The Bride of Messina (play)

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The Bride of Messina (play) Page 7

by Friedrich Schiller


  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

 

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