zorayda.But if disclosed, there nowBe other ears to listen, lady.
hermione.Blanch,Awhile thou may'st withdraw.
blanch.How fierce her eye scowls! I marvel that her browsshould escape a singeing.—I would not leave you, gentlemistress, until——
zorayda.Begone!——[Hermionesmiles, and motionsBlanchto depart. ExitBlanch.
hermione.Now to thy task.
zorayda.What bearest thou, with such o'er-vigilant watch,In that fair bosom?
hermione.Marry, my heart; what more?
zorayda.'Tis then but late return'd: the truant onceHad left its home—what served thee in its place,Knowest thou yet, gentle dame?
hermione.I note thy craft:Thou busiest me with questions, hoping thusTo catch unheeded words for thine advantage—I answer nothing.
zorayda.None I crave, fair maiden.An empty billet is but poor exchangeFor the heart's losing!
hermione.How—a billet! Where?
zorayda.In that bright bosom, lady. Search it well—And yet a thing of nought: 'tis but a form,An every-day express of custom'd greeting,But as a precious relic thou dost wear it;And 'tis to thee a coveted possessionOf more esteem than the sun-ripen'd gemsGolconda bears!
hermione.Is this my unveil'd thought?Not thus I'm fool'd. Perchance thy cunning eye,For ever on the watch, hath spied this billet.'Tis here. What more knowest thou?
zorayda.Reserve thy scorn,'Twill soon give place——Hark![Distant music.Ah! start not thus.—Why that frail shudder?Yon guest within the chamber of thine earEre this hath had sweet audience. But come,My pretty spirit, hither speed, and frameThine uncorporeal organ to the soundOf bodily voice.—[Music approaches.]—Hark, lady!—ever knewYour ear aforetime yon wild melody?
SONG.
Lady, list to me,Thy gentle spirit I'll be;The fire is my garment, the flood is my bed,And I paint the first cloud with the sunbeam redThat rolls o'er the broad blue sea.Lady, list to me;To the mountain top I flee,There I watch the first wave that comes laden with light,And its soft hue I spread o'er each billow so bright;With its beam I enkindle each heaven-peering height,And the morn's radiant canopy.
Lady, list to me,Thy gentle spirit I'll be;The fire is my garment, the flood is my bed,And I paint the first cloud with the sunbeam redThat rolls o'er the broad blue sea.
Lady, list to me;To the mountain top I flee,There I watch the first wave that comes laden with light,And its soft hue I spread o'er each billow so bright;With its beam I enkindle each heaven-peering height,And the morn's radiant canopy.
hermione.Mysterious being, say from whence that voice!But once—and on such feverish perception,The sound did strike, I thought some air-form'd vision,Some fantasy, hot from the teeming brain,Imposed unreal conceptions on mine ear,To which sense held no cognizance. Say where,Thou awful visitor!
zorayda.'Twas on the terrace, when the charmed moonHung o'er the trembling stream. And thinkest thouSpirits have not such utterance?—Oft unseen,Upon the viewless air, strange visions float,And voices people the unfetter'd blast,Vouchsafed not save to those who reverenceAnd bow to their high bidding. Now—they speak!
hermione.And to what import?
zorayda.Thus the mystic chant.
When the proud eagleSighs to the dove,And his dark wing spreads o'er herWhile fluttering with love:That eagle's bright crest,And that dove's timid eye,Are quench'd in the stormThat rolls recklessly by!That storm the proud eagleHath swept from his nest:But where is the doveShelter'd once in his breast?She clings to his plume,But in death they shall sever;The eagle and doveThey have perish'd for ever!
When the proud eagleSighs to the dove,And his dark wing spreads o'er herWhile fluttering with love:
That eagle's bright crest,And that dove's timid eye,Are quench'd in the stormThat rolls recklessly by!
That storm the proud eagleHath swept from his nest:But where is the doveShelter'd once in his breast?
She clings to his plume,But in death they shall sever;The eagle and doveThey have perish'd for ever!
hermione.The eagle?—Mantua's crest!—But who the dove?
zorayda.Tempt not yet further to thine harm: we rueIf thou break silence!The spirit sings, but mine imperfect hearingShapes not its voice to aught articulateThat human utterance owns. Again—speak not—'Twas thus he sang:
A sprite in the moon-beam,A mote in the sun,I dive in the smooth stream,Through the curl'd flame I run.I see o'er proud MantuaThe beacon's red light;As the taper 'tis quench'dIn the chill blast of night!I see from the turretA maiden's dim form,And her white robe waves highOn the wing of the storm!I hear a loud shriek,With the wail of the dead;And that spirit from thenceTo its Giver hath fled!
A sprite in the moon-beam,A mote in the sun,I dive in the smooth stream,Through the curl'd flame I run.
I see o'er proud MantuaThe beacon's red light;As the taper 'tis quench'dIn the chill blast of night!
I see from the turretA maiden's dim form,And her white robe waves highOn the wing of the storm!
I hear a loud shriek,With the wail of the dead;And that spirit from thenceTo its Giver hath fled!
Some dire event breaks from the womb of time:To thee the spirit speaks. Hermione,If yet three days on this forbidden airThou breathest, Mantua and her lordMay dearly rue thy longer stay. 'Tis past.I heed not further question. Well I knowThe winds I counsel, and the turbulent floodTo soothe its rage. On, if some power prevent not,Madly ye rush to your undoing; then,Fair city, thy glad voice to woe shall turn;The loud lament, the chill and desolate wailOf thy bereavement shall ascend, piercing,Unpitied, the dun pall of heaven!Follow me not——Once more I meet thee:—if too soon, beware!Thine hours are number'd.[Exit.
hermione.Three days!—Where shall I fly?—To what lone spotCan I escape? Has this wide earth no room?—Measureless woe!—too vast for mortal limit!—Yon wild enthusiast, her impostor's craftHath here some secret consequence to whichThese bodings tend—cheat! Nay, thou didst affixFearful credentials to thy testimony;They wore the impress of truth. None but that gazeWhich scans the soul, may the unvisited depthsOf mind reveal, its untold subtiltiesUnto the eye disclosing. But three days!Yet once—one sad farewell![Exit.
A Chamber in the Inn.
Carloson a couch, attended byGiulio.
carlos.I thank thee, Giulio.The couch feels easier from thine hand. 'Tis nowBut as a troublesome scratch, scarce worth the painsTo work its cure. Another strain—thy luteStrange chords doth waken, long untuned, forgot,Slumbering untouch'd within my breast, the soundBreathes on them sweetly; at its marvellous bidding,Startled they wake, quivering once more to life.I love these ancient ballads, they do savourO' the olden time.
giulio.Good signor, my poor musicSuits not this garnish'd age:—a simple airThat lives in the heart, and floats o'er the still depthsOf long-lapsed recollections, fresheningTheir stagnant surface with soft impulse—this,Brief skill!—'tis all I claim.[Touches the chords to a slight prelude.They are but snatches of old songs, signor;Broken as fragments of the imperishing columnsWhitening some arid desert; but they are hallow'dBy the same hand that spoil'd them!
carlos.They are bondsThat with the past yet link our purer thoughts,Our most unsullied affections. StillThe voice of other years breathes through them,As the low breeze, while creeping timorouslyAround some ancient ruin, wailing thereSad echoes of departed greatness.
giuliosings.
There is a wood, there is a cot,There is a gentle river;There is a home where I am not,But where I would be ever.And adown the green valley the meadows were fair,And the breeze came to woo the young daffodils there.There is a lip I have not press'd,A heart yet coldly beating;But true love's throb within that breastWill wake at others' greeting.And adown through the valley the morn shone so fair,When the breeze gently kiss'd the young bud blushing there.And thou wilt light thy taper coldAt some gay treacherous eye;Its flame shall still thy soul enfoldWhen lovers' glance shall die!And adown the green valley, while morn shone so fair,The breeze sigh'd, and left the young bud weeping there!
There is a wood, there is a cot,There is a gentle river;There is a home where I am not,But where I would be ever.And adown the green valley the meadows were fair,And the breeze came to woo the young daffodils there.
There is a lip I have not press'd,A heart yet coldly beating;But true love's throb within that breastWill wake at others' greeting.And adown through the valley the morn shone so fair,When the breeze gently kiss'd the young bud blushing there.
And thou wilt light thy taper coldAt some gay treacherous eye;Its flame shall still thy soul enfoldWhen lovers' glance shall die!And adown the green valley, while morn shone so fair,The breeze sigh'd, and left the young bud weeping there!
carlos.Woman loves not her true lover,A treacherous lewdster best o'ersteps her grace!—Another, Giulio: I could live in them—They feed the soul, as doth ambrosiaThe mighty gods.
giuliosings.
Let me rest mine head, lady,On thy bended knee:Every pulse to thine beats true;I would 'twere so with thee.Sing heigho!Under the willow treeMy cheek will not harm thee,Start not from thy rest——
Let me rest mine head, lady,On thy bended knee:Every pulse to thine beats true;I would 'twere so with thee.Sing heigho!Under the willow tree
My cheek will not harm thee,Start not from thy rest——
carlos.Cease!—I do remember me the balladThou gavest yesterday. Upon my brainSo loud the music rings, this chaunt I hear not.—Prithee again thy strings touch to the carol.
giulio.Yet by your preference I know it not.How name you the ballad?
carlos.'Twas of the pilgrim, and his goodly benison.
giulio.Thus? (Plays.)
carlos.The same.
giuliosings.
The chase was done, the feast was begun,When the monarch sate proudly high;And the revelry rode on the wind afar,As it swept from the darkening sky.No lordly guest——
The chase was done, the feast was begun,When the monarch sate proudly high;And the revelry rode on the wind afar,As it swept from the darkening sky.
No lordly guest——
EnterBertrand.
carlos.Welcome. I grew oppress'd from thy long absence—But why that heavy, that disquieted brow?Some choler, scarce dismiss'd, hath moved thee!
bertrand.The Duke—
carlos.Didst thou complain to himTouching my wrong?
bertrand.I did.
carlos.Yet I have heardThis prince o'er all his peers hereto extoll'd,The mirror of true courtesy; embodyingThe proud and chivalrous spirit of his time.—How spake he?
bertrand.Few his words;—but this good sword—Bitter degradement!——Yon proud Duke, he gave—When from this recreant hand the traitor fell!He had disarm'd me, Carlos!
carlos.He!—You fought?
bertrand.Ay, with the Duke—thy mistress' paramour!
carlos.The Duke!—Herparamour!—'Tis fuel to my hate.
bertrand.How fares thy wound?
carlos.This?—where?—'tis well.—These garments I shake off,And put on my revenge—its panoplyShall case my bosom.—Henceforth unto allCompunction dead, and steel'd to every touchOf natural sympathy, mine o'ercharged hate,As the veil'd fire, pent in yon gathering cloud,Deep-brooding waits, in fearful silence crouching,Or ere it strike——'Twas for this minionShe spurn'd me!
bertrand.Such my hate to Andrea.Together and in secret we devise—Yet not with such precipitate haste, our counsel,As shall defeat its own resolve—some planTo furnish our revenge.[Exeunt.
A Chamber in the Palace.
Enter theDuke.
duke.Arouse thee!—fly.Ere yet the fetters closer to thine heartAre riveted—immoved for ever!Thou counsellest well—these are ignoble trammels.And I do rid me of them. Once—'tis fix'd—A short, sad hour we meet, and then farewell!Duty, remorseless, bids me.—There I'll pourInto her wondering ear a hapless taleOf thwarted love—hearts broken, severedBy obdurate fate—and in that feign'd lament,Bewail mine own.—I must my story tell;None other cause could I with honour urgeWhy thus we part—for ever!
EnterFabian.
fabian.My lord, a woman of strange aspect,And habited in Eastern garb, sits nowWithin the western porch, waiting your presence.She would not tell to me her errand.
duke.How—A stranger, and from whence?—Knowest thou her name?
fabian.She holds most resolute silence—I foreboreTo question her.
duke.Describe this sullen guest.
fabian.A turban girds her brow, white as the sea-foam,Whence, all untrammelled, her dark thin hairStreams fitfully upon her storm-beat front;Her eye at rest, pale fire in its black orbInnocuous sleeps—but roused, Jove's thunder-cloudEnkindles not so fiercely! Once it shotFull on mine eye:—in dazzling terror yetIt haunts my brain!
duke.How eloquent the tongueWhen the soul stirs it!—I would see, unharm'd,This quickenéd volcano![ExitFabian.Some moon-struck wandererCraving redress for her wrong'd fancies.
EnterFabianfollowed byZorayda;she stands in silence gazing at theDuke.
Woman, what seekest thou?—Doth silence bestDeclare thine errand?
zorayda.Silence best, my lord,Should tell thy destiny—Heaven hath commandedTo speak no evil.
duke.A rare conceit.—What more?—Is this thy message?Haste,—we command not back the passing time:—To thy request.
zorayda.Much need hast thou to noteThese priceless minutes;—let no fragment slipUngathered.—Yet my boon thou wilt not grant!Seest thou yon shadow?—[She beckons him to the window.
duke.Nought this ungifted eye beholdsBut the dark battlement upon the stream,Spread by the tranquil moon.
zorayda.Seest thou yon pennonFurl'd from the turret, floating on the vergeOf that still, sedgy shore?—
duke.Its shadow fallsWhere thou dost point;—but how may this befitWith thy request?
zorayda.At thy far-echoing birth,When hoarse artillery told to Mantua,Thy wailing entrance to a troublous life,Yon trembling shadow fell, as now it meets,Just on the rippled bank,—uniting each—The calm wave and the shore.—
duke.Thy meaning, stranger.
zorayda.Ere yet the bubbling life crept through thy veins,'Twas thus decreed: thine hour of danger comes,And sudden death, when that dim shadow passesWhere at thy birth it brooded.—
duke.(Aside toFabian.) Watch this woman;Suspicion wakes at her discourse.—(ToZorayda.)—That shadowHath oft-time pass'd, no danger thence betiding.
zorayda.Thy death can happen not, save when, as now,The pale moon flings yon omen from her beam;But ever it bodes danger.
duke.For this purposeEnterest thou my chamber?
zorayda.I have sought theeTo give rejected counsel.—What! some treacheryFrom me thou fearest!—Bind me—gird my chainsTo the unhewn rock beneath the unvisited depthsOf these abhorr'd foundations—I would wear themWithout a murmur could'st thou listen!—Hark!Thus runs the record of thy house:
"When the proud eagleFrom his cloud-wreath'd nestEnamour'd meets the dove,And sighs on her soft bosom,One shaft shall pierce them."
"When the proud eagleFrom his cloud-wreath'd nestEnamour'd meets the dove,And sighs on her soft bosom,One shaft shall pierce them."
Duke, beware——that shaft shall come!Let it not find thee in that perilous hour,Prescience forebodes thee, at some lady's earSighing unhallowed love.—Its malice thenHarms not thy breast, another bears the stroke!Remember—once again I meet thee.[ExitZorayda.
fabian.My lord, the guard shall rid you of the witch.
duke.Let her depart, she harms me not.
fabian.You seemO'erspent with watching, and forget your couch.—Betake you now to your accustom'd rest?
duke.Myrest?—'Tis well;—but will the couch give rest?Ay, to the wearied limb—but not the weary breast!Follow me, boy, unto my chamber.[Exeunt.
A Church.
Enter twoCitizens.
first citizen.Strange omens these!
second citizen.They bode disaster, elseHath Nature changed, and her accustom'd courseNo longer holds.—See, from the ducal vaultThe stone—o'er which its mailed warrior restsIn such grim pomp—is roll'd, as if that mouthExpectant yawn'd for prey.—How comes it thus?
third citizen.Some swarth attendant, late within the tomb,Hath left unclosed its yet insatiate gulf;And he returns ere long.—His task complete,This stone, oft visited, regains its place;—Would it were closed for ever!
second citizen.Ne'er to his country's weal a truer princeShall rise in Mantua—all proper tonguesTo his just praise are eloquent;—no voiceBut gathers blessing, when it speaks of Andrea.I'll peep o'er the dark wall of this huge grave.Fresh wonders still!—Here lie funeral trappingsCovering the entrance;—an inscription tooUpon the pall—[Reads]—"Andrea, the fifth DukeOf Mantua"—a goodly list of honours,Names and illustrious acts, now follow—"Died"—I cannot tell those mystic characters—Canst thou assign their import?
first citizen.I am not skill'dTo interpret mysteries; but they are form'dBy cabalistic art. Elsewhere I've seenThe conjuror, Aldenbert, those uncouth shapesUpon his tablets tracing. 'Tis not languageAkin to mortal tongue.
second citizen.Treason, I wot, with bold and impious front,Stalks forth uncheck'd:—it skulks not now abroad,But in the open day roams unabash'd,Nor shuns the sunbeam. Some unform'd eventIs yet in ripening—it bursts ere longThe shell of this dread mystery.
EnterGrave-diggerandPriest.
grave-digger.None, father, save the Egyptian woman, who so troubles the church. She slept in the porch yesternight, and I sent her away this morning betimes.
priest.Thou hast sent a message to the Duke?
grave-digger.Some half-hour agone.—I expect his highness in person will take special note of this matter.
priest.I fear me they be foes, enemies to the Duke, who have done this.—Treachery puts on bold aspects, when such foretokenings as these go before her, with loud admonishing of her approach. Here comes the Duke.
EnterDukewithAttendants.
duke.Good morrow, friends. I am something curious to behold this device.—Some trick of intimidation, your petty wonder-monger breeds to set our citizens agape.—You have not disturbed this masked frolic?
grave-digger.My lord, it rests in such shape as when it scared me dismally ere the light was well out, about cock-crowing.
duke.Knowest thou any skulking vagrant of late loitering near the church?
grave-digger.None, your grace, save the tall gipsy—she slept in the porch yesternight.
duke.The gipsy woman?
grave-digger.She, with the linen turban, that walks the city with her arms folded—thus.
duke.She was in the porch?
grave-digger.I waked her there, but roughly, an hour agone.
duke.Here hangs some clue to guide us.—I'll have the beldame seized.—Raise that unseemly pall from the tomb, and close its mouth.—This inscription I'll keep as a brief chronicle of the event.—[Takes off the inscription: a billet falls from beneath it.]—What counsels us here? One wonder treads fast upon another's heels, and o'ertops its neighbour.—[Reads.]—"I have garnished thy tomb, and it waiteth not for its prey. Depart!—When thou goest forth, but once shalt thou return hither!"—Guard, search the city—every chink and avenue.—To your utmost speed.—This hag shall not escape.—Hence!—[Exit Guard.]—My friends, let not this matter trouble you; some mischievous spirit hath malice at our peace, and hopes to work confusion within the city.—Soon we unravel the flimsy web of this strange craft.[Exeunt.
EnterDuchessandHermione.
hermione.Laura hath not yetPut off her sorrow.—Still doth fancy cherishThe darling form of yon misguided youthYour lord encounter'd on the terrace.—With long entreaty I have learnt his name;And, as my yet unquestion'd word befits,'Tis but a cast-off suitor of mine own!
duchessI fear me this adventure still broods mischief.The Duke somehow had strange intelligenceOf danger threatened to Hermione.—On that same night he watch'd, and foil'd the ruffian,But he forebore to afflict him farther.
hermione.Strange—This brief-told tale—
EnterDuke.
Welcome—thrice welcome now.By what good chance, my lord, sought you the terraceFew nights agone?—Some stray intelligence,The Duchess tells, crept to your ear of dangerTo me denounced!
duke.Some secret whisper met me of the matter.Know you this billet?
hermione.Forsooth its fair outsideSmall import gives of such unworthy deed.—I know not, save at once you dare commitIts contents to my ken.
duke.Well spoken, lady.—What read you?
hermione.Carlos!—(Reads.)Some strange mistake rests here. As my good wordEarns your belief—till now, I ne'er beheldThis love-lorn billet.
duke.Ah, woman, pleasant still,But full of subtlety;—perverse, untoward—Thy ways mark'd deep by unabash'd deceit:Well thou mayst laugh at thine imposture.
hermione.The riddle solves:—this billet by mistakeHath found its way to yon same helpless virgin.Laura hath dropp'd it—some officious friendUnto your eye the unoffending pageHath straight convey'd.
duke.Thou answerest plausibly;—I would believe thy honied tongue.
hermione.I did repulse him, sore amazedAt his approach.—He threaten'd with his hate,Which I do love more than his unprized favour!
duke.I well remember thy reproof.
duchess.Our rebel cousin hither comes with wordOf her departure from our city.—Hence,To-morrow, by the saffron-breaking dawn,To Venice she returns. I urge in vainSome further hindrance.—Wilt thou again make suitTo lady's ear, and win her stay?
duke.To-morrow!"Let then to-morrow come if e'er it may;But when to-morrow comes, 'tis still to-day—To-morrow go, and thou art never gone,Till yon to-morrow and to-day are one!"
hermione.I must hence:Urge me not further.
duke.Nay, I urge thee not.My will in Mantua e'er was held injunction.I'll be thy tyrant, lady—thy stern keeper.This day, within our palace, thou shalt be,If willing and obedient, our guest:If stubborn and self-will'd, our prisoner!I'll compass thee with such delicious chains,Thou shalt not wish e'en thine own thought were free!
hermione.Your guest this day, the last I spend in Mantua.The night I give to Laura.
duchess.This proud nightShall so out-mimic day, thou shalt not guessWhen night hath drawn the twilight to his bosom.
EnterSylvio.
sylvio(aside to theduke).The guard hath yet no tidings;The woman hides her warily.
duke.Not yet!I would, ere night, this mumming witch were found.Without the walls perchance she lurks. CommandTheir search unto the outskirts: large rewardWill follow their success.[ExitSylvio.
duchess.At this inviting hour, we tasteThe fragrance from our incense-breathing flowers:My lord, attend you us?The roses are fresh sprinkled,—the soft breezeComes heavily from their odour-blushing heads,Faint and oppress'd with its delicious burden.
duke.My spouse hath set her love on some tall poppy,Some velvet-cheek'd, young tulip; drinking nectarFrom his soft, balmy lip. I must be jealousOf these same gentle favours.
duchess.You shall attendOur fragrant courtship—the unwitting panderTo my stolen pleasures. Ah, my lord! what mean you?Comes that dark frown to me, or to my lovers?
duke.Nothing, Beatrice,—a passing jest,—'tis gone,—I needs must frown when I am jealous. Now,Fair dames, I would attend you.[Exeunt.
A Wood.
Zorayda,sitting at the foot of an oak.
zorayda.An outcast from an outcast race,—spurn'd, chid,From the churl's threshold. Shunn'd, unbless'd by all:Nor home nor heritance—I live, alone,Without associate, tie, or fellowshipE'en to my kin. I might from these consistOf other nature; other substance mightEnfold my spirit,—other shapeEnvelope me, than wraps the affrighted herdWho stand aloof and gaze! Th' inanimate forms,Nature's unchisel'd workmanship—unsulliedBy man's rude contact—'tis with these I holdConverse and high communion;And from the spirit that lives in them, freeAnd uncommunicable intercourseMy soul receives. In all things there existsDistinct peculiar essence, like the soulOur being animates; at seasons oft,In presence, though unseen, yet to the mindInternal, manifest, imparting thereMiraculous influence. In secret, too—The bodily eye, from grosser matter freed,—In shape as palpable they come, as dothEach outward image rise to corporeal sense.I am not mad. The heated brain creates notThese uncall'd phantoms: yet men say I'm crazed.They know not, dream not, of the mighty worldThat lives around them. Other orbs might hold us!—By mine art, with potent spell,And wily stratagem, the Duke I've warn'd.Hermione—proud victim! Love unhallow'dYet lingers in their breasts, and they must sever,Though one heart break in that most cruel parting!There's a foul taint of murder in the wind—I do suspect her lover—yon Venetian,Her suitor once—rejected. Such revengeWill ofttimes rouse the spirit up to mischief,Loathing, it would abhor e'en if beheldBut as a guilty dream. If this fond DukeSeek not again her presence I have hope.To-morrow she departs from Mantua—No power can harm thee, save in that brief spaceAppointed with thy birth. Here comes my spy:The urchin loves me for the good he owes.
EnterGiulio.
Welcome, boy!Thine errand?
giulio.Some whisperings I've caught,Yet know not to what purpose they should tend.I heard "to-night," twice to each listener told,And oft a cautious glance where I but stood,Tuning my simple lute. As thou hast bid me,With careful eye, note well their secret converse,I hasten'd with the news: and now, good mother,Say me farewell.
zorayda.A toward child;Great largess thou mayest earn for thy discourse:Hence! lest this absence tell what thine excuseMay not conceal.[ExitGiulio.To-night!—I'll watch. This hour of danger past,I'll pledge me to thy safety. Noble Mantua,In that dread day, my parent's forfeit lifeWhen thou didst spare, I vow'd to seek thy welfare;And my good power, for thee and for thine house,Hath not its use in vain. Yet, I do fearThe issue of this night: the vision toldMortal conclusion nigh—"They will not hear"Warning oft utter'd, but impetuous rush,"Unheeding, to their doom."Perchance some hidden meaning lurks beneathThis fearful message; an ambiguous sense,Its proper import framing, when the eventFrom which it springs, like day-betokening morn,Is past. His death it may not show. I'll save thee,Or my destruction——soft!—the tramp of men:Scouts, peradventure, on my track. Go, followThe wild bee to its nest!—or to yon cliffClimb with the eagle!—then ye mark my course![Exit.
EnterCarlosandBertrand,meeting.
bertrand.My messenger brings welcome news: to-dayHermione again visits the palace.Till this dim light shall fade, her promised stay—But the first watch of night, perchance, may findThis cuckoo harbour'd yet in others' nest!
carlos.'Tis well:—our friends with the opportunityAlone are arm'd; and as the time may noteTheir several parts. From the west turretThe accomplice issue signal, if to-nightThe Duke refreshes in the mountain-breeze,As 'tis his wont, around the platform. WhenUpon its staff the turret pennon sinks(The moon to this good signal will suffice),We climb the unguarded stair, and it conductsTo our dark enterprise.[Exeunt.
Part of the Platform, sloping to the Palace Walls.
EnterDuke, Duchess, Hermione, Ridolfi.
duke.We love these moon-lit walks, Hermione,Whilst in her wane: you like her visage best,Perchance, increasing. More I love to markHer gradual decay—retreating coy,And half aside, as if ashamed to meetThe full gaze of the sun.
hermione.I love the waxingYet rather than the wane of yon pale light:Like timid maid, when first her opening charmsMeet love's warm beam. Scarce on the wanton boyShe dares to gaze, till, bolder grown, her eyeAverted still, or half withdrawn, drinks in,With silent ecstacy, love's treacherous glance.Now his fond smile, full orb'd, the embolden'd sightEnamour'd meets: her very being, essence,And every faculty absorb—each thoughtRising impregn'd with love's fierce fire; anonThere comes a change—shy gleams succeed, her browHath one slight shade, scarce seen, but on its lightThe darkness grows—love's brightest dream is o'er,And his pale taper quench'd in utter gloom!
ridolfi.Ay, till another change. Yon fickle goddessHer fond, fool'd swain entices, till enamour'dE'en to his heart's last core; she then avertsHer love-impassion'd glance, and, scorning, shuns him!
duchess.If from deserted maid, Hermione,Whose charms were withering in the fallow waneOf an unprofited life, this speech forlornHad seem'd to ring the knell of her young hopes.But when from rosy lips, and ardent youth,It comes unlook'd for as a wintry chillBeneath a summer sun.—This air blows keenly,My locks fall with the dew—I think the nightHath not its wonted soothness: thrice I shudder'dAs the cold breeze methought sigh'd on my bosom.I must begone—Hermione, you go not.'Tis the last moonlight you behold, mayhap,In this brief stay; take a long parting, ereYe bid adieu—the Duke himself attends you;With me, our brother his good presence grants,Till your return.
ridolfi.With such proud gallantryI bow to your decree.[ExeuntDuchessandRidolfi.
duke.Beneath the western turretI love to walk—to watch the huge dim battlementsOn the smooth river sleeping, when the moon,Low in the brightening east, their shadow throwsUpon its calm, cold bosom.
hermione.Awhile I loiter with you there, my lord.[Exeunt.
The Battlements.
EnterDukeandHermione.
hermione.A pleasant tale, you say?
duke.A storyAt which the sad might laugh, the merry weep!
hermione.Strange modes of pleasantry—the sad might laugh?
duke.That his own woes were lighter.
hermione.And yet, withal,The merry weep?
duke.So sad the tale—
hermione.In troth,Most dolorously pleasant!
duke.I've been in love.
hermione.A strange propensity—a punishmentMan suffers for his sins. You've been in love?Most melancholy! How! I wot the DuchessBelieved you not?
duke.Beatrice yet—mark me—Most tenderly I love. Her long affectionWon my regard: but—late, another power—It is not love, 'tis witchery, false glamourChaining the sense, unwilling to be heldIn such deep thrall—I've seen a basilisk,And it hath holden me within the circuitOf its charmed eye. How counsel you? how breakFrom its bright glance?
hermione.I know not where, my lord,You're held, or how enchain'd. Knows she your love?
duke.I sought her, and the truth unto her earI utter'd. Was it well?
hermione.'Twere answer'd bestIn the concealed purpose unto whichTruth's outward semblance serv'd. What meaning elseBehind it crouch'd?
duke.That we might part for ever.
hermione.For ever!—Yes—'twas well!What answer gave she?
duke.Answer?—Oh—'twas well!Then we must part, Hermione?
hermione.Wepart!Wherefore for ever?
duke.I would not againCringe in thy burning glance,—and yet—I might—This foolish heart its vanish'd dream forgot—Unmoved endure thy presence! Bitter the pang!I could not say for ever! I should clingAs the doom'd wretch to life, loosing his holdBut with the heart's last throb!
hermione.I cannot counsel thus!Alas! more need some power above our ownTo tear us hence—to sever. You will forgetThis idle thought—'tis but a vagrant breath,Stirring your past affections—they respondUntouch'd, when memory wakes the soft still voiceOf other years. Their echoes o'er, againPeace, haply frighted thence, your bosom visits.I would not now for ever part!
duke.Then for a time—when absenceThe torn heart heals, we meet again. Hermione,For thee, in this night's converse, have I risk'dMy happiness, my hope, and every comfortWhich most I prize—my peace, my honour—allCommitted to thy trust—true confidenceIf not in mutual charge—nor interchangeOf strict communion held. If one aloneThe precious load entrusts, it is o'erbalancedWithout due counterpoise, reciprocal faith,And it endures not. Tell me—nay, but listen—This heart unfetter'd, offer'd thee, unplighted,Would'st thou have ta'en?
hermione.Indeed, I cannot nowSuch wild words answer. Spare me but this trial—
duke.Nay, answer me—what—silent?—why 'tis well.And so we part—but I repent me nowThou hast my trust. No answer?—then 'tis well!We part for ever! On that treacherous faceI would not gaze again.
hermione.My lord, you must—If this suffice—I answer—Yes!
duke.AngelOf soul visiting light! the storm hath still'dAt thy omnipotent word! I would not——
EnterZoraydahastily, before theDuke;she points to the stream.
What notest thou, dun sorceress?—speak!
zorayda.Yon shadow!
duke.Yet two full hours unspent, ere on the streamYon pennon flits: and now we part. But whoSent thee with such authority—with powerTo question, and to watch, with daring eye,Mine every movement? I have sought thee, fiend!If thine hell-vomited sire protect thee not,Again thou shalt not 'scape. I charge thee, witch!Confederate with foul treachery.
zorayda.There's treason in the air!Meet not the wind, it blows incontinently—The maid hath other lovers.
hermione.Hag! thy meaning?We study not ambiguous phrase.
duke.I'll crush thy treason,Ere it be ripe for hatching.[As theDukeraises the silver call to his lips,Zoraydaseizes his arm.
zorayda.'Tis for thy rescue—stay! one moment stayThy rash resolve. If I depart, undone,Destroy'd this night![TheDukemakes the signal.Rash prince! it shriek'd thy doom!
Enter Guard.
duke.Seize that bold traitress!—stop her hated croak!Lest each ensnared accomplice, if such beWithin her call, gain tidings of her seizure.To-morrow, and in private, mark me, Hugo,We hear her further.
zorayda.To-morrow!—nay, to-night, proud Duke.To-morrow is not thine. Beware![They lead her away.
duke.Of thee!Thou fearful wonder. 'Tis not idle terrorO'ermasters me, but yon foul-plotting witchQuails me unwarily. Our country's welfare,Perchance, brings o'erused caution; yet the wiseNo proffer'd warning slights. Within the palaceWe may defy an ambush'd foe.
hermione.To this,Ere mischief burst abroad, I would entreat.Yon being hath intelligence not breathedFrom mortal lips!
duke.I dare not sayThe last farewell: the coming word, when summon'd,So galls my tongue, it hath no utteranceWhen it might pass. The breath that from it issuesParches my palate; like the hot simoom,It scorches, though it sweep as stilly o'erSome blasted, bladeless desert!—I dream!—or I am fool'd!—unbind me, dæmon!Unseal mine eyeballs!—they are possess'd—again!Glazed with thy mockeries! I see not: hark!'Tis but the mental image to the brainRecoiling: yet as palpable it comes!What seest thou?—yon shadow?—where?
hermione.Yon shadow?
duke.It cannot be: a brief told moment past,I marked beyond the brink, on the dim wood,The shadow waving. Now 'tis strange. There!—there!How keen this air creeps curdling to my vitals!—The shadow yet hangs dark and motionlessOn shore and wave!
hermione.Whence comes this wondering terror?The flag hath on its staff but newly dropp'd—Look to the turret, why that spell-bound gazeSo wildly on the stream!
duke.Fell hag! thy boding screechToo surely sped. They come! Protect me, Heaven!
Enter four Assassins, masked. Three of them attack theDuke,ere he can make signals for the Guard; whilst their leader seizes onHermione.
hermione.Help!—murderers! Unhand me, wretch.[He stops her mouth.
carlos.Wretch! 'tis thy Carlos come to woo—not nowTo kiss thy very footprints, and the earthWhereon they fell! I'll bear thee hence, my mistress;And thou shalt live my menial slave. Rage not—I'll tame thy spirit, lady. Thou shalt crouch,My gentle captive, as thy Carlos once,To lick the dust, and I will spurn thee. Nay,Content thee, dame, our friends will do thee service.[TheDukedefends himself against his assailants. One of the Assassins falls.
duke.There, villain! my good brand hath served thee.[Hermione,whilst struggling withCarlos,frees herself by a sudden effort, and seizes the sword of the dying ruffian.
hermione.I'll bury this, deep, to thy heart, monster,If thou approach. Help, guards!
carlos.Thy tongue I fearMore than thy weapon.[Attempts to cover her mouth.
hermione.Then to thy doom, hell-destined spirit![Stabs him.
carlos.Oh—fly!—save ye, my friends—escape whilst yet—The guards—this fiend hath summon'd——[Falls.
hermione(rushes towards theDuke).Cowards! ye cannot escape. They come!
bertrand(tearing off his mask).Then swifter comeInsatiate vengeance. To thy place, proud Mantua![Makes a desperate lunge at theDuke,who falls.
duke.A mortal thrust! Hermione, now—now—Farewell—'tis past!
bertrand.Thou leavest not thy paramour.[StabsHermione.Hence! to the pale ghosts howl in company.
hermione.I'd bless thee——for this——[Dies.
Enter Guard, Soldiers; they seize the Conspirators.
duke.Too late ye come—Life ebbs fast from my veins—mine eyes are dim;But there's a voice—or death unreins my fancy—Comes o'er mine ear, I do remember, minglingEre now 'mid mortal strife.
bertrand.'Tis I: mine hate is quench'd but with the bloodThat nourish'd thee! Now to your dungeons lead me:Your rarest tortures—haste. This blest revengeWill slake your hottest fires, heal the hurt flesh,Make the unpitying rack a gentle pillow.Softer than cygnet down, or thy death-couch,Unsceptred Duke. Guards, do your office.
duke.Unhappy man! thy fierce, untamed spirit,In its own fiery nature, hath to endureWhat bodily tortures reach not. I forgive thee.But this good city, thy most unjust hateThis night bereaves of her protector, seeksHer just atonement! Bear me hence—Beatrice,To thy loved arms. Would that I ne'er had left thee—A fearful meeting now—Hermione!What—dead! My cup is drain'd e'en to the dregs,The vessel shiver'd, dash'd erewhile to earth!—Just Heaven!I bow to thee! Thou hast not sent my spiritUnshriven to thy bar—brief space on earthMy span of time, but unto thee I turn,Abused mercy; grant with my last last hourRepentance, and thy promised pardon![Exeunt Attendants with theDuke.