University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—A cottage in the Country. Eudora standing at the gate, waiting his return, with discontent.
Eud.
Officious expectation runs me mad!
I have been waiting, like the lonesome dove,
And still, my comforter delays his time!
I fear the villain has been rash indeed!
How anxiety doth fever every nerve!
His wings are cleft upon some watery waste—
Too far away, to find his native shore!
My thoughts, now perched, high on my panting heart,
Doth penetrate futurity, so dark!
While heaven takes knowledge of indignant wo!
Oh! that the messenger would come! peace! peace!
Then could my sickened spirit find repose.
That bright destroying Angel to my soul,
Now guards life's Paradise, with outstretched arms;
And yields his increase unto virtuous good.
The things around me, are not as they were!
The tribute that I owe him—oh! how great:
'Twill take a life time to repay his love.
Why does he stay? he surely can't forget!
His heart has been so kind to poor Eudora!
Methinks I should be twining rosy wreathes!
Where shall I find fit laurels for his brow?
A coronet of roses shall adorn his head!
This tender heart shall be his chaplet, all my life!
I'll feed him on the utmost of my love—
Gather the first blown flowers of the spring,
And waft him praises in my soul's deep songs!
What, if, by some unmanly means, he fall!
The world would be an opposite to life!
Nonentity!—a chaos of dark shades!
Methinks I hear him come—oh! would it were!
[Conrad meets her, and she embraces him.
Oh! Conrad! Conrad!—thou hast saved my tears.
My soul went out from self, to search for thee!
It wandered from its dwelling like a bird;
And like the faithful dove, bewailed its mate!
Dids't thou not hear some deep dolorous sound?
Oh! 'twas the wide vibrations of my soul!
Thine absence caused such tempests in my heart—

Con.
Oh, Eudora! thy voice is so divine!
Speak on, my gentlest! feed my longing heart—

Eud.
They dashed their waves against life's sandy shore,
And washed away the footprints of my hope.
But on the sea of life my bark still sailed,
As virtue stood, to guide her, at the helm.
Oh! joy to thee, sweet Conrad! joy of joys!

[Embraces him.
Con.
With thee, Eudora, all my life is love,
Eternal sunshine gilds my former gloom;
And hurls his sacrilegious heart to dust.

Eud.
What hast thou done?—and did'st thou see Alonzo?

Con.
Oh! yes, I've seen him—what a timid man!
He turn'd biographer, with precious speed,
And wrote thy life in characters of gold.
He made thee out the Magdalen of old!
As tranquil as the bright, unclouded moon—
Oh! how he begg'd to see his satellites!
He begg'd me to befriend his little stars;
And call'd them rose-buds, sisters of his soul.
And when he call'd his wife, he wept aloud—
As big as sorrows self! and said, 'twas hard!
That he had done thee wrong, and suffer'd for 't!
I chok'd him, as a villain should be chok'd;
As visions of stupendous wrath rose high,
And dimm'd his eye-balls!—from his strangling heart,
Rush'd up his throat, olympic guilt, and gaz'd,
With frenzy leaping from his throbbing brain;
Till, round about went swimming in his tears!
I gave this dagger to him, to defend his life,
And, like a willow twig, snapt from its stem,
Fell prostrate, trembling at his ugly self—
While I stood o'er him, like a cypress mourns,
Preaching his funeral, with exalted wrath!
And three times offer'd him this pointed steel,
Which he, as many times refus'd, with tears!
'Till natural pity overcame my hate;
And bade me earnestly prorogue his death.

Eud.
Thou did'st defer his death, to give me pain!

[Weeps.
Con.
No; my life shall be to yield thee joy.
I love to see thee weep such anxious tears!
They speak the language of a virgin soul—
Shed lofty fervor round expectant joy,
And make the pathway of my purpose bright.

Eud.
Then, why not cut the treacherous villain's throat?
Had I been with thee, he had died so sweet.
Were he within this proud arm's reach—this stroke
Should be effectual, and bring lowness low!
I'd tramp me in his blood, and smile with joy.
Did he confess, and own what he had done?

Con.
He did, my love: and like a frost-bit leaf,
Hang down his head, and valued not the sun.

Eud.
Could'st thou but raise the cavern of his heart,
In which, sepulchred lie, all fulsome things!
Thou wouldst behold it half devoured by guilt!
While here and there stands turbid, stagnant blood,
To torture and perplex his guilty soul!
'Tis then thou shouldst have given the final blow,
And hush'd the forgery of his vulcan heart,—
Where lie conceal'd, as in a dungeon cave,
All kinds of implements, achieving deeds,
Which villany would blush to look upon.
Oh! Conrad! once my heart was satisfy'd—
I thought the shadows of this life were bright,
And sunshine had made pleasant all my paths!

[Weeps.
Con.
Oh! Eudora! am I not thy friend?
Thy true—thy trusted and indulgent friend?
Would I not wend me to the mountains' tops?
Cut roads through forests—swim through rivers wide?
Walk day and night, 'till I had found him out—
Yes, would I not, for pleasure found in thee,
Leave all my utmost friends, and track him through
The sea, to gain one moment of thy love?

Enter Alver.
Alver.
The villain's gone—he's vanish'd like a ghost!
And thou hast found what I first told thee, true.

Con.
Then, Eudora! thou art happy?

Eud.
No!—no!

[Hangs her head.
Con.
Where is he gone?

Alver.
I do not know—the heavens doth only know!
Last night, beside his door, was seen a torch,
Which vanish'd into nought, and he went with it!

Con.
Where can he be?

Alver.
I do not know! I only know he's gone!
That is—I understand this from a friend.
As I am travelling far beyond the west,
I must be gone—and bid you both farewell.

[Exeunt.
Con.
If he is gone, Eudora! thou art happy?

Eud.
My soul hath made firm promise unto thee,
On one condition—that, is this, alone—
And if thou dost not take his life, I know,
Thou cans't not be my friend—I further know,
Thou can'st not bear up under my misfortunes!
And, if thou cans't not, tell me now—Oh! grief!

[Weeps.
Con.
What would'st thou have me do, my dear Eudora?

Eud.
I tell thee now, this hand shall ne'er be thine,
Until you wash my misery clean with blood!

Con.
'Tis done, as sure as said—but he is gone!

Eud.
Go—hunt him through the world's wide range!
Search ev'ry nook and corner of creation,
And let me feast mine eyes upon his blood!
And I will smile and be exceeding glad.
I must behold his life-blood on the blade,
And Thomas like, must touch it with my hands!
'Tis not because I love his blood, or thirst his life—
But 'tis, because he was unkind to poor Eudora!
Then cavil not at death—demur at nought;
I will not bear mistrust—it augurs fear.
I would not have a coward in my sight—
I do detest such bipeds, with my soul!
If thou dost love me well—then, risk thy life!
And manifest it in this injur'd cause.

Enter Alfred. Conrad meets him.
Alfred.
Good day, Eudora—Conrad! art thou well?

[Shakes hands.
Con.
Well, I thank thee—thou art from Frankfort, friend?

Alfred.
I am.

Con.
Then, what's the news in town to day?

Alfred.
Nothing—nothing worth your while.

Con.
That's all well.
And has no person left of late?

Alfred.
Not one.

Con.
Has not Alonzo left!

Alfred.
No; not he, I swear.

Con.
Then Alver's told a lie—'twas all a joke.

Alfred.
Joke or no joke, he's there—I must be gone—
I have some business in the west—adieu.

Con.
Then let him go—who cares? I do not care.

[Exeunt Alfred.
Eud.
Now, Conrad! is the time—the appointed time.
Get you a mask!—go, dress yourself in black,
And during the election, get him out—
Then, no one will suspect by whom he's kill'd!
But all will say the rival party did it—
The mob political—against his side!
Now is your time—this very night—'tis dark!

Con.
But mark—we must dispose of all we have;
That, when the deed is done, we leave the state,
And not procrastinate our speedy flight;
Lest, that prorogue endanger both our lives!
Then, I must leave thee to attend the sale.

Eud.
When thou dost come, bring blood upon thy dagger!
Dost thou not kill him, see my face no more!

Con.
I'll kill him, if he have the life to lose.

[Starts away.
Eud.
Nay, stay,—one sweet embrace before you go!
[Embraces.
May all success attend you to the end.
And when thou shalt return, with triumph crown'd—
I will be waiting at this gate, with smiles—
With open arms, to meet thee and rejoice.
Heaven bless you, Conrad! peace be thine, my love!

Con.
Once more, Eudora!—could I take thy smiles,
[Kisses.
They would be pilots through this stormy sea.

Eud.
Let not reluctance weigh upon thy purpose.
Be buoyant as a turtle on the wing.
Let future happiness illume thy thought.
Take thou, this dove into thy bosom's ark,
And lift thy expectation into bliss.
Had I a strong Herculean arm, by heavens!
I'd ride ambition with a lightnings' speed,
And furl him, with his foul companion—dust!
And thou, the Neptune to my soul's wide sea,
Should breathe the Adriatic gales of love,
And fix thy trident in his faithless heart!

Con.
The sunbeams of thy smiles doth vegetate
My heart—till vigour blooms my vermeil cheeks.
Thine azure lamps—twin born divinities!
Illume the sanctuary of my soul,
And turn this deed to sanctifying light—
While, from thy sighs, balsamic odours rise,
To waft luxuriance through my courag'd soul.
Perhaps, my love, I ne'er may see thee more!
And now, before I go, I would beseech you—
If any portent should retard my speed,
Be firm in mind, as love is infinite—
The best of Fingal's heroes speaks to thee!
He looks beyond this blue expanse of time,
Till distance makes diminutive his sight;
And not a thrill of pain disturbs the calm!
There hangs a solemn thought above this heart
This citadel of mortal life—beyond all bounds;
Which doth inspire me with a feeling so intense,
That infinite makes magnitude of self.

Eud.
Conrad! art thou as timid as thou seem'st?

Con.
I am no huge gladiator, without soul!
A man may have his purpose, and still feel.
There are strange mixtures in this chalice, life;
And, though I relish half, must gulp down all!
This firm pedestal, on the which I stand,
Will never hold a monument like this!
While hope o'ertops the pinnacle of thought,
And looks magnificent in loftiest flight—
The cloud of conscience has eclips'd my soul!
While nature, frighten'd, slumbers in alarm!
If I depart from thee—to-morrow morn
Shall wake thee with a dawn, unseen before!

Eud.
What!—after thou hast fastened on his heart,
And earth grow pregnant with his blood?
And meet it as the river meets the sea?

Con.
The overture may echo back the deed!
As thunder travels on, from cloud to cloud!
Good night to satisfaction infinite!
If this should be the sequence—then, good night!
Harmonious tones of wonderful despair,
Would drive out melody, and jar thy soul!

Eud.
Why steal from time, that which thou canst not pay?

Con.
I would thou had'st some instrument to play.

Eud.
I want no instrument, but thy intent.

Con.
Can fancy penetrate that mazy morn,
Which dawns on thy expectancy?

Eud.
My fancies tell me thou can'st melt that maze!

Con.
I am upon an embassy of deepest crime!
The angel's minister—but do no more!
And, in the night's profoundest solitude,
When Atis with his fond Galatea lies,
I will, on Ætna's peak, look down with fire—
The harvest of my hate is fully ripe,
And all his vintage trod beneath my feet!

Eud.
Lives there a desolation in thy heart?
Affection has a toilsome journey through—

Con.
Then, he must die! See how this lion sleeps!
[Feels his dagger.
This Morpheus has a lion for his pillow!
But, when, from slumber, I shall say, awake!
[Draws it.
The very strings of nature shall crack loose!
And then, the poppy that shall drowse his blood,
Shall make life's languid hold, let go of self.

Eud.
That sleep should be his soul's divinity;
The tribune be his grave—as I his slave!
And thousand times ten thousand devils friends!
Through all the dark compartments of his heart,
Shall darker midnight meet eternal gloom!

Con.
Then, fond Eudora! lov'd by me so well,
I will be dutiful to thee, who, lend'st
Unto my future life, endearment dear.

[Embraces her and leaves.
Eud.
Alone.
Now, I must bid adieu to joy again,
Until he comes. Oh! how I do mistrust.
I will not close mine eyes, this blessed night—
No—not until that sacred pledge be seal'd;
And this proud heart to him, affianced be!
Then, when the morning dawn shall wake to light,
My soul shall radiate misfortune's night.
[Exeunt Eudora.