University of Virginia Library

SCENE, a Dungeon in the Castle.
Enter ULRIC, and then HERMAN.
HERMAN.
Come friend, conduct the innocent to prison.
Let murder and ambition roam at large,
Stab in the day, and none avenge the deed—
I ask'd but to be heard, and was denied.

ULRIC.
Dear Prince, yet moderate this useless rage.
All that the limited authority
I have, can give you, gratitude supplies,
However end the cause that now confines you.

HERMAN.
My comfort is, that I shall meet that fiend,
Where justice strikes the guilty.

ULRIC.
I am order'd,
By no means to confine you rigorously;
Your friends may have access to visit you.

HERMAN.
Ulric, I think thy friendship is a blessing,
Which no surmise alone can ever shake.
Wilt thou entreat the lovely Ida hither;
Her counsel will sustain my resolution.

ULRIC.
I will dear Prince—and suffer no intrusion.
But I'm prevented—lo, she comes to seek you.

[Exit.
Enter IDA.
Where is he—let me clasp him to my heart!
Away with coy and maidenly reserve,
Let modesty be bold when virtue suffers!
Have they writ there on that ingenuous front
The assassin's title?—'tis to blaspheme nature,
And make apocryphal her sacred text.—

HERMAN.
Bear witness, gods, I joy in this disaster!
It has procur'd for me more genuine transport,
Than years of unsuspected life had giv'n.
Were I to die, I should depart in peace;
Thy love would waft my spirit into bliss.
O my soul's only hope—I've much to tell thee!
I've been betray'd, and deeply wrong'd, my Ida,
Even by the villain who conspir'd this treason.

IDA.
I heard the vague reports, how thou wert found—
Your sword too recently embath'd—

HERMAN.
My sword,
O, no! the sword the soldiers found upon me
Was none of mine—I met its flying master;
Engag'd him, in the scuffle we exchang'd
Our weapons—then the assassin fled—the sword,
Which had been his, upon my nearer view
Express'd its owner, “Officer to Ratibor.”
That circumstance must never pass our lips,
Until the judges call for my defence.

IDA.
And can you thus securely wait a trial?

HERMAN.
The innocent know no alarm at justice.

IDA.
Not, when, in midnight secrecy and silence,
Judges disguis'd mysteriously decide,
Unknown, unseen, the terrors of mankind!—
I think my feeble frame would die with horror,
And find a grave ere prejudice could doom me.

HERMAN.
Think not, my Ida, their decisions partial—
Their eyes are every where—unseen they hear—
Their agents mingle in the walks of life,
And even our servants are their secret spies.

IDA.
Still Justice should not mask her awful face.
O, if there be a land, where equal laws
And open judgment are the claims of all,
Where those of our own rank pronounce upon us,
There true decision calls on punishment,
Temper'd in anger by enthroned Mercy.

HERMAN.
The vision lifts my soul—and thou my country,
May'st ere long emulate the “Isle of Glory.”
But with thy forms, however harsh they seem,
The good man will comply. Still art thou just.

IDA.
But are we sure, you ever may abide them?
He who could find a poniard for a brother,
May not await the uncertain march of judgment.
Ah then, my Prince, fly from assassination,
Fly to the humble mansion of my father,
Now while thus slackly guarded—

HERMAN.
How, my Ida,
Will that not be presumption of my guilt?

IDA.
To Wirtemberg at first perchance it may—
But, public summons to appear once issued,
You can explain your flight before the judges.

HERMAN.
Sure heav'n inspir'd that thought—I yield me to it.
Thy love shall nerve me to the prudent toil—

IDA.
O would my wish could give Herculean power!
Chains should be gossamer that clasps the rose,
And the strong fortress as the yielding corn,
Through which the light roe bounds her airy way.

HERMAN.
Farewell, my love—be large in hope—

IDA
, (embracing).
Farewell!

[Exit.
HERMAN.
Now to explore my prison—ere the morn
I shall be free at least from private wrong.
O, how prevailing are love's arguments!
Light of my soul, accomplish all thy work!

[Exit.