Poems by George Pope Morris - BestLightNovel.com
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COUNT.
And think you the king will force an angel into the arms of a monster? He can not be so great a tyrant--
KARL.
Tyrant!
COUNT.
Yes. Man was created to cherish woman, not to oppress her; and he is the worst of tyrants who would injure that s.e.x whom heave ordains it his duty to protect.
KARL.
Apply you this to the king?
COUNT.
To the king, or to any HE in Christendom, who would use his power to oppress the unfortunate! But come, sir, we will not dispute about a hasty word--we have higher duties to perform.
KARL.
True, count; we oppose our weapons to the enemies of our country, not the bosoms of our friends. I say OUR country; for, although you were born in Poland, and I in Hungary, Frederick has made Prussia almost as dear to us as our native land, TYRANT though he may be.--But we will not quarrel about a single captive, when the king has placed so many at the disposal of those who fight his battles. [Trumpet sounds without.
(Enter HAROLD with dispatches.)
HAROLD (to COUNT.) Dispatches from the king. (Aside.) And a letter from Sophia Mansfield. [Exit.
(The COUNT receives and examines the dispatches; kisses SOPHIA's letter, and puts it into his bosom. KARL does not notice it.)
DUET--COUNT AND KARL.
'Tis a soldier's rigid duty Orders strictly to obey; Let not, then the smile of beauty Lure us from the camp away.
In our country's cause united, Gallantly we'll take the field; But, the victory won, delighted Singly to the fair we yield!
Soldiers who have ne'er retreated, Beauty's tear will sure beguile; Hearts that armies ne'er defeated, Love can conquer with a smile.
Who would strive to live in story, Did not woman's hand prepare Amaranthine wreaths of glory Which the valiant proudly wear?
[Exit the COUNT. KARL follows, menacing him.
Scene III.
An apartment in the Chateau of the COUNTESS. Enter the COUNTESS and FREDERICA.
COUNTESS.
Your morning ride, Frederica, was full of romance--the hose of your groom, you say, took fright--
FREDERICA.
Yes, dear mother, and darted off at a racing pace; my own also became unmanageable, and I lost my presence of mind. I should have been thrown, if not killed, had not a gentleman rushed to my a.s.sistance.
COUNTESS.
Who was he?
FREDERICA.
I do not know.
COUNTESS.
Was he alone?
FREDERICA.
There was an elderly person with him, who seemed to be a foreigner.
COUNTESS.
But HE was young, of course?
FREDERICA.
Yes, mother, and handsome as an Adonis.
COUNTESS.
You have not fallen in love with this stranger, surely? You are not old enough, and this is only your first season, Frederica.
FREDERICA.
Love has all seasons for his own, dear mother. Listen!
SONG--FREDERICA. [This song was not written for the opera; but was introduced by the composer]
The spring-time of love is both happy and gay, For Joy sprinkles blossoms and balm in our way; the sky, earth, and ocean, in beauty repose, And all the bright future is couleur de rose!
The summer of love is the bloom of the heart, When hill, grove, and valley their music impart; And the pure glow of heaven is seen in fond eyes, As lakes show the rainbow that's hung in the skies!
The autumn of love is the season of cheer-- Life's mild Indian summer, the smile of the year-- Which comes when the golden-ripe harvest is stored, And yields its own blessing, repose, and reward.
The winter of love is the beam that we win, While the storm howls without, from the suns.h.i.+ne within.
Love's reign is eternal--the heart is his throne, And he has all season of life for his own.
COUNTESS.
Silly, thoughtless girl!--What strangers are these coming up the avenue?
FREDERICA (looking out.) As I live, the elderly person I told you of, and the young gentleman who risked his life to save mine!
(Enter WEDGEWOOD and ALBERT.)
WEDGEWOOD.
Have I the honor of addressing the Countess Laniska? (Aside.) Flounces, frills, filagrees, and furbelows, but she's superlatively odd!
COUNTESS.
I am the countess, sir.
WEDGEWOOD (presenting letters.) Will your ladys.h.i.+p be pleased to receive these letters of introduction--if quite convenient?