The Count of Narbonne Part 7

_Theod._ Ah, no, dear saint! fate ended soon her woes, In pity, ended! On her dying couch, She pray'd for blessings on me.

_Aust._ Be thou blessed!

O fail not, nature, but support this conflict!

'Tis not delusion, sure. It must be he.-- But one thing more; did she not tell thee too, Thy wretched father's name?

_Theod._ The lord of Clarinsal.

Why dost thou look so eagerly upon me?

If yet he lives, and thou know'st Clarinsal, Tell him my tale.

_Aust._ Mysterious Providence!

_Count._ What's this? the old man trembles and turns pale. [_Aside._

_Theod._ He will not let his offspring's timeless ghost Walk unappeas'd; but on this cruel head Exact full vengeance for his slaughter'd son.

_Aust._ O Giver of all good! Eternal Lord!

Am I so bless'd at last, to see my son?

_Theod._ Let me be deaf for ever, if my ears Deceive me now! did he not say his son?

_Aust._ I did, I did! let this, and this, convince thee.

I am that Clarinsal; I am thy father.

_Count._ Why works this foolish moisture to my eyes? [_Aside._ Down, nature! what hast thou to do with vengeance?

_Theod._ Oh, sir! thus bending, let me clasp your knees;-- Now, in this precious moment, pay at once The long, long debt of a lost son's affection.

_Count._ [_Aside._] Destruction seize them both! Must I behold Their transports, ne'er, perhaps, again to know A son's obedience, or a father's fondness!

_Aust._ Dear boy! what miracle preserved thee thus, To give thee back to France?

_Theod._ No miracle, But common chance. A warlike bark of Spain Bore down, and seiz'd our vessel, as we rov'd Intent on spoil: (for many times, alas!

Was I compell'd to join their hated league, And strike with infidels.) My country known, The courteous captain sent me to the sh.o.r.e; Where, vain were my fond hopes to find my father: 'Twas desolation all: a few poor swains Told me, the rumour ran he had renounc'd A hated world, and here in Languedoc, Devoted his remains of life to Heaven.

_Aust._ They told thee truth; and Heaven shall have my prayers, My soul pour'd out in endless grat.i.tude, For this unhoped, immeasurable blessing.

_Count._ Thus far, fond man! I have listen'd to the tale; And think it, as it is, a gross contrivance-- A trick, devis'd to cheat my credulous reason, And thaw me to a woman's milkiness.

_Aust._ And art thou so unskill'd in nature's language, Still to mistrust us? Could our tongues deceive, Credit, what ne'er was feign'd, the genuine heart: Believe these pangs, these tears of joy and anguish.

_Count._ Or true, or false, to me it matters not.

I see thou hast an interest in his life, And by that link I hold thee. Wouldst thou save him, Thou know'st already what my soul is set on, Teach thy proud heart compliance with my will: If not--but now no more.--Hear all, and mark me-- Keep special guard, that none, but by my order, Pa.s.s from the castle. By my hopes of heaven, His head goes off, who dares to disobey me!

Farewell!----if he be dear to thee, remember.

[_Exit COUNT._

_Aust._ If he be dear to me! my vital blood!

Image of her, my soul delighted in, Again she lives in thee! Yes, 'twas that voice, That kindred look, rais'd such strong instinct here, And kindled all my bosom at thy danger.

_Theod._ But must we bear to be thus tamely coop'd By such insulting, petty despotism?

I look to my unguarded side in vain; Had I a sword----

_Aust._ Think not of vengeance now; A mightier arm than thine prepares it for him.

Pa.s.s but a little s.p.a.ce, we shall behold him The object of our pity, not our anger.

Yes, he must suffer; my rapt soul foresees it: Empires shall sink; the pond'rous globe of earth Crumble to dust; the sun and stars be quench'd; But O, Eternal Father! of thy will, To the last letter, all shall be accomplish'd.

_Theod._ So let it be! but, if his pride must fall, Ye saints, who watch o'er loveliness and virtue, Confound not with his crimes, her innocence!

Make him alone the victim; but with blessings Bright, and distinguish'd, crown his beauteous daughter, The charming Adelaide, my heart's first pa.s.sion!

_Aust._ Oh most disastrous love! My son, my son, Thy words are poniards here. Alas! I thought (So thought the tyrant, and for that he rag'd) The vows exchang'd 'tween Isabel and thee, Thwarted the issue of his wild designs.

_Theod._ I knew not Isabel, beyond a moment Pa.s.s'd in surprise and haste.

_Aust._ O, had malignant fortune toil'd to blast him, Thus had she snar'd him in this fatal pa.s.sion!-- And does young Adelaide return thy love?

_Theod._ Bless'd powers, she does! How can you frown, and hear it!

Her generous soul, first touch'd by grat.i.tude, Soon own'd a kinder, warmer sympathy.

Soft as the fanning of a turtle's plumes, The sweet confession met my enraptur'd ears.

_Aust._ What can I do?--Come near, my Theodore; Dost thou believe my affection?

_Theod._ Can I doubt it?

_Aust._ Think what my bosom suffers, when I tell thee, It must not, cannot be.

_Theod._ My love for Adelaide!

_Aust._ Deem it delicious poison; dash it from thee: Thy bane is in the cup.

_Theod._ O bid me rather Tear out my throbbing heart; I'd think it mercy, To this unjust, this cruel interdiction.

That proud, unfeeling Narbonne, from his lips Well might such words have fallen;--but thou, my father----

_Aust._ And fond, as ever own'd that tender name.

Not I, my son, not I prevent this union, To me 'tis bitterness to cross thy wish, But nature, fate, and Heaven, all, all forbid it.

We must withdraw, where Heaven alone can hear us: Then must thou stretch thy soul's best faculties; Call every manly principle to steel thee; And, to confirm thy name, secure thy honour, Make one great sacrifice of love to justice.

[_Exeunt._

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

_A Chamber._