University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Another Part of the Forest.
Enter Herman bearing Ida.
HERMAN.
She breathes! she lives! oh! for some friendly spring,
Whose freshness may restore suspended life!—
See where one trickles from the rock!—Pure liquid!
Thus on a purer form I sprinkle thee.
She moves—again the circulating blood
Revisits her pale cheeks.—Bright excellence!
For surely charms like thine ne'er met the glance
Of wond'ring mortal—while suspended yet
Thy vital pow'rs, while thou canst not behold
And chide my fond presumption, let me kneel,
And pay thee bounden adoration.

[He kneels.
IDA.
Ah me! Where am I?—Who art thou, young stranger,
And wherefore kneel'st thou?

HERMAN.
Lady, I am one
By far too humble to boast other merit,
Than that of having sav'd thee from destruction.

IDA.
Oh! was it thou?—The soul-appalling scene
Now rushes on my mem'ry. I had perish'd,
But for thy timely aid. Tell me thy name.
The Baron Stolberg has a heart to feel
The merits of his niece's brave preserver.

HERMAN.
The Baron Stolberg! Art thou then that Ida,
Whose beauties form the theme of ev'ry tongue?
Thou must! none else can arrogate resemblance
To nature's primest work!—Forgive me, madam,
If I presume too far. My humble wish
Soars not beyond the hope that I may live
In thy remembrance: more befits not him,
Who, though he dare to gaze on thy perfection,
Feels conscious of his own unworthiness.

IDA.
Thy mien, thy bearing, ev'ry word, proclaim
Thou art not what thou seem'st. A peasant's son
Cannot inherit sentiments like thine.
I pray thee tell me who thou art? I ask not
From curiosity, but from a wish
To know the name of one, whose high desert
I've had such cause to appreciate.

HERMAN.
Noble lady,
I cannot speak my name or my condition.
I pray thee ask not why.—There is a cause
Too forcible—

IDA.
If there be such a cause,
Whate'er my wish to know you, I respect it
Too much to press upon you; but I trust
A time may come—

HERMAN.
Never, I fear!

IDA.
Why so?
If the cause spring not from disgrace or guilt,
Time may remove it. That, your modest valour,
And your ingenuous countenance forbid
E'en to suppose.

HERMAN.
Oh spare, in pity spare me!
I must not—cannot—I beseech your pardon—
I mean not to offend—

IDA.
Indeed you do not.
I am indebted to you, sir, far more
Than words can ever pay; promise me then
You will not always thus conceal yourself.
When in due time you may reveal your name,
Honour, I pray, our castle with your presence.
Meantime, sir, from my finger take this ring;
Wear it as a pledge of Ida's gratitude,
And, when you look upon it, think of her.

HERMAN.
From Ida's hand a pledge! 'Fore heav'n! I swear
I'll wear it ever as a sacred charm
To guide me on to honour. Yes, fair maid!
I will obey thee. When I dare approach
Thy blest abode, I shall not need concealment.
But who are these approaching?

IDA.
They are friends,
Doubtless in search of me.

HERMAN.
You then are safe.
I may not stay to meet them. Gracious lady!
If ever thy remembrance light upon me,
Let pity for my fortunes mingle with it.
Farewell! may angels guard thee!

[Exit.
IDA.
Gallant youth!
How sweetly, but how mournfully he spoke!
I must know more of him—

Enter Housdorff and Hunters.
HOUSDORFF.
Thank heav'n, you're found!
And safe I hope, and well.

IDA.
I am. But say,
Where is my uncle?

HOUSDORFF.
He is near at hand.
He was exceedingly alarm'd. The Count—

IDA.
Did he attempt to succour me?

HOUSDORFF.
No, ma'am,
He's yonder with my lord, but he bad us
Set out in search of you.

IDA.
I thank him for't.
Could not a spark of gallant feeling touch
That heart, insensible to all but self?
It was not thus my brave deliv'rer acted.
Heav'ns, what a contrast!

HOUSDORFF.
Will it please you, madam,
To join my lord? He anxiously expects you.

IDA.
He's always kind.—I'm ready.—Shew the way.

[Exeunt.