University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

A Gothic Chamber.—A Sopha.
Enter Imma.
IMMA.
He's safe! he's well!—Oh! happy, happy Imma!
He's safe! he's well!—Flow, dews of rapture, flow,
For much ye differ from the tears I shed,
Mourning my warrior's absence!—Yet is't real?
Is't not a dream, a charm, a fairy fiction?
Oh! Heaven, I fear it! Still then breathe, my lips,
To hush my doubts, those words, those heavenly words
—“He's safe! he's well!”—Hark! hark! I hear his footsteps.

LOTHAIR
[without].
Imma!

IMMA.
I hear his voice!—Oh! bliss too keen!
I faint! I die!— [She sinks on the sopha.]


Enter Lothair.
LOTHAIR
[throwing himself at her feet.]
My Princess!

IMMA.
My Lothair!— [A moment's pause.]

Art safe?—Quite safe, Lothair?— [Weeping.]


LOTHAIR.
Eloquent tears,
What words could speak your meaning?—Safe, sweet, safe,
And Imma's still, and ever, ever Imma's.— [rises.]

You ask not of Durazzo's fight?

IMMA.
I see thee,
And having thee, have all!—Yet say! Brave Guiscard....

LOTHAIR.
Is safe, my love; is conqueror of Durazzo;
And ere the sun ascends his mid-day chariot,
The hero's keel will bite Otranto's shore.

IMMA.
Blest be those words for Adelgitha's sake!

LOTHAIR.
E'en now I left her—Had'st thou seen her rapture..
Such tears.... such sobs.... while ever and anon
She thanked Heaven's grace too bounteous to its handmaid:
Then bade her damsels bring her nuptial robes,
Throw wide her castle-gates to mirth and feasting,
And still exclaimed—“Rejoice! rejoice, Apulia;
Your hero lives, has conquered, and returns!”—

IMMA.
Sure none e'er felt more love!

LOTHAIR.
Sure none e'er gave it
To one more worthy!—Oh! that great proud day,
When scared by Grecian sire and hostile myriads,
Our troops resolv'd to raise Durazzo's seige,
And thronged to gain their vessels! Swift as lightning
Flew Guiscard to the crouded port, and dashing
The foremost rebel back—“Turn! Turn!” he cried,
“Shame to the vanquished! To the victors glory!
“No flight! no refuge! no resource but triumph!
“Normans, you conquer here, or die!”—he said,
Then hurled a firebrand midst the fleet, and swiftly
Spread the devouring flames from ship to ship.
Each trembled! each turned pale!—Till each and all,
Fired by the hero's sire, with one accord
Brandished their swords, struck their broad shields, and shouted,
“Right, Guiscard, right! we'll conquer here, or die!”

IMMA.
'Twas bravely dared; but to my ears, Lothair,
The tale of war still bears a painful sound.
I see in captured towns but mangled corses;
I hear in victory's shouts but dying groans;
And think one flower from pity's wreath more precious
Than laurel-groves watered with tears and blood!
Your prince is great, is good! I own his virtues;
But still those virtues wear so stern an aspect....

LOTHAIR.
Stern to the wicked; lenient to the weak.

IMMA.
Ah! friend!—thy partial eyes......

LOTHAIR.
No, Princess, no!
Judge by this fact.—That day we forced Durazzo,
(While war yet raged, the streets all ran with blood,
And blazing towers crushed in their fall alike
The victors and the vanquished), mid the tumult
A fierce Varangian from its mother's arms
Had torn a new-born babe! Wild shrieked the matron
To Heaven for aid......

IMMA.
Alas!

LOTHAIR.
Nor shrieked in vain,
For Guiscard heard her!—To the tower he slew,
And while his left hand caught the child, his right
Seized by his yellow locks the wild barbarian,
And hurled him from the walls!—Next with his scarf
Did Guiscard bind the babe's slight-wounded throat,
And gently on its mother's breast replaced it.
Wildly she caught it, sank upon her knee,
Traced in its blood a cross upon its brow,
And called it—“Guiscard!”—Then his great heart melted;
His stout frame trembled, and I saw tears forcing
Through his closed helm their way!—By Heaven! I never
Thought strength so glorious, as I thought his weakness,
Or man worth envying till I saw those tears!

IMMA.
Oh! lovely act!—Hear it, ye saints, and shower
Celestial blessings on that hero's head,
'Mid victory's frantic swell, who still remembered
A conqueror's noblest office is, to spare!

MICHAEL-DUCAS
[without].
Where stays the knight?

IMMA.
Hark! 'tis my father's voice!
Dear friend, be wary!

LOTHAIR.
Fear not!

Enter Michael-Ducas.
MICHAEL.
Ha! Lothair?
Your mission, warrior?

LOTHAIR.
Mighty Lord, from Guiscard
I bring glad news; Byzantium's free! the usurper
Fled none knows whither, and the flag of Ducas
Floats from Durazzo's towers.—My Prince more fully
Details in these his victory.— [presenting letters.]


MICHAEL.
How, proud youth?
Methinks, Byzantium's Lord might claim thy knee!

LOTHAIR
[calm and firm].
Your pardon, Emperor; 'tis not pride restrains me,
But knightly honour.—Ne'er may Normans kneel
Save to their own liege-lord; nor e'er from me
Shall foreign king receive that suppliant homage,
Sacred to Heaven, my mistress, and my Prince!

MICHAEL.
Ha! dar'st thou, haughty stripling......

IMMA.
Oh! best father,
Unbend that frowning brow! He means no insult,
And though his knee withholds its show of duty,
Lothair would die to serve you! sooth, he would!

MICHAEL
[sternly].
Imma, retire!

IMMA.
Alas! have I offended?
Nay, pray you frown not, father!—I obey!

[Exit.
LOTHAIR
[aside, while the Emperor opens his letters].
In grief she goes! Not for the world's wide empire
Would I have drawn one sigh from that kind bosom,
Or been the cause of that ambrosial shower
Which dims her eye's blue Heaven!— [looking out]
—Still, still she weeps!
Gods! of what marble must that man be fram'd,
Who feels not on his heart like molten lead
Each tear, his brutal harshness costs a woman!—
How's this?—He stamps, and frowns

MICHAEL
[furious].
Thou strumpet Fortune,
Wilt thou ne'er blush to follow Guiscard's car
Chained like his slave? Still wilt thou shower thy laurels
On him, and none but him?—He won the battle!
He seized the town! He gives me back my kingdom!
Ere I accept his gift, may the earth open,
And swallow up that kingdom! May Byzantium
The day he crowns me fall on him and me,
And one vast ruin crush us!

LOTHAIR.
What can mean
This strange and sudden passion!

MICHAEL.
Hear me youth!
Dar'st thou be great, be happy? Dar'st thou merit
My daughter's hand?

LOTHAIR.
Great Prince......

MICHAEL.
I know, thou lov'st her:
Dar'st thou deserve her, say?

LOTHAIR.
Can man deserve
So bright a gem? Oh! if he can, say how;
Thou canst not say what I'd not dare for Imma!
Through Arab hosts command me hew my passage,
And plant the cross e'en on their Prophet's tomb;
Drop, where Charybdis foams, your crown, and bid me
Retrieve it from the whirlpool's ravenous jaws;
Name aught that's strange and dire; some wond'rous deed,
(So hard, it joins in one the Herculean labours,
So dread, its mention makes the hearer faint,)
Nor doubt, for Imma's sake that deed I'll do,
Or perish in the attempt!

MICHAEL.
Indeed? I'll try thee.—
I have a foe......

LOTHAIR
[eagerly].
He from this hour is mine!

MICHAEL.
He must not live.

LOTHAIR.
He must not, or Lothair.
Declare your wrongs, his name, and straight I'll seek him,
And hurl defiance in his face!

MICHAEL.
Rash stripling,
Thou know'st not what thou say'st! So great his power,
His rank so lofty, never may thine arm
Be raised 'gainst his in combat.

LOTHAIR.
What then would'st thou?
What mean'st thou, I should do?

MICHAEL.
Surprise him sleeping,
Plant in his heart thy sword, and Imma's thine.

LOTHAIR
[starting in horror].
Surprise him sleeping?

MICHAEL.
Straight thy crimson hand
Shall clasp my daughter's, and Byzantium's sceptre.
Speak but the words—“He's dead!”—Let me but see
Thy limbs dyed ghastly-beauteous in the blood
Of that loathed basilisk! that snake, who poisons
All my life's fairest flowers! that gnawing canker..

LOTHAIR.
Hold! Name him not!—What I have heard thee say,
Would now compel me to espouse his cause,
Nor would I gladly side 'gainst Imma's father.
Farewell!— [going.]


MICHAEL.
Stay, youth!—Reflect, a crown invites thee,
A crown and Imma! Wilt thou lose such blessings,
When one poor blow would strike them to thy foot?
Be wise! Be wise!

LOTHAIR.
Wise, say'st thou? Prince, I will be,
Since He shows wisdom most, who most loves virtue.
That narrow cunning, whose short sight ne'er looks
Beyond this orb and present bliss, perhaps
Might count these offers tempting—But true wisdom
(Whose prescient eye, o'er-leaping time and space,
Descries new worlds, pure joys, and life eternal)
This makes me feel, man's Heaven or Hell is conscience!
This makes me feel, that robbed of truth and honour
Life's charms are lost, and that if guilt's the price,
E'en Imma's heart would be too dearly purchased.

MICHAEL.
And could'st thou dream, that aught but some strange crime
Could make thee worthy of an Emperor's daughter?
Think what thou wert? A nameless base-born orphan,
Loved through caprice, and reared by stranger-bounty!
Think, what thou'rt now? A wandering knight, whose sword
Must carve his fortune, or he fasts for't.—Gods!
And must thou prate of guilt, and bliss, and conscience?
Must thou be delicate, thou, foundling, thou?
'Tis ludicrous! away!

LOTHAIR.
I hear, and pity
The man, whose pride it soothes to wound a worm.
Heaven pardon you, as I do! To the point.—
Proudly you ask me, “what I was?”—I answer,
—“Born to be that, which thou wert born to be;
A man.”—Again you ask me, what I'm now?
I answer—“that which all admire; a soldier!”—
Nor can I think, it blasts a soldier's courage
To own, he dares not do an act of shame.

MICHAEL.
A quaint excuse!—Vile thing! Such notions leave
The stock from which you sprang no longer doubtful:
Base were your parents, as your feelings base.

LOTHAIR.
'Twould sooner strike a generous mind, methinks,
Not what my parents were, but what I am.
You boast a race by ancestors ennobled;
I boast a name ennobled by myself.
Pure from all flaws, and sacred from corruption,
Read honour's patent written in this scar,
Received, while fighting by my Sovereign's side.
Who dates his line from Egypt's earliest kings,
May boast more antient titles, none more glorious;
Nor can a monarch's veins hold nobler blood,
Than flowed from mine in service of my country!

MICHAEL.
Hence, slave, nor teize me with this cant! I hate thee!

LOTHAIR.
If for such thoughts you hate me, Prince, I know not,
If most you merit pity, or contempt.—
But hark! the warder from the beacon-tower
Speaks Guiscard's fleet in sight!—I go to join him:
Yet ere I leave thee, learn this truth from me.
To love is happiness; to hate is woe!
And while such actions as deserve to win
Thy heart's affections, make it swell with venom,
Thou can'st not find worse foes than thine own passions,
Nor torture others as spite tortures thee!

[Exit.
MICHAEL.
Braved by this froward boy?—Shame and confusion!
Yet 'twas ill-judg'd to urge.. Now! now, Dercetus.

Enter Dercetus.
MICHEAL.
That portrait!—Quick!

DERCETUS.
'Tis here!— [giving it].


MICHAEL.
By heavens, the same!
'Tis well!—Retire!— [Exit Dercetus].
—Now 'scape me if thou can'st,
Imperious dame! This proof secures thee mine!
Yes! since I hold her secret, she'll be silent;
For Interest's chains, though fine, are form'd so binding,
Their strength can fetter e'en a woman's tongue!

[Exit .
Scene—The Port of Otranto, with an extensive view over the Adriatic Gulph. Citizens and Peasants of both sexes are grouped in attitudes of expectation.— Shouts, while the Scene opens; after which
Enter Lothair.
LOTHAIR.
He comes! he comes! Rejoice, oh! happy people!
Raise the glad shout, and swell the song of triumph;
Let choral melody and festive joy
Welcome the hero to your subject-shores.

CHORUS.
Smile Apulia! smile once more!
All thy grief and fears are o'er,
Guiscard's galley seeks thy shore;
Smile Apulia! smile once more!

[Here the fleet traverses the back-ground.]
FEMALE PEASANTS.
Valour now his strength reposes;
War at length has smoothed his frown;
Duteous Love with freshest roses
Wreathes the victor's laurel crown.

[The bugle sounds.]
CHORUS.
Grateful prayers to Heaven ascend!
Shouts of joy the welkin rend;
While in Guiscard's name we blend
Hero! patriot! sovereign! friend!

[As the Chorus ends, a galley arrives; Guiscard stands on the deck, attended by Tancred, Rainulf, and Knights—All land.]
GUISCARD
[springing on shore].
Mine! mine again!—Once more with conquering steps
I pace these sounding shores!—Hail, well-known scenes!
Ye rocks, whose lofty heads divide the clouds;
Ye shadowy groves and Gothic towers; ye ditties
Oft heard, and gales that breathe from orange-bowers,
Hail! hail!—Oh! what delight, our perils past,
To tread that soil we oft before have trod,
Feel at each step sweet recollections rising,
And weep for joy to feel them rise once more!

Adelgitha enters (richly drest) with Attendants.
ADELGITHA.
Guiscard!

GUISCARD.
My Adelgitha!

ADELGITHA.
Welcome, conqueror!
Welcome to this fond heart!—Oh! Heaven! how bravely
The warrior looks, from foreign wars returned,
When propped upon his sword with blood incrusted,
He tells his country—“Rest, loved parent, rest;
Thy son has toiled, and thou may'st sleep securely!”—
My Prince! my hero!

GUISCARD.
Nor at Bari's siege
Looked she less glorious, who descried the javelin
Aimed at her husband's breast, and rushing forwards
Received it in her own! Then....

ADELGITHA.
Silence! silence!

GUISCARD.
Then tearing from her wound the dart, she kist it,
Fainted, yet fainting smiled, and smiling cried,
“Happy she dies, who dies to save her husband!”—

ADELGITHA.
Blest am I that I did so!—Oh! that moment
Was worth my whole past life; nor would I barter
The scar that wound has left, for all the gems
Which ocean's waves have buried.

GUISCARD.
Noble creature!
How, how have I deserved so rich a treasure?

[Embracing her.
Enter Michael-Ducas, attended.
MICHAEL
[aside].
Aye, seize the present hour! Ere long I'll dash
Your cup of joy with bitter.—Hail, Apulia!
I come to thank thee; but so vast thy claims,
No words can pay my debt. Then pardon, Prince,
If scant the praise appears, and cold the feelings
Of one but little used to be obliged.
Favours less great, I own, would please me better,
And my soul shrinks to count my obligations.

GUISCARD.
The man, who boasts a generous heart, ne'er grudges
That bliss to others, which himself esteems
Purest and best; the bliss of doing good!
Let narrow minds eye with suspicious scan
The extended hand and proffered heart, still dreading
To sign some future claim for granted favours.
But he, who scorns such calculating views,
And makes his own the rule of others' actions,
Takes freely that, which he'd as freely give;
Makes it his creed “to oblige and be obliged;”
Nor dreads the weight of gifts he'd rate as trifles,
Were they conferred on others by himself.
Think thus, Byzantium! Nor is't much I give thee;
'Tis but thine own, no more; Durazzo's thine,
And soon the Grecian crown....

MICHAEL.
Oh! generous spirit,
Which gives a crown, as 'twere an orange! Shame,
Its fire should only warm Apulia's rocks!
Unsheath thy sword; drag from his diamond throne
Arabia's lord, and make his neck thy footstool;
Or crush some dozen sovereigns, and compound
From their joined realms one kingdom worthy thee!
Thou need'st but will it, and 'tis done.

GUISCARD.
No, Emperor;
I've nor the power, nor will!—Be mine to rule
Not kingdoms widely stretched, but justly governed:
Few be my subjects, so those few be happy;
And if their hearts are mine, I've realms enough.
What's large dominion, power, or wealth, or fame?
Love, love is all!—And oh! ye virgins, twine
Your flowery wreaths, and minstrels, raise your songs,
And strike your golden lyres for HIM, for HIM,
Who seeks no empire but his people's love;
Who fears no danger but his people's hate;
Who draws himself no glory from a throne,
But makes a throne seem glorious by his virtues.
Here break we off—
[To Adelgitha, who during these speeches seems to welcome the Knights.]
Best love, I marvel much,
You ask not of that danger....

ADELGITHA
[alarmed].
How?—What danger?

GUISCARD.
Thou hast not heard then....?

ADELGITHA.
Nothing!

GUISCARD.
'Tis no wonder,
For real merit's ever modest—Mark then;
Mark, and admire!—Hot was the fight!—Death ranged
Insatiate o'er the field, and his white courser
Dyed its mane red in blood. Groans, shrieks, prayers, curses
Commingled rent the air! Darts hid the sun,
And one transfix'd my steed. He fell!

ADELGITHA.
Oh! heavens!

GUISCARD.
Fell, and the usurper marked his fall! He reached me!
I saw his faulchion gleam! 'Twas rais'd! One moment,
And all was lost; when lo! a youth....

ADELGITHA.
A youth?

GUISCARD.
Sprang from his horse; bestrode me; fierce as guards
Her young the tigress, dealt he blows around,
Now here, now there, on this side, and on that,
Till his true sword cut through the usurper's casque,
Who on his courser's neck sank senseless!

ADELGITHA.
Gods!

GUISCARD.
Then fled the Greeks full fast! The stripling raised me,
Gave me his steed, regained Durazzo, scaled
Its walls, unbarred the ponderous gates, and bade
The Imperial flag stream from its towers, loud shouting
—“Reign, long reign Michael-Ducas!”—

ADELGITHA.
Oh! blest youth!
Oh! gallant bearing!—Tell me, dear my Lord,
What happy mother boasts so brave a son?
How may I thank him best?—Oh! name him! name him!

GUISCARD
[smiling].
That youth.... Behold him in Lothair.

ADELGITHA.
Was't he?
Oh! heart!—Was't he indeed?

GUISCARD.
He! none but he,
Whom Adelgitha placed about my person,
And whom she now must thank for Guiscard's life.
Advance, brave youth.

ADELGITHA
[while Lothair kneels to her].
I fostered, reared, and loved thee:
If thou hast cost me care, or ow'st me duty,
Thou hast discharged thy debt—
[She takes a chain with a cross from her neck, and throws it round Lothair's].
Still wear this jewel;
And while 'tis yours remember, when I gave it,
I blest the hour that you received existence,
Since you have lived to rescue Guiscard's life!

MICHAEL
[aside].
Now should she weep!—Right!—What exhaustless rivers
Must female eyes contain!

LOTHAIR.
I fain would thank thee....
But my full heart.... [rising]
—Oh! honoured, happy Guiscard,
I'll call from Heaven no blessings on thy head;
Thou hast them all, possessing Adelgitha.
He, on whom Heaven bestows a wife like her,
Whate'er his merits, must be still o'er-paid.

MICHAEL.
This praise so fervent....

LOTHAIR.
Can I praise her coldly,
When that I live, and that I merit life,
Are both her gifts?—Left at her father's gate
A speechless orphan....

ADELGITHA
[to Lothair].
Cease, nor blame that virtue
So nice, to hear e'en praise too warm offends it.
[Ironically to Michael]
Oh! Sir, 'twere excellent, did all like you
Inculcate morals, which like you they practised.

MICHAEL.
Such praise outstrips my merits— [Aside]
By yon sun,
I'll be revenged, insulter!

Enter Julian.
JULIAN
[to Guiscard, who has been talking with Tancred, &c.]
Prince, the council....

GUISCARD
[to Michael].
I come!—Lothair, attend me!—For awhile,
Farewell, best love!—Warriors, farewell, and trust me,
The memory of your faith shall live unfading
In Guiscard's grateful heart!—Well have ye served me;
And while Apulia boasts such sons, her Genius
(Though hostile myriads storm her sea-beat coasts)
Shall hear them threaten with a smile of scorn,
Then with her trident plunge them in the billows.
Those swords, which struck so hard in foreign lands,
Shall strike with tenfold strength to guard their own:
And here I swear, while Guiscard rules Apulia,
Still shall each soldier say, who draws his sword,
—“My country's free; my Sovereign's kind and grateful;
“His cause is just.... and yonder's One loves justice!”

[Exit with Lothair and Knights.
ADELGITHA
[going].
My gallant Guiscard!

MICHAEL.
Lady, stay, and deign
Some moments' audience:—but alone!

ADELGITHA
[to her attendants, who go off].
Withdraw.

Manent Adelgitha and Michael-Ducas.
ADELGITHA
[coldly].
Speak, and be brief.

MICHAEL
[hypocritical].
Oh! princely dame, unbend
That gloomy brow! thou see'st thy virtue's convert,
Grateful you've spared him that remorse, which tortures
Those, who pollute the shrine of female honour.
I've witnessed that remorse! That dying knight....

ADELGITHA.
What knight?

MICHAEL.
Some years are past, since at the chace
In Astra's wood I lost my way—Dercetus
Alone pursued my steps.. night's shades were rising,
When lo! a groan.... We hastened to the place..
A knight lay stabbed by robbers—“Come,” he cried;
“Strangers, approach, and while I've breath to tell it,
Hear the confession of a guilty man,
And vouch for his remorse!”—Oh! then he told
A tale so sad....! A maid of noble birth
By solemn vows seduced.... abandoned.... left
To shame and anguish.... Heavy at that hour
Sat on his soul her wrongs!—He charged us find her,
Restore her letters, paint his grief, and bid her
Pray for the sinful soul of George of Clermont!—
The tale affects you, Princess!

ADELGITHA
[endeavouring to hide her emotion].
Well it may!—
I cannot chuse.... but pity.... that sad lady.

MICHAEL.
What pity her, whose guilty heart has revelled
In wanton love, and pleasure's wild excess?
Perhaps, her slips of youth forgot, on others
Those fetters now she binds, she broke herself!
Perhaps she rules some fond believing husband,
Who thinks her now a saint; but when he knows her,
He'll throw her from his bosom like a scorpion!
And I'll unmask....

ADELGITHA
[hastily].
The warrior named her not?

MICHAEL.
Name her? 'Twas needless;—for the damsel's letters,
So fond, so sad, so full of passion! speaking
In every line her love and shame so plainly....!
This picture too.. though seventeen years since then
Have winged their flight, this swan-like neck must still
Be arched and fair; still must these lips of coral
Swell ripe and full; nor can these eyes have lost
All their dark brilliance—Please you look, fair Princess?
Nay look, I pray!
[Forcing her to look at the picture; she casts an hasty glance on it, and starts away in terror—He proceeds in a tone of ironical softness]
It seems you know these features?
[In a terrible voice, while he grasps her by the arm]
Now scorn me, if thou dar'st!

[Exit.
ADELGITHA,
[after a pause, during which she seems petrified with horror, looks round her with a confused air, then strikes her forehead, and exclaims like one in despair]
I'm lost! I'm lost!

[Exit.