The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 448

Now haste and watch, with curious eye, These hallowed precincts round, That no presumptuous foot come nigh The secret, solitary ground Guard well the maiden fair, Your chieftain's brightest jewel owns your care.

[The Chorus withdraws to the background.

[The scene changes to a chamber in the interior of the palace.

DONNA ISABELLA between DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR.

ISABELLA.

The long-expected, festal day is come, My children's hearts are twined in one, as thus I fold their hands. Oh, blissful hour, when first A mother dares to speak in nature's voice, And no rude presence checks the tide of love.

The clang of arms affrights mine ear no more; And as the owls, ill-omened brood of night, From some old, shattered homestead's ruined walls, Their ancient reign, fly forth a dusky swarm, Darkening the cheerful day; when absent long, The dwellers home return with joyous shouts, To build the pile anew; so Hate departs With all his grisly train; pale Envy, scowling Malice, And hollow-eyed Suspicion; from our gates, Hoa.r.s.e murmuring, to the realms of night; while Peace, By Concord and fair Friends.h.i.+p led along, Comes smiling in his place.

[She pauses.

But not alone This day of joy to each restores a brother; It brings a sister! Wonderstruck you gaze!

Yet now the truth, in silence guarded long, Bursts from my soul. Attend! I have a daughter!

A sister lives, ordained by heaven to bind ye With ties unknown before.

DON CAESAR.

We have a sister!

What hast thou said, my mother? never told Her being till this hour!

DON MANUEL.

In childhood's years, Oft of a sister we have heard, untimely s.n.a.t.c.hed in her cradle by remorseless death; So ran the tale.

ISABELLA.

She lives!

DON CAESAR.

And thou wert silent!

ISABELLA.

Hear how the seed was sown in early time, That now shall ripen to a joyful harvest.

Ye bloomed in boyhood's tender age; e'en then By mutual, deadly hate, the bitter spring Of grief to this torn, anxious heart, dissevered; Oh, may your strife return no more! A vision, Strange and mysterious, in your father's breast Woke dire presage: it seemed that from his couch, With branches intertwined, two laurels grew, And in the midst a lily all in flames, That, catching swift the boughs and knotted stems, Burst forth with crackling rage, and o'er the house Spread in one mighty sea of fire: perplexed By this terrific dream, my husband sought An Arab, skilled to read the stars, and long The trusted oracle, whose counsels swayed His inmost purpose: thus the boding sage Spoke Fate's decrees: if I a daughter bore, Destruction to his sons and all his race From her should spring. Soon, by heaven's will, this child Of dreadful omen saw the light; your sire Commanded instant in the waves to throw The new-born innocent; a mother's love Prevailed, and, aided by a faithful servant, I s.n.a.t.c.hed the babe from death.

DON CAESAR.

Blest be the hands The ministers of thy care! Oh, ever rich Of counsels was a parent's love!

ISABELLA.

But more Than Nature's mighty voice, a warning dream Impelled to save my child: while yet unborn She slumbered in my womb, sleeping I saw An infant, fair as of celestial kind, That played upon the gra.s.s; soon from the wood A lion rushed, and from his gory jaws, Caressing, in the infant's lap let fall His prey, new-caught; then through the air down swept An eagle, and with fond caress alike Dropped from his claws a trembling kid, and both Cowered at the infant's feet, a gentle pair.

A monk, the saintly guide whose counsels poured In every earthly need, the balm of heaven Upon my troubled soul, my dream resolved.

Thus spoke the man of G.o.d: a daughter, sent To knit the warring spirits of my sons In bonds of tender love, should recompense A mother's pains! Deep in my heart I treasured His words, and, reckless of the Pagan seer, Preserved the blessed child, ordained of heaven To still your growing strife; sweet pledge of hope And messenger of peace!

DON MANUEL (embracing his brother).

There needs no sister To join our hearts; she shall but bind them closer.

ISABELLA.

In a lone spot obscure, by stranger hands Nurtured, the secret flower has grown; to me Denied the joy to mark each infant charm And opening grace from that sad hour of parting; These arms ne'er clasped my child again! her sire, To jealousy's corroding fears a prey, And brooding dark suspicion, restless tracked Each day my steps.

DON CAESAR.

Yet three months flown, my father Sleeps in the tranquil grave; say, whence delayed The joyous tidings? Why so long concealed The maid, nor earlier taught our hearts to glow With brother's love?

ISABELLA.

The cause, your frenzied hate, That raging unconfined, e'en on the tomb Of your scarce buried father, lit the flames Of mortal strife. What! could I throw my daughter Betwixt your gleaming blades? Or 'mid the storm Of pa.s.sion would ye list a woman's counsels?

Could she, sweet pledge of peace, of all our hopes The last and holy anchor, 'mid the rage Of discord find a home? Ye stand as brothers, So will I give a sister to your arms!

The reconciling angel comes; each hour I wait my messenger's return; he leads her From her sequestered cell, to glad once more A mother's eyes.

DON MANUEL.

Nor her alone this day Thy arms shall fold; joy pours through all our gates; Soon shall the desolate halls be full, the seat Of every blooming grace. Now hear my secret: A sister thou hast given; to thee I bring A daughter; bless thy son! My heart has found Its lasting shrine: ere this day's sun has set Don Manuel to thy feet shall lead his bride, The partner of his days.

ISABELLA.

And to my breast With transport will I clasp the chosen maid That makes my first-born happy. Joy shall spring Where'er she treads, and every flower that blooms Around the path of life smile in her presence!

May bliss reward the son, that for my brows Has twined the choicest wreath a mother wears.

DON CAESAR.

Yet give not all the fulness of thy blessing To him, thy eldest born. If love be blest, I, too, can give thee joy. I bring a daughter, Another flower for thy most treasured garland!

The maid that in this ice-cold bosom first Awoke the rapturous flame! Ere yonder sun Declines, Don Caesar's bride shall call thee mother.

DON MANUEL.

Almighty Love! thou G.o.dlike power--for well We call thee sovereign of the breast! Thy sway Controls each warring element, and tunes To soft accord; naught lives but owns thy greatness.

Lo! the rude soul that long defied thee melts At thy command!

[He embraces DON CAESAR.

Now I can trust thy heart, And joyful strain thee to a brother's arms!

I doubt thy faith no more, for thou canst love!

ISABELLA.

Thrice blest the day, when every gloomy care From my o'erlabored breast has flown. I see On steadfast columns reared our kingly race, And with contented spirit track the stream Of measureless time. In these deserted halls, Sad in my widow's veil, but yesterday Childless I roamed; and soon, in youthful charms Arrayed, three blooming daughters at my side Shall stand! Oh, happiest mother! Chief of women, In bliss supreme; can aught of earthly joy O'erbalance thine?

But say, of royal stem, What maidens grace our isle? For ne'er my sons Would stoop to meaner brides.

DON MANUEL.

Seek not to raise The veil that hides my bliss; another day Shall tell thee all. Enough--Don Manuel's bride Is worthy of thy son and thee.

ISABELLA.

Thy sire Speaks in thy words; thus to himself retired Forever would he brood o'er counsels dark, And cloak his secret purpose;--your delay Be short, my son.

[Turning to DON CAESAR.

But thou--some royal maid, Daughter of kings, hath stirred thy soul to love; So speak--her name----

DON CAESAR.

I have no art to veil My thoughts with mystery's garb--my spirit free And open as my brows; which thou wouldst know Concerned me never. What illumes above Heaven's flaming orb? Himself! On all the world He s.h.i.+nes, and with his beaming glory tells From light he sprung:--in her pure eyes I gazed, I looked into her heart of hearts:--the brightness Revealed the pearl. Her race--her name--my mother, Ask not of me!

ISABELLA.

My son, explain thy words, For, like some voice divine, the sudden charm Has thralled thy soul: to deeds of rash emprise Thy nature prompted, not to fantasies Of boyish love:--tell me, what swayed thy choice?

DON CAESAR.

My choice? my mother! Is it choice when man Obeys the might of destiny, that brings The awful hour? I sought no beauteous bride, No fond delusion stirred my tranquil breast, Still as the house of death; for there, unsought, I found the treasure of my soul. Thou know'st That, heedless ever of the giddy race, I looked on beauty's charms with cold disdain, Nor deemed of womankind there lived another Like thee--whom my idolatrous fancy decked With heavenly graces:-- 'Twas the solemn rite Of my dead father's obsequies; we stood Amid the countless throng, with strange attire Hid from each other's glance; for thus ordained Thy thoughtful care lest with outbursting rage, E' en by the holy place unawed, our strife Should mar the funeral pomp.

With sable gauze The nave was all o'erhung; the altar round Stood twenty giant saints, uplifting each A torch; and in the midst reposed on high The coffin, with o'erspreading pall, that showed, In white, redemption's sign;--thereon were laid The staff of sovereignty, the princely crown, The golden spurs of knighthood, and the sword, With diamond-studded belt:-- And all was hushed In silent prayer, when from the lofty choir, Unseen, the pealing organ spoke, and loud From hundred voices burst the choral strain!

Then, 'mid the tide of song, the coffin sank With the descending floor beneath, forever Down to the world below:--but, wide outspread Above the yawning grave, the pall upheld The gauds of earthly state, nor with the corpse To darkness fell; yet on the seraph wings Of harmony, the enfranchised spirit soared To heaven and mercy's throne: Thus to thy thought, My mother, I have waked the scene anew, And say, if aught of pa.s.sion in my breast Profaned the solemn hour; yet then the beams Of mighty love--so willed my guiding star-- First lit my soul; but how it chanced, myself I ask in vain.

ISABELLA.

I would hear all; so end Thy tale.

DON CAESAR.