 | Gemma of The Isles |  |
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?
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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!
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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,
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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!
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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?
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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!
| Gemma of The Isles | |