 | Claribel and Other Poems |  |
SCENE V.
A Room of State as before.Boleslaus on his throne, surrounded by his court; Claribel standing before him.
BOLESLAUS
Who would have children? Look, my lords! to yours;
Use whips, not kisses; bring them up with fear,
Not love: or they'll grow wanton, and play tricks
In the public gaze, shaming your whitest hairs.
Keep them more strict, my lords!—Thou shameless girl!
To slide, so reptile-like, from kingly arms
Unto this slave, this groom, this serving-man.
Answer me,—how did he beguile thy heart,
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Say he has spared that. Tell me he has done
Some glorious deed, some service of great price
In secret peril which we dream'd not of.
Say yes! and yet we'll give him half our realm.
CLARIBEL
I know no service—nothing but our love.
For that I am his wife.
BOLESLAUS
O wretched slave!
Base, groveling, meanly-choosing,—when thine eyes
Were train'd to the highest. Tell me, haggard! how
He lured thee from thy dignity.
CLARIBEL
My lord!
It is your words alone that taint our state.—
I pray you hear me. Though my doom was fix'd
Before you spoke.—My father! it was you
Who chose this gentleman you now revile,
From your whole court. That he was worthy, sir!
Be witness his advancement by yourself—
I plead not to extenuate a fault,
But justifying truth.—I saw him brave,
Noble, and lovely; my own sight confirm'd
Your praise and fame's reporting. But I look'd
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A soul that beat in unison with mine,—
In brief, sir! that fine sympathy which weds
The loving, be their different states most wide,—
Which ever draws the one to the other's side
Past all convention or world hinderance.
True love is nature without baulk of fear:
Hast thou a law to bind our natures? sir!
I loved him for he was a gentleman,—
A king can be no more; and that I found
His soul as royal as my own.—O, more:
For I look'd reverently to thee, Belovéd!
Up to thy royalty.—You would have given
My hand unto prince Casimir, a true
And kingly man,—my husband's friend—not more.
Witness how dearly Albert prized my love,—
To slay his friend whom he loved more than self.
Alas, my lord! love will not brook defeat;
Nor is there true election but the heart's.—
I pray thee, let the past be strown with peace,
And that thou recollect I am thy child,
Thy only child, the heir unto thy love.
Let not blind wrath usurp my heritage!—
For us, our life is one,—our life or death.
BOLESLAUS
My ears are stopp'd.—Bring in this gentleman!
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Lo, thy Dishonour goeth to its grave.
Hide thou close in thy chamber till thou hast sense
To weed thy heart. Till then,—till thou art clear,—
I have no daughter—none!—O Claribel!
Claribel looks sadly on her father,—then quietly approaches the couch of Albert.
CLARIBEL
My gentlest! thou art gone: I haste to thee.
She embraces him.
BOLESLAUS
Raise her!
[None move. He comes down from his throne and endeavours to lift her from the body.]
Look up!—My daughter!
ONE OF THE COURT
She is dead.
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