The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 421

Believe me, sire, I'll make amends for all.

Your bitter sorrow I will compensate; You shall receive your kingdom back entire, A solitary village shall not fail!

CHARLES.

We are united. Now I fear no foe.

BURGUNDY.

Trust me, it was not with a joyous spirit That I bore arms against you. Did you know?

Oh, wherefore sent you not this messenger?

[Pointing to SOREL.

I must have yielded to her gentle tears.

Henceforth, since breast to breast we have embraced, No power of h.e.l.l again shall sever us!

My erring course ends here. His sovereign's heart Is the true resting-place for Burgundy.

ARCHBISHOP (steps between them).

Ye are united, princes! France doth rise A renovated phoenix from its ashes.

The auspicious future greets us with a smile.

The country's bleeding wounds will heal again, The villages, the desolated towns, Rise in new splendor from their ruined heaps, The fields array themselves in beauteous green; But those who, victims of your quarrel, fell, The dead, rise not again; the bitter tears, Caused by your strife, remain forever wept!

One generation hath been doomed to woe; On their descendants dawns a brighter day; The gladness of the son wakes not the sire.

This the dire fruitage of your brother-strife!

Oh, princes, learn from hence to pause with dread, Ere from its scabbard ye unsheath the sword.

The man of power lets loose the G.o.d of war, But not, obedient, as from fields of air Returns the falcon to the sportsman's hand, Doth the wild deity obey the call Of mortal voice; nor will the Saviour's hand A second time forth issue from the clouds.

BURGUNDY.

Oh, sire! an angel walketh by your side.

Where is she? Why do I behold her not?

CHARLES.

Where is Johanna? Wherefore faileth she To grace the festival we owe to her?

ARCHBISHOP.

She loves not, sire, the idleness of the court, And when the heavenly mandate calls her not Forth to the world's observance, she retires, And doth avoid the notice of the crowd.

Doubtless, unless the welfare of the realm Claims her regard, she communes with her G.o.d, For still a blessing on her steps attends.

SCENE IV.

The same.

JOHANNA enters. She is clad in armor, and wears a garland in her hair.

CHARLES.

Thou comest as a priestess decked, Johanna, To consecrate the union formed by thee!

BURGUNDY.

How dreadful was the maiden in the fight!

How lovely circled by the beams of peace!

My word, Johanna, have I now fulfilled?

Art thou contented? Have I thine applause?

JOHANNA.

The greatest favor thou hast shown thyself.

Arrayed in blessed light thou s.h.i.+nest now, Who didst erewhile with b.l.o.o.d.y, ominous ray, Hang like a moon of terror in the heavens.

[Looking round.

Many brave knights I find a.s.sembled here, And joy's glad radiance beams in every eye; One mourner, one alone I have encountered; He must conceal himself, where all rejoice.

BURGUNDY.

And who is conscious of such heavy guilt, That of our favor he must needs despair?

JOHANNA.

May he approach? Oh, tell me that he may; Complete thy merit. Void the reconcilement That frees not the whole heart. A drop of hate Remaining in the cup of joy converts The blessed draught to poison. Let there be No deed so stained with blood that Burgundy Cannot forgive it on this day of joy.

BURGUNDY.

Ha! now I understand!

JOHANNA.

And thou'lt forgive?

Thou wilt indeed forgive? Come in, Duchatel!

[She opens the door and leads in DUCHATEL, who remains standing at a distance.

The duke is reconciled to all his foes, And he is so to thee.

[DUCHATEL approaches a few steps nearer, and tries to read the countenance of the DUKE.

BURGUNDY.

What makest thou Of me, Johanna? Know'st thou what thou askest?

JOHANNA.

A gracious sovereign throws his portals wide, Admitting every guest, excluding none; As freely as the firmament the world, So mercy must encircle friend and foe.

Impartially the sun pours forth his beams Through all the regions of infinity; The heaven's reviving dew falls everywhere, And brings refreshment to each thirsty plant; Whate'er is good, and cometh from on high, Is universal, and without reserve; But in the heart's recesses darkness dwells!

BURGUNDY.

Oh, she can mould me to her wish; my heart Is in her forming hand like melted wax.

--Duchatel, I forgive thee--come, embrace me!

Shade of my sire! oh, not with wrathful eye Behold me clasp the hand that shed thy blood.

Ye death-G.o.ds, reckon not to my account, That my dread oath of vengeance I abjure.

With you, in yon drear realm of endless night, There beats no human heart, and all remains Eternal, steadfast, and immovable.

Here in the light of day 'tis otherwise.

Man, living, feeling man, is aye the sport Of the o'ermastering present.

CHARLES (to JOHANNA).

Lofty maid!

What owe I not to thee! How truly now Hast thou fulfilled thy word,--how rapidly Reversed my destiny! Thou hast appeased My friends, and in the dust o'erwhelmed my foes; From foreign yoke redeemed my cities. Thou Hast all achieved. Speak, how can I reward thee?

JOHANNA.

Sire, in prosperity be still humane, As in misfortune thou hast ever been; And on the height of greatness ne'er forget The value of a friend in times of need; Thou hast approved it in adversity.

Refuse not to the lowest of thy people The claims of justice and humanity, For thy deliverer from the fold was called.