Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

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by Lord Byron


  In masses for his spirit.

  [Siegendorf offers the gold which he had taken from Stralenheim.

  Prior. Count, if I

  Receive it, ‘tis because I know too well

  Refusal would offend you. Be assured 470

  The largess shall be only dealt in alms,

  And every mass no less sung for the dead.

  Our House needs no donations, thanks to yours,

  Which has of old endowed it; but from you

  And yours in all meet things ‘tis fit we obey.

  For whom shall mass be said?

  Sieg. (faltering).For — for — the dead.

  Prior. His name?

  Sieg. ‘Tis from a soul, and not a name,

  I would avert perdition.

  Prior. I meant not

  To pry into your secret. We will pray

  For one unknown, the same as for the proudest. 480

  Sieg. Secret! I have none: but, father, he who’s gone

  Might have one; or, in short, he did bequeath —

  No, not bequeath — but I bestow this sum

  For pious purposes.

  Prior. A proper deed

  In the behalf of our departed friends.

  Sieg. But he who’s gone was not my friend, but foe,

  The deadliest and the stanchest.

  Prior. Better still!

  To employ our means to obtain Heaven for the souls

  Of our dead enemies is worthy those

  Who can forgive them living.

  Sieg. But I did not 490

  Forgive this man. I loathed him to the last,

  As he did me. I do not love him now,

  But — —

  Prior. Best of all! for this is pure religion!

  You fain would rescue him you hate from hell —

  An evangelical compassion — with

  Your own gold too!

  Sieg. Father, ‘tis not my gold.

  Prior. Whose, then? You said it was no legacy.

  Sieg. No matter whose — of this be sure, that he

  Who owned it never more will need it, save

  In that which it may purchase from your altars: 500

  ‘Tis yours, or theirs.

  Prior. Is there no blood upon it?

  Sieg. No; but there’s worse than blood — eternal shame!

  Prior. Did he who owned it die in his bed?

  Sieg. Alas!

  He did.

  Prior. Son! you relapse into revenge,

  If you regret your enemy’s bloodless death.

  Sieg. His death was fathomlessly deep in blood.

  Prior. You said he died in his bed, not battle.

  Sieg. He

  Died, I scarce know — but — he was stabbed i’ the dark,

  And now you have it — perished on his pillow

  By a cut-throat! — Aye! — you may look upon me! 510

  I am not the man. I’ll meet your eye on that point,

  As I can one day God’s.

  Prior. Nor did he die

  By means, or men, or instrument of yours?

  Sieg. No! by the God who sees and strikes!

  Prior. Nor know you

  Who slew him?

  Sieg. I could only guess at one,

  And he to me a stranger, unconnected,

  As unemployed. Except by one day’s knowledge,

  I never saw the man who was suspected.

  Prior. Then you are free from guilt.

  Sieg. (eagerly).Oh! am I? — say!

  Prior. You have said so, and know best.

  Sieg. Father! I have spoken 520

  The truth, and nought but truth, if not the whole;

  Yet say I am not guilty! for the blood

  Of this man weighs on me, as if I shed it,

  Though, by the Power who abhorreth human blood,

  I did not! — nay, once spared it, when I might

  And could — aye, perhaps, should (if our self-safety

  Be e’er excusable in such defences

  Against the attacks of over-potent foes):

  But pray for him, for me, and all my house;

  For, as I said, though I be innocent,

  I know not why, a like remorse is on me,

  As if he had fallen by me or mine. Pray for me,

  Father! I have prayed myself in vain.

  Prior. I will.

  Be comforted! You are innocent, and should

  Be calm as innocence.

  Sieg. But calmness is not

  Always the attribute of innocence.

  I feel it is not.

  Prior. But it will be so,

  When the mind gathers up its truth within it.

  Remember the great festival to-morrow,

  In which you rank amidst our chiefest nobles,

  As well as your brave son; and smooth your aspect,

  Nor in the general orison of thanks

  For bloodshed stopt, let blood you shed not rise,

  A cloud, upon your thoughts. This were to be

  Too sensitive. Take comfort, and forget

  Such things, and leave remorse unto the guilty.[Exeunt.

  ACT V

  Scene I. — A large and magnificent Gothic Hall in the Castle of Siegendorf, decorated with Trophies, Banners, and Arms of that Family.

  Enter Arnheim and Meister, attendants of Count Siegendorf.

  Arn. Be quick! the Count will soon return: the ladies

  Already are at the portal. Have you sent

  The messengers in search of him he seeks for?

  Meis. I have, in all directions, over Prague,

  As far as the man’s dress and figure could

  By your description track him. The devil take

  These revels and processions! All the pleasure

  (If such there be) must fall to the spectators, —

  I’m sure none doth to us who make the show.

  Arn. Go to! my Lady Countess comes.

  Meis. I’d rather 10

  Ride a day’s hunting on an outworn jade,

  Than follow in the train of a great man,

  In these dull pageantries.

  Arn. Begone! and rail

  Within. [Exeunt.

  Enter the Countess Josephine Siegendorf and Ida Stralenheim.

  Jos. Well, Heaven be praised! the show is over.

  Ida. How can you say so? Never have I dreamt

  Of aught so beautiful. The flowers, the boughs,

  The banners, and the nobles, and the knights,

  The gems, the robes, the plumes, the happy faces,

  The coursers, and the incense, and the sun

  Streaming through the stained windows, even the tombs, 20

  Which looked so calm, and the celestial hymns,

  Which seemed as if they rather came from Heaven

  Than mounted there — the bursting organ’s peal

  Rolling on high like an harmonious thunder;

  The white robes and the lifted eyes; the world

  At peace! and all at peace with one another!

  Oh, my sweet mother![Embracing Josephine.

  Jos. My belovéd child!

  For such, I trust, thou shalt be shortly.

  Ida. Oh!

  I am so already. Feel how my heart beats!

  Jos. It does, my love; and never may it throb 30

  With aught more bitter.

  Ida. Never shall it do so!

  How should it? What should make us grieve? I hate

  To hear of sorrow: how can we be sad,

  Who love each other so entirely? You,

  The Count, and Ulric, and your daughter Ida.

  Jos. Poor child!

  Ida. Do you pity me?

  Jos. No: I but envy,

  And that in sorrow, not in the world’s sense

  Of the universal vice, if one vice be

  More general than
another.

  Ida. I’ll not hear

  A word against a world which still contains 40

  You and my Ulric. Did you ever see

  Aught like him? How he towered amongst them all!

  How all eyes followed him! The flowers fell faster —

  Rained from each lattice at his feet, methought,

  Than before all the rest; and where he trod

  I dare be sworn that they grow still, nor e’er

  Will wither.

  Jos. You will spoil him, little flatterer,

  If he should hear you.

  Ida. But he never will.

  I dare not say so much to him — I fear him.

  Jos. Why so? he loves you well.

  Ida. But I can never 50

  Shape my thoughts of him into words to him:

  Besides, he sometimes frightens me.

  Jos. How so?

  Ida. A cloud comes o’er his blue eyes suddenly,

  Yet he says nothing.

  Jos. It is nothing: all men,

  Especially in these dark troublous times,

  Have much to think of.

  Ida. But I cannot think

  Of aught save him.

  Jos. Yet there are other men,

  In the world’s eye, as goodly. There’s, for instance,

  The young Count Waldorf, who scarce once withdrew

  His eyes from yours to-day.

  Ida. I did not see him, 60

  But Ulric. Did you not see at the moment

  When all knelt, and I wept? and yet, methought,

  Through my fast tears, though they were thick and warm,

  I saw him smiling on me.

  Jos. I could not

  See aught save Heaven, to which my eyes were raised,

  Together with the people’s.

  Ida. I thought too

  Of Heaven, although I looked on Ulric.

  Jos. Come,

  Let us retire! they will be here anon,

  Expectant of the banquet. We will lay

  Aside these nodding plumes and dragging trains. 70

  Ida. And, above all, these stiff and heavy jewels,

  Which make my head and heart ache, as both throb

  Beneath their glitter o’er my brow and zone.

  Dear mother, I am with you.

  Enter Count Siegendorf, in full dress, from the solemnity, and Ludwig.

  Sieg. Is he not found?

  Lud. Strict search is making every where; and if

  The man be in Prague, be sure he will be found.

  Sieg. Where’s Ulric?

  Lud. He rode round the other way

  With some young nobles; but he left them soon;

  And, if I err not, not a minute since

  I heard his Excellency, with his train, 80

  Gallop o’er the west drawbridge.

  Enter Ulric, splendidly dressed.

  Sieg. (to Ludwig).See they cease not

  Their quest of him I have described. [Exit Ludwig.

  Oh, Ulric!

  How have I longed for thee!

  Ulr. Your wish is granted —

  Behold me!

  Sieg. I have seen the murderer.

  Ulr. Whom? Where?

  Sieg. The Hungarian, who slew Stralenheim.

  Ulr. You dream.

  Sieg. I live! and as I live, I saw him —

  Heard him! he dared to utter even my name.

  Ulr. What name?

  Sieg. Werner! ‘twas mine.

  Ulr. It must be so

  No more: forget it.

  Sieg. Never! never! all

  My destinies were woven in that name: 90

  It will not be engraved upon my tomb,

  But it may lead me there.

  Ulr. To the point — — the Hungarian?

  Sieg. Listen! — The church was thronged: the hymn was raised;

  “Te Deum” pealed from nations rather than

  From choirs, in one great cry of “God be praised”

  For one day’s peace, after thrice ten dread years,

  Each bloodier than the former: I arose,

  With all the nobles, and as I looked down

  Along the lines of lifted faces, — from

  Our bannered and escutcheoned gallery, I 100

  Saw, like a flash of lightning (for I saw

  A moment and no more), what struck me sightless

  To all else — the Hungarian’s face! I grew

  Sick; and when I recovered from the mist

  Which curled about my senses, and again

  Looked down, I saw him not. The thanksgiving

  Was over, and we marched back in procession.

  Ulr. Continue.

  Sieg. When we reached the Muldau’s bridge,

  The joyous crowd above, the numberless

  Barks manned with revellers in their best garbs, 110

  Which shot along the glancing tide below,

  The decorated street, the long array,

  The clashing music, and the thundering

  Of far artillery, which seemed to bid

  A long and loud farewell to its great doings,

  The standards o’er me, and the tramplings round,

  The roar of rushing thousands, — all — all could not

  Chase this man from my mind, although my senses

  No longer held him palpable.

  Ulr. You saw him

  No more, then?

  Sieg. I looked, as a dying soldier 120

  Looks at a draught of water, for this man;

  But still I saw him not; but in his stead — —

  Ulr. What in his stead?

  Sieg. My eye for ever fell

  Upon your dancing crest; the loftiest.

  As on the loftiest and the loveliest head,

  It rose the highest of the stream of plumes,

  Which overflowed the glittering streets of Prague.

  Ulr. What’s this to the Hungarian?

  Sieg. Much! for I

  Had almost then forgot him in my son;

  When just as the artillery ceased, and paused 130

  The music, and the crowd embraced in lieu

  Of shouting, I heard in a deep, low voice,

  Distinct and keener far upon my ear

  Than the late cannon’s volume, this word — ”Werner!”

  Ulr. Uttered by — —

  Sieg. Him! I turned — and saw — and fell.

  Ulr. And wherefore? Were you seen?

  Sieg. The officious care

  Of those around me dragged me from the spot,

  Seeing my faintness, ignorant of the cause:

  You, too, were too remote in the procession

  (The old nobles being divided from their children) 140

  To aid me.

  Ulr. But I’ll aid you now.

  Sieg. In what?

  Ulr. In searching for this man, or — — When he’s found,

  What shall we do with him?

  Sieg. I know not that.

  Ulr. Then wherefore seek?

  Sieg. Because I cannot rest

  Till he is found. His fate, and Stralenheim’s,

  And ours, seem intertwisted! nor can be

  Unravelled, till — —

  Enter an Attendant.

  Atten. A stranger to wait on

  Your Excellency.

  Sieg. Who?

  Atten. He gave no name.

  Sieg. Admit him, ne’ertheless.

  [The Attendant introduces Gabor, and afterwards exit.

  Ah!

  Gab. ‘Tis then Werner!

  Sieg. (haughtily).

  The same you knew, sir, by that name; and you! 150

  Gab. (looking round).

  I recognise you both: father and son,

  It seems. Count, I have heard that you, or yours,

  Have lately been in search of me: I am
here.

  Sieg. I have sought you, and have found you: you are charged

  (Your own heart may inform you why) with such

  A crime as — — [He pauses.

  Gab. Give it utterance, and then

  I’ll meet the consequences.

  Sieg. You shall do so —

  Unless — —

  Gab. First, who accuses me?

  Sieg. All things,

  If not all men: the universal rumour —

  My own presence on the spot — the place — the time — 160

  And every speck of circumstance unite

  To fix the blot on you.

  Gab. And on me only?

  Pause ere you answer: is no other name,

  Save mine, stained in this business?

  Sieg. Trifling villain!

  Who play’st with thine own guilt! Of all that breathe

  Thou best dost know the innocence of him

  ‘Gainst whom thy breath would blow thy bloody slander.

  But I will talk no further with a wretch,

  Further than justice asks. Answer at once,

  And without quibbling, to my charge.

  Gab. ‘Tis false! 170

  Sieg. Who says so?

  Gab. I.

  Sieg. And how disprove it?

  Gab. By

  The presence of the murderer.

  Sieg. Name him.

  Gab. He

  May have more names than one. Your Lordship had so

  Once on a time.

  Sieg. If you mean me, I dare

  Your utmost.

  Gab. You may do so, and in safety;

  I know the assassin.

  Sieg. Where is he?

  Gab. (pointing to Ulric).Beside you!

  [Ulric rushes forward to attack Gabor; Siegendorf interposes.

  Sieg. Liar and fiend! but you shall not be slain;

  These walls are mine, and you are safe within them.

  Ulric, repel this calumny, as I[He turns to Ulric.

  Will do. I avow it is a growth so monstrous, 180

  I could not deem it earth-born: but be calm;

  It will refute itself. But touch him not.

  [Ulric endeavours to compose himself.

  Gab. Look at him, Count, and then hear me.

  Sieg. (first to Gabor, and then looking at Ulric).

  I hear thee.

  My God! you look — —

  Ulr. How?

  Sieg. As on that dread night,

  When we met in the garden.

  Ulr. (composing himself).It is nothing.

  Gab. Count, you are bound to hear me. I came hither

  Not seeking you, but sought. When I knelt down

  Amidst the people in the church, I dreamed not

  To find the beggared Werner in the seat

  Of Senators and Princes; but you have called me, 190

  And we have met.

  Sieg. Go on, sir.

  Gab. Ere I do so,

  Allow me to inquire, who profited

  By Stralenheim’s death? Was’t I — as poor as ever;

 

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