The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy Part 3

DON CAESAR (to the MESSENGER).

Come, lead me; Farewell, Don Manuel; to meet again Enfolded in a mother's arms! I fly To cares of utmost need.

[He is about to depart.

DON MANUEL.

Make no delay; And happiness attend thee!

DON CAESAR (after a pause of reflection, he returns).

How thy looks Awake my soul to transport! Yes, my brother, We shall be friends indeed! This hour is bright With glad presage of ever-springing love, That in the enlivening beam shall flourish fair, Sweet recompense of wasted years!

DON MANUEL.

The blossom Betokens goodly fruit.

DON CAESAR.

I tear myself Reluctant from thy arms, but think not less If thus I break this festal hour--my heart Thrills with a holy joy.

DON MANUEL (with manifest absence of mind).

Obey the moment!

Our lives belong to love.

DON CESAR.

What calls me hence----

DON MANUEL.

Enough! thou leav'st thy heart.

DON CAESAR.

No envious secret Shall part us long; soon the last darkening fold Shall vanish from my breast.

[Turning to the CHORUS.

Attend! Forever Stilled is our strife; he is my deadliest foe, Detested as the gates of h.e.l.l, who dares To blow the fires of discord; none may hope To win my love, that with malicious tales Encroach upon a brother's ear, and point With busy zeal of false, officious friends.h.i.+p.

The dart of some rash, angry word, escaped From pa.s.sion's heat; it wounds not from the lips, But, swallowed by suspicion's greedy ear, Like a rank, poisonous weed, embittered creeps, And hangs about her with a thousand shoots, Perplexing nature's ties.

[He embraces his brother again, and goes away accompanied by the Second CHORUS.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Wondering, my prince, I gaze, for in thy looks some mystery Strange-seeming shows: scarce with abstracted mien And cold thou answered'st, when with earnest heart Thy brother poured the strain of dear affection.

As in a dream thou stand'st, and lost in thought, As though--dissevered from its earthly frame-- Thy spirit roved afar. Not thine the breast That deaf to nature's voice, ne'er owned the throbs Of kindred love:--nay more--like one entranced In bliss, thou look'st around, and smiles of rapture Play on thy cheek.

DON MANUEL.

How shall my lips declare The transports of my swelling heart? My brother Revels in glad surprise, and from his breast Instinct with strange new-felt emotions, pours The tide of joy; but mine--no hate came with me, Forgot the very spring of mutual strife!

High o'er this earthly sphere, on rapture's wings, My spirit floats; and in the azure sea, Above--beneath--no track of envious night Disturbs the deep serene! I view these halls, And picture to my thoughts the timid joy Of my sweet bride, as through the palace gates, In pride of queenly state, I lead her home.

She loved alone the loving one, the stranger, And little deems that on her beauteous brow Messina's prince shall 'twine the nuptial wreath.

How sweet, with unexpected pomp of greatness, To glad the darling of my soul! too long I brook this dull delay of crowning bliss!

Her beauty's self, that asks no borrowed charm, Shall s.h.i.+ne refulgent, like the diamond's blaze That wins new l.u.s.tre from the circling gold!

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Long have I marked thee, prince, with curious eye, Foreboding of some mystery deep enshrined Within thy laboring breast. This day, impatient, Thy lips have burst the seal; and unconstrained Confess a lover's joy;--the gladdening chase, The Olympian coursers, and the falcon's flight Can charm no more:--soon as the sun declines Beneath the ruddy west, thou hiest thee quick To some sequestered path, of mortal eye Unseen--not one of all our faithful train Companion of thy solitary way.

Say, why so long concealed the blissful flame?

Stranger to fear--ill-brooked thy princely heart One thought unuttered.

DON MANUEL.

Ever on the wing Is mortal joy;--with silence best we guard The fickle good;--but now, so near the goal Of all my cherished hopes, I dare to speak.

To-morrow's sun shall see her mine! no power Of h.e.l.l can make us twain! With timid stealth No longer will I creep at dusky eve, To taste the golden fruits of Cupid's tree, And s.n.a.t.c.h a fearful, fleeting bliss: to-day With bright to-morrow shall be one! So smooth As runs the limpid brook, or silvery sand That marks the flight of time, our lives shall flow In continuity of joy!

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Already Our hearts, my prince, with silent vows have blessed Thy happy love; and now from every tongue, For her--the royal, beauteous bride--should sound The glad acclaim; so tell what nook unseen, What deep umbrageous solitude, enshrines The charmer of thy heart? With magic spells Almost I deem she mocks our gaze, for oft In eager chase we scour each rustic path And forest dell; yet not a trace betrayed The lover's haunts, ne'er were the footsteps marked Of this mysterious fair.

DON MANUEL.

The spell is broke!

And all shall be revealed: now list my tale:-- 'Tis five months flown,--my father yet controlled The land, and bowed our necks with iron sway; Little I knew but the wild joys of arms, And mimic warfare of the chase;-- One day,-- Long had we tracked the boar with zealous toil On yonder woody ridge:--it chanced, pursuing A snow-white hind, far from your train I roved Amid the forest maze;--the timid beast, Along the windings of the narrow vale, Through rocky cleft and thick-entangled brake, Flew onward, scarce a moment lost, nor distant Beyond a javelin's throw; nearer I came not, Nor took an aim; when through a garden's gate, Sudden she vanished:--from my horse quick springing, I followed:--lo! the poor scared creature lay Stretched at the feet of a young, beauteous nun, That strove with fond caress of her fair hands To still its throbbing heart: wondering, I gazed; And motionless--my spear, in act to strike, High poised--while she, with her large piteous eyes For mercy sued--and thus we stood in silence Regarding one another.

How long the pause I know not--time itself forgot;--it seemed Eternity of bliss: her glance of sweetness Flew to my soul; and quick the subtle flame Pervaded all my heart:-- But what I spoke, And how this blessed creature answered, none May ask; it floats upon my thought, a dream Of childhood's happy dawn! Soon as my sense Returned, I felt her bosom throb responsive To mine,--then fell melodious on my ear The sound, as of a convent bell, that called To vesper song; and, like some shadowy vision That melts in air, she flitted from my sight, And was beheld no more.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Thy story thrills My breast with pious awe! Prince, thou hast robbed The sanctuary, and for the bride of heaven Burned with unholy pa.s.sion! Oh, remember The cloister's sacred vows!

DON MANUEL.

Thenceforth one path My footsteps wooed; the fickle train was still Of young desires--new felt my being's aim, My soul revealed! and as the pilgrim turns His wistful gaze, where, from the orient sky, With gracious l.u.s.tre beams Redemption's star;-- So to that brightest point of heaven, her presence, My hopes and longings centred all. No sun Sank in the western waves, but smiled farewell To two united lovers:--thus in stillness Our hearts were twined,--the all-seeing air above us Alone the faithful witness of our joys!

Oh, golden hours! Oh, happy days! nor Heaven Indignant viewed our bliss;--no vows enchained Her spotless soul; naught but the link which bound it Eternally to mine!

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Those hallowed walls, Perchance the calm retreat of tender youth, No living grave?

DON MANUEL.

In infant innocence Consigned a holy pledge, ne'er has she left Her cloistered home.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

But what her royal line?

The n.o.ble only spring from n.o.ble stem.

DON MANUEL.

A secret to herself,--she ne'er has learned Her name or fatherland.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

And not a trace Guides to her being's undiscovered springs?

DON MANUEL.

An old domestic, the sole messenger Sent by her unknown mother, oft bespeaks her Of kingly race.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

And hast thou won naught else From her garrulous age?

DON MANUEL.

Too much I feared to peril My secret bliss!

Chorus (CAJETAN).

What were his words? What tidings He bore--perchance thou know'st.