Glycine.Have you yet seen him?180Is he returned?[Laskastarts up.Has the seat stung you, Laska?Laska.No, serpent! no; 'tis you that sting me; you!What! you would cling to him again?Glycine.Whom?Laska.Bethlen! Bethlen!Yes; gaze as if your very eyes embraced him!185Ha! you forget the scene of yesterday!Mute ere he came, but then—Out on your screams,And your pretended fears!Glycine.Your fears, at least,Were real, Laska! or your trembling limbsAnd white cheeks played the hypocrites most vilely!190Laska.I fear! whom? what?Glycine.I know what I should fear,Were I in Laska's place.Laska.What?Glycine.My own conscience,For having fed my jealousy and envyWith a plot, made out of other men's revenges,Against a brave and innocent young man's life!195Yet, yet, pray tell me!Laska.You will know too soon.Glycine.Would I could find my lady! though she chid me—Yet this suspense—[Going.Laska.Stop! stop! one question only—I am quite calm—Glycine.Ay, as the old song says,Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove.200Nay now, I have marred the verse: well! this one question—Laska.Are you not bound to me by your own promise?And is it not as plain—Glycine.Halt! that's two questions.Laska.Pshaw! Is it not as plain as impudence,That you're in love with this young swaggering beggar,205Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused,Why pressed you forward? Why did you defend him?Glycine.Question meet question: that's a woman's privilege,[908]Why, Laska, did you urge Lord CasimirTo make my lady force that promise from me?210Laska.So then, you say, Lady Sarolta, forced you?Glycine.Could I look up to her dear countenance,And say her nay? As far back as I wot ofAll her commands were gracious, sweet requests.How could it be then, but that her requests215Must needs have sounded to me as commands?And as for love, had I a score of loves,I'd keep them all for my dear, kind, good mistress.Laska.Not one for Bethlen?Glycine.Oh! that's a different thing.To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious220To his good old father. But for loving him—Nay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska!Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him;For I sigh so deeply when I think of him!And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes,225And my heart beats; and all because I dreamtThat the war-wolf[908:1]had gored him as he huntedIn the haunted forest!Laska.You dare own all this?Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I'll make you230Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odd's, my fingersTingle already![Makes threatening signs.Glycine (aside).Ha! Bethlen coming this way![Glycinethen cries out.Oh, save me! save me! Pray don't kill me, Laska!
Glycine.Have you yet seen him?180Is he returned?[Laskastarts up.Has the seat stung you, Laska?
Laska.No, serpent! no; 'tis you that sting me; you!What! you would cling to him again?
Glycine.Whom?
Laska.Bethlen! Bethlen!Yes; gaze as if your very eyes embraced him!185Ha! you forget the scene of yesterday!Mute ere he came, but then—Out on your screams,And your pretended fears!
Glycine.Your fears, at least,Were real, Laska! or your trembling limbsAnd white cheeks played the hypocrites most vilely!190
Laska.I fear! whom? what?
Glycine.I know what I should fear,Were I in Laska's place.
Laska.What?
Glycine.My own conscience,For having fed my jealousy and envyWith a plot, made out of other men's revenges,Against a brave and innocent young man's life!195Yet, yet, pray tell me!
Laska.You will know too soon.
Glycine.Would I could find my lady! though she chid me—Yet this suspense—[Going.
Laska.Stop! stop! one question only—I am quite calm—
Glycine.Ay, as the old song says,Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove.200Nay now, I have marred the verse: well! this one question—
Laska.Are you not bound to me by your own promise?And is it not as plain—
Glycine.Halt! that's two questions.
Laska.Pshaw! Is it not as plain as impudence,That you're in love with this young swaggering beggar,205Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused,Why pressed you forward? Why did you defend him?
Glycine.Question meet question: that's a woman's privilege,[908]Why, Laska, did you urge Lord CasimirTo make my lady force that promise from me?210
Laska.So then, you say, Lady Sarolta, forced you?
Glycine.Could I look up to her dear countenance,And say her nay? As far back as I wot ofAll her commands were gracious, sweet requests.How could it be then, but that her requests215Must needs have sounded to me as commands?And as for love, had I a score of loves,I'd keep them all for my dear, kind, good mistress.
Laska.Not one for Bethlen?
Glycine.Oh! that's a different thing.To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious220To his good old father. But for loving him—Nay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska!Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him;For I sigh so deeply when I think of him!And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes,225And my heart beats; and all because I dreamtThat the war-wolf[908:1]had gored him as he huntedIn the haunted forest!
Laska.You dare own all this?Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I'll make you230Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odd's, my fingersTingle already![Makes threatening signs.
Glycine (aside).Ha! Bethlen coming this way![Glycinethen cries out.Oh, save me! save me! Pray don't kill me, Laska!
EnterBethlenin a Hunting Dress.
Bethlen.What, beat a woman!Laska (to Glycine).O you cockatrice!Bethlen.Unmanly dastard, hold!Laska.Do you chance to know235Who—I—am, Sir?—('Sdeath! how black he looks!)
Bethlen.What, beat a woman!
Laska (to Glycine).O you cockatrice!
Bethlen.Unmanly dastard, hold!
Laska.Do you chance to know235Who—I—am, Sir?—('Sdeath! how black he looks!)
Bethlen.I have started many strange beasts in my time,But none less like a man, than this before meThat lifts his hand against a timid female.Laska.Bold youth! she's mine.Glycine.No, not my master yet,240But only is to be; and all, becauseTwo years ago my lady asked me, andI promised her, not him; and if she'll let me,I'll hate you, my lord's steward.Bethlen.Hush, Glycine!Glycine.Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought245False witnesses to swear away your life:Your life, and old Bathory's too.Bethlen.Bathory's!Where is my father? Answer, or——Ha! gone!
Bethlen.I have started many strange beasts in my time,But none less like a man, than this before meThat lifts his hand against a timid female.
Laska.Bold youth! she's mine.
Glycine.No, not my master yet,240But only is to be; and all, becauseTwo years ago my lady asked me, andI promised her, not him; and if she'll let me,I'll hate you, my lord's steward.
Bethlen.Hush, Glycine!
Glycine.Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought245False witnesses to swear away your life:Your life, and old Bathory's too.
Bethlen.Bathory's!Where is my father? Answer, or——Ha! gone!
[Laskaduring this time retires from the Stage.
Glycine.Oh, heed not him! I saw you pressing onward,And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth,250It is your life they seek!Bethlen.My life?Glycine.Alas,Lady Sarolta even—Bethlen.She does not know me!Glycine.Oh that she did! she could not then have spokenWith such stern countenance. But though she spurn me,I will kneel, Bethlen—Bethlen.Not for me, Glycine!255What have I done? or whom have I offended?Glycine.Rash words, 'tis said, and treasonous of the king.
Glycine.Oh, heed not him! I saw you pressing onward,And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth,250It is your life they seek!
Bethlen.My life?
Glycine.Alas,Lady Sarolta even—
Bethlen.She does not know me!
Glycine.Oh that she did! she could not then have spokenWith such stern countenance. But though she spurn me,I will kneel, Bethlen—
Bethlen.Not for me, Glycine!255What have I done? or whom have I offended?
Glycine.Rash words, 'tis said, and treasonous of the king.
[Bethlenmutters to himself.
Glycine (aside).So looks the statue, in our hall, o' the god,The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!Bethlen.King!Glycine.Ah, often have I wished you were a king.260You would protect the helpless every where,As you did us. And I, too, should not thenGrieve for you, Bethlen, as I do; nor have[910]The tears come in my eyes; nor dream bad dreamsThat you were killed in the forest; and then Laska265Would have no right to rail at me, nor say(Yes, the base man, he says,) that I—I love you.Bethlen.Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed—But in good truth I know not what I speak.This luckless morning I have been so haunted270With my own fancies, starting up like omens,That I feel like one, who waking from a dreamBoth asks and answers wildly.—But Bathory?Glycine.Hist! 'tis my lady's step! She must not see you![Bethlenretires.
Glycine (aside).So looks the statue, in our hall, o' the god,The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!
Bethlen.King!
Glycine.Ah, often have I wished you were a king.260You would protect the helpless every where,As you did us. And I, too, should not thenGrieve for you, Bethlen, as I do; nor have[910]The tears come in my eyes; nor dream bad dreamsThat you were killed in the forest; and then Laska265Would have no right to rail at me, nor say(Yes, the base man, he says,) that I—I love you.
Bethlen.Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed—But in good truth I know not what I speak.This luckless morning I have been so haunted270With my own fancies, starting up like omens,That I feel like one, who waking from a dreamBoth asks and answers wildly.—But Bathory?
Glycine.Hist! 'tis my lady's step! She must not see you![Bethlenretires.
Enter from the CottageSaroltaandBathory.
Sarolta.Go, seek your son! I need not add, be speedy—275You here, Glycine?[ExitBathory.Glycine.Pardon, pardon, Madam!If you but saw the old man's son, you would not,You could not have him harmed.Sarolta.Be calm, Glycine!Glycine.No, I shall break my heart.Sarolta.Ha! is it so?O strange and hidden power of sympathy,280That of—like fates, though all unknown to each,Dost make blind instincts, orphan's heart to orphan'sDrawing by dim disquiet!Glycine.Old Bathory—Sarolta.Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears.Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen285Seems a most noble and deserving youth.Glycine.My lady does not mock me?Sarolta.Where is Laska?Has he not told thee?Glycine.Nothing. In his fear—Anger, I mean—stole off—I am so fluttered—Left me abruptly—Sarolta.His shame excuses him!290He is somewhat hardly tasked; and in dischargingHis own tools, cons a lesson for himself.Bathory and the youth henceforward liveSafe in my lord's protection.Glycine.The saints bless you![911]Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear,295Lady Sarolta could be cruel?Sarolta.Come,Be yourself, girl!Glycine.O, 'tis so full here!And now it can not harm him if I tell you,That the old man's son—Sarolta.Is not that old man's son!A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his.300For all I know of thee is, that thou artA soldier's orphan: left when rage intestine[911:1]Shook and engulphed the pillars of Illyria.This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake,This, so mysteriously inscribed by nature,305Perchance may piece out and interpret thine.Command thyself! Be secret! His true father——Hear'st thou?Glycine.O tell—Bethlen (rushing out).Yes, tell me, Shape from heaven!Who is my father?Sarolta (gazing with surprise).Thine? Thy father? Rise!Glycine.Alas! He hath alarmed you, my dear lady!310Sarolta.His countenance, not his act!Glycine.Rise, Bethlen! Rise!Bethlen.No; kneel thou too! and with thy orphan's tonguePlead for me! I am rooted to the earthAnd have no power to rise! Give me a father!There is a prayer in those uplifted eyes315That seeks high Heaven! But I will overtake it,[912]And bring it back, and make it plead for meIn thine own heart! Speak! Speak! Restore to meA name in the world!Sarolta.By that blest Heaven I gazed at,I know not who thou art. And if I knew,320Dared I—But rise!Bethlen.Blest spirits of my parents,Ye hover o'er me now! Ye shine upon me!And like a flower that coils forth from a ruin,I feel and seek the light I can not see!Sarolta.Thou see'st yon dim spot on the mountain's ridge,325But what it is thou know'st not. Even suchIs all I know of thee—haply, brave youth,Is all Fate makes it safe for thee to know!Bethlen.Safe? Safe? O let me then inherit danger,And it shall be my birth-right!Sarolta (aside).That look again!—330The wood which first incloses, and then skirtsThe highest track that leads across the mountains—Thou know'st it, Bethlen?Bethlen.Lady, 'twas my wontTo roam there in my childhood oft aloneAnd mutter to myself the name of father.335For still Bathory (why, till now I guessed not)Would never hear it from my lips, but sighingGazed upward. Yet of late an idle terror——Glycine.Madam, that wood is haunted by the war-wolves,Vampires, and monstrous——Sarolta.Moon-calves, credulous girl!340Haply some o'ergrown savage of the forestHath his lair there, and fear hath framed the rest.After that last great battle, (O young man!Thou wakest anew my life's sole anguish) thatWhich fixed Lord Emerick on his throne, Bathory345Led by a cry, far inward from the track,In the hollow of an oak, as in a nest,Did find thee, Bethlen, then a helpless babe.The robe that wrapt thee was a widow's mantle.Bethlen.An infant's weakness doth relax my frame.350O say—I fear to ask——Sarolta.And I to tell thee.
Sarolta.Go, seek your son! I need not add, be speedy—275You here, Glycine?[ExitBathory.
Glycine.Pardon, pardon, Madam!If you but saw the old man's son, you would not,You could not have him harmed.
Sarolta.Be calm, Glycine!
Glycine.No, I shall break my heart.
Sarolta.Ha! is it so?O strange and hidden power of sympathy,280That of—like fates, though all unknown to each,Dost make blind instincts, orphan's heart to orphan'sDrawing by dim disquiet!
Glycine.Old Bathory—
Sarolta.Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears.Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen285Seems a most noble and deserving youth.
Glycine.My lady does not mock me?
Sarolta.Where is Laska?Has he not told thee?
Glycine.Nothing. In his fear—Anger, I mean—stole off—I am so fluttered—Left me abruptly—
Sarolta.His shame excuses him!290He is somewhat hardly tasked; and in dischargingHis own tools, cons a lesson for himself.Bathory and the youth henceforward liveSafe in my lord's protection.
Glycine.The saints bless you![911]Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear,295Lady Sarolta could be cruel?
Sarolta.Come,Be yourself, girl!
Glycine.O, 'tis so full here!And now it can not harm him if I tell you,That the old man's son—
Sarolta.Is not that old man's son!A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his.300For all I know of thee is, that thou artA soldier's orphan: left when rage intestine[911:1]Shook and engulphed the pillars of Illyria.This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake,This, so mysteriously inscribed by nature,305Perchance may piece out and interpret thine.Command thyself! Be secret! His true father——Hear'st thou?
Glycine.O tell—
Bethlen (rushing out).Yes, tell me, Shape from heaven!Who is my father?
Sarolta (gazing with surprise).Thine? Thy father? Rise!
Glycine.Alas! He hath alarmed you, my dear lady!310
Sarolta.His countenance, not his act!
Glycine.Rise, Bethlen! Rise!
Bethlen.No; kneel thou too! and with thy orphan's tonguePlead for me! I am rooted to the earthAnd have no power to rise! Give me a father!There is a prayer in those uplifted eyes315That seeks high Heaven! But I will overtake it,[912]And bring it back, and make it plead for meIn thine own heart! Speak! Speak! Restore to meA name in the world!
Sarolta.By that blest Heaven I gazed at,I know not who thou art. And if I knew,320Dared I—But rise!
Bethlen.Blest spirits of my parents,Ye hover o'er me now! Ye shine upon me!And like a flower that coils forth from a ruin,I feel and seek the light I can not see!
Sarolta.Thou see'st yon dim spot on the mountain's ridge,325But what it is thou know'st not. Even suchIs all I know of thee—haply, brave youth,Is all Fate makes it safe for thee to know!
Bethlen.Safe? Safe? O let me then inherit danger,And it shall be my birth-right!
Sarolta (aside).That look again!—330The wood which first incloses, and then skirtsThe highest track that leads across the mountains—Thou know'st it, Bethlen?
Bethlen.Lady, 'twas my wontTo roam there in my childhood oft aloneAnd mutter to myself the name of father.335For still Bathory (why, till now I guessed not)Would never hear it from my lips, but sighingGazed upward. Yet of late an idle terror——
Glycine.Madam, that wood is haunted by the war-wolves,Vampires, and monstrous——
Sarolta.Moon-calves, credulous girl!340Haply some o'ergrown savage of the forestHath his lair there, and fear hath framed the rest.After that last great battle, (O young man!Thou wakest anew my life's sole anguish) thatWhich fixed Lord Emerick on his throne, Bathory345Led by a cry, far inward from the track,In the hollow of an oak, as in a nest,Did find thee, Bethlen, then a helpless babe.The robe that wrapt thee was a widow's mantle.
Bethlen.An infant's weakness doth relax my frame.350O say—I fear to ask——
Sarolta.And I to tell thee.
Bethlen.Strike! O strike quickly! See, I do not shrink.I am stone, cold stone.Sarolta.Hid in a brake hard by,Scarce by both palms supported from the earth,A wounded lady lay, whose life fast waning355Seemed to survive itself in her fixt eyes,That strained towards the babe. At length one armPainfully from her own weight disengaging,She pointed first to heaven, then from her bosomDrew forth a golden casket. Thus entreated360Thy foster-father took thee in his arms,And kneeling spake: 'If aught of this world's comfortCan reach thy heart, receive a poor man's troth,That at my life's risk I will save thy child!'Her countenance worked, as one that seemed preparing365A loud voice, but it died upon her lipsIn a faint whisper, 'Fly! Save him! Hide—hide all!'Bethlen.And did he leave her? What! had I a mother?And left her bleeding, dying? Bought I vile lifeWith the desertion of a dying mother?370Oh agony!Glycine.Alas! thou art bewildered,And dost forget thou wert a helpless infant!Bethlen.What else can I remember, but a motherMangled and left to perish?Sarolta.Hush, Glycine!It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct:375Let it but lift itself to air and sunshine,And it will find a mirror in the watersIt now makes boil above it. Check him not!Bethlen.O that I were diffused among the watersThat pierce into the secret depths of earth,380And find their way in darkness! Would that ICould spread myself upon the homeless winds!And I would seek her! for she is not dead!She can not die! O pardon, gracious lady!You were about to say, that he returned—385Sarolta.Deep Love, the godlike in us, still believesIts objects as immortal as itself!Bethlen.And found her still—Sarolta.Alas! he did return,[914]He left no spot unsearched in all the forest,But she (I trust me by some friendly hand)390Had been borne off.Bethlen.O whither?Glycine.Dearest Bethlen!I would that you could weep like me! O do notGaze so upon the air!Sarolta.While he was absent,A friendly troop, 'tis certain, scoured the wood,Hotly pursued indeed by Emerick.Bethlen.Emerick.395Oh hell!Glycine.Bethlen!Bethlen.Hist! I'll curse him in a whisper!This gracious lady must hear blessings only.She hath not yet the glory round her head,Nor those strong eagle wings, which make swift wayTo that appointed place, which I must seek;400Or else she were my mother!Sarolta.Noble youth!From me fear nothing! Long time have I owedOfferings of expiation for misdeedsLong past that weigh me down, though innocent!Thy foster-father hid the secret from thee,405For he perceived thy thoughts as they expanded,Proud, restless, and ill-sorting with thy state!Vain was his care! Thou'st made thyself suspectedE'en where suspicion reigns, and asks no proofBut its own fears! Great Nature hath endowed thee410With her best gifts! From me thou shalt receiveAll honourable aidance! But haste hence!Travel will ripen thee, and enterpriseBeseems thy years! Be thou henceforth my soldier!And whatsoe'er betide thee, still believe415That in each noble deed, achieved or suffered,Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth!And may the light that streams from thine own honourGuide thee to that thou seekest!Glycine.Must he leave us?
Bethlen.Strike! O strike quickly! See, I do not shrink.I am stone, cold stone.
Sarolta.Hid in a brake hard by,Scarce by both palms supported from the earth,A wounded lady lay, whose life fast waning355Seemed to survive itself in her fixt eyes,That strained towards the babe. At length one armPainfully from her own weight disengaging,She pointed first to heaven, then from her bosomDrew forth a golden casket. Thus entreated360Thy foster-father took thee in his arms,And kneeling spake: 'If aught of this world's comfortCan reach thy heart, receive a poor man's troth,That at my life's risk I will save thy child!'Her countenance worked, as one that seemed preparing365A loud voice, but it died upon her lipsIn a faint whisper, 'Fly! Save him! Hide—hide all!'
Bethlen.And did he leave her? What! had I a mother?And left her bleeding, dying? Bought I vile lifeWith the desertion of a dying mother?370Oh agony!
Glycine.Alas! thou art bewildered,And dost forget thou wert a helpless infant!
Bethlen.What else can I remember, but a motherMangled and left to perish?
Sarolta.Hush, Glycine!It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct:375Let it but lift itself to air and sunshine,And it will find a mirror in the watersIt now makes boil above it. Check him not!
Bethlen.O that I were diffused among the watersThat pierce into the secret depths of earth,380And find their way in darkness! Would that ICould spread myself upon the homeless winds!And I would seek her! for she is not dead!She can not die! O pardon, gracious lady!You were about to say, that he returned—385
Sarolta.Deep Love, the godlike in us, still believesIts objects as immortal as itself!
Bethlen.And found her still—
Sarolta.Alas! he did return,[914]He left no spot unsearched in all the forest,But she (I trust me by some friendly hand)390Had been borne off.
Bethlen.O whither?
Glycine.Dearest Bethlen!I would that you could weep like me! O do notGaze so upon the air!
Sarolta.While he was absent,A friendly troop, 'tis certain, scoured the wood,Hotly pursued indeed by Emerick.
Bethlen.Emerick.395Oh hell!
Glycine.Bethlen!
Bethlen.Hist! I'll curse him in a whisper!This gracious lady must hear blessings only.She hath not yet the glory round her head,Nor those strong eagle wings, which make swift wayTo that appointed place, which I must seek;400Or else she were my mother!
Sarolta.Noble youth!From me fear nothing! Long time have I owedOfferings of expiation for misdeedsLong past that weigh me down, though innocent!Thy foster-father hid the secret from thee,405For he perceived thy thoughts as they expanded,Proud, restless, and ill-sorting with thy state!Vain was his care! Thou'st made thyself suspectedE'en where suspicion reigns, and asks no proofBut its own fears! Great Nature hath endowed thee410With her best gifts! From me thou shalt receiveAll honourable aidance! But haste hence!Travel will ripen thee, and enterpriseBeseems thy years! Be thou henceforth my soldier!And whatsoe'er betide thee, still believe415That in each noble deed, achieved or suffered,Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth!And may the light that streams from thine own honourGuide thee to that thou seekest!
Glycine.Must he leave us?
Bethlen.And for such goodness can I return nothing420But some hot tears that sting mine eyes? Some sighsThat if not breathed would swell my heart to stifling?May heaven and thine own virtues, high-born lady,Be as a shield of fire, far, far aloofTo scare all evil from thee! Yet, if fate425Hath destined thee one doubtful hour of danger,From the uttermost region of the earth, methinks,Swift as a spirit invoked, I should be with thee!And then, perchance, I might have power to unbosomThese thanks that struggle here. Eyes fair as thine430Have gazed on me with tears of love and anguish,Which these eyes saw not, or beheld unconscious;And tones of anxious fondness, passionate prayers,Have been talked to me! But this tongue ne'er soothedA mother's ear, lisping a mother's name!435O, at how dear a price have I been lovedAnd no love could return! One boon then, lady!Where'er thou bidd'st, I go thy faithful soldier,But first must trace the spot, where she lay bleedingWho gave me life. No more shall beast of ravine440Affront with baser spoil that sacred forest!Or if avengers more than human haunt there,Take they what shape they list, savage or heavenly,They shall make answer to me, though my heart's bloodShould be the spell to bind them. Blood calls for blood!445[Exit Bethlen.Sarolta.Ah! it was this I feared. To ward off thisDid I withhold from him that old BathoryReturning hid beneath the self-same oak,Where the babe lay, the mantle, and some jewelBound on his infant arm.Glycine.Oh, let me fly450And stop him! Mangled limbs do there lie scatteredTill the lured eagle bears them to her nest.And voices have been heard! And there the plant growsThat being eaten gives the inhuman wizardPower to put on the fell hyæna's shape.455Sarolta.What idle tongue hath bewitched thee, Glycine?I hoped that thou had'st learnt a nobler faith.Glycine.O chide me not, dear lady; question Laska,[916]Or the old man.Sarolta.Forgive me, I spake harshly.It is indeed a mighty sorcery460That doth enthral thy young heart, my poor girl,And what hath Laska told thee?Glycine.Three days pastA courier from the king did cross that wood;A wilful man, that armed himself on purpose:And never hath been heard of from that time!465
Bethlen.And for such goodness can I return nothing420But some hot tears that sting mine eyes? Some sighsThat if not breathed would swell my heart to stifling?May heaven and thine own virtues, high-born lady,Be as a shield of fire, far, far aloofTo scare all evil from thee! Yet, if fate425Hath destined thee one doubtful hour of danger,From the uttermost region of the earth, methinks,Swift as a spirit invoked, I should be with thee!And then, perchance, I might have power to unbosomThese thanks that struggle here. Eyes fair as thine430Have gazed on me with tears of love and anguish,Which these eyes saw not, or beheld unconscious;And tones of anxious fondness, passionate prayers,Have been talked to me! But this tongue ne'er soothedA mother's ear, lisping a mother's name!435O, at how dear a price have I been lovedAnd no love could return! One boon then, lady!Where'er thou bidd'st, I go thy faithful soldier,But first must trace the spot, where she lay bleedingWho gave me life. No more shall beast of ravine440Affront with baser spoil that sacred forest!Or if avengers more than human haunt there,Take they what shape they list, savage or heavenly,They shall make answer to me, though my heart's bloodShould be the spell to bind them. Blood calls for blood!445[Exit Bethlen.
Sarolta.Ah! it was this I feared. To ward off thisDid I withhold from him that old BathoryReturning hid beneath the self-same oak,Where the babe lay, the mantle, and some jewelBound on his infant arm.
Glycine.Oh, let me fly450And stop him! Mangled limbs do there lie scatteredTill the lured eagle bears them to her nest.And voices have been heard! And there the plant growsThat being eaten gives the inhuman wizardPower to put on the fell hyæna's shape.455
Sarolta.What idle tongue hath bewitched thee, Glycine?I hoped that thou had'st learnt a nobler faith.
Glycine.O chide me not, dear lady; question Laska,[916]Or the old man.
Sarolta.Forgive me, I spake harshly.It is indeed a mighty sorcery460That doth enthral thy young heart, my poor girl,And what hath Laska told thee?
Glycine.Three days pastA courier from the king did cross that wood;A wilful man, that armed himself on purpose:And never hath been heard of from that time!465
[Sound of horns without.
Sarolta.Hark! dost thou hear it!Glycine.'Tis the sound of horns!Our huntsmen are not out!Sarolta.Lord CasimirWould not come thus![Horns again.Glycine.Still louder!Sarolta.Haste we hence!For I believe in part thy tale of terror!But, trust me, 'tis the inner man transformed:470Beasts in the shape of men are worse than war-wolves.
Sarolta.Hark! dost thou hear it!
Glycine.'Tis the sound of horns!Our huntsmen are not out!
Sarolta.Lord CasimirWould not come thus![Horns again.
Glycine.Still louder!
Sarolta.Haste we hence!For I believe in part thy tale of terror!But, trust me, 'tis the inner man transformed:470Beasts in the shape of men are worse than war-wolves.
[SaroltaandGlycineexeunt. Trumpets, &c. louder. EnterEmerick, Lord Rudolph, Laska, andHuntsmenandAttendants.
Rudolph.A gallant chase, sire.Emerick.Aye, but this new quarryThat we last started seems worth all the rest.[then to Laska.And you—excuse me—what's your name?Laska.WhateverYour majesty may please.Emerick.Nay, that's too late, man.475Say, what thy mother and thy godfatherWere pleased to call thee.Laska.Laska, my liege sovereign.Emerick.Well, my liege subject, Laska! And you areLord Casimir's steward?Laska.And your majesty's creature.Emerick.Two gentle dames made off at our approach.480Which was your lady?LaskaMy liege lord, the taller.The other, please your grace, is her poor handmaid,Long since betrothed to me. But the maid's froward—[917]Yet would your grace but speak—Emerick.Hum, master steward!I am honoured with this sudden confidence.485Lead on.[to Laska, then to Rudolph.Lord Rudolph, you'll announce our coming.Greet fair Sarolta from me, and entreat herTo be our gentle hostess. Mark, you addHow much we grieve, that business of the stateHath forced us to delay her lord's return.490Lord Rudolph (aside).Lewd, ingrate tyrant! Yes, I will announce thee.Emerick.Now onward all.[Exeunt attendants.A fair one, by my faith!If her face rival but her gait and stature,My good friend Casimir had his reasons too.'Her tender health, her vow of strict retirement,495Made early in the convent—His word pledged—'All fictions, all! fictions of jealousy.Well! If the mountain move not to the prophet,The prophet must to the mountain! In this LaskaThere's somewhat of the knave mixed up with dolt.500Through the transparence of the fool, methought,I saw (as I could lay my finger on it)The crocodile's eye, that peered up from the bottom.This knave may do us service. Hot ambitionWon me the husband. Now let vanity505And the resentment for a forced seclusionDecoy the wife! Let him be deemed the aggressorWhose cunning and distrust began the game![Exit.
Rudolph.A gallant chase, sire.
Emerick.Aye, but this new quarryThat we last started seems worth all the rest.[then to Laska.And you—excuse me—what's your name?
Laska.WhateverYour majesty may please.
Emerick.Nay, that's too late, man.475Say, what thy mother and thy godfatherWere pleased to call thee.
Laska.Laska, my liege sovereign.
Emerick.Well, my liege subject, Laska! And you areLord Casimir's steward?
Laska.And your majesty's creature.
Emerick.Two gentle dames made off at our approach.480Which was your lady?
LaskaMy liege lord, the taller.The other, please your grace, is her poor handmaid,Long since betrothed to me. But the maid's froward—[917]Yet would your grace but speak—
Emerick.Hum, master steward!I am honoured with this sudden confidence.485Lead on.[to Laska, then to Rudolph.Lord Rudolph, you'll announce our coming.Greet fair Sarolta from me, and entreat herTo be our gentle hostess. Mark, you addHow much we grieve, that business of the stateHath forced us to delay her lord's return.490
Lord Rudolph (aside).Lewd, ingrate tyrant! Yes, I will announce thee.
Emerick.Now onward all.[Exeunt attendants.A fair one, by my faith!If her face rival but her gait and stature,My good friend Casimir had his reasons too.'Her tender health, her vow of strict retirement,495Made early in the convent—His word pledged—'All fictions, all! fictions of jealousy.Well! If the mountain move not to the prophet,The prophet must to the mountain! In this LaskaThere's somewhat of the knave mixed up with dolt.500Through the transparence of the fool, methought,I saw (as I could lay my finger on it)The crocodile's eye, that peered up from the bottom.This knave may do us service. Hot ambitionWon me the husband. Now let vanity505And the resentment for a forced seclusionDecoy the wife! Let him be deemed the aggressorWhose cunning and distrust began the game![Exit.
[906:1]This line was borrowed unconsciously from the Excursion. ['Why should a tear be in an old man's eye?'Excursion, Bk. I, l. 598 (1814).]Refers (i. e. 'strangers' in l. 163) to the tears which he feels starting in his eye. The following line was borrowed from Mr. Wordsworth's Excursion.1817,1828,1829.
[906:1]This line was borrowed unconsciously from the Excursion. ['Why should a tear be in an old man's eye?'Excursion, Bk. I, l. 598 (1814).]
Refers (i. e. 'strangers' in l. 163) to the tears which he feels starting in his eye. The following line was borrowed from Mr. Wordsworth's Excursion.1817,1828,1829.
[908:1]For the best account of the War-wolf or Lycanthropus, see Drayton'sMoon-calf, Chalmers' English Poets, vol. iv, p. 133.
[908:1]For the best account of the War-wolf or Lycanthropus, see Drayton'sMoon-calf, Chalmers' English Poets, vol. iv, p. 133.
[911:1]In the English dramatic Iambic pentameter, a¯and hypera-catalectic, [sic] the arsis strengthened by the emphasis (in which our blank verse differs from the Greek Prosody, which acknowledges no influence from emphasis) and assisted by the following caesura, permits the licence of an amphimacer¯ ˘ ¯for a spondee¯ ¯: the intermediate˘being sucked up. Thus,¯ ˘ ¯orphan: left:—and still more easily an amphibrach for a spondee.This oth˘ ¯||er fragment˘ ¯ ˘||thrown back, &c.˘ ¯[MS. note by S. T. C. in copy of first Edition to lines 302 and 304. In the text 'órphan' and 'frágment' are marked with an accent.]
[911:1]
In the English dramatic Iambic pentameter, a¯and hypera-catalectic, [sic] the arsis strengthened by the emphasis (in which our blank verse differs from the Greek Prosody, which acknowledges no influence from emphasis) and assisted by the following caesura, permits the licence of an amphimacer¯ ˘ ¯for a spondee¯ ¯: the intermediate˘being sucked up. Thus,
and still more easily an amphibrach for a spondee.
[MS. note by S. T. C. in copy of first Edition to lines 302 and 304. In the text 'órphan' and 'frágment' are marked with an accent.]
[11][Pointing toBathory'sdwelling.Saroltaanswering, points to where she then stands.
[Pointing toBathory'sdwelling.Saroltaanswering, points to where she then stands.
[56]you1817,1828,1829.
you1817,1828,1829.
After74[Angry voices and clamour without.1817.
After74[Angry voices and clamour without.1817.
Before89Laska (pompously, as commencing a set speech).1817,1828,1829.
Before89Laska (pompously, as commencing a set speech).1817,1828,1829.
[132]Sarolta (speaks with affected anger).1817,1828,1829.
Sarolta (speaks with affected anger).1817,1828,1829.
After132[ExitGlycine, mournfully.1817,1828,1829.
After132[ExitGlycine, mournfully.1817,1828,1829.
[135]us1817,1828,1829.
us1817,1828,1829.
[174]Of an ebbing grief.[Bathorybowing, shows, &c.1817,1828,1829.
Of an ebbing grief.[Bathorybowing, shows, &c.
Of an ebbing grief.[Bathorybowing, shows, &c.
1817,1828,1829.