University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Feast of the Vintage near the Rhine. A Gay Evening. Scene of a Vineyard, with a Rustic Festival. Baskets of Grapes, &c.
Rudolf, Herman, Conrad, Beatrice, Male and Female Vintagers. A Dance as the Drop-Scene draws up.
Rud.
Thanks, pretty maids!

Con.
Nay, keep the mirth astir.
Another measure, girls!

Rud.
Rather a song,
A merry song, to crown the vintage. Conrad,
Thou hast a jovial strain. The chorus of't
Begins “Hail to the purple”—Pshaw! that's wrong!
“Hail”—Why, the words fly from me! One that trips
Merrily o'er the tongue; and makes a quaint
And pleasant roundelay of jingling sounds,
Of “vine,” and “wine,” and “Rhine,” enough to furnish
A travelling minstrel or gay troubadour
With rhymes for life. “Hail to the”—Fie! fie! fie!
My memory's older than I thought.

Con.
I know
The strain thou mean'st.

Bea.
Thou hast a newer.

Rud.
Ha!
My pretty damsel, the new strain for thee,
As the new garment or new lover.

Bea.
Sing
The old strain, Conrad.

Song—Conrad.

[Ida enters during the Song, and seats herself at the side of the Stage.
Rud.
Thanks, Conrad.

Con.
Why the song hath saddened thee!

Rud.
Dark thoughts came with it. 'Tis some threescore years
Since I, a gay youth then, first heard that strain
Hard by the towers of Wittelsbach; and now
Those princely towers are fallen.

Con.
Ay, with the dust
Their pride is levelled. The foul murderer's curse
Rests on the land.

Rud.
There was I born, there wedded,
There my fair children round the household hearth
Sported, ay, and my children's children. There
My youngest-born, my fair-haired Agnes, nursed,
Herself a youthful mother, the sweet babe
Ida of Wittelsbach. I dare to speak,
In this black hour of fate, of them I served
In the bright sunshine of their days. Count Otto—

Con.
Why name the traitor?

Rud.
He was my liege lord,
And he is dead.

Bea.
Dead!

Con.
Ay, the deep Rhine covers
The regicide.

Bea.
Alas!

Rud.
The better, child!
The better! Who would wish him live?

Vintager.
Is't sure
That he is dead?

Con.
His cloak was washed ashore,
And his plumed casque and well-worn shield lay idly
Within a foundered boat. He's drowned.

Rud.
The better.

Female Vint.
And the young Countess Ida?

Bea.
Welladay,
For her, poor lady! Would that she were here,
That I might tend upon her!

Rud.
Rather wish
She were at rest. My pretty Beatrice,
Thou hast a kindly heart. An old man's blessing
Rest on thy head.

Bea.
What maid is this that seems
So weary? Take these grapes.

Rud.
She hath a look—

Bea.
This is the riper bunch.

Ida.
I thank thy pity.

Rud.
The tone, too! Pshaw! 'tis fancy.

Female Vint.
Beatrice,
We've far to go.

Bea.
Ay, and to pass beneath
The Outlaw's Rock, where Alice vows she heard
Unearthly voices, and saw ghastly shapes.

Ida.
The Outlaw's Rock! What mean ye?

Rud.
'Tis a cliff,
A ledge of cliffs a bow-shot from the Rhine.
A lofty rock, without a sheer descent,
Hollow within, and broken into caves,
A natural fortress, where 'tis said a murderer
Once kept his foes at bay the live-long year.
'Tis a wild legend.

Bea.
Nay, but Alice vows—

Rud.
Tush! tush! there's nearer danger! Herman saw—
Beatrice, thou'lt believe what Herman says,
Albeit my grandson—Herman saw to-day,
Not two leagues off, a band of archers, headed
By some great chief.

Ida.
By whom? by whom?

Rud.
Nay that
I know not. But one bold and lawless soldier
Were, to a fair young maiden, a worse peril
Than twenty phantasms.

Con.
Come! I'll see ye past
This dreaded cliff.

[Conrad, Beatrice, and the Vintagers go off. Rudolf is following them, but is stopped by Ida.
Rud.
What seek'st thou?

Ida.
But to change
A few sad words with thee. Thou know'st me, Rudolf,
The wretched maid that was so happy once,
Thy Herman's foster-sister. Oh, the comfort
To meet again a kindly look, to hear
A kindly voice! When yonder gentle girl
Spake in her gentleness, I thought this heart,
Which, 'mid oppression and revenge, seemed turned
To very marble, would have burst at the touch
Of her sweet pity! Bless ye! Bless ye!

Rud.
Lady,
Be comforted. Can thy old vassal aid thee?

Ida.
Not me, but him.

Rud.
He lives then?

Ida.
'Twas a feint
Of one who loves him to elude pursuit.
He lives. He bade me meet him in the cliffs,
Betwixt your cottage and the Rhine. But I've
Been watched, and tracked, and forced to linger long
Upon my weary way.

Ruo.
Thou cam'st alone?

Ida.
Ay; Isidore beside the Princess waits,
That ere she take the cloister vow, one prayer
For pardon and for mercy she may pour
Before an earthly throne. Alone I come;
And wearily must they, if still they linger
Within yon steep and barren cliffs, await
My tardy steps.

Enter Herman.
Rud.
Herman!

Ida.
Whence com'st thou? How
Got'st thou that purse?

Her.
The Countess Ida!

Ida.
Nay,
I'll answer thee anon. I ask thee now,
As thou didst cherish that sweet, gentle mother
Who nursed us both; as thou dost sacred hold
Pity and charity, and natural love,
How cam'st thou by that toy?

Her.
A little hand,
A thin, small, trembling hand, dropt it but now
From off the Outlaw's Rock.

Ida.
They're safe! They're there!
'Tis Ulric's. Canst thou guide me?

Rud.
Ay, he knows
Each track of the wild cliff.

Ida.
We'll go at once.
They're safe! They're found! Wilt thou go with me, Herman?

Her.
Ay, to the death.

Ida.
And wilt thou give me food
And wine?

Rud.
All that I have.

Ida.
Now blessings on ye!
We'll save them yet.

[Exeunt.