Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

by Lord Byron

  Iden. Was there no cause assigned?

  Fritz. Plenty, no doubt,

  And none, perhaps, the true one. Some averred

  It was to seek his parents; some because

  The old man held his spirit in so strictly

  (But that could scarce be, for he doted on him);

  A third believed he wished to serve in war,

  But, peace being made soon after his departure,

  He might have since returned, were that the motive; 120

  A fourth set charitably have surmised,

  As there was something strange and mystic in him,

  That in the wild exuberance of his nature

  He had joined the black bands, who lay waste Lusatia,

  The mountains of Bohemia and Silesia,

  Since the last years of war had dwindled into

  A kind of general condottiero system

  Of bandit-warfare; each troop with its chief,

  And all against mankind.

  Iden. That cannot be.

  A young heir, bred to wealth and luxury, 130

  To risk his life and honours with disbanded

  Soldiers and desperadoes!

  Fritz. Heaven best knows!

  But there are human natures so allied

  Unto the savage love of enterprise,

  That they will seek for peril as a pleasure.

  I’ve heard that nothing can reclaim your Indian,

  Or tame the tiger, though their infancy

  Were fed on milk and honey. After all,

  Your Wallenstein, your Tilly and Gustavus,

  Your Bannier, and your Torstenson and Weimar, 140

  Were but the same thing upon a grand scale;

  And now that they are gone, and peace proclaimed,

  They who would follow the same pastime must

  Pursue it on their own account. Here comes

  The Baron, and the Saxon stranger, who

  Was his chief aid in yesterday’s escape,

  But did not leave the cottage by the Oder

  Until this morning.

  Enter Stralenheim and Ulric.

  Stral. Since you have refused

  All compensation, gentle stranger, save

  Inadequate thanks, you almost check even them, 150

  Making me feel the worthlessness of words,

  And blush at my own barren gratitude,

  They seem so niggardly, compared with what

  Your courteous courage did in my behalf — —

  Ulr. I pray you press the theme no further.

  Stral. But

  Can I not serve you? You are young, and of

  That mould which throws out heroes; fair in favour;

  Brave, I know, by my living now to say so;

  And, doubtlessly, with such a form and heart,

  Would look into the fiery eyes of War, 160

  As ardently for glory as you dared

  An obscure death to save an unknown stranger,

  In an as perilous, but opposite, element.

  You are made for the service: I have served;

  Have rank by birth and soldiership, and friends,

  Who shall be yours. ‘Tis true this pause of peace

  Favours such views at present scantily;

  But ‘twill not last, men’s spirits are too stirring;

  And, after thirty years of conflict, peace

  Is but a petty war, as the time shows us 170

  In every forest, or a mere armed truce.

  War will reclaim his own; and, in the meantime,

  You might obtain a post, which would ensure

  A higher soon, and, by my influence, fail not

  To rise. I speak of Brandenburgh, wherein

  I stand well with the Elector; in Bohemia,

  Like you, I am a stranger, and we are now

  Upon its frontier.

  Ulr. You perceive my garb

  Is Saxon, and, of course, my service due

  To my own Sovereign. If I must decline 180

  Your offer, ‘tis with the same feeling which

  Induced it.

  Stral. Why, this is mere usury!

  I owe my life to you, and you refuse

  The acquittance of the interest of the debt,

  To heap more obligations on me, till

  I bow beneath them.

  Ulr. You shall say so when

  I claim the payment.

  Stral. Well, sir, since you will not —

  You are nobly born?

  Ulr. I have heard my kinsmen say so.

  Stral. Your actions show it. Might I ask your name?

  Ulr. Ulric.

  Stral. Your house’s?

  Ulr. When I’m worthy of it, 190

  I’ll answer you.

  Stral. (aside). Most probably an Austrian,

  Whom these unsettled times forbid to boast

  His lineage on these wild and dangerous frontiers,

  Where the name of his country is abhorred.

  [Aloud to Fritz and Idenstein.

  So, sirs! how have ye sped in your researches?

  Iden. Indifferent well, your Excellency.

  Stral. Then

  I am to deem the plunderer is caught?

  Iden. Humph! — not exactly.

  Stral. Or, at least, suspected?

  Iden. Oh! for that matter, very much suspected.

  Stral. Who may he be?

  Iden. Why, don’t you know, my Lord? 200

  Stral. How should I? I was fast asleep.

  Iden. And so

  Was I — and that’s the cause I know no more

  Than does your Excellency.

  Stral. Dolt!

  Iden. Why, if

  Your Lordship, being robbed, don’t recognise

  The rogue; how should I, not being robbed, identify

  The thief among so many? In the crowd,

  May it please your Excellency, your thief looks

  Exactly like the rest, or rather better:

  ‘Tis only at the bar and in the dungeon,

  That wise men know your felon by his features; 210

  But I’ll engage, that if seen there but once,

  Whether he be found criminal or no,

  His face shall be so.

  Stral. (to Fritz). Prithee, Fritz, inform me

  What hath been done to trace the fellow?

  Fritz. Faith!

  My Lord, not much as yet, except conjecture.

  Stral. Besides the loss (which, I must own, affects me

  Just now materially), I needs would find

  The villain out of public motives; for

  So dexterous a spoiler, who could creep

  Through my attendants, and so many peopled 220

  And lighted chambers, on my rest, and snatch

  The gold before my scarce-closed eyes, would soon

  Leave bare your borough, Sir Intendant!

  Iden. True;

  If there were aught to carry off, my Lord.

  Ulr. What is all this?

  Stral. You joined us but this morning,

  And have not heard that I was robbed last night.

  Ulr. Some rumour of it reached me as I passed

  The outer chambers of the palace, but

  I know no further.

  Stral. It is a strange business:

  The Intendant can inform you of the facts. 230

  Iden. Most willingly. You see — —

  Stral. (impatiently).Defer your tale,

  Till certain of the hearer’s patience.

  Iden. That

  Can only be approved by proofs. You see — —

  Stral. (again interrupting him, and addressing Ulric).

  In short, I was asleep upon my chair,

  My cabinet before me, with some gold

  Upon it (more than I much like to lose,

  Though in part
only): some ingenious person

  Contrived to glide through all my own attendants,

  Besides those of the place, and bore away

  A hundred golden ducats, which to find 240

  I would be fain, and there’s an end. Perhaps

  You (as I still am rather faint) would add

  To yesterday’s great obligation, this,

  Though slighter, yet not slight, to aid these men

  (Who seem but lukewarm) in recovering it?

  Ulr. Most willingly, and without loss of time —

  (To Idenstein.) Come hither, mynheer!

  Iden. But so much haste bodes

  Right little speed, and — —

  Ulr. Standing motionless

  None; so let’s march: we’ll talk as we go on.

  Iden. But — —

  Ulr. Show the spot, and then I’ll answer you. 250

  Fritz. I will, sir, with his Excellency’s leave.

  Stral. Do so, and take yon old ass with you.

  Fritz. Hence!

  Ulr. Come on, old oracle, expound thy riddle!

  [Exit with Idenstein and Fritz.

  Stral. (solus). A stalwart, active, soldier-looking stripling,

  Handsome as Hercules ere his first labour,

  And with a brow of thought beyond his years

  When in repose, till his eye kindles up

  In answering yours. I wish I could engage him:

  I have need of some such spirits near me now,

  For this inheritance is worth a struggle. 260

  And though I am not the man to yield without one,

  Neither are they who now rise up between me

  And my desire. The boy, they say, ‘s a bold one;

  But he hath played the truant in some hour

  Of freakish folly, leaving fortune to

  Champion his claims. That’s well. The father, whom

  For years I’ve tracked, as does the blood-hound, never

  In sight, but constantly in scent, had put me

  To fault; but here I have him, and that’s better.

  It must be he! All circumstance proclaims it; 270

  And careless voices, knowing not the cause

  Of my enquiries, still confirm it. — Yes!

  The man, his bearing, and the mystery

  Of his arrival, and the time; the account, too,

  The Intendant gave (for I have not beheld her)

  Of his wife’s dignified but foreign aspect;

  Besides the antipathy with which we met,

  As snakes and lions shrink back from each other

  By secret instinct that both must be foes

  Deadly, without being natural prey to either; 280

  All — all — confirm it to my mind. However,

  We’ll grapple, ne’ertheless. In a few hours

  The order comes from Frankfort, if these waters

  Rise not the higher (and the weather favours

  Their quick abatement), and I’ll have him safe

  Within a dungeon, where he may avouch

  His real estate and name; and there’s no harm done,

  Should he prove other than I deem. This robbery

  (Save for the actual loss) is lucky also;

  He’s poor, and that’s suspicious — he’s unknown, 290

  And that’s defenceless. — True, we have no proofs

  Of guilt — but what hath he of innocence?

  Were he a man indifferent to my prospects,

  In other bearings, I should rather lay

  The inculpation on the Hungarian, who

  Hath something which I like not; and alone

  Of all around, except the Intendant, and

  The Prince’s household and my own, had ingress

  Familiar to the chamber.

  Enter Gabor.

  Friend, how fare you?

  Gab. As those who fare well everywhere, when they 300

  Have supped and slumbered, no great matter how —

  And you, my Lord?

  Stral. Better in rest than purse:

  Mine inn is like to cost me dear.

  Gab. I heard

  Of your late loss; but ‘tis a trifle to

  One of your order.

  Stral. You would hardly think so,

  Were the loss yours.

  Gab. I never had so much

  (At once) in my whole life, and therefore am not

  Fit to decide. But I came here to seek you.

  Your couriers are turned back — I have outstripped them,

  In my return.

  Stral. You! — Why?

  Gab. I went at daybreak, 310

  To watch for the abatement of the river,

  As being anxious to resume my journey.

  Your messengers were all checked like myself;

  And, seeing the case hopeless, I await

  The current’s pleasure.

  Stral. Would the dogs were in it!

  Why did they not, at least, attempt the passage?

  I ordered this at all risks.

  Gab. Could you order

  The Oder to divide, as Moses did

  The Red Sea (scarcely redder than the flood

  Of the swoln stream), and be obeyed, perhaps 320

  They might have ventured.

  Stral. I must see to it:

  The knaves! the slaves! — but they shall smart for this.

  [Exit Stralenheim.

  Gab. (solus). There goes my noble, feudal, self-willed Baron!

  Epitome of what brave chivalry

  The preux Chevaliers of the good old times

  Have left us. Yesterday he would have given

  His lands (if he hath any), and, still dearer,

  His sixteen quarterings, for as much fresh air

  As would have filled a bladder, while he lay

  Gurgling and foaming half way through the window 330

  Of his o’erset and water-logged conveyance;

  And now he storms at half a dozen wretches

  Because they love their lives too! Yet, he’s right:

  ‘Tis strange they should, when such as he may put them

  To hazard at his pleasure. Oh, thou world!

  Thou art indeed a melancholy jest![Exit Gabor.

  Scene II. — The Apartment of Werner, in the Palace.

  Enter Josephine and Ulric.

  Jos. Stand back, and let me look on thee again!

  My Ulric! — my belovéd! — can it be —

  After twelve years?

  Ulr. My dearest mother!

  Jos. Yes!

  My dream is realised — how beautiful! —

  How more than all I sighed for! Heaven receive

  A mother’s thanks! a mother’s tears of joy!

  This is indeed thy work! — At such an hour, too,

  He comes not only as a son, but saviour.

  Ulr. If such a joy await me, it must double

  What I now feel, and lighten from my heart 10

  A part of the long debt of duty, not

  Of love (for that was ne’er withheld) — forgive me!

  This long delay was not my fault.

  Jos. I know it,

  But cannot think of sorrow now, and doubt

  If I e’er felt it, ‘tis so dazzled from

  My memory by this oblivious transport! —

  My son!

  Enter Werner.

  Wer. What have we here, — more strangers? —

  Jos. No!

  Look upon him! What do you see?

  Wer. A stripling,

  For the first time —

  Ulr. (kneeling). For twelve long years, my father!

  Wer. Oh, God!

  Jos. He faints!

  Wer. No — I am better now — 20

  Ulric! (Embraces him.)

  Ulr. My father, Siegendorf!

  Wer. (starting).
Hush! boy —

  The walls may hear that name!

  Ulr. What then?

  Wer. Why, then —

  But we will talk of that anon. Remember,

  I must be known here but as Werner. Come!

  Come to my arms again! Why, thou look’st all

  I should have been, and was not. Josephine!

  Sure ‘tis no father’s fondness dazzles me;

  But, had I seen that form amid ten thousand

  Youth of the choicest, my heart would have chosen

  This for my son!

  Ulr. And yet you knew me not! 30

  Wer. Alas! I have had that upon my soul

  Which makes me look on all men with an eye

  That only knows the evil at first glance.

  Ulr. My memory served me far more fondly: I

  Have not forgotten aught; and oft-times in

  The proud and princely halls of — (I’ll not name them,

  As you say that ‘tis perilous) — but i’ the pomp

  Of your sire’s feudal mansion, I looked back

  To the Bohemian mountains many a sunset,

  And wept to see another day go down 40

  O’er thee and me, with those huge hills between us.

  They shall not part us more.

  Wer. I know not that.

  Are you aware my father is no more?

  Ulr. Oh, Heavens! I left him in a green old age,

  And looking like the oak, worn, but still steady

  Amidst the elements, whilst younger trees

  Fell fast around him. ‘Twas scarce three months since.

  Wer. Why did you leave him?

  Jos. (embracing Ulric).Can you ask that question?

  Is he not here?

  Wer. True; he hath sought his parents,

  And found them; but, oh! how, and in what state! 50

  Ulr. All shall be bettered. What we have to do

  Is to proceed, and to assert our rights,

  Or rather yours; for I waive all, unless

  Your father has disposed in such a sort

  Of his broad lands as to make mine the foremost,

  So that I must prefer my claim for form:

  But I trust better, and that all is yours.

  Wer. Have you not heard of Stralenheim?

  Ulr. I saved

  His life but yesterday: he’s here.

  Wer. You saved

  The serpent who will sting us all!

  Ulr. You speak 60

  Riddles: what is this Stralenheim to us?

  Wer. Every thing. One who claims our father’s lands:

  Our distant kinsman, and our nearest foe.

  Ulr. I never heard his name till now. The Count,

  Indeed, spoke sometimes of a kinsman, who,

  If his own line should fail, might be remotely

  Involved in the succession; but his titles

  Were never named before me — and what then?

  His right must yield to ours.