The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 103

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I'll face it. Who shall dare suspect me?

_Ulr._ Yet You had _no_ guests--_no_ visitors--no life Breathing around you, save my mother's?

_Wer._ Ah!

The Hungarian?

_Ulr._ He is gone! he disappeared Ere sunset.

_Wer._ No; I hid him in that very Concealed and fatal gallery.

_Ulr._ _There_ I'll find him.

[ULRIC _is going_.

_Wer._ It is too late: he had left the palace ere I quitted it. I found the secret panel 70 Open, and the doors which lead from that hall Which masks it: I but thought he had s.n.a.t.c.hed the silent And favourable moment to escape The myrmidons of Idenstein, who were d.o.g.g.i.ng him yester-even.

_Ulr._ You reclosed The panel?

_Wer._ Yes; and not without reproach (And inner trembling for the avoided peril) At his dull heedlessness, in leaving thus His shelterer's asylum to the risk Of a discovery.

_Ulr._ You are sure you closed it? 80

_Wer._ Certain.

_Ulr._ That's well; but had been better, if You ne'er had turned it to a den for---- [_He pauses_.

_Wer._ Thieves!

Thou wouldst say: I must bear it, and deserve it; But not----

_Ulr._ No, father; do not speak of this: This is no hour to think of petty crimes, But to prevent the consequence of great ones.

Why would you shelter this man?

_Wer._ Could I shun it?

A man pursued by my chief foe; disgraced For my own crime: a victim to _my_ safety, Imploring a few hours' concealment from 90 The very wretch who was the cause he needed Such refuge. Had he been a wolf, I could not Have in such circ.u.mstances thrust him forth.

_Ulr._ And like the wolf he hath repaid you. But It is too late to ponder thus:--you must Set out ere dawn. I will remain here to Trace the murderer, if 'tis possible.

_Wer._ But this my sudden flight will give the Moloch Suspicion: two new victims in the lieu Of one, if I remain. The fled Hungarian, 100 Who seems the culprit, and----

_Ulr._ Who _seems?_ _Who_ else Can be so?

_Wer._ Not _I_, though just now you doubted-- You, my _son!_--doubted----

_Ulr._ And do you doubt of him The fugitive?

_Wer._ Boy! since I fell into The abyss of crime (though not of _such_ crime), I, Having seen the innocent oppressed for me, May doubt even of the guilty's guilt. Your heart Is free, and quick with virtuous wrath to accuse Appearances; and views a criminal In Innocence's shadow, it may be, 110 Because 'tis dusky.

_Ulr._ And if I do so, What will mankind, who know you not, or knew But to oppress? You must not stand the hazard.

Away!--I'll make all easy. Idenstein Will for his own sake and his jewel's hold His peace--he also is a partner in Your flight--moreover----

_Wer._ Fly! and leave my name Linked with the Hungarian's, or, preferred as poorest, To bear the brand of bloodshed?

_Ulr._ Pshaw! leave any thing Except our fathers' sovereignty and castles, 120 For which you have so long panted, and in vain!

What _name?_ You have _no name_, since that you bear Is feigned.

_Wer._ Most true: but still I would not have it Engraved in crimson in men's memories, Though in this most obscure abode of men---- Besides, the search----

_Ulr._ I will provide against Aught that can touch you. No one knows you here As heir of Siegendorf: if Idenstein Suspects, 'tis _but suspicion_, and he is A fool: his folly shall have such employment, 130 Too, that the unknown Werner shall give way To nearer thoughts of self. The laws (if e'er Laws reached this village) are all in abeyance With the late general war of thirty years, Or crushed, or rising slowly from the dust, To which the march of armies trampled them.

Stralenheim, although n.o.ble, is unheeded _Here_, save as _such_--without lands, influence, Save what hath perished with him. Few prolong A week beyond their funeral rites their sway 140 O'er men, unless by relatives, whose interest Is roused: such is not here the case; he died Alone, unknown,--a solitary grave, Obscure as his deserts, without a scutcheon, Is all he'll have, or wants. If _I_ discover The a.s.sa.s.sin, 'twill be well--if not, believe me, None else; though all the full-fed train of menials May howl above his ashes (as they did Around him in his danger on the Oder), Will no more stir a finger _now_ than _then_. 150 Hence! hence! I must not hear your answer.--Look!

The stars are almost faded, and the grey Begins to grizzle the black hair of night.

You shall not answer:--Pardon me that I Am peremptory: 'tis your son that speaks, Your long-lost, late-found son.--Let's call my mother!

Softly and swiftly step, and leave the rest To me: I'll answer for the event as far As regards _you_, and that is the chief point, As my first duty, which shall be observed. 160 We'll meet in Castle Siegendorf--once more Our banners shall be glorious! Think of that Alone, and leave all other thoughts to me, Whose youth may better battle with them--Hence!

And may your age be happy!--I will kiss My mother once more, then Heaven's speed be with you!

_Wer._ This counsel's safe--but is it honourable?

_Ulr._ To save a father is a child's chief honour.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.--_A Gothic Hall in the Castle of Siegendorf, near Prague_.

_Enter_ ERIC _and_ HENRICK, _Retainers of the Count_.

_Eric_. So, better times are come at last; to these Old walls new masters and high wa.s.sail--both A long desideratum.

_Hen._ Yes, for _masters_, It might be unto those who long for novelty, Though made by a new grave: but, as for wa.s.sail, Methinks the old Count Siegendorf maintained His feudal hospitality as high As e'er another Prince of the empire.

_Eric_. Why For the mere cup and trencher, we no doubt Fared pa.s.sing well; but as for merriment 10 And sport, without which salt and sauces season The cheer but scantily, our sizings were Even of the narrowest.

_Hen._ The old count loved not The roar of revel; are you sure that _this_ does?

_Eric_. As yet he hath been courteous as he's bounteous, And we all love him.

_Hen._ His reign is as yet Hardly a year o'erpast its honeymoon, And the first year of sovereigns is bridal: Anon, we shall perceive his real sway And moods of mind.

_Eric_. Pray Heaven he keep the present! 20 Then his brave son, Count Ulric--there's a knight!

Pity the wars are o'er!

_Hen._ Why so?

_Eric_. Look on him!

And answer that yourself.

_Hen._ He's very youthful, And strong and beautiful as a young tiger.

The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 103

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