Alasco A Tragedy, In Five Acts |
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| 2. | SCENE II. |
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 | Alasco |  |
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SCENE II.
An open Country—the Castle seen in the distance.Enter Alasco, Conrad, Rienski, Braniki , and the other Chiefs of the Insurgents, with a body of armed peasants, shouting.
Several voices.
Alasco, and liberty—hurra!—hurra!
ALASCO.
Thus far, my friends, has fortune graced our cause,
And given good earnest of her future favors.
In braver hands, the arsenal might have held
Our force at bay, and in its outset check'd
Our gallant enterprize.
CONRAD.
They never dream'd
That we should have the boldness to attack them;
And when they found their error, we contrived
To puzzle them in their panic.
ALASCO.
Now, thank Heaven!
Each patriot hand may grasp a goodly sword,
And try its temper on our country's tyrants.
Have you supplied the different corps with arms?
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They're all provided nobly:—we've exchanged
Our armoury, for tools of better fashion.
Each man has match'd him to his heart's content,
“And now our war looks gay in golden hilts,
“Well burnish'd blades, and rich accoutrements.
“There was a rare assortment for our purpose;—
“Sabres to suit all fancies—cut or thrust;
“Ferraras fit to slice you like a cucumber;
“Toledo-temper'd points, to pick out life,
“Without a twitch, a wriggle, or a wry face;”
Guns, pistols, pikes, and poignards, weapons all
So rich emboss'd in curious workmanship,
It were almost a compliment to kill
With such rare instruments.
ALASCO.
An idle coxcombry!
But thus it is, we garb in gayest trim
The monster, War, and decorate Destruction.
“Befurr'd and feather'd—mask'd in pomp and show,
“The gaudy pageant struts, in folly's eye,
“As he were meant a toy for pleasure deck'd,
“And mountebank amusement.
CONRAD.
“O! severe!
“You would not, surely, mantle him in a shroud,
“And manœuvre him to the tune of a dead march—
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“Or trim his coat to the cut of a skeleton?
“No, no—our soldiers must be gay and gorgeous;
“Gaiety is the bosom-friend of valour—
“The very soul of war—the antidote
“To fear—the softener of ferocity.
“How oft, as to a ball, we've gone to battle!
“Without one ruffled feeling towards the foe,
“Save what our duty call'd for!
ALASCO.
“True, my friend!
“His generous enmity, and gallant spirit,
“Mark the brave soldier from the brutal savage,
“Who thirsts for blood, and counts his scalps as trophies.
“We fight to conquer, not to kill our enemy;
“And should appeal to war, but as the great
“Corrective of the world—the caustic cure
“Of ills too obstinate for milder treatment.
“But let the giant of calamity
“Put on his proper visage, and look grim,
“As when of old, in flashing armour clad,
“Or garb'd in grave habiliments, to suit
“His stern authority, and direful office.”
Enter a Guard.
My Lord, the chief, Malinski, has betray'd
His post, and fled.
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I thought 'twould come to this.
“When cowardice and cruelty unite,
“They're sure to breed a traitor.”
ALASCO.
Who have shared
In his defection?
GUARD.
Few of his own corps;
But some marauding stragglers from the hills,
Have join'd his flight.
ALASCO.
I would that every knave
He has left behind, might strip the patriot cloak,
And follow him. Such ruffian spirits taint
The cause of freedom. They repel its friends,
And so disfigure it by blood and violence,
That good men start, and tremble to embrace it.
But now, my friends, a sterner trial waits us.—
Within yon castle's walls we sleep to-night,
Or die to-day before them. Let each man
Preserve the order of advance, and charge,
As if he thought his individual sword
Could turn the scale of fate. String every heart
To valour's highest pitch;—fight, and be free!
This is no common conflict, set on foot,
For hireling hosts to ply the trade of war,—
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“What king, or priest, or faction, shall prevail.”
Our's is a nobler quarrel—we contend
For what's most dear to man, wherever found—
Free or enslaved—a savage, or a sage;—
The very life and being of our country.
'Tis ours, to rescue from the oblivious grave,
Where tyrants have combined to bury them,—
A gallant race—a nation—and her fame,—
To gather up the fragments of our state,
And in its cold, dismember'd body, breathe
The living soul of empire. Such a cause
Might warm the torpid earth, put hearts in stones,
And stir the ashes of our ancestors,
Till from their tombs our warrior sires come forth,
Range on our side, and cheer us on to battle.
Strike, then, ye patriot spirits, for your country!
Fight and be free!—for liberty and Poland.
[Exeunt
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