University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Gothick hall. View of Battlements from an open window. Banners and armour hung around. The Prince is discovered on a couch. Friar.
Fr.
Yes my Lord—and broke his sword—and

(The recollection of the Prince alternately comes and goes through this scene, until its conclusion, when he is entirely restored.)
Pri.
(Impatiently)
And then was taken: Yes, I know it all.

(relapses into inattention)
Fr.
(Eagerly)
The Princess comes—

Pri.
(Disturbed)
Ah!—

Fr.
I hear her voice, my lord—

Pri.
The Princess—?—Ha!

Fr.
The Lady Ala—

Pri.
Ala! (passionately)
—is that her voice?

Fr.
Yes, yes, my Prince.

Pri.
— (struggling)
—Then let me be composed!
Ala,—my lovely one—bear up my heart—
That angel smile—
(wandering)
Father, that Otho—
(laying his hand on his brow)
I am much disturbed.

(Enter Ala, followed by her ladies.)
Ala.
Welcome my Prince!
(Stops in alarm at the expression of his countenance.)
Father, what tale have ye amused me with?
(Bends over the Prince and takes his hand in great agitation.)
My Prince look up!
(he lifts his eyes wildly)
—In mercy!—look not thus.
(Reproachfully.)
Father!—Father—

(weeps)
Fr.
Sweet lady, these are dangerous tears:
The Prince but wants repose—

(Ala wares to her attendants to withdraw—seats herself by the Prince, and supports his head.)
Ala.
Father, (in a low voice)
I pray the Duke may not arrive.
This is a mournful presage, and my heart
Bows sadly to its touch.
(The Prince with a sudden and faint cry of terror draws her nearer to him.)
My Prince! (startled.)
Indeed, his eye looks wild—

Pri.
(Straining her to his heart convulsively)
Ala—O, Ala!—
(Pause—appears to recollect her.)
My Ala!—here!
And art thou here, my love?—Is this thy hand?
Why even thou art pale—
(relapsing)
Yes, yes it was a fearful dream indeed.
(Ala averts her head and weeps)
Nay, do not leave me Ala. I would feel.
Thy hand in mine. My heart still knows the touch
Of one it loves—
(Trembles—struggles—and suddenly extends his hands, as to prevent something from approaching her— then drops them faintly as she covers her face.)
—O, would'st thou leave me then!
Well,—go!—I've nothing left to cling to here.
(Ala is overcome by her feelings. Irman rises proudly, advances with a firm step to the middle of the hall —attempts to address Ala—and suddenly stops—as conscious of his situation.)
Forgive me! I am weak.— (pause)
that flash!—
(Catches her hand and appears completely restored)
Ala,—why, how is this? So sad upon this night;
Our wedding night—
(His eye falls on his armour: as he sees his cleft helmet, he, involuntarily, passes his hand to his brow)
My plumes are soiled—their lights are dimmed— (pause.)

Ah, now I feel it all!
— (passionately)
And art thou safe!
Well, thanks to Heaven!—but indeed my love,
I never heard the trumpet pealing yet;
Or saw my banners blazing for the strife,
And felt my pulse so feeble, as this day.
That desperate man! He is a gallant foe,
And tho' I stooped to his encountering arm,
My heart does not reproach me for the fail.
He wields a dreadful blade.
(Pause—lays his hand on the Friar's arm, as striving to recall his thoughts, while Ala expresses her delight at his recovery, in silence.)
But Father—surely, we were victors there;
I saw them fly before I fell—

Fr.
'Tis true my lord. The dreadful man is here;
A prisoner—with his bloody band.

Irman.
A prisoner! Otho!—and alive!

Fr.
And alive—'tis true my Prince.

Pri.
(To Ala)
That Otho here!
He would have torn thee from the altar, love—

Ala.
Ah!

(terrour)
Pri.
Yes! from my arms—or from the bridal couch!

Ala.
Merciful Heaven!
(shuddering—then advancing, seizes his hand.)
Art thou indeed restored!

Fr.
Now, lady, did I tell thee true?

Ala.
Father, forgive me, 'twas my fear that spoke:
Know you, my Prince, how, wildly you have talked?

Fr.
Indeed, your lovely guardian was alarmed.

Pri.
I raved?

Ala.
O, yes! and held my hand, as if you strove
To save me from pollution—

Pri.
(With tenderness)
Did I indeed!
(pause)
(Solemnity)
Yes—yes—I know I did—
The chill of superstition is upon me:
Nay, do not smile—my brain is quite restored,
But this delirium is in my heart.
The blow that fell had not unmanned me thus,
Had not my heart and scul been wandering first—
But now—this evening—something threatens me,
I yet shall realize my dreadful dream:
My fall—the trumpet—and the foe—

Ala.
A dream!

Pri.
Indeed! I have not told thee? well, 'twas this.
I dreamt that thou wast gone, (horrour—gradually increasing to vehemence.)
And that I clasped
Before the multitude, assembled there
To see us plight our faith for earth and heaven,—
Instead of thee, my love, with sunny eye,—
A man in armour! whose relentless grasp
Was locked in desperation round my frame.
So unexpected too! (pause)
and what is strange,
I dreamt that thou did'st leave me willingly—

Ala.
(Tenderly)
Willingly!

Fr.
It was a dream, my Prince.

Pri.
(Disturbed)
But mark the strange concurrence of this day.
The very man I've heard so often cursed,
(to Ala)
When I have told thee of his bloody deeds;
This very Otho! was the ruffian shape,
That—mailed from head to foot—in sable plumes—
Stepped forth, amid a troop of gallant Lords,
And clasped me while I slept!
To night he comes—and blows a sudden trump!
And sabres flash! and martial hands are met—
In battle—that had come for dance!

Ala.
And didst thou see him in thy dream? (smiling)


Pri.
Yes—smile my love—
He frightens others in their soundest sleep.
And idle as the fear might seem, to one,
Less near the object of idolatry;
Yet still—on me—I wonder while I speak—
And then—
(Enter Selim, who falls at his feet with a look of the greatest reverence and affection.)
(To Selim)
Has my father come?

Selim.
Not yet, my Prince. He will be here to-night,
A courier has arrived—

Pri.
(continuing with earnestness)
The unexpected bursting of that trump!
Within the very temple of our hopes!
The boldness of the band—thy strange escape—
For, had we been embracing to receive
Thy benediction, father—and my knights
Had been unarmed, as knights should be, who meet
For nuptial revelry, and dance,—Oh, then,
Most surely had I lost thee, love!

Ala.
(In deep thought)
Indeed—but this as strange, night after night
Have I had visions too. (to the Prince.)
And much like this.
Thrice have I dreamt that I was snatched from death.
That, from the Altar, I was borne away,
(faltering)
By that dark fearful being—
(Shuddering and looking round in terrour—Selim is seen to participate—and, involuntarily, raises his hands, as he stands listening intensely)
—That my heart
Once met in solitude—arrayed in blood!
A bloody mantle! And a bloody plume!
(increasing horrour)
And suddenly he came—as from the grave!
But—
(recovering, and struggling to assume a cheerful tone)
—This is idle—

Pri.
Yes, my love—
And I can well account for dreams like mine.
This savage Otho is so full of wiles;
And strikes such sudden blows in day and night—
And I, so near the object of my prayers:
(more cheerfully)
These fearful visions of my troubled sleep,
But make me feel thy value when I wake.
Our Heaven is never certain, 'till possessed;
Our dreams are tinctured by our waking fears,
Till—what was but uncertain bliss in day,
Becomes consuming agony at night.
But Ala—to thy maidens, love—such hours
Should not be spent in fears—and doubts—and dreams.

Ala.
Nay, nay, My Prince.
(faintly)
The Duke has not arrived.
And thou art not recovered from the strife;
We should be more composed—

Pri.
(Passionately)
Ala, I cannot suffer thus;
I cannot thus be frozen with delays—
Nay, Ala, look not thus! I've stood too long
Upon this dizzying height—and must descend.
Ala! I've loved thee long—
How I have loved thee, thou canst never know!
I should go mad if I were baffled now!
Away with all these doubts! Away with tears!
Be worthy of thyself! My Ala, let us wed!
And then the trumpet will not peal in vain;
Yea, should it startle me from sleep, this night,
Upon my bridal couch, my heart will beat
Ten thousand times more worthy of its prize,
Than now, while I am shaken thus. To-night!
Farewell, my love—to-night!
(Exit Ala)
(To Selim)
Are the prisoners safe?

Selim.
All safe—
(acclamations heard—bugle, Selim runs to the window)
There they go!

Pri.
The prisoners, there! Why are those clamorous shouts?
Can that be insult to the conquered men?
Begone, and silence them—unmanly triumph!

Selim.
(Eagerly—without looking round)
'Tis done! 'tis done! my Prince. The Soldier's there.
How mute they are!

Pri.
The Soldier! my preserver? bring him here.
Yes, I must see that man—
(Suddenly)
But Selim, look—is Otho with his men
To hear these vile rejoicings?

Selim.
(Springing from the window.)
O, no! we'd hear no shouts if he were there.

Pri.
Ah!
(pause—looking at Selim.)
—He is no common man.
And had they shouted o'er his fallen strength,
He might forgive it, but I never would,
(Indignantly)
I never would have pardoned them on earth!
How bears the murderer his approaching fate!

Selim.
Murderer!

Pri.
Aye! Didst thou not know it boy?

Selim.
No, no, my Prince; he has a warriour's eye;
But not a murderer's—

Pri.
Boy, boy! How bears he this reverse?

Selim.
In bitter resignation—silent—stern—

Pri.
(Enthusiasm)
What stormy greatness is abandoned there!
O, that I might be merciful, and just!
He's so magnificent!
(Pause—working of passion—Selim falls at his feet in supplication—the Prince subdues his feelings—and adds in a determined tone)
No, no—that man must die.

Selim.
O, spare his life! he might have taken thine?

Pri.
Selim! he must die.
Where went my barb? Has he gone wild again?

Selim.
I fear he has—

(Friar advances from the window—eagerly)
Fr.
My Prince, they say he galloped towards the hills!
(Enthusiasm)
And shook his bloody mane—
And plunged along,
Yet reeking with his wound—as if he heard,
A trumpet in the skies! as if he felt
His native mountain air brace all his limbs again!

Pri.
(Looking at him with astonishment)
Father! thou hast been a warriour once.

Fr.
Aye that I have! and in the blessed sun
Have seen a steed, caparisoned for war!
Aye, that I have! and in the stillest night,
Have heard—a battle in the Heavens!
For I was young. (faltering)
In other days my son—
I've seen the flashing mane and rolling eye;
But now (raising the Cross)
I shake at blood.

Pri.
(Bowing reverently to the symbol of peace)
He is a gallant steed—
(Exit Friar)
I never strode a barb that moved so proud:
How he leapt forth to meet the glittering spears!
Did'st see him, Selim? plunging to the blast:
I felt the trumpet in his shaking chest:
But I forget my gratitude—away!
Summon the soldier.
(Selim is going)
Dost thou know his name?

Selim.
That is his only name: he lives unknown.
The Soldier, he is called, by all the troops;
And he is poor—and brave—

Pri.
Aye that he is—but this is his reward.
The Soldier!
It is a glorious name! O, give me but a band
Of such old men as that, I'd shake the world.

Selim.
(To a guard)
Summon the Soldier!

(The word is heard passing along the battlements from Sentry to Sentry.)
Pri.
Stay—lead me to his tent. I'll meet him there;
Such men are always proud—
And he will thank me if I spare that pride.

(Exit, followed by Selim)