplished by +means of the actual, would be, at best, a paltry deception. All the +externals of a theatrical representation are opposed to this notion; all +is merely a symbol of the real. The day itself in a theatre is an +artificial one; the metrical dialogue is itself ideal; yet the conduct of +the play must forsooth be real, and the general effect sacrificed to a +part. Thus the French, who have utterly misconceived the spirit of the +ancients, adopted on their stage the unities of tine and place in the +most common and empirical sense; as though there were any place but the +bare ideal one, or any other time than the mere sequence of the +incidents. + +By the introduction of a metrical dialogue an important progress has been +made towards the poetical tragedy. A few lyrical dramas have been +successful on the stage, and poetry, by its own living energy, has +triumphed over prevailing prejudices. But so long as these erroneous +views are entertained little has been done--for it is not enough barely +to tolerate as a poetical license that which is, in truth, the essence of +all poetry. The introduction of the chorus would be the last and +decisive step; and if it only served this end, namely, to declare open +and honorable warfare against naturalism in art, it would be for us a +living wall which tragedy had drawn around herself, to guard her from +contact with the world of reality, and maintain her own ideal soil, her +poetical freedom. + +It is well-known that the Greek tragedy had its origin in the chorus; and +though in process of time it became independent, still it may be said +that poetically, and in spirit, the chorus was the source of its +existence, and that without these persevering supporters and witnesses of +the incident a totally different order of poetry would have grown out of +the drama. The abolition of the chorus, and the debasement of this +sensibly powerful organ into the characterless substitute of a confidant, +is by no means such an improvement in the tragedy as the French, and +their imitators, would have it supposed to be. + +The old tragedy, which at first only concerned itself with gods, heroes +and kings introduced the chorus as an essential accompaniment. The poets +found it in nature, and for that reason employed it. It grew out of the +poetical aspect of real life. In the new tragedy it becomes an organ of +art, which aids in making the poetry prominent. The modern poet no +longer finds the chorus in nature; he must needs create and introduce it +poetically; that is, he must resolve on such an adaption of his story as +will admit of its retrocession to those primitive times and to that +simple form of life. + +The chorus thus renders more substantial service to the modern dramatist +than to the old poet--and for this reason, that it transforms the +commonplace actual world into the old poetical one; that it enables him +to dispense with all that is repugnant to poetry, and conducts him back +to the most simple, original, and genuine motives of action. The palaces +of kings are in these days closed--courts of justice have been +transferred from the gates of cities to the interior of buildings; +writing has narrowed the province of speech; the people itself--the +sensibly living mass--when it does not operate as brute force, has become +a part of the civil polity, and thereby an abstract idea in our minds; +the deities have returned within the bosoms of mankind. The poet must +reopen the palaces--he must place courts of justice beneath the canopy of +heaven--restore the gods, reproduce every extreme which the artificial +frame of actual life has abolished--throw aside every factitious +influence on the mind or condition of man which impedes the manifestation +of his inward nature and primitive character, as the statuary rejects +modern costume:--and of all external circumstances adopts nothing but +what is palpable in the highest of forms--that of humanity. + +But precisely as the painter throws around his figures draperies of ample +volume, to fill up the space of his picture richly and gracefully, to +arrange its several parts in harmonious masses, to give due play to +color, which charms and refreshes the eye--and at once to envelop human +forms in a spiritual veil, and make them visible--so the tragic poet +inlays and entwines his rigidly contracted plot and the strong outlines +of his characters with a tissue of lyrical magnificence, in which, as in +flowing robes of purple, they move freely and nobly, with a sustained +dignity and exalted repose. + +In a higher organization, the material, or the elementary, need not be +visible; the chemical color vanishes in the finer tints of the +imaginative one. The material, however, has its peculiar effect, and may +be included in an artistical composition. But it must deserve its place +by animation, fulness and harmony, and give value to the ideal forms +which it surrounds instead of stifling them by its weight. + +In respect of the pictorial art, this is obvious to ordinary +apprehension, yet in poetry likewise, and in the tragical kind, which is +our immediate subject, the same doctrine holds good. Whatever fascinates +the senses alone is mere matter, and the rude element of a work of art:-- +if it takes the lead it will inevitably destroy the poetical--which lies +at the exact medium between the ideal and the sensible. But man is so +constituted that he is ever impatient to pass from what is fanciful to +what is common; and reflection must, therefore, have its place even in +tragedy. But to merit this place it must, by means of delivery, recover +what it wants in actual life; for if the two elements of poetry, the +ideal and the sensible, do not operate with an inward mutuality, they +must at least act as allies--or poetry is out of the question. If the +balance be not intrinsically perfect, the equipoise can only be +maintained by an agitation of both scales. + +This is what the chorus effects in tragedy. It is in itself, not an +individual but a general conception; yet it is represented by a palpable +body which appeals to the senses with an imposing grandeur. It forsakes +the contracted sphere of the incidents to dilate itself over the past and +the future, over distant times and nations, and general humanity, to +deduce the grand results of life, and pronounce the lessons of wisdom. +But all this it does with the full power of fancy--with a bold lyrical +freedom which ascends, as with godlike step, to the topmost height of +worldly things; and it effects it in conjunction with the whole sensible +influence of melody and rhythm, in tones and movements. + +The chorus thus exercises a purifying influence on tragic poetry, +insomuch as it keeps reflection apart from the incidents, and by this +separation arms it with a poetical vigor, as the painter, by means of a +rich drapery, changes the ordinary poverty of costume into a charm and +ornament. + +But as the painter finds himself obliged to strengthen the tone of color +of the living subject, in order to counterbalance the material +influences--so the lyrical effusions of the chorus impose upon the poet +the necessity of a proportionate elevation of his general diction. It is +the chorus alone which entitles the poet to employ this fulness of tone, +which at once charms the senses, pervades the spirit, and expands the +mind. This one giant form on his canvas obliges him to mount all his +figures on the cothurnus, and thus impart a tragical grandeur to his +picture. If the chorus be taken away, the diction of the tragedy must +generally be lowered, or what is now great and majestic will appear +forced and overstrained. The old chorus introduced into the French +tragedy would present it in all its poverty, and reduce it to nothing; +yet, without doubt, the same accompaniment would impart to Shakspeare's +tragedy its true significance. + +As the chorus gives life to the language--so also it gives repose to the +action; but it is that beautiful and lofty repose which is the +characteristic of a true work of art. For the mind of the spectator +ought to maintain its freedom through the most impassioned scenes; it +should not be the mere prey of impressions, but calmly and severely +detach itself from the emotions which it suffers. The commonplace +objection made to the chorus, that it disturbs the illusion, and blunts +the edge of the feelings, is what constitutes its highest recommendation; +for it is this blind force of the affections which the true artist +deprecates--this illusion is what he disdains to excite. If the strokes +which tragedy inflicts on our bosoms followed without respite, the +passion would overpower the action. We should mix ourselves with the +subject-matter, and no longer stand above it. It is by holding asunder +the different parts, and stepping between the passions with its composing +views, that the chorus restores to us our freedom, which would else be +lost in the tempest. The characters of the drama need this intermission +in order to collect themselves; for they are no real beings who obey the +impulse of the moment, and merely represent individuals--but ideal +persons and representatives of their species, who enunciate the deep +things of humanity. + +Thus much on my attempt to revive the old chorus on the tragic stage. It +is true that choruses are not unknown to modern tragedy; but the chorus +of the Greek drama, as I have employed it--the chorus, as a single ideal +person, furthering and accompanying the whole plot--if of an entirely +distinct character; and when, in discussion on the Greek tragedy, I hear +mention made of choruses, I generally suspect the speaker's ignorance of +his subject. In my view the chorus has never been reproduced since the +decline of the old tragedy. + +I have divided it into two parts, and represented it in contest with +itself; but this occurs where it acts as a real person, and as an +unthinking multitude. As chorus and an ideal person it is always one and +entire. I have also several times dispensed with its presence on the +stage. For this liberty I have the example of Aeschylus, the creator of +tragedy, and Sophocles, the greatest master of his art. + +Another license it may be more difficult to excuse. I have blended +together the Christian religion and the pagan mythology, and introduced +recollections of the Moorish superstition. But the scene of the drama is +Messina--where these three religions either exercised a living influence, +or appealed to the senses in monumental remains. Besides, I consider it +a privilege of poetry to deal with different religions as a collective +whole. In which everything that bears an individual character, and +expresses a peculiar mode of feeling, has its place. Religion itself, +the idea of a Divine Power, lies under the veil of all religions; and it +must be permitted to the poet to represent it in the form which appears +the most appropriate to his subject. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIDE OF MESSINA, BY SCHILLER *** + +********* This file should be named fs33w10.txt or fs33w10.zip ********* + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, fs33w11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, fs33w10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by Tapio Riikonen +and David Widger, widger@cecomet.net + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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