 | Salvator, the Poor Man of Naples |  |
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ACT V.
Scene I.
—Naples.—Prison in Fort St. Elmo.Enter Giulio and Sancha.
Sancha.
What news from Rome? dear Giulio! From the tower,
I saw the Courier enter, saw you meet him,
Hold converse with him, question, and have answer!
What news from Rome? When comes the Queen to Naples?
And has the Pope acquitted her—and us?
Giulio.
The Queen's acquitted; that is all he knew.
Ne'er in the registers of eloquence,
Was such oration, as her Majesty,
Before his Holiness, delivered; so
Convincing and persuading, that at once
He spake her pardon, and denounced her troublers
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As under censure lying, interdict,
And excommunicate, if still resisting.
Armed with his sacred shield, she travels straight
To Louis' camp, his cause of quarrel judged,
And with authority bids him depart.
Sancha.
O, happy news! then all must yet be well!
So loved the Queen the Countess, loved her friend,
Her counsellor, one who betrayed her never,
Who helped her always, and with her experience
Covered the ignorance of her infant sway;
That to suppose she pleaded not for her,
With the like warmth, and with the same success,
Were to think slander! O, dear Giulio!
We shall rejoice! Yet, strange! did not the courier
Say aught of us?
Giulio.
He bore a packet, sealed
For the Chancellor, with strict command to speed
In his commission.
Sancha.
O, good Queen!
Doubtless, a mandate for our liberty,
She would not have delayed!
Giulio.
Hope, like the snowdrop,
Forestalls the spring, and dies before it comes!
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(without).
O, thankless infidel!
Sancha.
What cry is that?
Heaven! could it be the Countess?
Giulio.
'Tis the Countess—
See, where she comes!
Enter Philippa, followed by Terlizi, Evoli, and Balzo.
Philippa.
Remorse will cling her for it!
And charity should wish it, lest her soul
Die unrepentant, and hereafter suffer!
(To Sancha)
O, your fair innocence! We are betrayed!
High station is delirium, that from phantoms
Flees in mad terror, then, with frantic rage,
Stabs the true heart that was its only guardian!
The Queen has yielded us to death and shame!
She, who could plead so well to save herself,
Had not a word for us, save what condemned!
Thou art bewildered, girl! It makes thee senseless!
Hope, turned at once to Fear, congeals young blood!
Ha! Giulio! you do well to take her from me!
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For thine inspection! Is there murder in it?
Was e'er the wish engendered, will conceived?
Thou know'st it was not! She, too, must have known it,
Or ne'er known me, save as an implement,
But a brute sceptre, or mere hand that wields it—
No conscience to direct it—all blind impulse—
All—! Patience, Heaven! patience!—Nothing else
Henceforth I crave!—
Where is Sir Hugh?—What more
Contain the papers? I can hear them now!
Balzo.
The Queen neglected not to plead your cause,
As here is testified, with urgent suit—
Philippa.
I would not wrong her Majesty! Proceed!
Balzo.
But to the Pope told all, even to the point,
'Twas, by your father's counsel, she appealed
Unto his holiness, adducing it
In witness of his piety and yours,
That it might turn the balance in your favor.
Philippa.
What then?
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The Pope summed up the proofs—
Philippa.
As how?
Balzo.
Much to her wonder, thus:—The influence,
So strangely exercised by you and him
Upon the royal mind, was more of weight
Than other circumstance, and justified
The popular notion of some witchcraft in it.
Philippa.
Down, turbulent disdain! deep as my soul!
Balzo.
As for the further evidence, whereon,
From the monk's table-book, was sentence given,
The witnesses being dead, means were withdrawn
Of its reversal; it must stand confirmed;
Nay, and the Church required some expiation,
Touching her loss in their untimely end;
Nor could the Queen object to make return,
In common thankfulness, for good received.
Philippa.
Sold! sacrificed! O, impious merchandise!
Balzo.
How could the Queen reverse the Pope's decree?
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I thank you, sir! Why are you standing there?
You would not gaze upon our misery?
Or execute us with your own hand?—would you?
We have some minutes—half an hour—a quarter—
Ere we become the headsman's!
Balzo.
'Tis my duty
That makes me urgent. Nothing shall you lack
Of due observance. Wait, till you hear further—
[Exit.
Philippa.
I'll wait till Doomsday, when thyself shall hear,
Thyself, the Queen ingrate, the Pope corrupt,
The dreadful Trump that shall awake the world,
And summon, even from the unsounded seas,
The sinner to the audit of the Judge,
By whom each several cause shall be re-heard,
And a true verdict registered alone!
Terlizi.
Bring Sancha to us, Giulio!
Evoli
(embracing Sancha).
My daughter!
Philippa.
My husband and my son!
[They form a sculpturesque group.
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Extermination, and not punishment!
Tell me, seem we not now like Neptune's priest
And his devoted children, whom of old
Amphibiæ crushed, to type a city's fall?
Invisible serpents clasp voluminous
Our agonising limbs—they choke our throats—
And flourish o'er our heads their glorying crests!
We gasp for life, and see each other die!
In vain would save—in vain would patience teach,
By greatly quelling in the voiceless soul,
Pain too profound for any cry to speak!—
Insufferable pain! Shriek! howl aloud!
Else die of silence! Nay—we will be dumb—
Better to die of pride than crouch with shame!
Terlizi.
Shame rest on those who doom us wrongfully!
Philippa.
Shame nowhere rest, but be a wanderer ever!
This woe will soon be passed, then shall we rest!
—Wants but Salvator; then the tree were smitten,
With every fruitful branch unlopped upon it,
And all might fall together!— (A pause.)
Have you heard of him?
Giulio.
Not since the night that he was stolen from Naples.
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How like a mystery show they to my soul,
His coming and his going! Nature heaved,
As from earth's caverns she had cast him up,
To walk awhile her surface, and was troubled,
When she at first felt his unwonted tread,
Even to her centre; and, ere he departed,
Her expectation once again confessed,
As earthquake needed rive his grave anew,
To re-admit him!
Terlizi.
Wild suggestions these—
Philippa.
Truths, if not facts. The world to us is shadow!
We've not been of it late, and had to furnish
One of our own, where fancies show as things:
And since we soon must bid it now farewell,
Seeing it has deceived us, let it go,
As false; and charter faith to cling to these,
That still we may at least believe them true,
And, by imagination's healing power,
Set doubt at rest.
Re-enter Balzo.
Balzo.
I pray your pardon, Countess!
The confessor awaits you in the chapel—
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Which bends me low with grief!
Philippa.
I pity you!!
But ask no payment from you in like kind;
'Tis justice, not compassion, we require!—
We'll follow you.
[Exit Balzo.
Let us go in together!
And, like a holocaust, upon the altar
Yield ourselves up! Come, hand in hand, together!
Shrink not, good Giulio, from the spectacle,
But be stern witness of the sacrifice!
And if my father be, indeed, alive,
And ask you, “How we died?” Thus tell him, “As
Became the children of an honest man!”
[Exeunt.
Scene II.
—Bay of Naples at Sunrise.Enter Salvator, with Beppo and Ghino.
Salvator.
Go to!—Haunt me no more! 'Tis at your peril!
I warn you; ye are in peril, following me!
'Tis writ so in the stars; and here, besides,
In inspiration to my soul revealed!
(Aside.)
What mystic feeling wakes suspicion? Ha!
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Again I caution you!
Hence, as ye prize your safety, follow not!
Beppo.
Nay, men have found it safe to be with you in
greatest peril. We claim not to be less superstitious
than our betters. Moreover, we have conveniently
understood King Louis's discharge of
you, to include our own. And thus have we
reached Naples together. Why should we now
part?
Salvator.
I know too much of you for sympathy.
Beppo.
We are not poor by choice, if you mean that,
but bitter need. What you greet as a triumph,
we bear as a curse.
Salvator.
Then, labour—
Beppo.
That is a greater curse; and nothing comes
of it!
Salvator.
The greatest blessing, and its own rewarder,
Whether or no rewarded by the world—
Beppo.
Better be rich and powerful oppressors, than
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with no more to do than soldiers in time of peace.
We work mischief for the want of other work.
Salvator.
Patience is work! But ye would be wrong-doers,
Not patient sufferers! Yet, though slaves in soul,
Ye dream of freedom for your carcases,
Which means worse license than ye would suppress!
But yet misdeem not. I'm not poor by choice,
Though vowed to poverty from earliest life;
Had it been otherwise, I'd still been poor,
But not content. My rule made not my state,
But made me happy, bearing with an evil,
I could not change, except by dying for it,
Which if all did who suffer, they would end it.
But ye, so far from sacrificing life,
Would not a vice. Ye do a crime, and think
That Freedom gains thereby. But for men's crimes,
Ere long she had gained all! Thus ye retard
Her spring and summer, and no fruit matures,
For April winds have blighted bud or blossom!
Ghino.
Come! he grows serious! Where is Zeppa?
He might answer him—
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Why comes he not? O, Christ! that they should think
My cause and theirs is common!—Leave me, sirs!
As he, more prudent than yourselves, has done.
O, fool! that I should trust him to enquire
Of my imprisoned daughter! Comes he not?
O, that my voice might pierce her dungeon walls,
And hers might answer so! Now they but echo
Both hers and mine, and make us talk like madness!
[Bell tolls from St. Elmo's.
Toll! toll! and morn but just awake? toll! toll!
How heavily it booms upon my heart,
And speaks a signal meaning to my soul,
As 'twere a special sorrow!—Wherefore tolls it?
Beppo.
For execution of some forfeit life;
Some legal murder!
Salvator.
Say you so? I tremble!
'Tis from St. Elmo's tower! her prison-house!
Great God! should it be hers! O dreadful sound!
How sullen-slow it floats upon the air!
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For mercy! let it cease!—You've come—and look—
Why speak you not? Has nothing tongue and voice,
But that brute metal? Or doth silence best
Translate the dismal language, no lips should
Articulate to the ears? What of my daughter?
Zeppa.
You hear the bell?
Salvator.
Its peals are not for her?
Some malefactor—not for them!
Zeppa.
You'll know
Too surely, shortly. 'Tis their passing bell!
Salvator.
Let it peal on, till the strong turret rock,
And nod to its foundation! Hear it, Heaven!
And let the Earth hear thee! Thy thunder shall
Outvoice the blatant boaster, or the shock
Of lightning make it silent, while thou speakest!
Zeppa.
The bell hath ceased to toll! All's over now!
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(wildly).
Peace! still it tolls! but ye'll not let me hear it!
Peal on! peal on! Now it is mute indeed!
And hushed the air, as if the storm were coming—
And yet I saw no flash—and see no cloud—
'Tis the still voice that whispers to the soul!
Enter from St. Elmo's Tower, and descend the rock, Hugh del Balzo, Confessor, Executioner, with his axe reversed, several Monks, Soldiers, and a train of Attendants; with Giulio following.
Beppo.
He dreams—See—But the Tower opens;
—down the rocky path, the Chancellor with
his train wend hither.
Zeppa.
Look there, Salvator!
Salvator
(abstractedly).
Instruct my ignorance, what it signifies.
But there's young Giulio—they may yet be safe,
Since he is so!
Beppo.
Salvator! you'll have company. We'll leave you
now. They are not to our liking.
Salvator
(rousing himself).
Nay, stop! I have been slumbering!
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'Tis natural instinct works in them at last!
What, would ye sneak away? Can peril come,
Where I make safety? Though ye be criminals,
Would ye be cowards, when there's nought to fear,
Save what your fear may make?
Ghino.
Well! now 'tis too late to fly, and 'scape suspicion
—best brave it out!
Salvator.
Sit still, my heart!
Ay—ay—'tis best! Suspicion! Guilt!—Ha! Giulio!
Giulio.
I bring to you a message from the dead.
Salvator.
If Justice lives, they live!
Giulio.
Then both are dead!
O, would to Heaven you had come yesternight;
Haply, some spell about you might have saved them!
Salvator.
It might—it might! Then—then—I might have saved them!
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That we might part more kindly, ere she died!
I'll not weep yet. Stand by, sad boy! awhile—
I'd look upon their murderer—
Balzo.
Who is he?
Salvator.
Thou! Are they dead?
Balzo.
Even now they suffered
The legal penalty for their offences.
Salvator.
Thou art an unprevaricating liar!
Balzo.
I brook not from my peers such term! For thee,
There's but one answer! Thou art dangerous,
Nor shalt remain at large!
Salvator.
Set thy guards on me!
Yet think, the Queen still lives, and pledged my safety—
Thou art a most straight-forward liar!—bold
From despicable ignorance! erring still—
Void of brute instinct, with thy prey before thee,
Leaving it free, and making victim of
What nature never meant to be thy prey!
Thou hast slain the noble for a crime they did not,
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Nay, though they crouch before thee even now,
There, like a fool, thou standest, threatening me,
And bend'st no frown on them!
Beppo, &c.
Betray us not!
Salvator.
Ye have betrayed yourselves! Mysterious Heavens!
That for such worthless things as you, the virtuous
Should perish on the scaffold, and ye safe
Justice defy, though present, glaring on you
With her mock, rayless orbs! Why is she blind,
When villainy has eyes?
Beppo, &c.
Betray us not!
Salvator.
Ye have betrayed yourselves!
Balzo.
Guards! seize the men!
And but for the Queen's word, I'd seize on him!
This jumps with some suspicions late suggested.
Beppo, &c.
Betray us not!
Salvator.
Ye have betrayed yourselves!
I could not—I—not being your accomplice!
Assassins! regicides! my Daughter dies,
And not alone; but with a race as noble,
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Have suffered for your crime! Am I unnatural,
That I should care as little for their fames,
As ye did for their lives? Have ye no virtue,
Shall I have no affection? Be advised!
Need not the rack to make ye speak the truth,
And spare yourselves that pain—in hope the Queen
May, on my intercession, pardon you!
Who'll lead me where they lie?
Balzo.
Would you go in?
Salvator.
I would look on them!
Balzo.
Lead him, Giulio!
[Exeunt, ascending the rocky path Salvator and Giulio.
Better confess at once, as he advised—
Are ye the murderers of Andreas?
Beppo.
We are Italians—he was an Hungarian!
Balzo.
Who set you on?
Zeppa.
The Monks he had cast off.
[Salvator re-appears above—descends hastily, wildly, and awe-stricken, followed by Giulio.
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Look, he returns!—The sight has maddened him!
Salvator.
Thou, Sun! now rising, with thy greater light,
Blind these mis-seeing eyes! I had not thought
That they were headless trunks! From their poor bodies,
The beauty, crown, and ornament divorced,
Nothing but mutilated columns left!
Vision of ruthless havoc! All the forest
Of stately trees cut down, untopped and dwarfed!
'Tis well such things in secrecy are done,
Else might the ghastly sight turn back the Sun!
Balzo.
Justice has been too hasty. These confess—
Salvator.
Justice has been asleep, while Rashness waked!
Justice too hasty? She is ne'er too hasty!
So tardy—never here, but coming always—
She is a creditor that ne'er makes haste,
But lets her debts accumulate, and then
Collects them all at once! She's one 'gainst thee—
The blood of innocence will be avenged!
Balzo.
Those are the shedders of that blood—not I!
Lead them away—at once!
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Stay yet awhile!
Mercy with Justice, for the love of grace!
I ask not Vengeance!
Balzo.
I know my duty—
Salvator.
Duty!
To give that pardon which you need yourself,
That is your duty; while to seek it now,
I wander back. Hugh Balzo! if, without
The Queen's consent, you judgement execute,
Beware of retribution!—Giulio! come!
Be you the old man's crutch!—I reel, in sooth,
Beneath my yoke! Were not my heart too worn
To break, it sure had snapt! I do bear up
Most wondrously, and inly laugh to feel
How little sorrow can afflict my soul!
I am grown as young as you!—Come, Giulio! come!
[Exeunt.
Balzo.
Away with them!
[Beppo, &c., are led up the rock—the procession returns.
(Alone)
—Ay! this—this must be seen to!
Some way to hush it up; the vulgar should not
Carp at state-policy—which, come what will,
Sits far above the reach of error still.
[Exit.
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Scene III.
—Another Part of the Bay.Re-enter Salvator and Giulio.
Salvator.
Thanks, Giulio, thanks! thou'st told thy tale too well!
“Died like the children of an honest man!”
To me as such they have bequeathed their fames,
Their reputations, dearer than their lives!
Nor less to you, my Giulio! think of that!
And we'll be faithful to the trust, dear Giulio!
Boy, will we not? Nay, you have sworn! I am old—
And on the road may die—and then the duty
Thou must perform! Thou swear'st?
Giulio.
I do—I do!—
Salvator.
Why did I bring thee back?
Giulio.
To seek the Tower again. Perchance the Lazzari
Have prompt confession made. 'Twere thrift of time,
To take the record with us.
Salvator.
And right it were,
I too should enter, but the horror seen
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Their fames were killed, at least in me! Alone,
Speed, speed, dear Giulio!
Giulio.
Fast as love or thought!
[Exit Giulio.
Salvator.
Good boy! He's gone. I may not linger, nor
May here be safe. So far upon my road,
As I precede him, so much time secured.
His swifter pace will overreach me sure!
Droop not, old heart! until thine errand's done!
They rest—and thou shalt rest in Heaven, anon!
And place a spotless wreath their brows upon!
[Exit.
Scene the last.
—Aversa. Grand Interior of the Chapel of the Monastery.Enter Choir Boys, Priests, Queen, a Legate, Monks, Duke and Duchess of Durazzo, Bruno, Talano, Guards, and many Attendants.—They arrange themselves by the Altar, which is illuminated.—Solemn music.
Queen.
When, pious Legate! you return to Rome,
Forget not with your golden eloquence,
To set the jewel of our gratitude
In meet array, before your gracious Shepherd.
Against the vehement and savage mind,
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The sanction of his Holiness, your guard,
And our known innocence, suffice for safety.
Wherefore with great Durazzo and our sister
We have made peace; and sent to royal Louis,
That at this shrine we may consult together,
And farewells, ere he quit our realm, exchange.
[Flourish without.
Legate.
It is announced, even now he waits without.
Queen.
Admit him, instantly!
[Exit a Monk.
Your pardon, Legate,
If with him there be need we bear a state
Too haughty for a hallowed place like this.
Legate.
The need shall be the pardon. Here he comes.
[Flourish again, nearer.
Enter Louis.
Louis.
Due reverence first to sacred precincts made;
Then let my speech have freedom to approach
The acquitted Queen of Naples!
Queen.
Less of scorn!
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Scorn! More of it! Take Sanctuary here!
'Tis well ye do! 'tis where the Murderess should!—
Queen.
Murderess!
Legate.
The Pontiff has acquitted her—
Louis.
I crave your pardon! Has he so, indeed?
And so the righteous Hunger of my soul
May still ache-on, and feed on its own rage,
With appetite that's ne'er to be appeased!
Queen.
Would you appease it on the innocent?
Louis.
Who are the guilty? Be they one or ten,
Or be they backed with armies, let me know them—
My heart is more than hosts! wilder my wrath
Than men on carnage bent! By all that's here
Adorable, in shrine, or niche, or vault,
By rarest relic, or the dearest name
Of saint or hero, were he set before us,
Had he a thousand shapes, I'd quench them all
There—on that altar—as ye would a taper,
And with as deep devotion in the rite!
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Devotion irreligious—
Monk.
One Giulio seeks
Your Majesty.
Queen.
From Naples. Bring him hither!
So!—
[Exit a Monk.
Enter Giulio.
What now, Giulio?
Giulio
(kneeling).
Pardon me,
If I implore, that, even while I speak,
It please you, send forth messengers, to save
Poor old Salvator's life!
Queen.
Where is he?
Giulio.
Some
Half mile hence on the road to Naples—
Queen.
Go—
[Bruno and Talano go out.
Now speak!—
Giulio
(rising).
This morn, Salvator reached, at day-break,
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The execution of Montoni's race—
Queen.
Their execution?
Giulio.
O, the innocent blood!
'Twas shed ere he arrived! Too late we met him,
With certain of the Lazzari, lately found,
Whom he convicted, in the Chancellor's presence,
Of royal Andreas' murder. Here's the record
Of their confession, for your Majesty!
[Delivering paper.
Which to obtain, I left him on the road,
And lost him on returning. Long my search—
At length, thank Heaven! I found him!—Against a slope,
He lay exhausted, having fasted long
And worn himself with travel. Though too weak
To bid me hasten on, he scorned all aid,
Till that you saw, could clear the Countess' fame!
Queen.
This document, you mean?
Louis.
What news is this?
Queen.
I cannot read it! every word is fire.
Scorching my eyeballs!
[Handling it to Louis.
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(having read it).
Ha! your men, Durazzo!
Duke.
Safe in the Chancellor's clutch! What did he with them?
Louis.
Put them to death at once; stopping their mouths,
To save his mistress' honour, and his own.
Queen.
'Twas on his own responsibility.
Louis.
Even so he saith! A politic Chancellor!
(Aside.)
So much for that—but there is more to come
'Tween you and me, Durazzo? Suddenly,
I am grown calm! 'Tis well! the storm is brooding!
Here comes the old man too. I'll wait what follows—
Queen.
O, haste inopportune! But never more
Shall Hugh del Balzo be our Chancellor!
Enter Salvator, supported by Bruno and Talano.
Come in, old man! this is a Christian place,
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Whatever cause you've had, these walls beyond,
To doubt if, in the world, be Christian hearts.
Salvator.
A cup of water!—that my lips unparched
May speak a word or two. I am foodless, but
A crust would choke me!—By-and-by, perhaps,
I will take bread—not now! Some water!
[Bruno brings him a cup.
Thank you!— (Drinks.)
How richer 'tis than wine!
Louis.
Old man! when last
We met, you preached forgiveness to me. Can
You now forgive your daughter's murder? It
May be a virtue that befits your station,
But is not fitting mine. Nor will I, peasant!
Be duped of my revenge! Durazzo's guile
Has saved my brother's murderers from my hand,
To perish by another's. Lions brook not
To have their prey rest from them; Courage joys
To prove itself on its own enemies,
And not to dare by proxy!—Duke! what say you?
You should—you shall—be proxy now for them,
As you have made your Chancellor one for me!
By all of honour that is left to you,
I charge you, let us quit this sacred ground,
And freely, man to man, confer together!
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Go not with him!
Duke.
I must—I will!—or live
The scorn of my own mind!
Louis.
Ay, scorn's the word!
Nor you alone should plague! Thou, haughty Queen!
I quit thy realm, but leave behind my curse!
Thou'st spent a hecatomb of lives, to clear
What yet will ne'er be clean—thy character,
Of that suspicion, which the blood thou'st wasted
Only makes bloodier!
Queen.
Silence, rude of mouth!
Savage of heart, implacable, and fierce!
Louis.
I speak but truth; but, speaking't, speak a curse
That will cleave to thee! Take therewith my scorn!
Farewell to Naples! Duke! for thee, without,
I have a special valediction—come!
Salvator.
Pause! ere thou goest—Blood hath been shed enough!
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Louis.
Peasant, away!—
[Throwing him off rudely—Salvator falls.
Queen.
Discourteous tyrant! thus
To spurn my subject!
Louis
(to Salvator).
I hope I have not killed thee—
I would not give base blood the cause to boast
'Twas shed by a King's hand!
Salvator.
It cannot now!
'Tis sunk i'th' earth, where I must follow it!
Louis.
I cannot heed thee! Duke! go forth! I follow
[Exeunt together.
Duchess.
Are here the wise and prudent? nay, the holy?
Yet suffer this to be! My lord! my lord!
O, heathen tyrant! strange to all that's civil!
I'll follow, too! I will not be restrained!
Who stops me? You!
[To Bruno and Talano.
Attend me rather, caitiffs!
[Exeunt.
Queen.
My sister! stay! O most unkingly manners!
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Can that be she? Beat, my appallëd heart!
Or thou'lt be ice again!
Re-enter Talano and Bruno.
What would ye say,
Yet look as if ye could not utter it?
Talano.
No sooner, madam, had the Hungarian king
The threshhold crossed, than on the Duke he called
To stand, and guard himself; which ere he could,
He plunged his poniard in him, to the hilt—
Then, circled with his train, rode swift away!
Queen.
Support me, pride!—Go, bring the Duchess in!
Talano.
Close by the corse she kneels, and will not quit!
Queen.
How shall I know what is the right to do?
Would that I were not Naples—but a woman!
My heart would teach me then?—Ha! there is he!—
Salvator too! Go, raise him from the ground!
His Daughter was my friend—the dearest—truest!
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That in its petals bears a hero's name,
And disappointed sigh; my heart will think
Alone of her, and bleed with every thought!
—How is't with thee, Salvator?
Salvator.
Like the dogs,
Gorging themselves upon the carcases
Left by a city's siege, neglect their duty
And let the stranger pass—so 'twas with ye;
Ye were too busy with your own contentions,
To care for me, or Naples! Now ye've done
With havoc, ye have time to tend her peace;
For me, care comes too late!
Queen.
Too late for all!
O, the Hungarian tiger! Should we not
Have chained or caged him, ere he shed alike
The blood of peer and peasant? But the charm
Of Rome was on our person, we had fallen!
—Too late, says he? Is't possible?
Salvator.
His blow
Only anticipated famine's work,
By a few seconds. Prithee, move me not!
Some vital chord, cannot be seen, is snapt!
It must be, I bleed inwardly!—Weak—weaker!
166
Now, who would wear a crown? Uncrown me, King
Of Kings, and Lord of Lords—thou Only-Wise!
My brain is crushed with the dull weight, and I
Know not, if what I do be human, or
What else the heart should loathe!—Farewell to ease!
My duty 'twas to reign, and not look on!
Now have I none to trust, but am alone!
Henceforth, my realm to me, who would be social,
Though populous, a ghastly solitude!
Salvator.
Thanks—thanks—my head swims—lift me up—that's better!
Where is her Majesty?—
Queen.
Thou monitor
Of guilty princes! spare me thy rebuke!
I will atone all wrongs! be sure, I will!
I will do good to Naples, such as none
Could do before, or will do after me—
Attest it, Heaven!
Salvator.
'Tis heard! Fatigue,
167
Few words—but hear them!—for Death speaks in me,
And, like the phantast sleep, he prophesies!
Thou shalt reign many years, wed many lords,
And do much good to Naples, yet shalt live
Suspected and unhappy; and thy name,
After thy death, shall glory be or shame,
As men shall read thy doubtful history!
—Mine is the poor man's fate; to labour much,
Yet find therein no cure for penury;
Show skill at need, yet still be deemed unwise;
To be mistrusted even by those he serves,
To suffer for his need as for a crime,
Even when protected; and when not, to perish
Of negligence, or brutal accident,
And die—as I do now!—
[Dies.
Legate.
A requiem!
Curtain falls slowly to solemn music.
| Salvator, the Poor Man of Naples | |