The Dream of Aldarin.Arranged by Laura Coleman, who won with it the first gold graduating medal at the Eighth Commencement of the Mt. Vernon Institute of Elocution and Languages, 1891.A chamber with a low, dark ceiling,[1356]supported by massive rafters[1357]of oak; floors[1358]and walls[1359]of dark stone, unrelieved by wainscot or plaster—bare, rugged, and destitute.A dim, smoking light,[1360]burning in a vessel of iron, threw[1361]its red and murky beams over the fearful contents of a table. It was piled high[1362]with the unsightly forms of the dead. Prostrate among these mangled bodies, his arms flung carelessly[1363]on either side, slept and dreamed Aldarin[1364]—Aldarin, the Fratricide.He hung on the verge of a rock, a rock of melting bitumen, that burned his hands to masses of crisped and blackened flesh. The rock projected over[1365]a gulf, to which the cataracts of earth might compare as the rivulet[1366]to the vast ocean.[1367]It was the Cataract of Hell. He looked below. God of Heaven,[1368]what a sight! Fiery waves, convulsed and foaming, with innumerable whirlpools[1369]crimsoned by bubbles of flame. Each whirlpool swallowing millions[1370]of the lost. Each bubble bearing on its surface the face of a soul, lost[1371]and lost forever.[1372]Borne on by[1373]the waves, they raised[1374]their hands and casttheir burning eyes to the skies, and shrieked the eternal death-wail of the lost.Over this scene, awful and vast, towered a figure[1375]of ebony blackness, his darkened brow concealed[1376]in the clouds, his extended arms grasping[1377]the infinitude of the cataract, his feet resting upon islands of bitumen far in the gulf[1378]below. The eyes of the figure were fixed upon Aldarin,[1379]as he clung with the nervous clasp of despair to the rock, and their gaze curdled[1380]his heated blood.He was losing his grasp; sliding and sliding from the rock, his feet hung over[1381]the gulf. There was no hope for him. He must fall—fall[1382]—and fall forever. But lo! a stairway,[1383]built of white marble, wide, roomy, and secure, seemed to spring from the very rock to which he clung, winding upward from the abyss, till it was lost in the distance far, far above. He beheld two figures slowly descending[1384]—the figure of a warrior[1385]and the form of a dark-eyed woman.[1386]He knew those figures; he knew them well. They were his victims! Her face, his wife’s! beautiful as when he first wooed her in the gardens of Palestine;[1387]but there was blood[1388]on her vestments, near the heart, and his lip was spotted with one drop of that thick, red blood. “This,†he muttered, “this, indeed, is hell,[1389]and yet I must call for aid—call to them!â€[1390]How the thought writhed like a serpent round his very heart.He drew himself along the rugged rock, clutching[1391]the red-hot ore in the action. He wanted but a single inch, a little inch and he might grasp the marble of the stairway. Another and a desperate effort. His fingers clutched it,[1392]buthis strength was gone. He could not hold it in his grasp. With an eye of horrible intensity he looked above. “Thou wilt save me,[1393]Ilmerine, my wife. Thou wilt drag me up to thee.†She stooped. She clutched his blackened fingers and placed them around the marble.[1394]His grasp was tight and desperate. “Julian, O Julian! grasp this hand.[1395]Aid me, O Julian! my brother!†The warrior stooped, laid hold on his hand, and drawing it toward the casement, wound it around[1396]another piece of marble. But again his strength fails.[1397]“Julian, my brother; Ilmerine, my wife, seize me! Drag me from this rock of terror! Save me! O save me!â€[1398]She stooped. She unwound finger after finger. She looked at his horror-stricken face and pointed to the red wound in her heart.[1399]He looked toward the other face. “Thou, Julian,[1400]reach me thy hand. Thy hand, or I perish!†The warrior slowly reached forth his hand from beneath the folds of his cloak. He held before the eyes of the doomed a goblet of gold.[1401]It shone and glimmered through the foul air like the beacon fire of hell.“Take it away![1402]’Tis the death bowl!†shrieked Aldarin’s livid lips. “I murdered thee. Thou canst not save.†He drew back from the maddening sight. He lost his hold, he slid from the rock, he fell.[1403][1404]Above, beneath, around, all[1405]was fire, horror,[1406]death; and still he fell.[1407]“Forever and forever,†rose the shrieks of the lost. All hell groaned aloud, “Ever, ever. Forever and forever,†and his own soul muttered back, “This—this—is—hell!â€[1408]—George Lippard.Gestures.[1356]A. O.[1357]B. A. O.[1358]D. O.[1359]H. O.[1360]H. F.[1361]P. H. Sw.[1362]P. Sp.[1363]Sp.[1364]H. F.[1365]P. D. F.[1366]D. O.[1367]H. Sw.[1368]B. V. H. O. and look down.[1369]Sp. P. D. F.[1370]B. D. O.[1371]D. F.[1372]Imp.[1373]H. Sw.[1374]B. Sp.[1375]Ind. H. F.[1376]V. A. F.[1377]B. P. H. O.[1378]D. F.[1379]Ind. D. F.[1380]B. to heart.[1381]P. D. F.[1382]P. D. Sp.[1383]Trace upward with finger.[1384]Trace downward with finger.[1385]H. F.[1386]Imp.[1387]H. L.[1388]Ind. H. F.[1389]Cli. D.[1390]H. F.[1391]Sp.[1392]Sp.[1393]B. Cla.[1394]Sp.[1395]A. F.[1396]Sp.[1397]B. extended.[1398]Imp.[1399]To self.[1400]Left A. F.[1401]L. Sp.[1402]B. V. H. F.[1403]D. F.[1404]Look around.[1405]B. H. O.[1406]Turn to vertical.[1407]B. D. F.[1408]B. Cli. A.
Arranged by Laura Coleman, who won with it the first gold graduating medal at the Eighth Commencement of the Mt. Vernon Institute of Elocution and Languages, 1891.
A chamber with a low, dark ceiling,[1356]supported by massive rafters[1357]of oak; floors[1358]and walls[1359]of dark stone, unrelieved by wainscot or plaster—bare, rugged, and destitute.
A dim, smoking light,[1360]burning in a vessel of iron, threw[1361]its red and murky beams over the fearful contents of a table. It was piled high[1362]with the unsightly forms of the dead. Prostrate among these mangled bodies, his arms flung carelessly[1363]on either side, slept and dreamed Aldarin[1364]—Aldarin, the Fratricide.
He hung on the verge of a rock, a rock of melting bitumen, that burned his hands to masses of crisped and blackened flesh. The rock projected over[1365]a gulf, to which the cataracts of earth might compare as the rivulet[1366]to the vast ocean.[1367]It was the Cataract of Hell. He looked below. God of Heaven,[1368]what a sight! Fiery waves, convulsed and foaming, with innumerable whirlpools[1369]crimsoned by bubbles of flame. Each whirlpool swallowing millions[1370]of the lost. Each bubble bearing on its surface the face of a soul, lost[1371]and lost forever.[1372]
Borne on by[1373]the waves, they raised[1374]their hands and casttheir burning eyes to the skies, and shrieked the eternal death-wail of the lost.
Over this scene, awful and vast, towered a figure[1375]of ebony blackness, his darkened brow concealed[1376]in the clouds, his extended arms grasping[1377]the infinitude of the cataract, his feet resting upon islands of bitumen far in the gulf[1378]below. The eyes of the figure were fixed upon Aldarin,[1379]as he clung with the nervous clasp of despair to the rock, and their gaze curdled[1380]his heated blood.
He was losing his grasp; sliding and sliding from the rock, his feet hung over[1381]the gulf. There was no hope for him. He must fall—fall[1382]—and fall forever. But lo! a stairway,[1383]built of white marble, wide, roomy, and secure, seemed to spring from the very rock to which he clung, winding upward from the abyss, till it was lost in the distance far, far above. He beheld two figures slowly descending[1384]—the figure of a warrior[1385]and the form of a dark-eyed woman.[1386]He knew those figures; he knew them well. They were his victims! Her face, his wife’s! beautiful as when he first wooed her in the gardens of Palestine;[1387]but there was blood[1388]on her vestments, near the heart, and his lip was spotted with one drop of that thick, red blood. “This,†he muttered, “this, indeed, is hell,[1389]and yet I must call for aid—call to them!â€[1390]How the thought writhed like a serpent round his very heart.
He drew himself along the rugged rock, clutching[1391]the red-hot ore in the action. He wanted but a single inch, a little inch and he might grasp the marble of the stairway. Another and a desperate effort. His fingers clutched it,[1392]buthis strength was gone. He could not hold it in his grasp. With an eye of horrible intensity he looked above. “Thou wilt save me,[1393]Ilmerine, my wife. Thou wilt drag me up to thee.†She stooped. She clutched his blackened fingers and placed them around the marble.[1394]His grasp was tight and desperate. “Julian, O Julian! grasp this hand.[1395]Aid me, O Julian! my brother!†The warrior stooped, laid hold on his hand, and drawing it toward the casement, wound it around[1396]another piece of marble. But again his strength fails.[1397]“Julian, my brother; Ilmerine, my wife, seize me! Drag me from this rock of terror! Save me! O save me!â€[1398]She stooped. She unwound finger after finger. She looked at his horror-stricken face and pointed to the red wound in her heart.[1399]He looked toward the other face. “Thou, Julian,[1400]reach me thy hand. Thy hand, or I perish!†The warrior slowly reached forth his hand from beneath the folds of his cloak. He held before the eyes of the doomed a goblet of gold.[1401]It shone and glimmered through the foul air like the beacon fire of hell.
“Take it away![1402]’Tis the death bowl!†shrieked Aldarin’s livid lips. “I murdered thee. Thou canst not save.†He drew back from the maddening sight. He lost his hold, he slid from the rock, he fell.[1403]
[1404]Above, beneath, around, all[1405]was fire, horror,[1406]death; and still he fell.[1407]“Forever and forever,†rose the shrieks of the lost. All hell groaned aloud, “Ever, ever. Forever and forever,†and his own soul muttered back, “This—this—is—hell!â€[1408]
—George Lippard.
Gestures.