University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The Ruined Abbey.—Storm.
Enter Adelaide, with her hair dishevelled.
Adelaide.
Flame! winged angels of the rolling storm,
Ye blessed lightnings, lead me to my father,
Conduct my tottering steps—flash, burst the gloom,
And light my desperation. I will save him,
I'll throw myself between their gleaming swords,
And murder, frighted with a daughter's shriek,
Shall stay his bloody purpose. Oh! relent,
Thou tyrant death, relent a little while,
Stay thy cold potion from my sinking heart.
Alas! it will not be. The potent draught
Has chilled the lazy current of my blood:
It freezes o'er the fountains of my life.
But I will save him: one fierce fight with death,
One burst of furious strength. E'en now perhaps
The fatal point is turned against his breast.
It will not be! the drooping of my soul
Sinks down, and feebly languishes to earth.
[She sinks down, then starts up.
I swear by nature 'tis impossible:
He must not fall: he cannot: parricide!
There's no such thing: it is a crime so dread,
The blow would shake the universe, and rock
The throne of God himself. I'm sick at heart.

(Enter Lunenberg.)
Lun.
A deep-drawn sigh came lengthening on my ear:
Again: what form of haggard wretchedness
Heaves from yon sepulchre a tottering frame?
It cannot be: it is not Adelaide:
Or if it be, strike here: be merciful.

Adel.
(rushing up to him.)
And hast thou killed him? Is he dead, quite dead?
Oh! thou hast murdered him, for here is blood,
Hot steaming blood, it trickles from thy hands.
Didst stain thy sword with life so sanctified?
Didst look upon his face, and couldst thou do it?
Hadst thou no mercy on his hoary head?
Hadst thou a father? Was it not enough
To leave the child no refuge but the tomb;
But must it redden with a father's blood?
But speak: but kill me: tell me how he lies:
How stiff, how cold, how drenched upon the earth:
The winds all howling round his mangled corpse:
Congealed the gaping of each ruddy wound:
And the white sightless balls, up-raised to heaven,
E'en as they were, when in the pant of life,
He lifted them, and cursed me as he died!

Lun.
Hell take me down; for whatsoe'er is hell
Is heaven to this.

Adel.
Yet shew me where he lies.
Perhaps he did not curse me: he was gentle
And ever kind. Then, shew me where he lies:
Perchance upon his ghastly countenance
Forgiveness lingers in a livid smile.

Lun.
Grant, grant me that I never had for thee!
Charge not thy father's murder on my head:
Have pity.

Adel.
Then he lives: my father lives!
I loved thee, Lunenberg: heaven knows I loved thee
With all my sex's fondness, all its folly:
My heart was full of thee. Thy darling thought
Was in my bosom a perpetual sigh,
And wet my pillow with delicious sorrows.
To hear thee speak; to watch thy wandering eye;
To feel thee breathe, to touch, to look upon thee,
Was all the paradise of Adelaide.
With thee I could have wandered through the world,
Have thought it happiness to die with thee.
I could have borne each way of sufferance,
The pangs of scorn, of want, and poverty,
And loved thee better still. Beside thy couch
I could have sat a watchful sentinel,
When sickness weighed upon thy throbbing brow,
And wished its aching mine: and when you slept,
I would have gazed enamoured on your face.
Yet do not think that at your feet I lie,
And raise my hands in fainting supplication
To charge my injuries upon your head.
But if you ever looked on Adelaide
And half relented, while you see me thus,
If you can pity me, oh! spare my father,
Spare him! and though this wretched heart be broken,
Though I deserved another fate of thee,
I will forgive thee all: here I kneel down
And clasp thy knees: and spare, oh! spare my father.

Lun.
Oh! do not look upon me, Adelaide,
With such a meek and supplicating grief,
But start and be a fury: call the bolt
Red from the storm: arise and execrate!
Thy fainting form, that feeble tremulous clasp,
The tears that trickle from thy closing eye-lids,
Those lips where utterance vainly strives to move,
And dies upon the pallid quivering,
Reproach more bitterly than imprecations.

Adel.
Oh! I will die in blessed peacefulness,
Since thou hast pledged that soft benignant look.
The hand of sacrilege should ne'er be raised
Against my father's life: and Albert too,
Thou wilt not harm a hair upon his head;
For he alone, when I shall be no more,
Is left to assuage their sorrows. In his care
They will forget a most unhappy one.

Lun.
What here! upon a tomb! these tender limbs,
As soft as down on wings of cherubim,
Exposed to all the fury of the blast,
The sport of the contending elements!

[Draws his sword.
Adel.
What would you do?

Lun.
I would appease thy wrongs:
Then wilt thou say, that he was never yet
Who loved with half that madness of the heart
Which taught me first to wrong, and then avenge thee.

Adel.
Thou most unkind, to think it. Could not all
The fond devotion of thy Adelaide,
(Still let me call her so) Could not my heart,
That beat responsive to each throb of thine,
Inform thee of my love? But look upon me,
Look here upon this pale emaciate cheek,
Where once the rose had strewed its brightest bloom,
Look on the form which you were wont to praise,
Look on me now, and tell me if I loved you?
These tears are all my vengeance: live for me.

Lun.
Dost thou not hate me?

Adel.
Hate thee, Lunenberg!

Lun.
My wife! oh! let the fondest constancy,
Let all the purity of wedded fires,
Thou spotless innocence, thy wrongs repair.
Yes! I will live, and know the softest bliss
That pours its morning radiance on the soul.
With thee I'll fly where sound shall never reach
Of this vain world. The scorning eye of man
Shall never pierce the verdant screen of woods
Within whose bosomed solitude our years
Will glide, a lapse of unperceived decay.
In some lone island of the farthest sea,
Where spring for ever dwells, and every grove
Blossoms perpetually, will we seek
A beautiful asylum, and our lives
Shall wear as sweet an evergreen of love.

Adel.
Why this is fancy's cruel wantonness,
That paints the visions of futurity
Upon a winding sheet.

Lun.
Still is there hope
Of pure and hallowed happiness.

Adel.
Alas!
Yes, there indeed is hope of happiness,
But not upon the surface of the earth,
Amid the breathing regions of the air.
Oh! Lunenberg, it tears my heart asunder:
'Tis here, and now 'tis there: let, let me die.

Lun.
What pang, what horror deepens in thy face?
What strong convulsion shivers through thy frame?
Thou shalt not die!

Adel.
Support me, Lunenberg,
For I would pray. Oh! thou almighty one,
Let these last pangs, with which my toiling spirit
Goes forth to meet thy wrath, atone the deed
That hurried me before thee. I was wretched,
I could not live. O heaven! have mercy on me!
And visit not my crime. Protect them: save them:
Give back their country. Take me, Lunenberg,
Within thine arms; and then this raging fire
Will flame less fiercely in my tortured bosom!

Lun.
What hast thou done? An horrible suspicion.....

Adel.
I saw my father rushing into death.—
Encompassed with distraction, wild with ruin:
I seized a draught of death: who would have lived?
It is a sea of fire within my breast.

(Lunenberg starts back in speechless horror.—Enter Madame St. Evermont and Albert, bearing his father's sword.)
Mad.
I do adjure thee by the name of mother.

Alb.
I'll hunt him to the limits of the earth.

Mad.
What! here! before me! then I'm lost indeed.

Lun.
Who's he that with a loud and boisterous voice
Disturbs despair?
The death-bell tolls: come, listen to its peals,
Nor break upon the solemn harmony.

(Adelaide rushes up and seizes Albert; her mother arrests the arm of Lunenberg.)
Mad.
A mother sues!

Alb.
I'll rouse thee from thy trance, (strikes him)
thou coward!

Lun.
Coward! (He draws his sword, then flings it from him.)
Let the dawn of fame,
Bright as the rising of the golden sun,
Kindled with glory, let the page of war,
Let this attest it. (He rushes upon the sword of Albert: Adelaide shrieks.)


Mad.
Albert! oh my son!
I did not, after all my mother-pains,
Embrace thine infancy with half the joy
With which I hold thee now.

Alb.
Where is my father?
That I may render back this bleeding blade,
Misfortune's bright avenger.

Lun.
Thou hast freed me:
And whatsoe'er thou art, I thank thee for it.
How sweet a lethargy comes on my soul!
The blood that rioted now ebbs apace,
And passion's torrent stagnates. Adelaide!
Where art thou, Adelaide? This gushing life
Is all that I can give, in reparation
Of all the wrongs I've done thee.
We shall lie down together in the grave,
And when the sound of heaven shall rouse the dead,
We shall awake in one another's arms.
Speak to me: let the voice of Adelaide
Still breathe its sweetness on my deafening ear.
My eyes cannot endure the glare of light;
But I will cast a last long look of love,
And gaze my soul away. Where is thy hand?
I'll lay it near my heart. Oh! Adelaide! (dies.)


Mad.
Hide, hide me from that dreadful spectacle.

Alb.
Sure horror never swayed a form so fair!
Her eyes stream moonlight.
[Enter Julia.]
Julia, never yet
Was comfort wanted more, and never yet
It came more sweet and lovely!

Julia.
Art thou safe?
And am I blest indeed!

Alb.
If Albert's love
Can bless his Julia.

Julia.
Oh! poor Adelaide!

Enter St. Evermont, followed by Godfrey.
St. Ever.
Is't done? am I revenged? art thou my son?

Alb.
Receive the sword entrusted to my hand.

St. Ever.
I am again the Count St. Evermont!
My son, the glory of my aged days,
Thou unexpected succour of misfortune,
Worthy of France and her nobility,
Thou bright reflection of my warrior youth,
My stay, my exultation, and my son.
I gave thee life: thou hast restored my honor:
And by so much as honor's more than life,
I owe thee more! (he sees his daughter)

My child! support me, Godfrey, I would weep.

Mad.
Look on me, Adelaide, I am your mother!
Bend not your eyes on airy emptiness,
But turn them here, as you were wont to do
In happier hours. Look on me, Adelaide!

Adel.
Hush! hush! he sleeps: thy cries will break his slumbers.
I too could rend the air with shrieks like thine,
For there's a torch alighting in my brain:
But I'll not do't, lest he should wake. Look here:
He has ta'en my hand, and holds it to his bosom.
Does he not love me? Look: how calm a sleep:
Ha! here's a drop of blood: who has done this?
I do not feel the beating of his heart.

St. Ever.
Remove her from the corpse. I did not think
That there was sorrow left within the cup
Of my afflictions. This last drop is bitter.

[Albert attempts to remove her.
Adel.
You shall not take me from him. Help, there, help!
He is my husband! Wake, my Lunenberg!
They take me from you: wake! Oh now I have thee:
Now am I wedded to thee: who shall part us?
Who says we are not wedded? Let them say so!
I care not: let us fly, and mock the world.
Awake, and we will seek some far-off desert,
As lonely and as burning as my brain.
How the hot winds will blow: the whirling sands
Will rise in fiery mountains on our heads,
And bury us together! O my heart!

[Dies.