by Lord Byron
This burgh and Frankfort: so far’s in our favour
The route on to Bohemia, though encumbered,
Is not impassable; and when you gain
A few hours’ start, the difficulties will be
The same to your pursuers. Once beyond 200
The frontier, and you’re safe.
Wer. My noble boy!
Ulr. Hush! hush! no transports: we’ll indulge in them
In Castle Siegendorf! Display no gold:
Show Idenstein the gem (I know the man,
And have looked through him): it will answer thus
A double purpose. Stralenheim lost gold —
No jewel: therefore it could not be his;
And then the man who was possest of this
Can hardly be suspected of abstracting
The Baron’s coin, when he could thus convert 210
This ring to more than Stralenheim has lost
By his last night’s slumber. Be not over timid
In your address, nor yet too arrogant,
And Idenstein will serve you.
Wer. I will follow
In all things your direction.
Ulr. I would have
Spared you the trouble; but had I appeared
To take an interest in you, and still more
By dabbling with a jewel in your favour,
All had been known at once.
Wer. My guardian angel!
This overpays the past. But how wilt thou 220
Fare in our absence?
Ulr. Stralenheim knows nothing
Of me as aught of kindred with yourself.
I will but wait a day or two with him
To lull all doubts, and then rejoin my father.
Wer. To part no more!
Ulr. I know not that; but at
The least we’ll meet again once more.
Wer. My boy!
My friend! my only child, and sole preserver!
Oh, do not hate me!
Ulr. Hate my father!
Wer. Aye,
My father hated me. Why not my son?
Ulr. Your father knew you not as I do.
Wer. Scorpions 230
Are in thy words! Thou know me? in this guise
Thou canst not know me, I am not myself;
Yet (hate me not) I will be soon.
Ulr. I’ll wait!
In the mean time be sure that all a son
Can do for parents shall be done for mine.
Wer. I see it, and I feel it; yet I feel
Further — that you despise me.
Ulr. Wherefore should I?
Wer. Must I repeat my humiliation?
Ulr. No!
I have fathomed it and you. But let us talk
Of this no more. Or, if it must be ever, 240
Not now. Your error has redoubled all
The present difficulties of our house
At secret war with that of Stralenheim:
All we have now to think of is to baffle
Him. I have shown one way.
Wer. The only one,
And I embrace it, as I did my son,
Who showed himself and father’s safety in
One day.
Ulr. You shall be safe; let that suffice.
Would Stralenheim’s appearance in Bohemia
Disturb your right, or mine, if once we were 250
Admitted to our lands?
Wer. Assuredly,
Situate as we are now; although the first
Possessor might, as usual, prove the strongest —
Especially the next in blood.
Ulr. Blood! ‘tis
A word of many meanings; in the veins,
And out of them, it is a different thing —
And so it should be, when the same in blood
(As it is called) are aliens to each other,
Like Theban brethren: when a part is bad,
A few spilt ounces purify the rest. 260
Wer. I do not apprehend you.
Ulr. That may be —
And should, perhaps — and yet — but get ye ready;
You and my mother must away to-night.
Here comes the Intendant: sound him with the gem;
‘Twill sink into his venal soul like lead
Into the deep, and bring up slime and mud,
And ooze, too, from the bottom, as the lead doth
With its greased understratum; but no less
Will serve to warn our vessels through these shoals.
The freight is rich, so heave the line in time! 270
Farewell! I scarce have time, but yet your hand,
My father! — —
Wer. Let me embrace thee!
Ulr. We may be
Observed: subdue your nature to the hour!
Keep off from me as from your foe!
Wer. Accursed
Be he who is the stifling cause which smothers
The best and sweetest feeling of our hearts;
At such an hour too!
Ulr. Yes, curse — it will ease you!
Here is the Intendant.
Enter Idenstein.
Ulr. Master Idenstein,
How fare you in your purpose? Have you caught
The rogue?
Iden. No, faith!
Ulr. Well, there are plenty more: 280
You may have better luck another chase.
Where is the Baron?
Iden. Gone back to his chamber:
And now I think on’t, asking after you
With nobly-born impatience.
Ulr. Your great men
Must be answered on the instant, as the bound
Of the stung steed replies unto the spur:
‘Tis well they have horses, too; for if they had not,
I fear that men must draw their chariots, as
They say kings did Sesostris.
Iden. Who was he?
Ulr. An old Bohemian — an imperial gipsy. 290
Iden. A gipsy or Bohemian, ‘tis the same,
For they pass by both names. And was he one?
Ulr. I’ve heard so; but I must take leave. Intendant,
Your servant! — Werner (to Werner slightly), if that be your name,
Yours. [Exit Ulric.
Iden. A well-spoken, pretty-faced young man!
And prettily behaved! He knows his station,
You see, sir: how he gave to each his due
Precedence!
Wer. I perceived it, and applaud
His just discernment and your own.
Iden. That’s well —
That’s very well. You also know your place, too; 300
And yet I don’t know that I know your place.
Wer. (showing the ring).
Would this assist your knowledge?
Iden. How! — What! — Eh!
A jewel!
Wer. ‘Tis your own on one condition.
Iden. Mine! — Name it!
Wer. That hereafter you permit me
At thrice its value to redeem it: ‘tis
A family ring.
Iden. A family! — yours! — a gem!
I’m breathless!
Wer. You must also furnish me,
An hour ere daybreak, with all means to quit
This place.
Iden. But is it real? Let me look on it:
Diamond, by all that’s glorious!
Wer. Come, I’ll trust you: 310
You have guessed, no doubt, that I was born above
My present seeming.
Iden. I can’t say I did,
Though this looks like it: this is the true breeding
Of gentle blood!
Wer. I have important reasons
For wishing to continue privily
My journey hence.
Iden. So the
n you are the man
Whom Stralenheim’s in quest of?
Wer. I am not;
But being taken for him might conduct
So much embarrassment to me just now,
And to the Baron’s self hereafter — ’tis 320
To spare both that I would avoid all bustle.
Iden. Be you the man or no, ‘tis not my business;
Besides, I never could obtain the half
From this proud, niggardly noble, who would raise
The country for some missing bits of coin,
And never offer a precise reward —
But this! — another look!
Wer. Gaze on it freely;
At day-dawn it is yours.
Iden. Oh, thou sweet sparkler!
Thou more than stone of the philosopher!
Thou touch-stone of Philosophy herself! 330
Thou bright eye of the Mine! thou loadstar of
The soul! the true magnetic Pole to which
All hearts point duly north, like trembling needles!
Thou flaming Spirit of the Earth! which, sitting
High on the Monarch’s Diadem, attractest
More worship than the majesty who sweats
Beneath the crown which makes his head ache, like
Millions of hearts which bleed to lend it lustre!
Shalt thou be mine? I am, methinks, already
A little king, a lucky alchymist! — 340
A wise magician, who has bound the devil
Without the forfeit of his soul. But come,
Werner, or what else?
Wer. Call me Werner still;
You may yet know me by a loftier title.
Iden. I do believe in thee! thou art the spirit
Of whom I long have dreamed in a low garb. —
But come, I’ll serve thee; thou shalt be as free
As air, despite the waters; let us hence:
I’ll show thee I am honest — (oh, thou jewel!)
Thou shalt be furnished, Werner, with such means 350
Of flight, that if thou wert a snail, not birds
Should overtake thee. — Let me gaze again!
I have a foster-brother in the mart
Of Hamburgh skilled in precious stones. How many
Carats may it weigh? — Come, Werner, I will wing thee.
[Exeunt.
Scene II. — Stralenheim’s Chamber.
Stralenheim and Fritz.
Fritz. All’s ready, my good Lord!
Stral. I am not sleepy,
And yet I must to bed: I fain would say
To rest, but something heavy on my spirit,
Too dull for wakefulness, too quick for slumber,
Sits on me as a cloud along the sky,
Which will not let the sunbeams through, nor yet
Descend in rain and end, but spreads itself
‘Twixt earth and heaven, like envy between man
And man, an everlasting mist: — I will
Unto my pillow.
Fritz. May you rest there well! 10
Stral. I feel, and fear, I shall.
Fritz. And wherefore fear?
Stral. I know not why, and therefore do fear more,
Because an undescribable — — but ‘tis
All folly. Were the locks as I desired
Changed, to-day, of this chamber? for last night’s
Adventure makes it needful.
Fritz. Certainly,
According to your order, and beneath
The inspection of myself and the young Saxon
Who saved your life. I think they call him “Ulric.”
Stral. You think! you supercilious slave! what right 20
Have you to tax your memory, which should be
Quick, proud, and happy to retain the name
Of him who saved your master, as a litany
Whose daily repetition marks your duty. —
Get hence; “You think” indeed! you, who stood still
Howling and dripping on the bank, whilst I
Lay dying, and the stranger dashed aside
The roaring torrent, and restored me to
Thank him — and despise you. “You think!” and scarce
Can recollect his name! I will not waste 30
More words on you. Call me betimes.
Fritz. Good night!
I trust to-morrow will restore your Lordship
To renovated strength and temper.[The scene closes.
Scene III. — The secret Passage.
Gab. (solus).Four —
Five — six hours have I counted, like the guard
Of outposts, on the never-merry clock,
That hollow tongue of time, which, even when
It sounds for joy, takes something from enjoyment
With every clang. ‘Tis a perpetual knell,
Though for a marriage-feast it rings: each stroke
Peals for a hope the less; the funeral note
Of Love deep-buried, without resurrection,
In the grave of Possession; while the knoll 10
Of long-lived parents finds a jovial echo
To triple time in the son’s ear.
I’m cold —
I’m dark; — I’ve blown my fingers — numbered o’er
And o’er my steps — and knocked my head against
Some fifty buttresses — and roused the rats
And bats in general insurrection, till
Their curséd pattering feet and whirling wings
Leave me scarce hearing for another sound.
A light! It is at distance (if I can
Measure in darkness distance): but it blinks 20
As through a crevice or a key-hole, in
The inhibited direction: I must on,
Nevertheless, from curiosity.
A distant lamp-light is an incident
In such a den as this. Pray Heaven it lead me
To nothing that may tempt me! Else — Heaven aid me
To obtain or to escape it! Shining still!
Were it the star of Lucifer himself,
Or he himself girt with its beams, I could
Contain no longer. Softly: mighty well! 30
That corner’s turned — so — ah! no; — right! it draws
Nearer. Here is a darksome angle — so,
That’s weathered. — Let me pause. — Suppose it leads
Into some greater danger than that which
I have escaped — no matter, ‘tis a new one;
And novel perils, like fresh mistresses,
Wear more magnetic aspects: — I will on,
And be it where it may — I have my dagger
Which may protect me at a pinch. — Burn still,
Thou little light! Thou art my ignis fatuus! 40
My stationary Will-o’-the-wisp! — So! so!
He hears my invocation, and fails not.[The scene closes.
Scene IV. — A Garden.
Enter Werner.
Wer. I could not sleep — and now the hour’s at hand!
All’s ready. Idenstein has kept his word;
And stationed in the outskirts of the town,
Upon the forest’s edge, the vehicle
Awaits us. Now the dwindling stars begin
To pale in heaven; and for the last time I
Look on these horrible walls. Oh! never, never
Shall I forget them. Here I came most poor,
But not dishonoured: and I leave them with
A stain, — if not upon my name, yet in 10
My heart! — a never-dying canker-worm,
Which all the coming splendour of the lands,
And rights, and sovereignty of Siegendorf
Can scarcely lull a moment. I must find
Some means of restitution, which would ease
My soul in part: but ho
w, without discovery? —
It must be done, however; and I’ll pause
Upon the method the first hour of safety.
The madness of my misery led to this
Base infamy; repentance must retrieve it: 20
I will have nought of Stralenheim’s upon
My spirit, though he would grasp all of mine;
Lands, freedom, life, — and yet he sleeps as soundly
Perhaps, as infancy, with gorgeous curtains
Spread for his canopy, o’er silken pillows,
Such as when — — Hark! what noise is that? Again!
The branches shake; and some loose stones have fallen
From yonder terrace.
[Ulric leaps down from the terrace.
Ulric! ever welcome!
Thrice welcome now! this filial — —
Ulr. Stop! before
We approach, tell me — —
Wer. Why look you so?
Ulr. Do I 30
Behold my father, or — —
Wer. What?
Ulr. An assassin?
Wer. Insane or insolent!
Ulr. Reply, sir, as
You prize your life, or mine!
Wer. To what must I
Answer?
Ulr. Are you or are you not the assassin
Of Stralenheim?
Wer. I never was as yet
The murderer of any man. What mean you?
Ulr. Did not you this night (as the night before)
Retrace the secret passage? Did you not
Again revisit Stralenheim’s chamber? and — —
[Ulric pauses.
Wer. Proceed.
Ulr. Died he not by your hand?
Wer. Great God! 40
Ulr. You are innocent, then! my father’s innocent!
Embrace me! Yes, — your tone — your look — yes, yes, —
Yet say so.
Wer. If I e’er, in heart or mind,
Conceived deliberately such a thought,
But rather strove to trample back to hell
Such thoughts — if e’er they glared a moment through
The irritation of my oppressed spirit —
May Heaven be shut for ever from my hopes,
As from mine eyes!
Ulr. But Stralenheim is dead.
Wer. ‘Tis horrible! ‘tis hideous, as ‘tis hateful! — 50
But what have I to do with this?
Ulr. No bolt
Is forced; no violence can be detected,
Save on his body. Part of his own household
Have been alarmed; but as the Intendant is
Absent, I took upon myself the care
Of mustering the police. His chamber has,
Past doubt, been entered secretly. Excuse me,
If nature — —
Wer. Oh, my boy! what unknown woes
Of dark fatality, like clouds, are gathering
Above our house!
Ulr. My father! I acquit you! 60
But will the world do so? will even the judge,