by Lord Byron
Proud (as is birth’s prerogative); but under 180
This grave exterior — — Would you had known each other!
Had such as you been near him on his journey,
He had not died without a friend to soothe
His last and lonely moments.
Ulr. Who says that?
Ida. What?
Ulr. That he died alone.
Ida. The general rumour,
And disappearance of his servants, who
Have ne’er returned: that fever was most deadly
Which swept them all away.
Ulr. If they were near him,
He could not die neglected or alone.
Ida. Alas! what is a menial to a death-bed, 190
When the dim eye rolls vainly round for what
It loves? — They say he died of a fever.
Ulr. Say!
It was so.
Ida. I sometimes dream otherwise.
Ulr. All dreams are false.
Ida. And yet I see him as
I see you.
Ulr. Where?
Ida. In sleep — I see him lie
Pale, bleeding, and a man with a raised knife
Beside him.
Ulr. But you do not see his face?
Ida (looking at him). No! Oh, my God! do you?
Ulr. Why do you ask?
Ida. Because you look as if you saw a murderer!
Ulr. (agitatedly). Ida, this is mere childishness; your weakness 200
Infects me, to my shame: but as all feelings
Of yours are common to me, it affects me.
Prithee, sweet child, change — —
Ida. Child, indeed! I have
Full fifteen summers![A bugle sounds.
Rod. Hark, my Lord, the bugle!
Ida (peevishly to Rodolph).
Why need you tell him that? Can he not hear it
Without your echo?
Rod. Pardon me, fair Baroness!
Ida. I will not pardon you, unless you earn it
By aiding me in my dissuasion of
Count Ulric from the chase to-day.
Rod. You will not,
Lady, need aid of mine.
Ulr. I must not now 210
Forgo it.
Ida. But you shall!
Ulr. Shall!
Ida. Yes, or be
No true knight. — Come, dear Ulric! yield to me
In this, for this one day: the day looks heavy,
And you are turned so pale and ill.
Ulr. You jest.
Ida. Indeed I do not: — ask of Rodolph.
Rod. Truly,
My Lord, within this quarter of an hour
You have changed more than e’er I saw you change
In years.
Ulr. ‘Tis nothing; but if ‘twere, the air
Would soon restore me. I’m the true cameleon,
And live but on the atmosphere; your feasts 220
In castle halls, and social banquets, nurse not
My spirit — I’m a forester and breather
Of the steep mountain-tops, where I love all
The eagle loves.
Ida. Except his prey, I hope.
Ulr. Sweet Ida, wish me a fair chase, and I
Will bring you six boars’ heads for trophies home.
Ida. And will you not stay, then? You shall not go!
Come! I will sing to you.
Ulr. Ida, you scarcely
Will make a soldier’s wife.
Ida. I do not wish
To be so; for I trust these wars are over, 230
And you will live in peace on your domains.
Enter Werner as Count Siegendorf.
Ulr. My father, I salute you, and it grieves me
With such brief greeting. — You have heard our bugle;
The vassals wait.
Sieg. So let them. — You forget
To-morrow is the appointed festival
In Prague for peace restored. You are apt to follow
The chase with such an ardour as will scarce
Permit you to return to-day, or if
Returned, too much fatigued to join to-morrow
The nobles in our marshalled ranks.
Ulr. You, Count, 240
Will well supply the place of both — I am not
A lover of these pageantries.
Sieg. No, Ulric;
It were not well that you alone of all
Our young nobility — —
Ida. And far the noblest
In aspect and demeanour.
Sieg. (to Ida).True, dear child,
Though somewhat frankly said for a fair damsel. —
But, Ulric, recollect too our position,
So lately reinstated in our honours.
Believe me, ‘twould be marked in any house,
But most in ours, that One should be found wanting 250
At such a time and place. Besides, the Heaven
Which gave us back our own, in the same moment
It spread its peace o’er all, hath double claims
On us for thanksgiving: first, for our country;
And next, that we are here to share its blessings.
Ulr. (aside). Devout, too! Well, sir, I obey at once.
(Then aloud to a servant.)
Ludwig, dismiss the train without! [Exit Ludwig.
Ida. And so
You yield, at once, to him what I for hours
Might supplicate in vain.
Sieg. (smiling).You are not jealous
Of me, I trust, my pretty rebel! who 260
Would sanction disobedience against all
Except thyself? But fear not; thou shalt rule him
Hereafter with a fonder sway and firmer.
Ida. But I should like to govern now.
Sieg. You shall,
Your harp, which by the way awaits you with
The Countess in her chamber. She complains
That you are a sad truant to your music:
She attends you.
Ida. Then good morrow, my kind kinsmen!
Ulric, you’ll come and hear me?
Ulr. By and by.
Ida. Be sure I’ll sound it better than your bugles; 270
Then pray you be as punctual to its notes:
I’ll play you King Gustavus’ march.
Ulr. And why not
Old Tilly’s?
Ida. Not that monster’s! I should think
My harp-strings rang with groans, and not with music,
Could aught of his sound on it: — but come quickly;
Your mother will be eager to receive you.[Exit Ida.
Sieg. Ulric, I wish to speak with you alone.
Ulr. My time’s your vassal. —
(Aside toRodolph.)Rodolph, hence! and do
As I directed: and by his best speed
And readiest means let Rosenberg reply. 280
Rod. Count Siegendorf, command you aught? I am bound
Upon a journey past the frontier.
Sieg. (starts).Ah! —
Where? on what frontier?
Rod. The Silesian, on
My way — (Aside to Ulric.) — Where shall I say?
Ulr. (aside to Rodolph).To Hamburgh.
(Aside to himself).That
Word will, I think, put a firm padlock on
His further inquisition.
Rod. Count, to Hamburgh.
Sieg. (agitated). Hamburgh! No, I have nought to do there, nor
Am aught connected with that city. Then
God speed you!
Rod. Fare ye well, Count Siegendorf!
[Exit Rodolph.
Sieg. Ulric, this man, who has just departed, is 290
One of those strange companions whom I fain
Would reason with you on.
Ulr. My Lord, he is
Noble by birth, of one of the first houses
In Saxony.
Sieg. I talk not of his birth,
But of his bearing. Men speak lightly of him.
Ulr. So they will do of most men. Even the monarch
Is not fenced from his chamberlain’s slander, or
The sneer of the last courtier whom he has made
Great and ungrateful.
Sieg. If I must be plain,
The world speaks more than lightly of this Rodolph: 300
They say he is leagued with the “black bands” who still
Ravage the frontier.
Ulr. And will you believe
The world?
Sieg. In this case — yes.
Ulr. In any case,
I thought you knew it better than to take
An accusation for a sentence.
Sieg. Son!
I understand you: you refer to — — but
My destiny has so involved about me
Her spider web, that I can only flutter
Like the poor fly, but break it not. Take heed,
Ulric; you have seen to what the passions led me: 310
Twenty long years of misery and famine
Quenched them not — twenty thousand more, perchance,
Hereafter (or even here in moments which
Might date for years, did Anguish make the dial),
May not obliterate or expiate
The madness and dishonour of an instant.
Ulric, be warned by a father! — I was not
By mine, and you behold me!
Ulr. I behold
The prosperous and belovéd Siegendorf,
Lord of a Prince’s appanage, and honoured 320
By those he rules and those he ranks with.
Sieg. Ah!
Why wilt thou call me prosperous, while I fear
For thee? Belovéd, when thou lovest me not!
All hearts but one may beat in kindness for me —
But if my son’s is cold! — —
Ulr. Who dare say that?
Sieg. None else but I, who see it — feel it — keener
Than would your adversary, who dared say so,
Your sabre in his heart! But mine survives
The wound.
Ulr. You err. My nature is not given
To outward fondling: how should it be so, 330
After twelve years’ divorcement from my parents?
Sieg. And did not I too pass those twelve torn years
In a like absence? But ‘tis vain to urge you —
Nature was never called back by remonstrance.
Let’s change the theme. I wish you to consider
That these young violent nobles of high name,
But dark deeds (aye, the darkest, if all Rumour
Reports be true), with whom thou consortest,
Will lead thee — —
Ulr. (impatiently). I’ll be led by no man.
Sieg. Nor
Be leader of such, I would hope: at once 340
To wean thee from the perils of thy youth
And haughty spirit, I have thought it well
That thou shouldst wed the lady Ida — more
As thou appear’st to love her.
Ulr. I have said
I will obey your orders, were they to
Unite with Hecate — can a son say more?
Sieg. He says too much in saying this. It is not
The nature of thine age, nor of thy blood,
Nor of thy temperament, to talk so coolly,
Or act so carelessly, in that which is 350
The bloom or blight of all men’s happiness,
(For Glory’s pillow is but restless, if
Love lay not down his cheek there): some strong bias,
Some master fiend is in thy service, to
Misrule the mortal who believes him slave,
And makes his every thought subservient; else
Thou’dst say at once — ”I love young Ida, and
Will wed her;” or, “I love her not, and all
The powers on earth shall never make me.” — So
Would I have answered.
Ulr. Sir, you wed for love. 360
Sieg. I did, and it has been my only refuge
In many miseries.
Ulr. Which miseries
Had never been but for this love-match.
Sieg. Still
Against your age and nature! Who at twenty
E’er answered thus till now?
Ulr. Did you not warn me
Against your own example?
Sieg. Boyish sophist!
In a word, do you love, or love not, Ida?
Ulr. What matters it, if I am ready to
Obey you in espousing her?
Sieg. As far
As you feel, nothing — but all life for her. 370
She’s young — all-beautiful — adores you — is
Endowed with qualities to give happiness,
Such as rounds common life into a dream
Of something which your poets cannot paint,
And (if it were not wisdom to love virtue),
For which Philosophy might barter Wisdom;
And giving so much happiness, deserves
A little in return. I would not have her
Break her heart with a man who has none to break!
Or wither on her stalk like some pale rose 380
Deserted by the bird she thought a nightingale,
According to the Orient tale. She is — —
Ulr. The daughter of dead Stralenheim, your foe:
I’ll wed her, ne’ertheless; though, to say truth,
Just now I am not violently transported
In favour of such unions.
Sieg. But she loves you.
Ulr. And I love her, and therefore would think twice.
Sieg. Alas! Love never did so.
Ulr. Then ‘tis time
He should begin, and take the bandage from
His eyes, and look before he leaps; till now 390
He hath ta’en a jump i’ the dark.
Sieg. But you consent?
Ulr. I did, and do.
Sieg. Then fix the day.
Ulr. Tis usual,
And, certes, courteous, to leave that to the lady.
Sieg. I will engage for her.
Ulr. So will not I
For any woman: and as what I fix,
I fain would see unshaken, when she gives
Her answer, I’ll give mine.
Sieg. But ‘tis your office
To woo.
Ulr. Count, ‘tis a marriage of your making,
So be it of your wooing; but to please you,
I will now pay my duty to my mother, 400
With whom, you know, the lady Ida is. —
What would you have? You have forbid my stirring
For manly sports beyond the castle walls,
And I obey; you bid me turn a chamberer,
To pick up gloves, and fans, and knitting-needles,
And list to songs and tunes, and watch for smiles,
And smile at pretty prattle, and look into
The eyes of feminine, as though they were
The stars receding early to our wish
Upon the dawn of a world-winning battle — 410
What can a son or man do more?[Exit Ulric.
Sieg. (solus).Too much! —
Too much of duty, and too little love!
He pays me in the coin he owes me not:
For such hath been my wayward fate, I could not
Fulfil a parent’s duties by his side
Till now; but love he owes me, for my thoughts
Ne’er left him, nor my eyes longed without tears
To see my child again, — and now I have found him!
In my sight, but with carelessness; mysterious — 420
Abstracted — distant — much given to long absence,
And where — none know — in league with the most riotous
Of our young nobles; though, to do him justice,
He never stoops down to their vulgar pleasures;
Yet there’s some tie between them which I can not
Unravel. They look up to him — consult him —
Throng round him as a leader: but with me
He hath no confidence! Ah! can I hope it
After — what! doth my father’s curse descend
Even to my child? Or is the Hungarian near 430
To shed more blood? or — Oh! if it should be!
Spirit of Stralenheim, dost thou walk these walls
To wither him and his — who, though they slew not,
Unlatched the door of Death for thee? ‘Twas not
Our fault, nor is our sin: thou wert our foe,
And yet I spared thee when my own destruction
Slept with thee, to awake with thine awakening!
And only took — Accurséd gold! thou liest
Like poison in my hands; I dare not use thee,
Nor part from thee; thou camest in such a guise, 440
Methinks thou wouldst contaminate all hands
Like mine. Yet I have done, to atone for thee,
Thou villanous gold! and thy dead master’s doom,
Though he died not by me or mine, as much
As if he were my brother! I have ta’en
His orphan Ida — cherished her as one
Who will be mine.
Enter an Attendant.
Atten. The abbot, if it please
Your Excellency, whom you sent for, waits
Upon you.[Exit Attendant.
Enter the Prior Albert.
Prior. Peace be with these walls, and all
Within them!
Sieg. Welcome, welcome, holy father! 450
And may thy prayer be heard! — all men have need
Of such, and I — —
Prior. Have the first claim to all
The prayers of our community. Our convent,
Erected by your ancestors, is still
Protected by their children.
Sieg. Yes, good father;
Continue daily orisons for us
In these dim days of heresies and blood,
Though the schismatic Swede, Gustavus, is
Gone home.
Prior. To the endless home of unbelievers,
Where there is everlasting wail and woe, 460
Gnashing of teeth, and tears of blood, and fire
Eternal and the worm which dieth not!
Sieg. True, father: and to avert those pangs from one,
Who, though of our most faultless holy Church,
Yet died without its last and dearest offices,
Which smooth the soul through purgatorial pains,
I have to offer humbly this donation