The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 55

AMELIA (with enthusiasm). Yes, sweet it is, heavenly sweet, to be lulled into the sleep of death by the song of the beloved. Perhaps our dreams continue in the grave--a long, eternal, never-ending dream of Charles--till the trumpet of resurrection sounds--(rising in ecstasy) --and thenceforth and forever in his arms! (A pause; she goes to the piano and plays.)

ANDROMACHE.

Oh, Hector, wilt thou go for evermore, When fierce Achilles, on the blood-stained sh.o.r.e, Heaps countless victims o'er Patroclus' grave?

When then thy hapless orphan boy will rear, Teach him to praise the G.o.ds and hurl the spear, When thou art swallow'd up in Xanthus' wave?

OLD M. A beautiful song, my daughter. You must play that to me before I die.

AMELIA. It is the parting of Hector and Andromache. Charles and I used often to sing it together to the guitar. (She continues.)

HECTOR.

Beloved wife! stern duty calls to arms-- Go, fetch my lance! and cease those vain alarms!

On me is cast the destiny of Troy!

Astyanax, my child, the G.o.ds will s.h.i.+eld, Should Hector fall upon the battle-field; And in Elysium we shall meet with joy!

Enter DANIEL.

DANIEL. There is a man without, who craves to be admitted to your presence, and says he brings tidings of importance.

OLD M. To me there is but one thing in this world of importance; thou knowest it, Amelia. Perhaps it is some unfortunate creature who seeks a.s.sistance? He shall not go hence in sorrow.

AMELIA.--If it is a beggar, let him come up quickly.

OLD M. Amelia, Amelia! spare me!

AMELIA (continues to play and sing.)

ANDROMACHE.

Thy martial tread no more will grace my hall-- Thine arms shall hang sad relics on the wall-- And Priam's race of G.o.dlike heroes fade!

Oh, thou wilt go where Phoebus sheds no light-- Where black Cocytus wails in endless night Thy love will die in Lethe's gloomy shade.

HECTOR.

Though I in Lethe's darksome wave should sink, And cease on other mortal ties to think, Yet thy true love shall never be forgot!

Hark! on the walls I hear the battle roar-- Gird on my armor--and, oh, weep no more.

Thy Hector's love in Lethe dieth not!

(Enter FRANCIS, HERMANN in disguise, DANIEL.)

FRANCIS. Here is the man. He says that he brings terrible news. Can you bear the recital!

OLD M. I know but one thing terrible to hear. Come hither, friend, and spare me not! Hand him a cup of wine!

HERMANN (in a feigned voice). Most gracious Sir? Let not a poor man be visited with your displeasure, if against his will he lacerates your heart. I am a stranger in these parts, but I know you well; you are the father of Charles von Moor.

OLD M. How know you that?

HERMANN. I knew your son

AMELIA (starting up). He lives then? He lives! You know him? Where is he? Where? (About to rush out.)

OLD M. What know you about my son?

HERMANN. He was a student at the university of Leipzic. From thence he travelled about, I know not how far. He wandered all over Germany, and, as he told me himself, barefoot and bareheaded, begging his bread from door to door. After five months, the fatal war between Prussia and Austria broke out afresh, and as he had no hopes left in this world, the fame of Frederick's victorious banner drew him to Bohemia. Permit me, said he to the great Schwerin, to die on the bed of heroes, for I have no longer a father!--

OLD M. O! Amelia! Look not on me!

HERMANN. They gave him a pair of colors. With the Prussians he flew on the wings of victory. We chanced to lie together, in the same tent. He talked much of his old father, and of happy days that were past--and of disappointed hopes--it brought the tears into our eyes.

OLD M. (buries his face in his pillow).--No more! Oh, no more!

HERMANN. A week after, the fierce battle of Prague was fought--I can a.s.sure you your son behaved like a brave soldier. He performed prodigies that day in sight of the whole army. Five regiments were successively cut down by his side, and still he kept his ground. Fiery sh.e.l.ls fell right and left, and still your son kept his ground. A ball shattered his right hand: he seized the colors with his left, and still he kept his ground!

AMELIA (in transport). Hector, Hector! do you hear? He kept his ground!

HERMANN. On the evening of the battle I found him on the same spot. He had sunk down, amidst a shower of hissing b.a.l.l.s: with his left hand he was staunching the blood that flowed from a fearful wound; his right he had buried in the earth. "Comrade!" cried he when he saw me, "there has been a report through the ranks that the general fell an hour ago--"

"He is fallen," I replied, "and thou?" "Well, then," he cried, withdrawing his left hand from the wound, "let every brave soldier follow his general!" Soon after he breathed out his n.o.ble soul, to join his heroic leader.

FRANCIS (feigning to rush wildly on HERMANN). May death seal thy accursed lips! Art thou come here to give the death-blow to our father?

Father! Amelia! father!

HERMANN. It was the last wish of my expiring comrade. "Take this sword," faltered he, with his dying breath, "deliver it to my aged father; his son's blood is upon it--he is avenged--let him rejoice.

Tell him that his curse drove me into battle and into death; that I fell in despair." His last sigh was "Amelia."

AMELIA (like one aroused from lethargy). His last sigh--Amelia!

OLD M. (screaming horribly, and tearing his hair). My curse drove him into death! He fell in despair!

FRANCIS (pacing up and down the room). Oh! what have you done, father?

My Charles! my brother!

HERMANN. Here is the sword; and here, too, is a picture which he drew from his breast at the same time. It is the very image of this young lady. "This for my brother Francis," he said; I know not what he meant by it.

FRANCIS (feigning astonishment). For me? Amelia's picture? For me-- Charles--Amelia? For me?

AMELIA (rus.h.i.+ng violently upon HERMANN). Thou venal, bribed impostor!

(Lays hold of him.)

HERMANN. I am no impostor, n.o.ble lady. See yourself if it is not your picture. It may be that you yourself gave it to him.