University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Interior of the Banditti's Cavern.
Enter Arnold.
ARNOLD.
Would Herman were return'd! Howe'er disguis'd,
Discov'ry may ensue. I marvel not
His inborn feelings thus should work on him
To seek emancipation from the crew
Of wretches who surround us—hark! his signal—
Enter Herman from the Trap-door.
Hast thou partaken of the Baron's sport?

HERMAN.
No!

ARNOLD.
Thou'rt unfortunate.

HERMAN.
Unfortunate!
Call him unfortunate, who from the gloom
Of a dark dungeon mounts a princely throne!
Lament his fate, who from the torturing rack
Of stern inquisitors is borne to heav'n!
My triumph's greater far than theirs, my labours
More glorious, and my bliss more exquisite.
Brother! these arms have grasp'd an angel's form;
These eyes have gaz'd on more than human charms,
And in my soul are lodg'd a seraph's words!

ARNOLD.
Prithee be more compos'd.

HERMAN.
Impossible!
Composure suits not with a bliss like mine.
A tide of transport rushes on my heart,
My blood's on fire, my brain turns round with joy!—
Dost see?— (shewing the Ring.)


ARNOLD.
A diamond, lustrous as the sun.

HERMAN.
Nor sun, nor all the heav'nly luminaries
Can match her brilliancy who plac'd it there.

ARNOLD.
Was it a woman's gift?

HERMAN.
Aye, such a woman,
As may dispute the palm of loveliness
With rival goddesses, and win the prize.
I saw her hurried by her fiery steed
To the steep verge of a deep precipice,
Wherein to fall was death. Heav'n gave me speed
To outstrip her courser and to save her. Oh!
How sweet, how heav'nly was her smile, when first
She call'd me her deliv'rer! It pervaded
My whole existence; to my inmost soul
I felt it's genial influence. Oh my brother!
Cull ev'ry beauty which rich nature knows,
Add ev'ry charm imagination pictures,
Still will she far transcend them all!

ARNOLD.
Who?

HERMAN.
Ida!
Ida of Stolberg!

ARNOLD.
(aside).
Stolberg! gracious heav'n!
What may this tend to?— (To Herman.)
—Did I hear thee rightly?
Ida of Stolberg?

HERMAN.
Yes, my Arnold, she—
The paragon of female excellence,
The day-star of my hope—

ARNOLD.
Hath she then giv'n you hope?

HERMAN.
Aye—but 'tis such
As the wreck'd seaman feels, when o'er his bark
The wild waves beat, and 'twixt the land and him
The boist'rous surges lash th' impervious rocks.
She deign'd to bid me think of her—nay more—
She call'd me her preserver, glorious name!
And said she never, never would forget me.
She bad me visit her—

ARNOLD.
And wilt thou?

HERMAN.
Can I—
Can Herman, the vile inmate of this cavern,
Th' associate of banditti, visit her?

ARNOLD.
No—not the bandit Herman, not the inmate
Of this detested cavern— (aside)
—How it wrings
My heart with anguish to behold him thus—
(To Herman)
Herman— (aside)
—But hold—it may not be.

HERMAN.
What mean'st thou?

ARNOLD.
I have been thinking, Herman, if indeed
Th' impression made upon thy feeling heart
Be such as time or absence cannot change,
Means may be found to raise thee to a level
With her, who now seems so far rais'd above thee.

HERMAN.
Nay, feed me not with visionary hope.

ARNOLD.
I mean it not. Though fate appear to have plac'd
A barrier 'twixt thy tow'ring hopes and thee,
The world is ample; there are paths enough
On its wide surface that conduct to honour.
Thou hast a soldier's fortune, thy good sword:
Seek some more distant, more propitious shore,
Where as a stranger thou may'st win renown,
And prove thyself deserving of her love.

HERMAN.
There's magic in the sound! The glorious thought
Fills my whole soul, and goads me on to action.

ARNOLD.
Set forth. Where'er thy destiny may lead thee,
True to the bonds which knit our kindred souls,
Thy brother will be partner in thy fortunes;
With thee will he abjure these haunts of guilt,
Wash out the stain, which hath too long debas'd
The once illustrious name his lineage bore,
And re-assert the honours of his race.

HERMAN.
Thanks, my best brother!—yes—we'll go together.
Methinks already from my lab'ring bosom
A mountain is remov'd; my heart beats freely,
Through my whole frame with renovated vigour
My life-blood flows, already float before me
Visions of glory and propitious love!—
When shall our vent'rous course commence? To-morrow?

ARNOLD.
To-day—this hour.

HERMAN.
Agreed. But let me first
Revisit Stolberg's precinct, thus disguis'd,
If haply I may catch a parting glance
Of my soul's empress! 'Twould methinks inspire me
With new-born ardour for our enterprize.

ARNOLD.
Away then—but conceal thyself I pray;
Breathe not suspicion of thy present state,
But, hap what may, preserve thy secret.—Swear it.

HERMAN.
I swear.

ARNOLD.
Go then, and heav'n thy progress speed!

[Exeunt severally.