 | The Bride |  |
SCENE I.
Before the castle of Rasinga. Enter Ehleypoolie, meeting Mihdoony and two officers of the chieftain's household.Ehley.
Well met, my comrades! I have words for you.
Mih.
We doubt it not; thou'rt bountiful in words.
1st offi.
Thou never wast a niggard of such treasure.
Ehley.
Ay, but the words which ye shall now receive,
Are not the passing ware of daily traffic,
But such as in each list'ner's fancy wakes
Responding sounds, such, as from twisted shell
On sea-beach found, comes to the bended ear
Of wand'ring child; sounds strange and full of omen.
Mih.
What! evil omen? storms and hurricanes?
Ehley.
Fy on't! A stirring, tinkling, hopeful sound:
The ring of scatter'd largess, sweeter far
Than pipe, or chord, or chant of forest birds:
The sound of mummery and merriment:
The sound—
But wherefore stare ye on me thus?
List: I will tell you what concerns us all.
Mih.
Out with it then! for it concerns us all
To be no more tormented with thy folly.
Ehley.
Our Lord Rasinga wills, that we, brave mates,
With fifty armed followers and their followers,
Shall be in readiness by early dawn,
To march in goodly order to the mountains.
1st offi.
I like not mountain warfare.
2d offi.
No, nor I.
Mih.
To force our toilsome way through thick rank woods,
With bleeding limbs drained by a hundred leeches!
Ehley.
Fy, lazy cowards! shrink ye from adventures
Which gentle lady, in her palanquin,
Will share with you?
Mih.
A gentle lady, sayst thou?
Ehley.
Yes, ye dull dolts, I say so.—Brave Rasinga
Has with one wife, for a good term of years,
(Lulled by some charm of sorcery) been satisfied.
It is good time that he, like other chiefs,
Should have a first sultana and a second,
Or any such arrangement as becomes
His age and dignity. So, in gay trim
With our arm'd band, we by to-morrow's dawn
Must be in readiness.—These are your orders,
Sent by our lord through me.
Mih.
Who is this honour'd lady of the mountains?
Ehley.
Caust thou not guess?—The aged chieftain's daughter,
Whose petty hold was sack'd by daring robbers,
Not many weeks gone by. He and his daughter
Were dragg'd as prisoners from their ruin'd home.
In this sad plight, our chief, with Samarkoon,
The valiant brother of his present wife,
And a good strength of spearmen, met them; charged
The bootied spoilers, conquer'd and released
Their wretched prey.—And ye may well suppose
The lady's veil, amidst the strange confusion,
Could not be clutch'd so close, but that Rasinga
Might see the lovely face it should have cover'd.
Mih.
O now I understand it; for, methinks,
Rasinga had not else brought to his house
Another bride to share it with Artina.
[Samarkoon, who has entered behind them unperceived, and overheard part of the preceding dialogue, now rushes forward indignantly.
Sam.
Ye foul-tongued knaves, who so belie your master!
What words are these which ye have dared to utter?
Ehley.
My lord, I crave your pardon; I have utter'd
The orders which Rasinga charged me with,
That these (pointing to Mihdoony and officers)
should straight prepare an armed band
To take their way to-morrow for the mountains.
Sam.
To bring a bride from thence? Speak out, I charge thee,
Thou lying knave! Went not thy words thus far?
Ehley.
If they be true or lying words, I wot not.
What may within a guarded palanquin
Be from the mountains brought, I may but guess.
Perhaps some speaking bird or jabb'ring ape.
Sam.
(striking him).
Take that—and that—thou false audacious slave:
Dar'st thou to answer me with mockery?
[Exit Ehleypoolie sulkily, followed by Mihdoony and officers.
Manet Samarkoon.
Base sordid reptiles! for some paltry largess
And passing revelry, they would right gladly
668
To misery and wild confusion changed.
Hateful suggestions! base and vague conjectures,
That vulgar minds on slight foundation rear!
All false!—
And yet they are upon my heart
Like the compressure of a coiled boa,
Loathly, but irresistible.
A bride!
It cannot be!—although her unveil'd face
Was of surprising beauty—Oh how lovely!
Yet he bestow'd on her but frigid praise,
And still continued to repress my ardour,
Whene'er I spoke of the fair mountain maid,
With silent stern reserve.—Is this like love?
It is not natural.
Ah! but it is;
It is too natural,—deep subtle nature.
How was my idiot soul so far beguiled
That I ne'er thought of this?
Yes, yes, he loves her!
Loves her whom I so well—so dearly love,
That every female image but her own
Is from my heart effaced, like curling mists
That, rising from the vale, cling for awhile
To the tall cliff's brown breast, till the warm sun
Dissolves them utterly.—'Tis so; e'en she
Whom I have thought of, dreamt of, talk'd of,—ay,
And talk'd to, though in absence, as a thing
Present and conscious of my words, and living,
Like the pure air around me, every where. (After a pause.)
And he must have this creature of perfection!
It shall not be, whatever else may be!
As there is blood and manhood in this body,
It shall not be!
And thou, my gentle sister,
Must thy long course of wedded love and honour
Come to such end!—Thy noble heart will break,
When love and friendly confidence are fled.
Thou art not form'd to sit within thy bower
Like a dress'd idol in its carved alcove,
A thing of silk and gems and cold repose:
Thy keen but generous nature—Shall it be?
I'll sooner to the trampling elephant
Lay down this mortal frame, than see thee wrong'd. (After a considerable pause.)
Nay, nay! I am a madman in my rage.
The words of that base varlet may be false.
Good Montebesa shall resolve my doubts.
Her son confides to her his secret thoughts:
To her I'll go, and be relieved from torment,
Or know the worst at once.
[Exit.
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