University of Virginia Library

SCENE—A Room in the Castle.
Erminia and Eemoine.
ERMINIA.
Ah, name not brilliant shew and courts to me!
These peaceful shades, and holy calm retirements,
Whene'er my gallant Raymond's presence glads them,
Have every charm: delights how far superior
To gaudy flutter and incumber'd grandeur!
On yon green bank, laved by the murmuring rill,
How have I sat enraptur'd, while my hero
Renew'd his joyful vows, and prais'd his happiness!
The envious Sun has stolen away unnoticed,
And the melodious warbler of the evening
Has sung unhear'd beside me while he talk'd;
For all my ear was love. O Raymond, Raymond,
When shall these dreadful wars again restore thee!
When shall our wonted bowers hear thee again
Display the raptures of thy faithful heart!
Oh, heaven restore my Raymond to my arms!

EEMOINE.
Heaven hears the prayer. Still on Marseilles' proud wall
Waves the red banner, and still lives my Lord,
The Governor.

ERMINIA.
He lives—perhaps he does not.
If yet he live, to-morrow brings new danger.
Oh, I am full of fearful apprehensions!
I fear, alas!—what thousand fleeting phantoms!
I fear his valourous thoughtless scorn of danger
More than a thousand foes.

EEMOINE.
A brave man only, Lady,
Had charms for you; and would you wish your Lord
To shun the toils that give him all his charms?
And ever sacred be this wood-land castle,
And these lone bowers, to love, to happiest love!
And soon may Raymond cheer his lone retreat!
Yet sprightly youth by nature's powerful motion
Asks other scenes; would mingle in the walks
Where other Peers lead forth their fairest dames.

ERMINIA.
I cannot love the scene my Raymond loves not.
All the endearments of the expecting lover
Still seem more tender; yet should I but hint
Of leaving these retreats, and name the Court,
Serious he looks, then smiling says, the world
Is all false shew, and full of real trouble;
That a calm haven, like ours, is all the wish
Of courts and camps; the pole star of ambition.
Love makes me say so too, when sparkling rapture
His eyes confess his dearest wish accomplish'd;
The while he labours to express his joy,
And tells me I have freely granted him
The only point he could refuse to yield me.

EEMOINE.
Yet the full tide of Raymond's rising honours
Now swell so high, it cannot, will not leave him
To these lone shades—Talk'd not the King this morn
As if he wish'd the Count would change his life,
And shew the Court his Countess?

ERMINIA.
Ah, Eemoine,
Raise not that hope; away! it shall not please me.

EEMOINE.
And most auspiciously occasion offers,
Bourbon is fled, by Raymond's valour baffled;
And France is sav'd. This night the joyful King,
With many a lady from the neighbouring castles,
In Raymond's castle means to celebrate
The nation's joy in honour of your husband.
Should Raymond's Countess sullen then refuse
To grace the public joy, her husband's honour
Were tainted by the deed.

ERMINIA.
Three dreadful nights and days
Has Bourbon pour'd his thunder on Marseilles.
No sleep the while my woeful eyelids clos'd.
My fever'd thoughts at last, in gentle slumber,
Methought were sooth'd, when on the ground before me
A pale and blood-stain'd corpse my husband lay.
'Twas not a dream, I saw him—

EEMOINE.
The sick man's dreams of dismal yawning gulphs
Cleaving beneath his feet, and volleying fire,
Are real all, compar'd to what fond love
Conceives, when fear, as on the whirlwind's wing,
Toffesthe fancy—Ah, bethink you, lady,
How ill your fears become your opening fortunes.
Whom Fortune once forsakes, him almost never
She visits more; but when her various bounty
Flows on her favourites, the Spring's gay blossoms
Crowd not so plenteous on the May-day thorn;
So full she comes, where she delights to come.
She now, your better angel, smiles upon you,
And bids you follow her; see, where she leads
To courtly brilliancy, and royal favour!

ERMINIA.
Ah, didst thou feel like me, and hadst, like me,
The husband of thy love three days in battle?
Perhaps, ev'n now, torn from my widow'd arms,
On the rude earth his cold pale cheek reclines!
Didst thou fear this, alas, thou couldst not talk
Of Fortune's smiles, and Grandeur's gaudy baubles!

Enter the King, Guise, and Officers.
KING.
Ah! still in tears?—Let Winter's dismal gloom
O'ercloud the smiles of May, but let not sorrow
Dim these bright eyes.

ERMINIA.
Forgive, my Liege—Hither, for pity's sake!
Support me, lady.

[retiring.
KING.
What, and fly me too!
And can so fair a bosom veil such rigour!

ERMINIA.
Oh pity my distress, my woman's fears!

KING.
The brave Count Raymond lives, and crown'd with glory!

ERMINIA.
Oh heaven repeat it—Does the rage of war
Threaten no more?—Here, from the camp, I see,
Are other Peers; but what detains my Raymond?
Alas, deceive me not, nor mock my fears!

EEMOINE.
Thy fears are but the terror of a dream,
That soon will vanish.

ERMINIA.
Ah, the dreadful battle
Is past; and these return'd from victory;
But death detains my Raymond! Never, till now,
Was he the last to hasten to my arms.
Thy Guise is here; Eemoine, but my Raymond
Lies bleeding on the field. I know his ardour:
The dearest joy he felt in war's proud triumph
Was to behold my transport, when my arms
Receiv'd him from the fields of death, restor'd
To life, to love—But now, Oh heaven! he comes not,
Though others come.

KING.
By the King's sacred honour!
Thy Raymond lives; and every tongue delights
To name his gallant deeds. To-night is sacred
To his renown, which you will more adorn.
The Court of Charlemagne, in all its pomp
Of beauteous ladies, when they sat to judge
Their Knights at martial Tournay, yields to mine
The palm of beauty. War's confus'd alarms
Are now expell'd our realm—Festivity
Now claims the heart—Then might I thus to-night,
For one short night, thus beg your hand, and call you
Queen of the mask.

ERMINIA.
Alas, my Liege, my terrors
O'erpower my soul!—Hither, Eemoine, aid me.

KING.
Ah, Madam!—Yes, indeed, had you refus'd me,—
All dull impertinence, the face of joy.
Had seem'd to me—
[Eemoine retires, the Countess as lost in hesitation.]
The cares of war, now like my humble vassals,
Stand off at servile distance, while I give
My heart to riot in the sweetest joys
That victory affords; the sovereign joys
That beauty's captivating power inspires,
When beauty smiles with all the dear distinctions
That valour gains from woman—

[Guise taking the Countess by the hand.]
GUISE.
Here, my Liege,
The fairest gem that ever France acquir'd
From all her wars, to grace her splendid Court.

ERMINIA.
Ha, what! forbear—I know not what you said.
My spirits hurry me, I know not whither!
[withdrawing.
I break my plighted honour while I talk
And linger here—Whate'er my Raymond means,
I would not wound him in his earnest wish,
So oft repeated, were the world to give
[Eemoine returns
All it admires to bribe me. Why, Eemoine,
Why leave me thus—Hither my childhood's friend.

[offering to retire.
KING.
Yet hear how vain is your oppressing sorrow.

EEMOINE.
The gallant Raymond, crown'd with fresh blown honours,
Safe from the war this instant glads his castle.
His country's cause commands his present care,
And soon the honours of to-night's festivity
Shall give him to your arms with doubled joy.
Highly elated with the royal favour,
He means to meet you at the happy mask;
Such duteous honour to his King he owes,
And longs to pay—

ERMINIA.
Oh, not an angel's voice
Could thus have darted through my lifted heart
So bright a glow of transport. Oh my Raymond!
What have I suffer'd from the dreams of fear!
Yes; thy love-smiles shall fondly brighten o'er me
While I in sweet remembrance tell my fears.

KING.
Now, by my crown! these looks of happy beauty
Repay the hardships of a whole campaign.
The Ladies and the Peers already crowd
The joyful mask room, and attend their King;
But happiness delays her inspiration,
Lady, till you appear.

[Exeunt together.