Count Julian Part 10

JUL. I value not the ma.s.s that makes my sword, Yet while I use it I rely on it.

Rod. Julian, thy gloomy soul still meditates - Plainly I see it--death to me--pursue The dictates of thy leaders, let revenge Have its full sway, let Barbary prevail, And the pure creed her elders have embraced: Those placid sages hold a.s.sa.s.sination A most compendious supplement to law.

JUL. Thou knowest not the one, nor I the other, Torn hast thou from me all my soul held dear!

Her form, her voice, all, hast thou banished from me; Nor dare I, wretched as I am! recall Those solaces of every grief, erewhile.

I stand abased before insulting crime - I falter like a criminal myself.

The hand that hurled thy chariot o'er its wheels, That held thy steeds erect and motionless As molten statues on some palace-gates, Shakes, as with palsied age, before thee now.

Gone is the treasure of my heart, for ever, Without a father, mother, friend, or name.

Daughter of Julian--such was her delight - Such was mine too! what pride more innocent, What, surely, less deserving pangs like these, Than springs from filial and parental love!

Debarred from every hope that issues forth To meet the balmy breath of early life, Her saddened days, all, cold and colourless, Will stretch before her their whole weary length Amid the sameness of obscurity.

She wanted not seclusion, to unveil Her thoughts to heaven, cloister, nor midnight bell; She found it in all places, at all hours: While, to a.s.suage my labours, she indulged A playfulness that shunned a mother's eye, Still, to avert my perils, there arose A piety that, even from ME, retired.

ROD. Such was she! what am I! those are the arms That are triumphant when the battle fails.

O Julian, Julian! all thy former words Struck but the imbecile plumes of vanity; These, through its steely coverings, pierce the heart.

I ask not life nor death; but, if I live, Send my most bitter enemy to watch My secret paths, send poverty, send pain - I will add more--wise as thou art, thou knowest No foe more furious than forgiven kings.

I ask not then what thou wouldst never grant: May heaven, O Julian, from thy hand receive A pardoned man, a chastened criminal.

JUL. This further curse hast thou inflicted; wretch, I cannot pardon thee.

ROD. Thy tone, thy mien, Refute those words.

JUL. No--I can NOT forgive.

ROD. Upon my knee, my conqueror, I implore - Upon the earth, before thy feet--hard heart!

JUL. Audacious! hast thou never heard that prayer And scorned it? 'tis the last thou shouldst repeat.

Upon the earth! upon her knees! O G.o.d!

ROD. Resemble not a wretch so lost as I: Be better; Oh! be happier; and p.r.o.nounce it.

JUL. I swerve not from my purpose: thou art mine, Conquered; and I have sworn to dedicate, Like a torn banner on my chapel's roof, Thee to that power from whom thou hast rebelled.

Expiate thy crimes by prayer, by penances.

ROD. Hasten the hour of trial, speak of peace.

Pardon me not, then--but with purer lips Implore of G.o.d, who WOULD hear THEE, to pardon.

JUL. Hope it I may--p.r.o.nounce it--O Roderigo!

Ask it of him who can; I too will ask, And, in my own transgressions, pray for thine.

ROD. One name I dare not -

JUL. Go--abstain from that, I do conjure thee: raise not in my soul Again the tempest that has wrecked my fame; Thou shalt not breathe in the same clime with her.

Far o'er the unebbing sea thou shalt adore The eastern star, and--may thy end be peace.

FOURTH ACT.--SECOND SCENE.

RODERIGO goes: HERNANDO enters.

HER. From the prince Tarik I am sent, my lord.

JUL. A welcome messager, my brave Hernando.

How fares it with the gallant soul of Tarik?

HER. Most joyfully; he scarcely had p.r.o.nounced Your glorious name, and bid me urge your speed, Than, with a voice as though it answered heaven, "He shall confound them in their dark designs,"

Cried he, and turned away with that swift stride Wherewith he meets and quells his enemies.

JUL. Alas, I cannot bear felicitation, Who shunned it even in felicity.

HER. Often we hardly think ourselves the happy Unless we hear it said by those around.

O my lord Julian, how your praises cheered Our poor endeavours! sure, all hearts are ope Lofty and low, wise and unwise, to praise.

Even the departed spirit hovers round Our blessings and our prayers; the corse itself Hath s.h.i.+ned with other light than the still stars Shed on its rest, or the dim taper, nigh.

My father, old men say, who saw him dead And heard your lips p.r.o.nounce him good and happy, Smiled faintly through the quiet gloom, that eve, And the shroud throbbed upon his grateful breast.

Howe'er it be, many who tell the tale Are good and happy from that voice of praise.

His guidance and example were denied My youth and childhood: what I am I owe -

JUL. Hernando, look not back: a narrow path And arduous lies before thee; if thou stop Thou fallest; go right onward, nor observe Closely and rigidly another's way, But, free and active, follow up thy own.

HER. The voice that urges now my manly step Onward in life, recalls me to the past, And from that fount I freshen for the goal.

Early in youth, among us villagers Converse and ripened counsel you bestowed.

O happy days of (far departed!) peace, Days when the mighty Julian stooped his brow Entering our cottage door; another air Breathed through the house; tired age and lightsome youth Beheld him, with intensest gaze: these felt More chastened joy; those, more profound repose.

Yes, my best lord, when labour sent them home And midday suns, when from the social meal The wicker window held the summer heat, Praised have those been who, going unperceived, Opened it wide, that all might see you well: Nor were the children blamed, upon the mat, Hurrying to watch what rush would last arise From your foot's pressure, ere the door was closed, And not yet wondering how they dared to love.

Your counsels are more precious now than ever, But are they--pardon if I err--the same?

Tarik is gallant, kind, the friend of Julian, Can he be more? or ought he to be less?

Alas! his faith!

JUL. In peace or war, Hernando?

HER. Oh, neither--far above it; faith in G.o.d -

JUL. 'Tis G.o.d's, not thine--embrace it not, nor hate it.

Precious or vile, how dare we seize that offering, Scatter it, spurn it, in its way to heaven, Because we know it not? the Sovereign Lord Accepts his tribute, myrrh and frankincense From some, from others penitence and prayer: Why intercept them from his gracious hand?

Why dash them down? why smite the supplicant?

HER. 'Tis what they do?

JUL. Avoid it thou the more.

If time were left me, I could hear well-pleased How Tarik fought up Calpe's fabled cliff, While I pursued the friends of Don Roderigo Across the plain, and drew fresh force from mine.

Oh! had some other land, some other cause, Invited him and me, I then could dwell On this hard battle with unmixed delight.

HER. Eternal is its glory, if the deed Be not forgotten till it be surpa.s.sed: Much praise by land, by sea much more, he won; For then a Julian was not at his side, Nor led the van, nor awed the best before; The whole, a mighty whole, was his alone.

There might be seen how far he shone above All others of the day: old Muza watched From his own sh.o.r.e the richly laden fleet, Ill-armed and scattered, and pursued the rear Beyond those rocks that bear St. Vincent's name, Cutting the treasure, not the strength, away; Valiant, where any prey lies undevoured In hostile creek or too confiding isle: Tarik, with his small barks, but with such love As never chief from rugged sailor won, Smote their high masts and swelling rampires down; And Cadiz wept in fear o'er Trafalgar.

Who that beheld our sails from off the heights, Like the white birds, nor larger, tempt the gale In suns.h.i.+ne and in shade, now almost touch The solitary sh.o.r.e, glance, turn, retire, Would think these lovely playmates could portend Such mischief to the world, such blood, such woe; Could draw to them from far the peaceful hinds, Cull the gay flower of cities, and divide Friends, children, every bond of human life; Could dissipate whole families, could sink Whole states in ruin, at one hour, one blow.

JUL. Go, good Hernando--who WOULD think these things?

Say to the valiant Tarik, I depart Forthwith: he knows not from what heaviness Of soul I linger here; I could endure No converse, no compa.s.sion, no approach, Other than thine, whom the same cares improved Beneath my father's roof, my foster-brother, To brighter days and happier end, I hope; In whose fidelity my own resides With Tarik and with his compeers and chief.

I cannot share the gladness I excite, Yet shall our Tarik's generous heart rejoice.