 | Catiline |  |
64
SCENE II.
The Temple of the Allobroges.DUMNORIX, ARMINIUS, ETC.
A Cavern: in the Centre an Altar, with Incense, beneath the Statue of a Barbarian Goddess; a golden Axe and Helmet on the Altar; a curtained Recess in the Distance. Gaulish Priests standing before the Altar, with Warriors. They chaunt:—
Queen of the clouds! that mak'st thy purple throne
Upon our forest hills!
Queen of the thousand rills,
That fall in silver from the dewy stone!
Queen of myrtles, and the vine,
Dropping ruby on the snows
That diadem the Alps' eternal brows,—
Hear us, great goddess, from thy mystic shrine!
Upon our forest hills!
Queen of the thousand rills,
That fall in silver from the dewy stone!
Queen of myrtles, and the vine,
Dropping ruby on the snows
That diadem the Alps' eternal brows,—
Hear us, great goddess, from thy mystic shrine!
65
Break off; I hear a stranger's foot.
ARMINIUS
(goes to the gate and calls).
Who comes?
CATILINE
(without).
A friend to Gaul.
[He enters, with his robe on his face, and advances to the altar. He uncovers his face.
DUMNORIX
(startled).
He is a Roman!
[The warriors surround him.
ARMINIUS
to CATILINE (haughtily).
If you come to share
Our worship, welcome; but if you would act
The spy, you perish. No!—take back your news,
And tell your lords that we are still their slaves,
And meek as ever.
CATILINE.
I have come for both—
And yet for neither. I would join your rites,
66
What clay the hearts are of, that live in chains.
DUMNORIX.
Stranger, those words are dangerous! We are here
Sent by our nation with the annual gifts
To Rome, and to this temple; not to talk
Of things above our wisdom.
ARMINIUS
(eagerly).
Let him speak!
Words are not spears. Who are you?
[To Catiline.
CATILINE.
I'm a man!
And, therefore, I can feel for fellow men.
What would you give for freedom?
ARMINIUS.
Death or life!
CATILINE
(ardently).
For freedom, if it stood before your eyes;
For freedom, if it rush'd to your embrace;
67
To hew your chains off?
DUMNORIX.
We must hear no more!
Roman, we are free.—
CATILINE.
Free! and ye stand in Rome!
Free! and ye bring her tribute. Men of Gaul,
I know you to be brave—in honour keen;
Taking no slight, but to be paid in blood!—
And then must I be told, that—when the whips
Of tyranny are ringing on your back;
When you are taunted, beggar'd, buffeted,—
Trampled like dogs; like dogs you'd lick the foot
That tramples you? No! by the avenging Mars!
I know that you are groaning in your souls
Over your abject country. Where's your name?
Swallow'd in Rome! Your land its wanton prey;
Your throne its footstool; your old hallow'd laws
The jest of Roman prætors. Nay; your gods
Are none of yours! This image is Rome's spoil.
[Pointing to the statue.
68
ARMINIUS.
He speaks the truth. Sir, we are beaten slaves;
Mere tribute-payers; cumberers of the earth;
Cradled in fetters; bred and buried in them.
I heard a Roman say so once.
CATILINE.
And you—
Let him escape?
ARMINIUS.
Why, ay!—into his grave!
I drove a bondsman's dagger through his throat.
CATILINE.
Soldier, your hand! a hundred such as you
Would give an empire freedom! Will you strike?
ARMINIUS.
This is brave speech!
DUMNORIX.
Yet, stranger, where's your pledge?
We are beset with spies.
ARMINIUS
(advancing to him).
Who are you?
69
Catiline!
[They start back and gaze on him.
DUMNORIX.
The great patrician!
CATILINE.
Yes; an hour ago—
But now the rebel! Rome's eternal foe!
And your sworn friend! My desperate wrong's my pledge.
There's not in Rome,—no—not upon the earth,
A man so wrong'd. The very ground I tread
Is grudged me. Chieftains! ere the moon be down
My lands will be the senate's spoil; my life
The mark of the first villain that will stab
For lucre. But their time's at hand!—Gaze on!
If I had thought you cowards, I might have come
And told you lies. You have me now, the thing
I am;—Rome's enemy!—and fix'd as fate
To you and yours for ever.
ARMINIUS.
What's to be done?
70
The state is strong!
CATILINE
(vehemently).
The state is weak as dust.
Rome's broken, helpless, heart-sick! Vengeance sits
Above her,—like a vulture o'er a corpse
Soon to be tasted. Time, and dull decay,
Have let the waters round her pillar's foot;
And it must fall. Her boasted strength's a ghost,
Fearful to dastards;—yet, to trenchant swords,
Thin as the passing air! A single blow,
In this diseased and crumbling frame of Rome,
Would break your chains like stubble.
ARMINIUS.
We have fought
For Rome on plain and mountain, shore and sea.
CATILINE.
What have you for your blood?
ARMINIUS.
Flat slavery!
Lucius Muræna came as proconsul,
71
Prætors and præfects, quæstors,—dregs of Rome,—
Hungry as hounds, and merciless as wolves,
To gorge upon us.—
CATILINE.
And they left you bare?
ARMINIUS.
Stript to the bone!
DUMNORIX.
Our fields are desolate,
Loaded with mortgage and hard usury.
For wine and oil they bear the loathsome weed—
Nightshades and darnels, docks and matted furze.
The plain is now a marsh, breathing blue steams,
That kill the flock; the blossom'd hill a heath;
The valley, and the vineyard, loneliness;
Where the rare traveller sees but mouldering graves,
And hears but brayings of the mountain deer,
That come, unscared, to wanton in the stream.
ARMINIUS
(despondingly).
We have no arms! There's not a spear-head left
In all Helvetia.
72
(with ardour).
Have you no ploughshares, scythes?
When men are brave, the sickle is a spear!
Must Freedom pine till the slow armourer
Gilds her caparison, and sends her out
To glitter and play antics in the sun?
Let hearts be what they ought,—the naked earth
Will be their magazine;—the rocks—the trees—
Nay—there's no idle and unnoted thing,
But, in the hand of Valour, will out-thrust
The spear, and make the mail a mockery.
ARMINIUS.
Come to our altar. Drink the sacred pledge:—
There lie our kingly emblems, that we brought
[Pointing to the axe and helmet.
In bitterness, for tribute. They are yours;
Our blood is yours.
CATILINE
(taking the goblet).
Here's a bold health to freedom!
DUMNORIX
(interposing).
This is too rash—too wild. We must implore
Our native goddess.
73
Let your hymn be free;
Speak out your hearts to Heaven.—
Heaven scorns a slave!
HYMN.
(Chaunted by the Priests, &c. &c.)
Thou, whose throne is on the cloud,
Mighty Mother of the sky!
Clothe thee in thy darkest shroud,
Come, with terror in thine eye!
Stoop, a nation's cry to hear,
Goddess of the mountaineer!
Mighty Mother of the sky!
Clothe thee in thy darkest shroud,
Come, with terror in thine eye!
Stoop, a nation's cry to hear,
Goddess of the mountaineer!
On the hills our life is pour'd,
We have perish'd in the vale;
With our blood the stream is gored,
With our groans is swell'd the gale.
Tyranny has bound the chain
On our bosom and our brain.
We have perish'd in the vale;
With our blood the stream is gored,
With our groans is swell'd the gale.
Tyranny has bound the chain
On our bosom and our brain.
74
What has crush'd our ancient glory?
Rome, by thee the deed was done!
What has bid our chieftains hoary
To a nameless grave begone?
What has from its kingly stand
Smote the spirit of the land?
Rome, by thee the deed was done!
What has bid our chieftains hoary
To a nameless grave begone?
What has from its kingly stand
Smote the spirit of the land?
Where was once a prouder spear?
Where was once a bolder brow?
When Helvetia's mountaineer
Thunder'd on the realms below!
Never keener shaft from string
Tore the Roman eagle's wing.
Where was once a bolder brow?
When Helvetia's mountaineer
Thunder'd on the realms below!
Never keener shaft from string
Tore the Roman eagle's wing.
Goddess! give,—we ask no more,
'Tis the boon thou givest the brave,—
Freedom! in the Roman's gore,
Or in old Helvetia's grave!
Destiny and chance are thine;
Answer, Goddess, thrice divine!
'Tis the boon thou givest the brave,—
Freedom! in the Roman's gore,
Or in old Helvetia's grave!
Destiny and chance are thine;
Answer, Goddess, thrice divine!
[As the Chaunt ceases, a low sound of Thunder, followed by remote Music, is heard.
75
(to CATILINE).
That is the signal when the prophetess
Gives the responses. She's a wond'rous one,
A Grecian, from Dodona. She has slept
In the Trophonian Cave,—and stood, 'tis said,
At Delphi, on the tripod.
DUMNORIX.
Hush! She comes!
[The Curtains of the Recess open with a burst of light; Priests and Females, with laurel Wreaths, come forward to Music. Aspasia, the Prophetess, advances with an augural Staff, and crowned with Laurel. After a pause of thought, she bursts out into Recitation, accompanied by faint Music.
RECITATION.
ASPASIA.
Heard you not the earthquake's thunder?
Hark! the depths are rent asunder.
See! the Furies in their cave,
Sitting by a new-made grave:
76
Round their eyes of paleness bright'ning,
Fire their crowns; the outstretch'd hand
Sceptred with the funeral brand.
CHORUS.
Mighty Mother of the sky,
Hear a suppliant nation's cry!
RECITATION.
ASPASIA.
The grave is blood; a banner'd host
Are at its side,—plunged in, and lost.
A mighty people touch its verge;
Within the crimson flood they merge;
A golden helm, an axe, a throne,
Gleam through the tossing surge,—they're gone!
Through the cavern, laugh and yell
Shut the Furies' fearful spell.
CHORUS.
Mighty Mother, &c.
[Aspasia turns, and gazes on Catiline.
77
Who stands? The bravest of the brave!
He strikes! The Stygian sisters fly,
The gulf of blood has lost its dye.
In shadowy lustre from its tide
Arise the buried—purified!
Last gleam the helm, the axe, the throne—
And he is King—that glorious One!
[The Priests, &c. bend before Catiline.
DUMNORIX.
Hail!—King of Gaul!
CHORUS
chaunt,
Hail!—King of Gaul!
[Aspasia takes the axe and helmet.
ARMINIUS
(to CATILINE).
Now to the field!—The mountain horn shall ring,
And every Alp shall answer;—hollow caves,
And the dim forest-depths, and beds untracked
Of the eternal snows, shall teem with tribes
That know no Roman tyrants,—daring hearts,
Swift feet, strong hands, that neither hunger, thirst,
78
When the hills shake with thunderbolts, can tire.
[Aspasia lays the helmet on Catiline's head, and places the axe in his hand. The Chorus chaunt, “Hail, King of Gaul!” The Scene closes.
| Catiline | |