The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Iii Part 105

RUDENZ.

Oh heaven, what words are these?

BERTHA.

Say! what can lie Nearer the good man's heart than friends and kindred!

What dearer duty to a n.o.ble soul Than to protect weak suffering innocence, And vindicate the rights of the oppress'd?

My very soul bleeds for your countrymen.

I suffer with them, for I needs must love them; They are so gentle, yet so full of power; They draw my whole heart to them. Every day I look upon them with increased esteem.

But you, whom nature and your knightly vow Have given them as their natural protector, Yet who desert them and abet their foes In forging shackles for your native land, You--you incense and wound me to the core.

It tries me to the utmost not to hate you.

RUDENZ.

Is not my country's welfare all my wish?

What seek I for her but to purchase peace 'Neath Austria's potent sceptre?

BERTHA.

Bondage, rather!

You would drive freedom from the last stronghold That yet remains for her upon the earth.

The people know their own true int'rests better: Their simple natures are not warp'd by show.

But round your head a tangling net is wound.

RUDENZ.

Bertha, you hate me--you despise me!

BERTHA.

Nay!

And if I did, 'twere better for my peace.

But to see him despised and despicable-- The man whom one might love--

RUDENZ.

Oh, Bertha. You Show me the pinnacle of heavenly bliss, Then, in a moment, hurl me to despair!

BERTHA.

No, no! the n.o.ble is not all extinct Within you. It but slumbers--I will rouse it.

It must have cost you many a fiery struggle To crush the virtues of your race within you.

But, heaven be praised, 'tis mightier than yourself, And you are n.o.ble in your own despite!

RUDENZ.

You trust me, then? Oh, Bertha, with thy love What might I not become!

BERTHA.

Be only that For which your own high nature destin'd you.

Fill the position you were born to fill;-- Stand by your people and your native land, And battle for your sacred rights!

RUDENZ.

Alas!

How can I win you--how can you be mine, If I take arms against the Emperor?

Will not your potent kinsmen interpose To dictate the disposal of your hand?

BERTHA.

All my estates lie in the Forest Cantons; And I am free, when Switzerland is free.

RUDENZ.

Oh! what a prospect, Bertha, hast thou shown me!

BERTHA.

Hope not to win my hand by Austria's grace; Fain would they lay their grasp on my estates To swell the vast domains which now they hold.

The selfsame l.u.s.t of conquest, that would rob You of your liberty, endangers mine.

Ob, friend, I'm mark'd for sacrifice;--to be The guerdon of some parasite, perchance!

They'll drag me hence to the Imperial court, That hateful haunt of falsehood and intrigue, And marriage bonds I loathe await me there.

Love, love alone--your love can rescue me.

RUDENZ.

And thou couldst be content, love, to live here?

In my own native land to be my own?

Oh, Bertha, all the yearnings of my soul For this great world and its tumultuous strife-- What were they, but a yearning after thee?

In glory's path I sought for thee alone, And all my thirst of fame was only love.

But if in this calm vale thou canst abide With me, and bid earth's pomps and pride adieu, Then is the goal of my ambition won; And the rough tide of the tempestuous world May dash and rave around these firm-set hills!

No wandering wishes more have I to send Forth to the busy scene that stirs beyond.

Then may these rocks, that girdle us, extend Their giant walls impenetrably round, And this sequestered happy vale alone Look up to heaven, and be my paradise!

BERTHA.

Now art thou all my fancy dream'd of thee!

My trust has not been given to thee in vain.

RUDENZ.

Away, ye idle phantoms of my folly; In mine own home I'll find my happiness.

Here, where the gladsome boy to manhood grew, Where ev'ry brook, and tree, and mountain peak, Teems with remembrances of happy hours, In mine own native land thou wilt be mine.

Ah, I have ever loved it well, I feel How poor without it were all earthly joys.

BERTHA.