 | The Daughter of St. Mark |  |
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ACT II.
SCENE I.
—The oratory of Catarina. The scene is divided into two compartments. In the front part which goes up to the 2d entrance, is a secret door on the O. P. side, and a smaller one on the P. S. leading to Catarina's apartments, by the side of which is a prie-dieu with a prayer book on it, an arm chair and footstool on the P. S. side, and a square table on the O. P. with a candelabra on it, lighted up. In the inner compartment there is a large centre window opening on a balcony and overlooking the grand canal, with a moonlight view of Venice. There is a door on the O. P. and P. S., a lamp suspended from the ceiling throws a dim light over the room. Catarina is discovered in a recess of the balcony on the P. S. side.Distant Chorus (of Gondoliers.)
There's not a sound, however light,
To break the calm of gentle night,
The latest sigh of morning's gale
Hath not a breath to swell our sail,
Yet o'er the quiet main
The haven we shall gain,
For the Madona guides our bark,
Whether the sky be bright or dark.
[At the end of this chorus, Catarina comes down the stage, takes off her veil, and places it on the arm chair.
Barcarole.
The Gondolier, to wind and wave
His fragile boat confides;
Assured the soul that's pure and brave
Can stem the rudest tides!
While able thus through clime or sea
Thy dauntless course to steer,
Where thou may'st be, oh, pray for me,
Poor Gondolier!
His fragile boat confides;
Assured the soul that's pure and brave
Can stem the rudest tides!
While able thus through clime or sea
Thy dauntless course to steer,
Where thou may'st be, oh, pray for me,
Poor Gondolier!
The Gondolier, by vesper's chime
When bid no more to roam,
Contented hails the happy time
That wakens thoughts of home—
Beneath that roof, on bended knee,
With all to thee so dear,
When thou shalt be, oh, pray for me,
Good Gondolier!
When bid no more to roam,
Contented hails the happy time
That wakens thoughts of home—
Beneath that roof, on bended knee,
With all to thee so dear,
When thou shalt be, oh, pray for me,
Good Gondolier!
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(with desperate energy).
Oh, when thus they've bereft me
Of the only hope left me,
And stifled of sorrow the cry,
Oh, 'twere best in such anguish
Thus no longer to languish,
But burst through its torture, and die!
[Catarina is about to rush up to the window, when she suddenly stops—hesitates, then sings in a softer tone.
Recitative.
Forgive me, Heaven, if on this fatal theme
Thy sacred edicts I should e'er blaspheme;
And, touch'd with pity, mayst thou calm the breast
Which those without remorse have thus oppress'd.
Oh, see me now in holy prayer
Before thine altar kneel,
And in oblivion may I there
Sweet consolation feel!
[She moves slowly towards the prie-dieu, kneels down on it, and, on opening the book of prayers lying on it, she exclaims—
Ah! what do I behold? within this page,
Whose words should thoughts as pure as them engage,
I find this writing traced by Adolphe's pen,
To chide, perchance, expressions utter'd then:
Whate'er the grief, the joy, the weal, the woe,
My trembling bosom now at once would know.
Cat.
(opens the letter, and reads)
At midnight hour, when o'er the lull'd Lagune
In peaceful splendour shineth down the moon,
If in thy solitude thou chance to hear
The mirthful music of the Gondolier,
Open thy casement—let no whisper break
The calm of night, nor watchful ears awake;
And, safely moor'd beneath it, thou shalt see
One from thy bondage come to set thee free.
Recitative.
“Oh, why should I tremble? oh, what can appal me,
“When the fond words of Adolphe come hence thus to call me—
“The daughter of Venice! Adolphe, thou shalt find
“The links of her life with thine own are entwin'd.
“I know how to linger if danger be nigh,
“To live, to endure, and, if needed, to die,
“And I come to thy bidding, whate'er may befal me.”
Cab.
Oh, what can speak the rapture, can picture the delight
We feel, when all that's dear to us once more enchants the sight?
He comes to breath again
Each well-remember'd word
Of that beguiling strain
In happier hours I heard;
That feeling highly wrought
Which once around me cast
The heart so loved—it thought
For ever it would last!
[Listening.
We feel, when all that's dear to us once more enchants the sight?
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Each well-remember'd word
Of that beguiling strain
In happier hours I heard;
That feeling highly wrought
Which once around me cast
The heart so loved—it thought
For ever it would last!
Recitative.
Is it a bark, which o'er the sleeping tide,
With noiseless course so tranquilly doth glide!
The truth he will reveal
My destiny must seal!
'Tis he—'tis he!
With noiseless course so tranquilly doth glide!
The truth he will reveal
My destiny must seal!
'Tis he—'tis he!
He comes to breathe again
Each well remembered word
Of that beguiling strain
In happier hours I heard;
That feeling highly wrought,
Which, once around me cast,
The heart so loved, it thought
For ever it would last.
Each well remembered word
Of that beguiling strain
In happier hours I heard;
That feeling highly wrought,
Which, once around me cast,
The heart so loved, it thought
For ever it would last.
[As Catarina is descending the stage, Andréa enters from the P. S. door, and Catarina utters a loud scream on beholding him.
Cat.
Great Heav'n!
And.
(with great feeling)
The sorrow heap'd on thee
Thou may'st believe hath not been caused by me.
Think not for thee one grief I could create
Without enduring anguish far more great.
The act of Venice bad me break mine oath,
And brought this scene of sorrow upon both.
Thou know'st the might, the vengeance she can wield,
To which, in horror, I was forced to yield;
And while compelled such rigour to assume,
It was to save thee from a darker doom.
Cat.
He who can read all hearts will thine lay bare,
And from its cell each latent secret tear.
And.
I can before His dread tribunal stand
With guileless spirit, and with unstained hand.
Alas! thou dost not know what further ill
Awaits thy feelings and usurps thy will.
'Tis not enough one cherished heart to break,
But Venice wills another thou shalt take.
Cat.
Another?—
And.
—Aye, if thou aside can'st fling
The thoughts to which thy memory loves to cling,
And think no more of plighted faith or vow—
To-morrow sees A CROWN upon thy brow.
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(with energy)
Never !—
And.
But hear me?—
Cat.
(forcefully)
—I alike despise
The threats of Venice and her kingly ties,
And though mine own betrothed from me she rends,
Yet not on her, nor thee, this hand depends.
And.
Were it on me alone that Venice sought
To pass the outrage she on both has brought,
I had all bounds of state or fear o'erleapt,
And still my faith beneath her daggers kept;
But knowing well the force of her decree,
I could not peril him thou lov'st, nor thee!
Cat.
Adolphe! Though on my doom they now are bent,
Oh, what against him can be their intent?
And.
As from the shrine we can the idol reach,
They think through one, that they can master each.
(then in a solemn tone)
Thou understand'st my words. Oh, slight them not,
And Heav'n, that shields the good, watch o'er thy lot!
Solo.
When all around our path is dreary,
And sorrows o'er us sweep—
When rest denied is to the weary,
And calm to hearts that weep—
When those the bitter world neglecteth,
But ruin near them see,
Then Heaven the innocent protecteth,
If pure their spirit be.
And sorrows o'er us sweep—
When rest denied is to the weary,
And calm to hearts that weep—
When those the bitter world neglecteth,
But ruin near them see,
Then Heaven the innocent protecteth,
If pure their spirit be.
When friends in their affection falter
We deemed before so true
And that regard begins to alter
Which fond was hitherto;
When time, that heals all grief, respecteth,
If pure their spirit be.
We deemed before so true
And that regard begins to alter
Which fond was hitherto;
When time, that heals all grief, respecteth,
If pure their spirit be.
[Exit Andréa, P.S.D.
Cat.
And can it be? and whom their fury dare
To threaten whom, as alien, they should spare?
Their chains, their poison, and their prison wall
ALarm no more—this night shall end them all—
He comes to bear me to that land where those
Who love, in peace and freedom can repose,
And leaving Venice's ensanguined state,
We may be happy, if no more we're great!
[At this moment a voice is heard to call “Catarina.” She turns round in alarm, and perceives at her side Moncenigo, who has entered from the secret chamber, O.P.
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Through me, who at this hour thy presence seeks,
Forget not, lady, 'tis thy country speaks!
If thou Adolphe de Courcy's life wouldst save
From dangers neither are prepar'd to brave,
Tell him thou hast forgot him, and that, lured
By brighter prospects to thy heart assured,
By light thou ne'er hadst hop'd on thee to shine,
The love thou gav'st him is no longer thine!
Cat.
Vain from my mind that image to efface,
And blasphemy to utter word so base!
Mon.
It rests with thee, thou hast but now been told,
While Venice and thyself thou dost uphold
The danger to await in which he stands—
Cat.
And who that life would dare to seek?
Mon.
(lifting up the drapery of the secret chamber and discovering three Assassins, therein concealed, with uplifted daggers.)
Their hands! [He instantly enters the secret chamber, and as the curtain falls over him 12 o'clock strikes.
Adol.
(singing under the balcony)
Oh, lovely is the night.
Cat.
Oh, heaven!
Ado.
And tranquil is the sea!
Cat.
(in agony and terror)
He's lost!
Ado.
Come down and take thy flight
Beautiful bird with me.
[ Catarina is on the point of falling down at the foot of the table O.P. when she sees Adolphe climb over the balcony. He takes off his cloak, throws it down to the boatman, and seeing Catarina, runs to her. She remains immoveable, with her eyes fixed on the secret chamber.
Duet.
Ado.
Enchantress of my life!
Again, 'tis thee
I see,
My own affianced wife!
From foes and from false friends, I come now to thee,
And from where thou may'st happy and honored be, bear thee.
Cat.
(affectionately)
Adolphe!
Ado.
Ah, in their shame and guilt
They had two hearts bereaved,
Whose hopes were on devotion built,
And vows by Heaven received!
Cat.
(aside)
Adolphe!—my tongue expression doth deny—
Ado.
Ah! why, when near me, do I hear that sigh?
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(aside)
If happiness be here yet death is there.
[pointing to secret door.
Ado.
And dost thou not this joyful moment share,
Partake of that delight, the vast excess
Of this fond bosom which to thine I press?
Cat.
Forgive me should there steal
Of grief one latent tear.
Ado.
What sorrow canst thou feel
When thine Adolphe is near?
Cat.
(aside) (Ensemble)
May heaven forgive this seeming guilt
Which one so true deceived;
Whose hopes were on devotion built,
And vows by heaven received.
Ado.
(Ensemble)
Oh! well nigh in their shame and guilt
They had two hearts bereaved,
Whose hopes were on devotion built,
And vows by Heav'n received.
Ado.
(pointing to the window)
My bark, which o'er the tide
Shall float with muffled oar,
Is watched for by a guide
On yonder friendly shore.
Come, while the wave is sparkling,
Far from the strand—
Come, while the shade is darkling
Under the land.
Shall float with muffled oar,
Is watched for by a guide
On yonder friendly shore.
Come, while the wave is sparkling,
Far from the strand—
Come, while the shade is darkling
Under the land.
The moon may guard the night,
While all around her sleeps,
Yet love, by that pure light,
Its constant vigil keeps.
While all around her sleeps,
Yet love, by that pure light,
Its constant vigil keeps.
Cat.
(escaping from the arms of Adolphe, who is attempting to draw her towards the balcony.)
No, no, Adolphe, it must not, cannot be,
Fly hence, at once, and think no more on me.
Ado.
And is that oath, which closely linked our lot,
Thus disregarded, or remembered not?
Cat.
(aside)
That he should thus upbraid,
When I'm the victim made!
Ado.
Say you no longer love? my life or death,
My very being hangs upon your breath!
Cat.
Have pity!
Ado.
Speak!
Cat.
Hold—hold! my madden'd brain!
[She perceives the curtain over the secret chamber lifted up, and the glittering of the Assassin's poignards.
Then—I confess—I ne'er can love again—
I mean—not thee—
[Catarina, with a convulsive sob, buries her face in her hands, while Adolphe stands as if nailed to the spot.
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(partially recovering)
And her own lips proclaim
At once her guilt, her perfidy, and shame
Cat.
(aside)
Abandoned and betrayed,
Forsaken now by all,
I heed no more if ill
Or ruin o'er me fall:
May my deceitful words
Forgiven be above,
For 'tis him, only him,
That ever I can love.
Ado.
Oh, let me not believe, while thus I sue to thee,
That one I worshipped so, can ever perjured be!
Cat.
(aside)
May heav'n that mercy shew denied to man—
(to him)
Depart Adolphe, in safety—while you can—
[Catarina leaves him, and takes the extreme side of the stage, P. S.
Ado.
The truth is told, that truth which hath revealed
The fearful secret which thy breast hath steeled.
Cat.
(astounded)
What secret?—
Ado.
—to the (now deemed slender) claim
Of deep affection and unspotted fame,
A rival offers to thy dazzled eyes
Rank, wealth, and station—baubles women prize.
Cat.
Oh, Heavens!
Ado.
It is the talk of Venice—from each lip
The base and idle do the scandal sip—
A Prince!—a King hath offered thee a hand,
With gold and gear thy pride cannot withstand.
Cat.
This is too dreadful.
Ado.
—If these rumours lie,
Say but one word—
[Catarina perceiving Moncenigo, who appears at the door of the secret chamber in a threatening gesture, and disappears.
(to Adolphe)
'Tis too true!
(then aside)
Let me die.
Ado.
(with calm despair)
I pardon thee, for whom I cherish yet
Unworthy fondness, and a vain regret;
But he my heart who rifled, from it tore
The peace therein which time cannot restore;
Him will I course to earth's remotest part,
And at the altar's foot stab through his heart.
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(Ensemble)
Despite this scorching pain
Which seems to crush my brain,
One solace is for me;
That but for each false word,
By him in credence heard,
His life would forfeit be!
Ado.
(Ensemble)
Despite this scorching pain
Which seems to crush the brain,
One thought comes back to me,
That with each perjured word,
Mine ear too sadly heard,
Her heart thus changed should be!
Cat.
(running to Adolphe as he rushes up the stage)
Adolphe, one word before you quite efface—
Ado.
With thee, who these ties for another can'st sever?
Cat.
Alas! you know not—were you in my place—
Ado.
I would not have betrayed—
Cat.
You go then?—
Ado.
—For ever!
[On uttering this exclamation, Adolphe throws Catarina from him, and rushes off over the balcony, near to which Catarina falls senseless on the stage—at the same moment the curtain of the secret chamber is undrawn, and the Assassins enter at that door, preceded by Moncenigo.
Mon.
(exultingly)
A kingdom and a crown those tears will dry—
Catarina!—
[pointing to the body of Catarina, then addressing the Assassins.
With her to Cyprus hie.
[The Assassins go up the stage, as Moncenigo exit at the secret chamber door, and the scene closes them in.
SCENE II.
—Apartment in the Moncenigo Palace.Enter Moncenigo, 1st. E. O. P.
My dream is realized—and greatness now
Is mine, as if a crown were on my brow—
That gew-gaw I to Cyprus gladly yield,
While still the power of Venice I can wield—
As her ambassador received and known,
I work her object and attain mine own—
That object still is, wealth and station there,
Without the odium here I'm doomed to bear—
And then to carry out the hate I trace
Within my breast to Andréa and his race—
Some impulse undefined—some latent thought—
From jealousy, suspicion, passion, caught,
Perhaps unjustly, but imbibed so deep,
That vengeance cannot pause, nor action sleep,
And these two principles, in force combined,
Excite the feeling and direct the mind.
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Oh, what hopes at their height
Now burst forth upon the sight,
For wealth and rank, in all their might,
Shall both be mine to-night.
'Tis in vain we would hush,
All the strifes the heart which flush—
An idle dream those thoughts to crush,
Which from its sources rush.
The course I follow will through the world,
Despite the malice by others hurled,
Of those thoughts in their might,
All my hopes to requite—
While pursuit shall be mine, and to-night.
Second Verse.
In revenge there's delight,
With that feeling, at its height—
And such revenge, in all its might,
I revel in to-night.
'Tis in vain we would quell
All the storms the heart which swell,
Or seek to calm the griefs that dwell
Within that secret cell.
The course I follow will through the world,
Despite the malice by others hurled,
Of revenge, in its might,
All my wrongs to requite—
Which revenge shall be mine, and to-night.
[Exit Moncenigo.
SCENE III.
—The battlements of the Palace at Famagosta, in Cyprus, with a view of the port seen under them, guards stationed at various parts, and the stage thronged with the populace, sailors, &c.Chorus of Populace.
Hail to this joyous day,
May the smiles which o'er each cheek now play
To all around attest,
The hearts they spring from are at rest.
The banner of war is furled, and peace
Now bids all the feelings of discord cease.
Like her the fair, and him the free,
Meeting in love and harmony,
Let all united be!
A DIVERTISSEMENT
Here takes place, composed of national sports and dances, between the people and the sailors of the port, after which the heralds advance, and at the sound of trumpet, make the following
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People of Cyprus in the barque which nears
Our port, our monarch's chosen Queen appears;
St. Mark's immortal lion gilds her sail,
Filled by the breath of love upon the gale;
In fervent prayer your voices now unite,
That joy and peace her gentle path may light!
[March—Then enter the Clergy, headed by the Archbishop of Cyprus, joining with the people in this
Chorus.
Power divine
Before Thee we incline!
Humbly we Thee implore,
Thou of whom earth and sky
Worship the might and majesty,
Thy gifts on them to pour!
[After the prayer is heard on the sea, in the distance.
“Chorus of Sailors.
“To land, to land,
“To happy land
“Our vessel wings its way!
“And souls as light
“Partake her flight,
“Across the sparkling spray.”
“Chorus of Priests and People.
“Power divine,
“Before Thee we incline,
“Humbly we Thee implore,
“Thou of whom earth and sky,
“Worship the might and majesty,
“Thy gifts on them to pour.”
[During this and the preceding Chorus the fleet which accompanies the state-vessel, with Catarina on board, is seen to pass in the distance, firing a salute, which is returned by the guns of the port—bells are in full ring, and loud flourish of trumpets, &c. heard on all sides, and with a brilliant march, at first distant, then louder, the procession begins. The King, preceded by Pages, Squires, Heralds-at-Arms, and followed by all his Court, meets the Archbishop and Clergy—then enter a body of Knights and their respective banners—then the King's Body-guard, Officers of the Army and Navy, Equerries, Ministers of State, the Municipal Body, and a File of Soldiers. At a given point the state-vessel reaches the port, when Pages lay down a rich carpet the whole length of stage, and young
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Solo.
People of Cyprus! on this solemn day
To her, our Queen affianced, homage pay:
While, bowed in thankfulness to Him above,
You offer fervent prayers—
Oh, may the crown she wears
Be on her brow supported by your love!
Full Chorus.
Long live Catarina—long may live the King!
Chorus of Priests.
Hosanna! glory be to the Most High!
Chorus of All.
Let our song of joy and duty ring
Throughout the gladdened sky.
[The procession continues streaming down the battlements—the dancing and sports are carried on in the distance—the vessels hoist their flags, and guns keep up an incessant firing, the bells still ringing—a deafening shout from the whole populace, and the waving of banners on the walls and all elevated parts never cease, until the Act drops.
END OF ACT II.
| The Daughter of St. Mark | |