 | The Poems of Emma Lazarus in two volumes |  |
SCENE III.
A mean apartment in one of the Towers of the Landgrave's Palace. Prince William discovered seated at the window.PRINCE WILLIAM.
The slow sun sets; with lingering, large embrace
He folds the enchanted hill; then like a god
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Oh beautiful! In the clear, rayless air,
I see the chequered vale mapped far below,
The sky-paved streams, the velvet pasture-slopes,
The grim, gray cloister whose deep vesper bell
Blends at this height with tinkling, homebound herds!
I see—but oh, how far!—the blessed town
Where Liebhaid dwells. Oh that I were yon star
That pricks the West's unbroken foil of gold,
Bright as an eye, only to gaze on her!
How keen it sparkles o'er the Venusburg!
When brown night falls and mists begin to live,
Then will the phantom hunting-train emerge,
Hounds straining, black fire-eyeballed, breathless steeds,
Spurred by wild huntsmen, and unhallowed nymphs,
And at their head the foam-begotten witch,
Of soul-destroying beauty. Saints of heaven!
Preserve mine eyes from such unholy sight!
How all unlike the base desire which leads
Misguided men to that infernal cave,
Is the pure passion that exalts my soul
Like a religion! Yet Christ pardon me,
If this be sin to thee!
[He takes his lute, and begins to sing. Enter with a lamp Steward of the Castle, followed by Prior Peppercorn. Steward lays down the lamp and exit.
Good even, father!
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Benedicite!
Our bird makes merry his dull bars with song,
Yet would not penitential psalms accord
More fitly with your sin than minstrels' lays?
PRINCE WILLIAM.
I know no blot upon my life's fair record.
PRIOR.
What is it to wanton with a Christ-cursed Jewess,
Defy thy father and pollute thy name,
And fling to the ordures thine immortal soul?
PRINCE WILLIAM.
Forbear! thy cowl 's a helmet, thy serge frock
Invulnerable as brass—yet I am human,
Thou, priest, art still a man.
PRIOR.
Pity him, Heaven!
To what a pass their draughts have brought the mildest,
Noblest of princes! Softly, my son; be ruled
By me, thy spiritual friend and father.
Thou hast been drugged with sense-deranging potions,
Thy blood set boiling and thy brain askew;
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To bless the friend who gave thy madness bounds.
PRINCE WILLIAM.
Madness! Yea, as the sane world goes, I am mad.
What else to help the helpless, to uplift
The low, to adore the good, the beautiful,
To live, battle, suffer, die for truth, for love!
But that is wide of the question. Let me hear
What you are charged to impart—my father's will.
PRIOR.
Heart-cleft by his dear offspring's shame, he prays
Your reason be restored, your wayward sense
Renew its due allegiance. For his son
He, the good parent, weeps—hot drops of gall,
Wrung from a spirit seldom eased by tears.
But for his honor pricked, the Landgrave takes
More just and general vengeance.
PRINCE WILLIAM.
In the name of God,
What has he done to her?
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Naught, naught,—as yet.
Sweet Prince, be calm; you leap like flax to flame.
You nest within your heart a cockatrice,
Pluck it from out your bosom and breathe pure
Of the filthy egg. The Landgrave brooks no more
The abomination that infects his town.
The Jews of Nordhausen are doomed.
PRINCE WILLIAM.
Alack!
Who and how many of that harmless tribe,
Those meek and pious men, have been elected
To glut with innocent blood the oppressor's wrath?
PRIOR.
Who should go free where equal guilt is shared?
Frederick is just—they perish all at once,
Generous moreover—for in their mode of death
He grants them choice.
PRINCE WILLIAM.
My father had not lost
The human semblance when I saw him last.
Nor can he be divorced in this short space
From his shrewd wit. How shall he make provision
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Burdens the state withal?
PRIOR.
Oh excellent!
This is the crown of folly, topping all!
Forgive me, Prince, when I gain breath to point
Your comic blunder, you will laugh with me.
Patience—I'll draw my chin as long as yours.
Well, 't was my fault—one should be accurate—
Jews, said I? when I meant Jews, Jewesses,
And Jewlings! all betwixt the age
Of twenty-four hours, and of five score years.
Of either sex, of every known degree,
All the contaminating vermin purged
With one clean, searching blast of wholesome fire.
PRINCE WILLIAM.
O Christ, disgraced, insulted! Horrible man,
Remembered be your laugh in lowest hell,
Dragging you to the nether pit! Forgive me;
You are my friend—take me from here—unbolt
Those iron doors—I'll crawl upon my knees
Unto my father—I have much to tell him.
For but the freedom of one hour, sweet Prior,
I'll brim the vessels of the Church with gold.
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Boy! your bribes touch not, nor your curses shake
The minister of Christ. Yet I will bear
Your message to the Landgrave.
PRINCE WILLIAM.
Whet your tongue
Keen as the archangel's blade of truth—your voice
Be as God's thunder, and your heart one blaze—
Then can you speak my cause. With me, it needs
No plausive gift; the smitten head, stopped throat,
Blind eyes and silent suppliance of sorrow
Persuade beyond all eloquence. Great God!
Here while I rage and beat against my bars,
The infernal fagots may be stacked for her,
The hell-spark kindled. Go to him, dear Prior,
Speak to him gently, be not too much moved,
'Neath its rude case you had ever a soft heart,
And he is stirred by mildness more than passion.
Recall to him her round, clear, ardent eyes,
The shower of sunshine that 's her hair, the sheen
Of the cream-white flesh—shall these things serve as fuel?
Tell him that when she heard once he was wounded,
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She wept for pity.
PRIOR.
If her love be true
She will adore her lover's God, embrace
The faith that marries you in life and death.
This promise with the Landgrave would prevail
More than all sobs and pleadings.
PRINCE WILLIAM.
Save her, save her!
If any promise, vow, or oath can serve.
Oh trusting, tranquil Süsskind, who estopped
Your ears forewarned, bandaged your visioned eyes,
To woo destruction! Stay! did he not speak
Of amulet or talisman? These horrors
Have crowded out my wits. Yea, the gold casket!
What fixed serenity beamed from his brow,
Laying the precious box within my hands!
[He brings from the shelf the casket, and hands it to the Prior.
Deliver this unto the Prince my father,
Nor lose one vital moment. What it holds,
I guess not—but my light heart whispers me
The jewel safety 's locked beneath its lid.
PRIOR.
First I must foil such devil's tricks as lurk
In its gem-crusted cabinet.
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Away!
Deliverance posts on your return. I feel it.
For your much comfort thanks. Good-night.
PRIOR.
Good-night.
[Exit.
| The Poems of Emma Lazarus in two volumes | |