The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy Part 13

A second (CAJETAN).

We come, we come, in festal pride, To greet the beauteous bride; Behold! the nuptial gifts, the rich attire The banquet waits, the guests are there; They bid thee to the solemn rite Of hymen quick repair.

Thou hear'st them not--the sportive lyre, The frolic dance, shall ne'er invite; Nor wake thee from thy lowly bed, For deep the slumber of the dead!

The whole Chorus.

No more the echoing horn shall cheer Nor bride with tones of sweetness charm his ear.

On the cold earth he lies, In death's eternal slumber closed his eyes.

A third (CAJETAN).

What are the hopes, and fond desires Of mortals' transitory race?

This day, with harmony of voice and soul, Ye woke the long-extinguished fires Of brothers' love--yon flaming orb Lit with his earliest beams your dear embrace At eve, upon the gory sand Thou liest--a reeking corpse!

Stretched by a brother's murderous hand.

Vain projects, treacherous hopes, Child of the fleeting hour are thine; Fond man! thou rear'st on dust each bold design,

Chorus (BERENGAR).

To thy mother I will bear The burden of unutterable woe!

Quick shall yon cypress, blooming fair, Bend to the axe's murderous blow Then twine the mournful bier!

For ne'er with verdant life the tree shall smile That grew on death's devoted soil; Ne'er in the breeze the branches play, Nor shade the wanderer in the noontide ray; 'Twas marked to bear the fruits of doom, Cursed to the service of the tomb.

First (CAJETAN).

Woe to the murderer! Woe That sped exulting in his pride, Behold! the parched earth drinks the crimson tide.

Down, down it flows, unceasingly, To the dim caverned halls below, Where throned in kindred gloom the sister train, Of Themis progeny severe, Brood in their songless, silent reign!

Stern minister of wrath's decree, They catch in swarthy cups thy streaming gore, And pledge with horrid rites for vengeance evermore.

Second (BERENGAR).

Though swift of deed the traces fade From earth, before the enlivening ray; As o'er the brow the transient shade Of thought, the hues of fancy flit away:-- Yet in the mystic womb unseen, Of the dark ruling hours that sway Our mortal lot, whate'er has been, With new creative germ defies decay.

The blooming field is time For nature's ever-teeming shoot, And all is seed, and all is fruit.

[The Chorus goes away, bearing the corpse of DON MANUEL on a bier.

SCENE--The hall of pillars. It is night.

The stage is lighted from above by a single large lamp.

DONNA ISABELLA and DIEGO advance to the front.

ISABELLA.

As yet no joyful tidings, not a trace Found of the lost one!

DIEGO.

Nothing have we heard, My mistress; yet o'er every track, unwearied, Thy sons pursue. Ere long the rescued maid Shall smile at dangers past.

ISABELLA.

Alas! Diego, My heart is sad; 'twas I that caused this woe!

DIEGO.

Vex not thy anxious bosom; naught escaped Thy thoughtful care.

ISABELLA.

Oh! had I earlier shown The hidden treasure!

DIEGO.

Prudent were thy counsels, Wisely thou left'st her in retirement's shade; So, trust in heaven.

ISABELLA.

Alas! no joy is perfect Without this chance of ill my bliss were pure.

DIEGO.

Thy happiness is but delayed; enjoy The concord of thy sons.

ISABELLA.

The sight was rapture Supreme, when, locked in one another's arms, They glowed with brothers' love.

DIEGO.

And in the heart It burns; for ne'er their princely souls have stooped To mean disguise.

ISABELLA.

Now, too, their bosoms wake To gentler thoughts, and own their softening sway Of love. No more their hot, impetuous youth Revels in liberty untamed, and spurns Restraint of law, attempered pa.s.sion's self, With modest, chaste reserve.

To thee, Diego, I will unfold my secret heart; this hour Of feeling's opening bloom, expected long, Wakes boding fears: thou know'st to sudden rage Love stirs tumultuous b.r.e.a.s.t.s; and if this flame With jealousy should rouse the slumbering fires Of ancient hate--I shudder at the thought!

If these discordant souls perchance have thrilled In fatal unison! Enough; the clouds That black with thundering menace o'er me hung Are past; some angel sped them tranquil by, And my enfranchised spirit breathes again.

DIEGO.

Rejoice, my mistress; for thy gentle sense And soft, prevailing art more weal have wrought Than all thy husband's power. Be praise to thee And thy auspicious star!

ISABELLA.

Yes, fortune smiled; Nor light the task, so long with apt disguise To veil the cherished secret of my heart, And cheat my ever-jealous lord: more hard To stifle mighty nature's pleading voice, That, like a prisoned fire, forever strove To rend its confines.

DIEGO.

All shall yet be well; Fortune, propitious to our hopes, gave pledge Of bliss that time will show.

ISABELLA.

I praise not yet My natal star, while darkening o'er my fate This mystery hangs: too well the dire mischance Tells of the fiend whose never-slumbering rage Pursues our house. Now list what I have done, And praise or blame me as thou wilt; from thee My bosom guards no secret: ill I brook This dull repose, while swift o'er land and sea My sons unwearied, track their sister's flight, Yes, I have sought; heaven counsels oft, when vain All mortal aid.

DIEGO.

What I may know, my mistress, Declare.

ISABELLA.

On Etna's solitary height A reverend hermit dwells,--benamed of old The mountain seer,--who to the realms of light More near abiding than the toilsome race Of mortals here below, with purer air Has cleansed each earthly, grosser sense away; And from the lofty peak of gathered years, As from his mountain home, with downward glance Surveys the crooked paths of worldly strife.

To him are known the fortunes of our house; Oft has the holy sage besought response From heaven, and many a curse with earnest prayer Averted: thither at my bidding flew, On wings of youthful haste, a messenger, To ask some tidings of my child: each hour I wait his homeward footsteps.

DIEGO.

If mine eyes Deceive me not, he comes; and well his speed Has earned thy praise.