Mazelli, and Other Poems Part 8

Scene III. The side of a mountain. Werner descending.

Enter a shepherd boy, followed by his flock, singing.

I.

When the Morning starts up from her couch on the deep, Where through the dim night hours, she pillows her sleep, I start from my slumbers, and hie me away Where the white torrent dashes its feathery spray,-- I quaff the fresh stream as it bursts from the hill,-- I pluck the fresh flowers that spring by the rill,-- I watch the gray clouds as they curl round the peak That rises high over them, barren and bleak; And I think how the worldling who courts fortune's smile, In his heart, like that peak, may be lonely the while; And then my own heart sings aloud in its joy, That Heaven has made me a free shepherd boy!

II.

When the horn of the hunter resounds from on high, Where the tall giant ice-cliffs ire piled to the sky, Where, shunning the verdure of valleys and dells, The brave eagle builds, and the shy chamois dwells,-- I list to its gay tones, as by me they float, And I echo them merrily back, note for note; With the wild bird a song full as gladsome I sing, I crown me with flowers, and sit a crowned king,-- My flock are my subjects, my dog my vizier, And my sceptre--a mild one--the crook that I bear; No wants to perplex me, no cares to annoy, I live an unenvying, free shepherdboy!

Werner (meets and addresses him).

Thou'rt merry, lad.

Albert.

Ay, I have cause to be so.

(Aside.) It is the wanderer of my last night's dream, The same pale brow, and darkly mournful eye, And weary gait, and melancholy voice,-- If he seeks friendly guidance, food, or shelter, He shall not want them long.

Werner.

So thou hast cause For merriment,--then thou perchance hast wealth, Broad, fruitful lands, and tenements, and all Which wealth confers.

Albert.

Nay, I have none of these, And yet have more than all which thou hast named.

I have a father, whose unsullied name No tongue has ever spoken with reproach, A mother, whose idea is with me A holy thing, and a dear sister, who Is fair as pure, and pure as is the snow Upon the summit of the tallest peak Of these my native mountains. I have health, And strength, and food, and raiment, and employ, And should I not then have a joyous heart?

Werner.

Yea, verily thou shouldst.

Albert.

And there is yet, Among the blessings Heaven has given to me, One which I have not named to thee; it is An humble home, whose hospitable door Was never closed against the wayfarer,-- If thou hast need of aught which it affords, Seek it, my mother and my sister will Delight to minister unto thy wants.

There where the wide-armed willows cl.u.s.ter thickest Upon the green banks of yon crystal stream, Our cottage stands. The path to it is short And easily traversed,--so, now, farewell.

Werner.

Stay yet a moment. That which thou hast proffered, Is what I sought. Thou hast a n.o.ble heart, One fit to fill the bosom of a king,-- I fain would give thee guerdon,--here is gold.

Albert.

Keep it for those who covet it. If ever Thou meet'st with one, bowed down by suffering, Who calls on thee for pity and relief, Then if thou heed'st his prayer for my sake, I shall be well repaid. Again, farewell.

{Exeunt.

Scene IV. After a lapse of time. A rustic arbour near the cottage of Manuel. Enter Rose and Werner.

Rose.

Nay, let my silent blushes plead with thee That thou wilt be as silent.

Werner.

Rather let My ardent love, which will not be repressed, Plead with thee for acceptance of my suit; For I do love thee with such pa.s.sionate love, That life itself, if weighed against that love, Were scarce a feather in the scale.

Rose.

Alas!

I'm but a simple shepherd's simple child, Unused to courtly speeches, and they say That in the world thy name and rank are high, And that when such as thou do proffer love And faith to lowly maidens, 'tis a jest,-- And that when they have won our honest love, They cast it from them with unpitying hands, As idly as they would a withered flower.

Werner.

Nay, maiden, let me tell thee of the past, Let me lay bare my heart beneath thy gaze, And thou wilt pity if thou canst not love.

I loved in youth with love as fond and deep As ever made the heart of man its slave, But, ere my hopes could ripen to fruition, Death came and made my wors.h.i.+pped one his prize; And though my peace departed when she died, Yet I was proud, and would not bond to sorrow, But with calm brow and eye, and smiling lip, I mingled with the giddy thoughtless world, Seeking from out its varied realms to wring Some recompense for that which I had lost.

Wealth, fame, and power, I sought for and obtained, Yet found them only gilded mockeries.

The paths of hidden knowledge I essayed, And trod their mazy windings till they led My footsteps--whither I may not disclose,-- But all availed me nothing, still my heart Ached with the dreary void lost love had made, Ached ever till that void was filled by thee!

Since first fate led me to your kindly door, Three times the moon with full-orbed light hath shone, Thrice thirty times, with song of merry birds And breath of fragrance, Morn has blest the earth And all its dwellers with her radiant presence; Thrice thirty times, with star-bound brow, dim Night Hath kept her tearful watch above the earth; And every time the full-orb'd moon hath shone, And every time the merry Morn hath smiled, And every time dim Night with star-bound brow Above the earth hath kept her tearful watch, My heart has added to its store of love, Its pure, deep, fervent, pa.s.sionate love for thee!

By all my hopes of heaven, my words are true.

Dost thou not pity now?

Rose.

Ay, more! My heart, And its full treasury of maiden love, Never before surrendered to another, I pledge to thee, as thine, for evermore!

[Exeunt.

An Aerial Chorus.

Seek the dell and seek the bower, Pluck the bud and pluck the flower, Search for buds of sweetest breath, Search for flowers of brightest hue; Fit to weave the bridal wreath, Of a maid so fair and true.

She has bowed the haughty heart, Won the stubborn will from guile, With no aid of other art Than the sweet spell of her smile!

Seek the dell and seek the bower, Pluck the bud and pluck the flower, Search for buds of sweetest breath, Search for flowers of brightest hue; Fit to weave the bridal wreath, Of a maid so fair and true!

[Exeunt.

Note to the Misanthrope

"Then seek we, for the maiden's pillow, Far beyond the Atlantic's billow, Love's apple,--and when we have found it, Draw the magic circles round it."

Considering the Mandrake, many fabulous notions were entertained by the ancients; and they never attempted to extract it from the earth, without the previous performance of such ceremonies as they considered efficacious in preventing the numerous accidents, dangers, and diseases, to which they believed the person exposed who was daring enough to undertake its extraction. The usual manner of obtaining it was this:--When found, three times a circle was drawn around it with the point of a naked sword, and a dog was then attached to it and beaten, until by his struggles it was disengaged from the earth.

It was supposed to be useful in producing dreams, philters, charms &c.; and also to possess the faculties of exciting love, and increasing population.

The Emperor Adrian, in a letter to Calexines, writes that he is drinking the juice of the Mandrake to render him amorous: hence it was called Love-apple.