University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

—The Ducal Palace. A room overlooking the sea. Zilia and Lorenzo. Courtiers assembled.
Lor.
The crowd waits eagerly below to see her.
Will she not come?

Zil.
Still, in her robing room,
Impatiently submits she to the hands
Of her attendant maidens. Whither go you?

Lor.
I will withdraw me to the outer room,
And, lost amid th' assemblage, watch the scene.
I choose not yet to meet her eye in public.

Zil.
My fortunate son, I will not leave this isle,
Till I have placed your beauty's hand in yours,
And seen you happy in the latest triumph
Of your ambitious youth. Full hard to please,
My son indeed must be, if not at last
Content with fate.

Lor.
Content is not the word—
I know not if th' uneasy charm which holds me
Have more of joy or trouble, hope or fear.

Zil.
I think you are in love with her bright eyes
Almost as much as her bright diadem.
Is it not so?

Lor.
I love her—yes! and yet
Against my will—so often have I vowed
To love no more.

Zil.
Behold, she comes at last!
[Lorenzo withdraws.
Enter Gemma and Attendants.
Fair Princess, know you that your subjects wait
Eager to see you?

Gem.
Glorious, glorious sea!
Oh, world of wonders! and oh, greatest wonder,
That you should not be always wondering
As I do!

Zil.
Now your long, long dream is over,
'T is time that you no more should look and move
The wild barbaric fairy of the north,
But the grave, gracious sovereign of an isle
That humbly worships you, nor must you waste
The hours in raptures o'er the sun and flowers
Of your new realm. Wake, be no more a child!

Gem.
But I am ever, ever in a dream,
And ever, ever happy......

Zil.
Hark!

Nax.
(singing)

Zil.
Now let me lead you to the window—come!
Be not afraid! let all the people see you!

Nax.
(singing)

Zil.
Where go you, wild one? stay, my Princess, stay!
[Exit Gemma.
Where has she flown? as well call back the blossom
The wind blew from the bough! Fresh from the mermaids,
Be not surprised your pretty little Duchess
Has not yet learnt the civilized code of custom
Which gives the law to life. Hark, there's her voice!
I hear it from that grove of rhododendrons.

Scene II.

—The Palace Gardens. Gemma singing. Lorenzo approaches unperceived.
Gem.
(singing)

Lor.
Why will you sing these Danish songs?

Gem.
Oh me!
How softly you approached—I never heard you!

Lor.
A creature winged like Gemma can be caught
Only by cunning. Why will you sing always
These Danish songs?

Gem.
Because I know no others—
I learnt them from the mermaids—and besides
You mock my accent when I try Venetian—
Now sing to me.

Lor.
The only songs I know
Are sad ones, and bring back sad memories—
I have no joy in music.

Gem.
Ah, how strange!
Do all sweet things then pain you?

Lor.
'T is my nature.
E'en when I stand before a happy future,
The past is always lingering in the background,
And fascinates mine eyes, 'spite of myself.

Gem.
Are you unhappy then? now, even now?

Lor.
Yes, now, sweet Princess.

Gem.
Why?

Lor.
Because I know not
If you would miss me were I now to leave you,
And never more return.

Gem.
You leave me! you!

Lor.
Sweet Gemma, if you bid me, I will stay.

Gem.
What should I do, how live, if you were gone?

Lor.
So cruel am I, I could almost go,
To have the joy of knowing that you missed me.

Gem.
How strange I missed you not before I knew you?

Lor.
See, you were like that wreathing trumpet-flower
Which loiters idly o'er the balustrade,
Till it has found yon cypress, round whose spires
It clings with all its blossoms. And, in truth,
That moment when I lifted from your brow,
With such a beating heart, the magic wreath,
And the clear, sea-like purple of your eyes,
Dawned dazzlingly upon your startled face,
You seemed in me to find the thing you sought—
Methought your blush was like a half-shy child's
That hides its face and smiles. It was as if
You had been dreaming of me all the time,
And were but half awake.

Gem.
And so I was!
Oh, had I words to tell you how I felt,
That moment in my life's eventless story,
Which flashed upon me its first novelty.
It seizes on me suddenly again—
Whene'er I see you unawares—as 't were
For the first time—that flash of warm blue sea
Beyond the balcony, seen through green leaves
As through a bower; the curving mountain side,
The strange rich colouring spread o'er its broad canvass;
The hot and perfumed sunshine, and all round
The softened uproar of a crowd of bells—
And you yourself—you smiled on me so sweetly,
And said such strangely sweet and graceful things...
I loved you from that moment without knowing it.

Lor.
And I had loved you long before it. Oh!
How anxiously, impatiently, I watched you!
Whene'er I passed in sight of land, there came
A restless dread lest other eyes should catch
A glimpse of my one treasure!

Gem.
But how was it
You took such pains to seek and carry off
A bride you had not seen?

Lor.
'T was an adventure
Which roused the fancy of a man just then
Weary of all he saw. Had you been guarded
By all the boisterous giants of Valhalla,
I should have ventured still. Yet, when I neared
Fulfilment of my aim, my mind misgave me—
Shall I confess it, Gemma? I began
To tremble lest the hidden gem of Zetland
Should prove not worth the outlay of such hopes,
Lest you should prove unlovely, soulless, cold,
Or anything, in truth, but what you are.

Gem.
And how soon were you reassured in me?

Lor.
The moment I first saw that sleeping face.
Yet, oft and oft, as I walked up and down,
The thought you might not love me, so oppressed me,
I almost could have snatched you in my arms,
And flung you still unconscious to the waves,
Rather than wait my fate.

Gem.
Oh could you doubt it?
What strange and dreadful things you say with smiles!
And had I died in truth, when all but you
Thought me a corpse—died ere my life began,
Known no existence but that twilight world!
Like a chill blast as from my funeral vault,
Comes the remembrance back to me e'en now,
That I was happy—oh, but tell me, will you
Love me as Harold did?

Lor.
Far more, believe me,
And with a love less selfish. You shall be
The centre here of an adoring world—
Knights, poets, artists shall be privileged
To circle round my star, and carry back
Its image to the tented battle-field,
Or dream it into poetry and painting.
But tell me, in my turn, will you love me
As you loved Harold?

Gem.
Oh, a thousand times more!

Lor.
But still you loved him?

Gem.
As a child its guardian,
Or, as an elder brother. For the rest,
So far away, so long ago seems now
The life that was, I but remember it
As a tale told to me, and scarce believe
That Gemma was myself.

Lor.
Forget her then,
And say once more, you love me most.

Gem.
Oh, yes!
I could no more have dreamed such love as this
From what I felt for him, than I could guess—
When sometimes he would bring me, for a token,
The dried-up effigy of a thing that bloomed
In some strange, hazardous spot, some mountain fastness,
Or palace garden of his enemies—
How to restore from thence the living flower,
Or from that single flower to realise
The multitudinous glow, the mingled perfume
Of nature's sumptuous nosegay, which this isle
Holds in her happy hands.

Lor.
Thrice-fortunate he
Who opened, ere too late, your dungeon door!
Now you are come into the world for which
You were created, nor less welcome there
Because some dewdrops from a colder clime
Still linger, to our fancies, on your beauty.
You have the generous ardour of the south,
Born in you with those deep Venetian eyes,
And the sweet northern sensibility,
Taught in a pale and melancholy land—
But only here could you be understood,
There your rich sparkling fancies, and fond yearnings
Would have found no companion—I can read them
As easily as I count this rose's petals!
You are to me no mystery—to be first
Worshipped and wondered at, then wearied of—
Rather the favourite poem which we read
A thousand times, and fancy we alone
Take all the measure of its genius—oh,
What poem like the heart of her we love!
Come, let us pace beneath these trelliced vines!

[They wander away together.

Scene III.

—A Gallery in the Palace, hung with portraits. Zilia and Gemma.
Zil.
A little longer must I claim your patience,
My wild young pupil! I have shown you, here,
The grimmest of your far-off ancestors,
Nor will I blame you much for gazing on them
With but cold admiration. Now I bid you
Look closer at this one. What think you of it?
Is it too stern for you? To me it seems
The proud and perfect image of a prince—
A head imperial with its raven hair,
Its glittering eyes, its swarthy, care-worn cheek—
Peerless alike in court and battle-field.
How would your rude sea-giant look beside him,
With club or battle-axe and streaming locks?
How does this portrait strike you?

Gem.
Oh! I love it,
It looks so great and good!

Zil.
And these two youths,
So fiercely beautiful! Look close, my Gemma,
And say which pleases you the most—this one,
With lips of smiling scorn and wild bright eyes,
Or that one's sterner fire?

Gem.
Who, then, are these?
Are all these three my kindred?

Zil.
Even so!
This is your father! Did you ne'er remember
You had a father? How you tremble! Come!
You must have courage to hear more—these twain
Are your two brothers.

Gem.
Had I brothers, too?

Zil.
You would have loved them had they still been living—
Is it not so?

Gem.
When did they die? How was it,
I wonder, I was never told of them?

Zil.
They died all in one day, whilst you were still
A happy child in Naxos. Noble boys!
They loved you dearly. It was Marco first
That called you in his joy, when you were born,
The gem of Naxos—so the very name
You bear this day is a love-gift from him.
And Carlo took you in his arms and vow'd
To be your knight for ever.

Gem.
And both dead!

Zil.
Both dead indeed, my Gemma! The brave pair
Fell by their father's side, fighting for him—
Fell where he fell, by the same savage hand.

Gem.
Alas! by whose? Who was so cruel?

Zil.
Ah!
It was a day of agony in Naxos,
When the invader on its gardens burst
With steel and flame, and left, when all was over,
Such desolation as your eyes, in love
With your own lovely isle, would turn away from,
With sad abhorrence—overhead, unchanged
The glare of sun and sky, and on the earth,
Ashes, and tumbled stones, and trampled vines,
Widows and orphans seeking for the slain,
Cries of despair, and all the land aghast
For its brave line of princes swept away.

Gem.
And what became of me?

Zil.
You were amongst
The number of the captives. Now you guess
Who was the pirate that destroyed your race?

Gem.
Oh, tell me!

Zil.
One you loved.

Gem.
Whom can you mean?

Zil.
Whom but your sea-king, Harold?

Gem.
Never, never!
Oh, now I know you are jesting!

Zil.
'T is sad earnest.

Gem.
It could not be—indeed, you are mistaken,
You do not know how kind he was, how gentle.

Zil.
Gentle to you, no doubt! who would not be?
And yet this gentle pirate was the scourge
Of many a lovely shore—the dread and hate
Of many a town and village! He it was—
He and no other, smote your happy home,
And stole you from it with his blood stained-hands.
What say you to him now?

Gem.
I am so bewildered!
I cannot understand......

Zil.
Yet, by this cheek
Whose glowing rose is changed to a white flower,
Those tresses trembling to your heart's quick throbs,
As to the wind, I think you do believe it.
Why should you wonder that a savage Dane,
Whose breath of life is piracy and slaughter,
Should act after his kind? Tell me you hate him!

Gem.
All through those years I recall nought but kindness......
Oh, if you had but seen him that last morn
When I would needs rush forth in the cold storm,
To watch from the cliff-edge the riotous sea!
How close he wrapped me in his bearskin cloak,
And held me safely with his iron arm,
That I might lean far down and gaze my fill,
And when I broke away from him and laughed,
Whilst the wind blew me towards the crumbling brink,
And back he snatched me in a haste of horror,
And they all laughed, Thorbrand and all of them,
Their great, deep, northern laughter—all but he—
How his lip trembled whilst he chided me,
Sadly, not angrily! oh, he did love me!
And they all loved me—all the northmen loved me!

Zil.
A pretty tale, my pretty little Gemma!
But still, you must not love him.

Enter Lorenzo.
Zil.
Come, Lorenzo!
Console your Princess, for these by-gone woes
Her heart and eyes have melted so to hear of,
And teach her to believe her favourite pirate
Was worthier far of hate than tenderness.
She thinks because he loved her lovely self
He loved too all mankind.

[Exit.
Lor.
You love him still, then?

Gem.
No, I love you!

Lor.
And, if you make me rich
With such a love—love to my heart as sweet
As the first perfumed breezes of the land
To weary sailors—generous as the streams
That pour their all into a thankless sea,
But, not like them, unthanked—then must I be
Your faithful guardian from your enemy,
And you must never, from this time, forget
He is your enemy.

Gem.
I shall remember
Only that I love you. And as for him—
I shall forget to think of him. Poor Harold!
He thinks me dead, and he is mourning for me,
E'en now, I know it well! but, since the past
Is only horror, why should I recall it?

Lor.
And yet, so strong the spell of an old love,
How know I, if he stood before you there,
The horror would not vanish like a dream,
And you again become in heart the bride
He destined you to be.

Gem.
His bride, Lorenzo!
Not bride—he never meant me for his bride!
I was to him a child, a favourite sister—
You would make me laugh, but that you make me weep.
Vex me no more.

Lor.
I will not, when you 've vowed
Never to be his bride—never to be
Another's bride but mine.

Gem.
No, never, never!

Scene IV.

—Night. A festival in the Palace Gardens.
Enter Lioni and Querini.
Lio.
What think you of this scene? oh, youth like yours,
Youth of both knight and poet, should methinks
Leap up, on fire to greet the bright wild chance
That brought this lovely child to be our queen!
What think you of our Gemma's festival?

Quer.
I think a jubilee more beautiful
Made never yet a fairy-dance of night!
Those lights in fiery dewdrops sprinkled o'er
The mounded gloom of foliage—the soft noise
Of talk and laughter, so mysteriously
Crowding the garden-darkness—nightingales
Bursting with rapture into every silence
That falls by fits upon the perfumed hour—
The hidden harpings out of bowery nooks—
And songs made sad by distance, swelling up
From yonder happy shore, in all its length
One frenzy of Romaikas—

Lio.
Nay, look there!
A few steps to the right of these tall laurels,
And there you see her on that cedar mound,
Enthroned in a wide blaze of light, above
That ring of bright-robed creatures on the turf.
Ay, there 's the graceful consort of the Doge
Beside her darling Princess—at her feet
The Doge's happy son.

Quer.
Happy indeed!
Oh, it is beautiful—too beautiful!
And my heart aches before the luminous vision,
As at the closed gates of a paradise,
Not lost, but never entered.

Lio.
What sad words
Are these I hear you murmuring to yourself?—
She rises!

Quer.
And with all her shining train
Sweeps in a stream of light back to the palace.
She 's gone—the festival is closed for me,
And yet these idle revellers remain,
Unconscious that their star has left the sky.

Lio.
Come, let us wander to a lower terrace,
Whence we can watch the dancers on the shore.
'T will bring me back a hundred joys of youth,
Our island's gloom so long had made to me
A bitter recollection. Let us listen
To this up-floating strain, so sweetly loud.


Song from below.

Quer.
Hark, hark, what shrieks! that is no sound of mirth!

Lio.
What strange disaster, what new horror's this?

Quer.
I 'll to the beach and see.

Lio.
I 'll not delay you
With my too feeble steps. Haste, haste my friend!

[Exit Querini.

Scene V.

—At the entrance of a suite of splendid apartments in the Palace. Gemma, a Lady of the Bedchamber, and Attendants.
Lady.
Madam, indeed the hours are wearing on
More near to dawn than midnight.

Gem.
Oh, not yet!
I cannot sleep yet. Bid my maidens go,
I shall not need them.
[Exeunt Attendants.
What a magic night!
In the still shine and shadow of the moon,
Those frescoes stood along the walls like ghosts,
Till your lamps broke the spell.

Lady.
Shall I unfasten
At least these jewels?

Gem.
No, let me still wear
The dress I have been so happy in to-night!
[She passes into the balcony.
Oh, how can any one sleep through such nights,
When all the world is glory! But who else
Has days like mine to look to? For whom else
Does morning bring Lorenzo? Wondrous lot!
But one Lorenzo, and Lorenzo mine!

[Shrieks and confusion in the gardens below.
Lady.
Ah, madam, what is that?

Gem.
Oh! can it be......
Has any evil happened to Lorenzo?

Enter hastily Zilia and Ladies.
Zil.
Where are you, Gemma, Gemma?—Ah! what's that?

Quer.
(from the gallery)
The Duchess! Save the Duchess! Close those doors!
The Danes are on us!

Zil.
Close them! close them! Haste!
We shall be murdered! Where then are the guards?

Gem.
Oh, where's Lorenzo?

[Armed men are heard rushing into the gallery. The doors are burst open.
Enter Harold alone.
Har.
Gemma!......Is it so, then?
Hast thou forgotten me!

Gem.
Oh, Harold!

Har.
Gemma!
Art thou afraid of me?

Gem.
Oh, thou art cruel
To terrify me so!

Har.
To terrify thee?
Once thou wouldst fly to me, when I came back
From shorter absence, and embrace me, Gemma!

Gem.
Oh, Harold! Harold! Why dost thou come thus
So strangely, when I thought thee far away,
To startle me half-mad?

Har.
And didst thou think
Never to see me more? Didst thou think that?
Oh, when I thought thee dead, almost my heart
Broke for thee, Gemma! If I lived or felt
I know not, all that miserable time!
But now come home once more! for I have sailed
So far to seek thee! What, and did I grasp
This tender hand too tightly?

Gem.
Let me go!
Oh, Harold, let me go!

Har.
Why! foolish child?
Come, it is time.

Gem.
I cannot go with thee!
In mercy let me go!

Har.
What has bewitched thee?
Hast thou, from these few hours spent in the grave,
Risen up with but the ghost of thy past heart?
Come, come away, my Gemma! Come, my bride!

Gem.
Thy bride—thy bride! Why dost thou call me bride?
What dost thou want with me? Oh, let me go—
I am no bride for thee!

Har.
Thou art no bride
For any other man!

Gem.
Lorenzo! save me!

Har.
Oh, thou art mine, mine only! Never more
Shall mortal rob me of my treasure! Come!

[He snatches Gemma up; she shrieks and faints; Harold carries her off.
Zil.
Good heavens! a thunder-stroke! What's left to do?
Where is my son? Has he been murdered, then?

A Lady.
Querini! Oh, he's slain!

Quer.
(from without)
No, no! but wounded!

Zil.
(rushing to the door)
Oh, where in heaven's name is my son, Querini?

Quer.
Methought I saw him from a distance, rush
In frenzy through the garden—he had heard
The alarm too late—he must have reached the shore.
Oh, Gemma, Gemma! I would have died for thee!

[Swoons.
A Lady.
Help, ladies, here! let us bind up his wounds.

Zil.
I dare not stir a step to learn our fate......

Another Lady.
Oh, madam, madam! to this window! Come!
The pirate-boat is dashing o'er the sea,
Rowed by a crew of giants, and behind them
A swarm of shoreboats scattered in pursuit!

Zil.
Thank heaven! Still, where's my son?

Lady.
I see—I see him!
He that's bare-headed in the foremost boat—
I think—I am sure 't is he!

Zil.
I think so too.
Ay, there he hastes to throw away his life!
And yet I fear not—he will be too late—
What chance have your slight Naxiotes in the race?
With every furious oar-stroke how the Danes
Widen the hopeless distance—and look there!
Their ship lies waiting in that stream of moonlight!
Oh, luckless Gemma, there's no hope for her!
Was ever such disaster known on earth?
'Twill drive Lorenzo mad!—Come, ladies, come—
The palace is all stirring—all alert,
Now 'tis too late! What shouting and confusion!

[Exeunt Zilia and Ladies.

Scene VI.

—Early morning. The town in confusion. Enter Peasant youths and maidens in holiday dress.
A Peasant.
What means this loud alarm of bells, that reached
E'en to our heights above since break of day?

Another Peasant.
And all this crowd that's hurrying to the beach?

Another Peasant.
And yon war-galley weighing anchor now,
And shaking loose its canvass to this first
Faint breeze that ripples the last night's long calm.

A Townsman.
Alas! alas! alas!

Another Townsman.
'Tis for the Duchess!
Have not you heard it?

Peasants.
What of her? We come
To lay our humble homage at her footstool,
Eager for the least glimpse of her sweet beauty,
Eager that she may deign to set her feet
Upon these flowers we long to strew before her.

A Towns.
Then turn again! We have lost our sweet Princess!

Peasants.
What! is she dead? Oh, woe!

Towns.
Not dead, but gone!
E'en at the very height of our rejoicing,
Whilst night was wild with light and ecstacy,
The Dane burst on us—from her very palace
Snatched off our treasure......

Another Towns.
Come, no time to lose
If you would see the Doge's son embark!
To the seashore, haste!

A Peasant.
Is yonder then his galley?
He hastens to the rescue?

Towns.
Who but he?
Oh, had you seen him, from that vain boat-chase
Returning, leap on shore! Such silent rage!
His face was black as midnight—few and stern
The words he spoke, whilst swiftly to and fro
The busy sailors hastened at his bidding.
And that long look he fastened on the pirate!
Then sharply turned away, and seemed as if
He had forgot 'twas there.

Another Towns.
And such a throng
Of volunteers came round for Gemma's sake!
All our young nobles frantic to enlist
Beneath Lorenzo's flag. E'en brave Querini,
Half-slain, they say, last night at Gemma's door,
Will not be left behind; as eager, too,
That brave Knight of Saint John, from Palestine.

[All hasten away.

Scene VII.

—The seashore crowded with people.
Enter Lorenzo, Querini, and Knight of St. John.
Quer.
Be of good cheer, you will win! And for the moment
Your loss is nobler than the gain of others.
To strive for such a prize, revenge such beauty,
With such an enemy to strive in arms,
Lifts manhood up to its divinest height,
Crests it as 'twere with fire from nobler spheres!
Oh me! this wound......I thought to share your glory!

[Swoons.
Knight of St. John.
And as for me, heaven and Saint John forgive!
With scarce more joy upon Damascus' walls
This hand would plant the Cross, than it would rend
The flaunting raven from yon Pagan's mast!

Lor.
Rejoice your own hearts with these brilliant fancies!
To set my foot upon mine enemy's neck,
To bring my bride back safely to her home,
Were joy enough, let who will have the glory—
And I will perish ere be balked of it!

[Exeunt Lorenzo and Knight of St. John, and embark.

Scene VIII.

—The Deck of Harold's Galley.
Harold, Gemma, Thorbrand, Sigurd, and others.
Har.
See, this broad banner from thy head will screen
The blazing sunshine! Rest in peace beneath it—
In silence if thou wilt! And not one word then,
Not one, for thy true friends, my comrades tried,
All ready here to die for thee and me?
Here's Thorbrand, whom thou knowst—my other self—
And Rolf, and Sigurd—nay, my faithful dog,
Poor Jutun! thou didst love him once, e'en him!
Never before did he beseech in vain,
With those fond eyes, a kind caress from thee.

Thor.
The wind is freshening fast. See how yon sail
Stands out already from the purple wall
Of land behind. Sigurd! the Doge's son
Is on our track betimes.

Sig.
Good speed to him!
Harold is ready—so is this right arm!
I feel a happy thrill from head to foot,
As though mine axe were thundering its warm greeting
Down on those raven curls that won the heart
Of giddy little Gemma.

Thor.
Come, you must not
Dream of forestalling Harold's darling vengeance,
His heart would break if any man but he
Should touch a hair upon Lorenzo's head.
Harold!

Sig.
He does not hear, not he! His eyes
See only Gemma, and hers only see
The land we leave behind us. Oh, rare sport
Was ours, last night, upon that very shore,
To see those gaudy dancers break their chain,
And dart away to right and left with shrieks,
Like screaming sea-fowl startled from their nests!

Thor.
And, rarer still, when like mad bulls we burst
On Gemma's gilded soldiers, at their dice,
And trampled their gay trappings in the dust!

Sig.
And then the great rush up to Gemma's doors!
When they crashed open to our Harold's axe,
I stood so near behind him I could see
From end to end through all those lighted rooms,
Crowded with frightened women dressed like queens!
And oh, poor Gemma......

Thor.
How she stood transfixed,
Between those pillars—I can see her now!
Just as she stepped in from the balcony,
Half ghost-like in that robe of silvery blue
Some witch has wove for her—with her wide eyes,
All one astonished flash like a mad skald's,
Fastened on Harold's face.

Sig.
Poor, foolish child!
I am glad we have her back. I noted too
That other splendid one, with gold-bound forehead,
And spreading robes, so snow-pale, proud and trembling—
I thought she almost smiled with her white lips,
As she leaned back upon her couch and stared
Before her straight at Harold......

Thor.
You forget not
That other day when we, young wolves of war,
Ran wild o'er that same palace—up the stairs
At Harold's heels came thund'ring—years ago!

Sig.
Do I so? Little, weeping, tiny Gemma
That day had soon been trampled out of life,
Unseen, unheeded, but for Harold's care.
And I remember how I laughed to see
The baby in his arms!

Thor.
Look at her now!
She does not seem too happy to be with us!
How on her hands she droops her little head,
And takes no heed of Harold!

Har.
(to Gemma)
Is it so then?
I was a fool, and thou didst never love me!
When I came back to thee time after time,
Out of the salt sea-winds, hungry for land,
To see thee spring up from thy blazing hearth,
Where round thee in a circle spun thy maids,
And down the long red twilight of my hall—
Timing sweet laughter with thy clapping hands—
Flutter just like a fire-fly from the south—
Thou didst not love me! When, thy greeting over,
Thou wouldst bound from me with a tender cry,
To shower thy wild caresses on my hound,
Thou didst not love me! When thy little hand
Would draw me to the fire that I might sit
And tell thee my adventures, thou the while
Listening with eyes that never swerved from mine,
Thou didst not love me! When my stalwart Danes
Would fling my heavy spoils upon the floor,
And thou wouldst kneel to gaze and wonder at them,
And ask me all their histories and their names,
Thou didst not love me! When, at fall of night,
Thou wouldst beguile me to some barr'd loophole
That showed a pale moon on a pale gray sea,
And with uplifted finger bid me listen
To sounds once dear to thee, the mermaids' song—
Oh, never didst thou love me!

Gem.
Yes, indeed,
I loved thee then.

Har.
Then! and oh, why not now?

Gem.
Oh, love some warrior-princess of the north—
I am not fit for thee!

Har.
And what care I
If thou be fit or unfit? I love thee!

Gem.
Is it true, Harold—true what they have told me?

Har.
What have they told thee?

Gem.
No, I dare not ask!
I know it is not true. It was not thou—
It could not be—didst lay mine island waste,
And slay my father and my brothers—oh!
Tell me it is not true.

Har.
It is true, Gemma!
Now be content, thou hast stabbed me to the soul,
And taken vengeance on me for thy slain.
Yes, thou art right to hate me.

Gem.
When I saw
Those three dear portraits, when they told me all...
It was not hate, but horror and amaze—

Har.
Witness the ghosts of all who fell that day,
I have repented every day since then!
For thy sake I repented, oh, my darling!
Whom, ere I saw and loved, I made an orphan.
Ah, but thou didst not shudder at me then!
I found thee in a room with painted walls,
Lost and bewildered in its spaciousness,
A little, trembling, weeping, fairy queen,
With all thy tiny tresses—of a gold
Less auburn than are these—tumbling confused
About thy splendid raiment, thy small hands
Smiting each other in thy passion of terror.
Then in mine arms I lifted thee, poor child!
And quickly bore thee from the noise and tumult
Gathering around in gallery and hall,
To a safe shelter. I was but a youth,
Reared up on roaring seas and battle-fields—
'T was the first time that I had led my fleet—
Who never had till then so much as stooped
To pluck a flower. Never, before or since,
Have I loved any living thing like thee!
I cannot let thee go.

Gem.
You will, you will!
My once kind Harold, pity your poor Gemma!
You know not misery, you who have the world,
Sea after sea, and continent and isle,
Danger and glory, sunshine and the shade,
The storm and calm, creation's whole expanse
To breathe in! oh, and would you then doom me
To gasp for air in prison, where my heart
Must beat with death-throes, missing every morn
Life's fresh surprise of rapture, where mine eyes
Would want all that they loved, hate all they saw,
Would see him only, and yet never see him!
Oh, that would be a winter of despair
I'd not condemn an enemy to freeze in!
Well, take me! but I need not kill myself,
For I shall die as easily as a flower
For lack of sun or rain.

Har.
Silence, oh, silence!
Do you know what you have said, what you have done?
Turn to the land once more—see you that sail?
There comes your lover—and look, here's the sword
I thank and kiss for promising revenge.

Gem.
Harold, what do you mean? No, no, you dare not!
Why do you speak so? No, you dare not kill him!
You dare not break the heart of a poor girl
Who has no other happiness on earth!
Oh, speak to me! you know not what it is,
Harold, to love as I do.

Har.
So you think.

Gem.
Tell me you will not kill him! say so, Harold!
Oh, can you be so changed! Never before
Have you denied me anything I asked!

Har.
Is it come to this? What then, these hands are tied!
What then, must I deny this mangled heart,
Thirsting amidst its writhings for revenge,
As fiercely as the she wolf—in her wounds,
Dying above her cubs—for water—choke
Its bitter cry, and let him live, who stole
My life's delight, my very life away,
To wear it triumphing, whilst I go back
Bereaved and baffled!—Well, so be it, Gemma!
For thy sake will I fling away revenge,
Where all my other hopes are gone already,
To the winds and waves. And when we two shall meet,
My very sword will wonder at the hand
That wields it!

Gem.
Oh, I thank thee, thank thee, Harold!

Har.
Hush, Gemma!

Gem.
Oh, alas! alas! dear Harold!
I meant not so to wound thee.

Har.
Well, I go then,
Without a hope on earth—I who had grasped
Mine enemy in fancy with one hand,
My darling with the other, to crush him,
And bear her home in triumph to mine eyrie!
I go hence as I came, as empty-handed,
But more unfortunate! Oh, to look back,
Instead of looking forward! never more
To wish for anything on earth! Weep not—
Those tears console me not, they madden me!
Now pass below, I pray thee, and fear nothing,
Whatever tumult thou may'st hear above.
Lorenzo 's safe, and each man here thy friend.
[Gemma goes below.
Now, hearken! not a man of you must touch
The Doge's son but me.

Thor.
Harold, 't is just!
Be thine the joy and glory of revenge.

[They prepare for action.

Scene IX.

—The ships of Harold and Lorenzo along-side of each other. Lorenzo, Knight of St. John, and Venetians rush on board Harold's ship.
Lor.
Where art thou, robber? strike him none but I!

Sig.
So will I dye thy white cross red.

[Strikes the Knight of St. John.
Knight.
Avenge me,
Lorenzo!

[Falls.
Lor.
It is done.
[Runs Sigurd through with his sword.
Now, thou bride stealer,
It is thy turn!

Thor.
And thine!

Har.
Thorbrand, stand back!
(To Lorenzo
Madman, to challenge thus the blood of Odin!

[They fight. Harold shatters Lorenzo's sword, overpowers and makes him prisoner. The Venetians give way, and after a struggle, surrender.
Har.
First, clear away the corpses! Thorbrand, go,
See that the signs of slaughter on the deck
Of the Venetian galley be effaced,
As here on this.

Thor.
Why did you spare your foe?
For now you will not slay him in cold blood.
I understand you not.

Har.
You will soon, Thorbrand.

[He passes below and reappears with Gemma.
Lor.
Magnanimous Pirate, thou hast spared her life then!

Har.
Behold your lover, Gemma! (to Lorenzo)
You are free—
I give you back your galley and your bride.
Return with them to Naxos.

Gem.
Oh, Lorenzo!
'T is too much joy! I thought thee lost for ever.
Thou art not wounded?

Lor.
Only in my soul,
To think I owe thee to that Pirate's mercy.
What, wilt thou linger here?

Gem.
Oh, let me thank thee,
Harold, this once! I must!

Har.
What didst thou say?
I did not hear thee. Now farewell for ever!
Be happy, Gemma, and forget the home
In which thou wert not happy.

[Turns away.
Gem.
Harold, Harold!

[Lorenzo hurries her away.
Thor.
She loves her false Venetian! Can it be?
Oh, Harold, if you love me, let me send
An arrow through his heart!

Har.
Be silent, Thorbrand.

[Lorenzo's ship separates from Harold's.

Scene X.

—Lorenzo's ship. Lorenzo, Gemma, and Sailors.
Gem.
He would not hear my last words. Ah, Lorenzo!
E'en when we love and are loved, we can suffer!
There 's a remorse I cannot rid my heart of—
And yet, how could I help it? How you look!
Can you still see him, that you lean so far
O'er the ship's side? Is he still there on deck?

Lor.
There goes a man whom I shall kill one day.

Gem.
What did you say? tell me, for well I know
By that quick undertone, and gasping breath,
Although you smile, that you are fiercely angry.

Lor.
The wind is changing to the west. Soon, Gemma,
We shall reach land—in triumph they will think.

Gem.
Now own that he is generous, my Lorenzo!
Is he not noble?

Lor.
What would I not own,
When you look up to me with those large eyes,
And hold my hand with such a pleading clasp?
He shall be all you choose.

Gem.
Now do not jest,
But say you pity him.

Lor.
Not pity—no,
But envy him.

Gem.
For what?

Lor.
Those tender tears.—
The Dane lies-to as though regretfully,
And loath to lose sight of his prize forgone.
Let him regret! he never shall again
Surprise our carelessness.

Gem.
You know we owe him,
You, life, and I, my all of happiness.
Why do those dark brows meet so angrily?

Lor.
Because I rather would have lost that life,
Than owed it to his mercy and your prayers.
Do you know I wonder that this mighty Dane,
Repenting of his clemency sublime,
Turns not again upon his parting steps
To snatch you back. He should not find it easy!
Ere I would yield you now......

Gem.
How you mistake him!
Never, Lorenzo, has he broke his word.

Lor.
These northern virtues! oh, how well by heart
You know them all.—Are you prepared to be
The heroine of a rapturous return?
When first I brought you to these shores, 't was night—
Gemma, 't was on this very deck you slept!

Gem.
This very deck, oh heaven! and yet, to think
Mine eyes remember nothing of all this!
Sit down and tell me once more of your voyage.

Lor.
And never, never, has your secret heart
Whispered a wish that voyage had not been?

Gem.
Unkind Lorenzo! but you shall not vex me—
I know you are jesting, for you know I love you.

Scene XI.

—On board Harold's ship. Harold, Thorbrand, and other Northmen.
Thor.
It was a noble victory! But you look—
Oh, how unlike yourself! You have no wound
You have not told us of?

Har.
No, Thorbrand.

Thor.
Then
You mourn for Sigurd! Do not mourn for him,
For Sigurd died as Northmen love to die—
The deck beneath him, the blue sky above him,
And the slain corpses of his enemy round him.

Har.
Sigurd was brave, and true, and dear to me,
And brave, and true, and dear, were all who fell—
And yet I am not mourning for them.

Thor.
Then
A Dwerga has bewitched you. For you spoke,
Moved, fought, as in a dream—from right to left
You dealt destruction like a passionless fate,
Resistless, but incapable of rage.
Victorious, next you spurned your victory,
And flung success and vengeance to the winds!
But yesterday your soul all love and hate,
To-day you yield your bride and spare your foe!
What has come over you?

Har.
Oh, Thorbrand, hearken!
For the last time we've battled side by side!
As surely as my flag to-day has triumphed,
As surely as the haughty flag of Venice
Has dropped before me like a frost-cut leaf,
As surely as my race was born from Odin,
Ne'er shall I lead you more, ye northern ravens,
To grapple, beak and claw, by land or sea,
With rolling ship, or rock-built castle.

Thor.
Harold!

Har.
No more my heart shall beat a march to battle,
Nor shall my soul ever drink rapture more
At the great feast of swords, whence it was wont
To rise intoxicate. My course is run,
Thou, Thorbrand, take my earldom and my fleet,
Be what I was—in me my race expires.

Thor.
Harold! now say, what mean you?

Har.
To your hands
I give my leadership. My old companions!
I am no more your chieftain—follow Thorbrand,
As you have followed me!

Thor.
Oh see, they weep!
How can you bear to leave us? Well I knew,
When you resigned the darling of your heart
To him whom most you hate, some spell had seized you!

Har.
Hush! if you love me, if you dread my curse,
Swear to me, one and all, with lifted hands,
Ne'er to pluck fruit or blossom from one tree,
Fire but a blade of grass, or shed the blood
Of so much as a wild-dove's nestling brood,
In one of Gemma's isles.

All.
We swear it, Harold!

Thor.
Ill-fated day!—But whither will you go?
How will you live henceforth?

Har.
Henceforth, methinks,
I shall be likest to that desolate cape
Which stands and gazes as it stood and gazed,
Since earth began, a never-wearied watcher,
Cold and incurious o'er an unknown sea.
E'en so my future is an Arctic waste,
With frozen winter for a pioneer!
I know a spot in Iceland, where no echo
Could reach me, from the past, where boiling springs
Tell to grave rocks and melancholy sward,
The story of a pain-wrung passionate heart.
There could I lay my weary armour down,
And dream away my life.

Thor.
And this the end!
Oh, we have shared such glorious hours together,
By land and sea, in war, in wilds unknown,
Drunk with the passion and the pride of danger!
How have we clung to dizzy precipices,
As 't were suspended over the whole world,
And gazed unfaltering on its map below,
Or, coffined in a glacier, on our way
To storm the she-bear's den, have scarcely hewn
A door with-strenuous axe-strokes back to life—
Or, grappling with the monster's dire embrace,
Swooned from the gory duel to awake—
Have we not each in turn such wakings known?—
Beneath the cold innumerable stars,
Beside her carcase, stiffening in the snow!
How many times across how many seas,
Have felt death's cup cold at our very lips—
In the dark night, on unknown waters, heard
The noise of unseen breakers on our bow—
Been balanced on the whirlpool's roaring brink,
Or on frail rafts adrift 'neath skies of fire,
In waking trance have heard the gush of streams—
Have followed visions of more beauteous peril,
Where the far-shining rivers guided us
Through greenly shadowing trees, fast anchored on
Wide golden seas of meadow—woodland swells
Melting away to the blue skies of June—
Where shrieking peasants fled before our face,
And warriors came to meet us, where we held
Our revels in the palaces of princes,
And, laden with their spoils, came conquerors home!
Oh, what to thee was Gemma in those hours?
What is a girl's love to such joys as these?
Chance made her dear to thee, and chance may make
Another dearer!

Har.
There 's no throw of the dice
Can bring that chance to me.

Thor.
Still, still I say
You are bewitched. Oh, for a counter-charm
To call your true self from the Dwerga's halls,
And chase away the spectral counterfeit!
You, in the noblest moment of your years,
You, the most minstrel-honoured of your race,
Fling by a future clanging with your deeds,
To dream a hermit's dream and be forgotten!
Oh, may I never love, if love did this!

Har.
I am made so, Thorbrand.

Thor.
But you are so made
You cannot stay in your self-chosen tomb.
Like that dead pair of heroes sepulchred
Deep in the rock, who for a thousand years
Kept up a ghostly warfare in the dark—
All the vast hollow echoing with the thunder—
Your thoughts will fight together in that gloom
Your soul is buried in, till faint and torn,
Lashed by the horror of a new despair,
You headlong rush into the world again.
You know not yet your future.

Har.
Since this morning,
I know it, Thorbrand. Nothing that can happen
Can change it now.

Thor.
Alas! I say no more—
At least remain our leader till we leave
These seas—ha, Harold!

Har.
Ay, the storm at last!