University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

A Tent on the sea-shore: sun-set.
Wolfram and Sibylla.
Wolfr.
This is the oft-wished hour, when we together
May walk upon the sea-shore: let us seek
Some greensward overshadowed by the rocks.
Wilt thou come forth? Even now the sun is setting
In the triumphant splendour of the waves.
Hear you not how they leap?

Sibyl.
Nay; we will watch
The sun go down upon a better day:
Look not on him this evening.

Wolfr.
Then let's wander
Under the mountain's shade in the deep valley,
And mock the woody echoes with our songs.

Sibyl.
That wood is dark, and all the mountain caves
Dreadful, and black, and full of howling winds:
Thither we will not wander.

Wolfr.
Shall we seek
The green and golden meadows, and there pluck
Flowers for thy couch, and shake the dew out of them?

Sibyl.
The snake that loves the twilight is come out,
Beautiful, still, and deadly; and the blossoms
Have shed their fairest petals in the storm
Last night; the meadow's full of fear and danger.

Wolfr.
Ah! you will to the rocky fount, and there
We'll see the fire-flies dancing in the breeze,
And the stars trembling in the trembling water,
And listen to the daring nightingale
Defying the old night with harmony.

Sibyl.
Nor that: but we will rather here remain,
And earnestly converse. What said the Duke?
Surely no good.

Wolfr.
A few unmeaning words,
I have almost forgotten.

Sibyl.
Tell me truly,
Else I may fear much worse.

Wolfr.
Well: it may be
That he was somewhat angry. 'Tis no matter;
He must soon cool and be content.

Enter Ziba.
Ziba.
Hail, knight!
I bring to thee the draught of welcome. Taste it.
The Grecian sun ripened it in the grape,
Which Grecian maidens plucked and pressed: then came
The desart Arab to the palace gate,
And took it for his tribute. It is charmed;
And they who drink of such have magic dreams.

Wolfr.
Thanks for thy care. I'll taste it presently:
Right honey for such bees as I.

Enter a Knight.
Knight.
Up, brave Wolfram!
Arouse thee, and come forth to help and save.

Wolfr.
Here is my sword. Who needs it?

Sibyl.
Is't the Duke?
O my dark Fear!

Knight.
'Tis he. Hunting in the forest,
A band of robbers rushed on us.

Wolfr.
How many?

Knight.
Some twelve to five of us; and in the fight,
Which now is at the hottest, my sword failed me.
Up, good knight, in all speed: I'll lead the way.

Wolfr.
Sibylla, what deserves he at our hands?

Sibyl.
Assist him; he preserved me.

Wolfr.
For what end?

Sibyl.
Death's sickle points thy questions. No delay:
But hence.

Enter a second Knight.
Wolfr.
Behold another from the field,—
Thy news?

2nd Knight.
My fellow soldiers all
Bleed and grow faint: fresh robbers pour upon us,
And the Duke stands at bay unhelmed against them.

Wolfr.
Brave comrade, keep the rogues before thee, dancing
At thy sword's point, but a few moments longer;
Then I am with thee. Farewell thou, Sibylla;
He shall not perish thus. Rise up, my men,
To horse with sword and spear, and follow flying.
I pledge thee, lady.

(takes the goblet)
Ziba
(dashing it to the ground).
Flow wine, like Moorish gore.
Ha! it rings well and lies not. 'Tis right metal
For funeral bells.

Wolfr.
Slave, what hast thou done?

Ziba.
Pour thou unto the subterranean gods
Libations of thy blood: I have shed wine.
Now, will ye not away?

Wolfr.
Come hither, dark one:
Say, on thy life, why hast thou spilt that wine?

Ziba.
A superstitious fancy: but now hence.
'Twas costly liquor too.

Wolfr.
Then finish it.
'Twas well that fortune did reserve for you
These last and thickest drops here at the bottom.

Ziba.
Drink them? forbid the prophet!

Wolfr.
Slave, thou diest else.

Ziba.
Give me the beaker then.—O God, I dare not.
Death is too bitter so: alas! 'tis poison.

Sibyl.
Pernicious caitiff!

Wolfr.
Patience, my Sibylla!
I knew it by thy lying eye. Thou'rt pardoned.
I may not tread upon the toothless serpent.
But for thy lord, the Saracen deal with him
As he thinks fit. Wolfram can aid no murderer.

Sibyl.
Mercy! O let me not cry out in vain:
Forgive him yet.

Wolfr.
The crime I do forgive:
And Heaven, if he's forgiven there, preserve him!
O monstrous! in the moment when my heart
Looked back on him with the old love again,
Then was I marked for slaughter by his hand.
Forgive him? 'Tis enough: 'tis much. Lie still
Thou sworded hand, and thou be steely, heart.

Enter a third Knight wounded.
3rd Knight.
Woe! woe! Duke Melveric is the Arabs' captive.

Sibyl.
Then Heaven have mercy on him!

Wolfr.
So 'tis best:
He was o'erthrown and mastered by his passion,
As by a tiger. Death will burst the fetters.

3rd Knight.
They bind him to a pillar in the desart,
And aim their poisoned arrows at his heart.

Wolfr.
O Melveric, why didst thou so to me?
Sibylla, I despise this savage Duke,
But thus he shall not die. No man in bonds
Can be my enemy. He once was noble;
Once very noble. Let me set him free,
And we can then be knightly foes again.
Up, up, my men, once more and follow me.
I bring him to thee, love, or ne'er return.

Sibyl.
A thousand tearful thanks for this. O Wolfram!

[Exeunt severally.