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Читать книгу: «The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy», страница 5

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SCENE II

The hall of pillars. It is night.
The stage is lighted from above by a single large lamp.
DONNA ISABELLA and DIEGO advance to the front.

ISABELLA

As yet no joyful tidings, not a trace
Found of the lost one!

DIEGO

               Nothing have we heard,
   My mistress; yet o'er every track, unwearied,
   Thy sons pursue. Ere long the rescued maid
   Shall smile at dangers past.

ISABELLA

Alas! Diego,
My heart is sad; 'twas I that caused this woe!

DIEGO

Vex not thy anxious bosom; naught escaped
Thy thoughtful care.

ISABELLA

Oh! had I earlier shown
The hidden treasure!

DIEGO

              Prudent were thy counsels,
   Wisely thou left'st her in retirement's shade;
   So, trust in heaven.

ISABELLA

Alas! no joy is perfect
Without this chance of ill my bliss were pure.

DIEGO

Thy happiness is but delayed; enjoy
The concord of thy sons.

ISABELLA

                The sight was rapture
   Supreme, when, locked in one another's arms,
   They glowed with brothers' love.

DIEGO

                    And in the heart
   It burns; for ne'er their princely souls have stooped
   To mean disguise.

ISABELLA

             Now, too, their bosoms wake
   To gentler thoughts, and own their softening sway
   Of love. No more their hot, impetuous youth
   Revels in liberty untamed, and spurns
   Restraint of law, attempered passion's self,
   With modest, chaste reserve.
                  To thee, Diego,
   I will unfold my secret heart; this hour
   Of feeling's opening bloom, expected long,
   Wakes boding fears: thou know'st to sudden rage
   Love stirs tumultuous breasts; and if this flame
   With jealousy should rouse the slumbering fires
   Of ancient hate – I shudder at the thought!
   If these discordant souls perchance have thrilled
   In fatal unison! Enough; the clouds
   That black with thundering menace o'er me hung
   Are past; some angel sped them tranquil by,
   And my enfranchised spirit breathes again.

DIEGO

   Rejoice, my mistress; for thy gentle sense
   And soft, prevailing art more weal have wrought
   Than all thy husband's power. Be praise to thee
   And thy auspicious star!

ISABELLA

                Yes, fortune smiled;
   Nor light the task, so long with apt disguise
   To veil the cherished secret of my heart,
   And cheat my ever-jealous lord: more hard
   To stifle mighty nature's pleading voice,
   That, like a prisoned fire, forever strove
   To rend its confines.

DIEGO

               All shall yet be well;
   Fortune, propitious to our hopes, gave pledge
   Of bliss that time will show.

ISABELLA

                   I praise not yet
   My natal star, while darkening o'er my fate
   This mystery hangs: too well the dire mischance
   Tells of the fiend whose never-slumbering rage
   Pursues our house. Now list what I have done,
   And praise or blame me as thou wilt; from thee
   My bosom guards no secret: ill I brook
   This dull repose, while swift o'er land and sea
   My sons unwearied, track their sister's flight,
   Yes, I have sought; heaven counsels oft, when vain
   All mortal aid.

DIEGO

What I may know, my mistress,
Declare.

ISABELLA

        On Etna's solitary height
   A reverend hermit dwells, – benamed of old
   The mountain seer, – who to the realms of light
   More near abiding than the toilsome race
   Of mortals here below, with purer air
   Has cleansed each earthly, grosser sense away;
   And from the lofty peak of gathered years,
   As from his mountain home, with downward glance
   Surveys the crooked paths of worldly strife.
   To him are known the fortunes of our house;
   Oft has the holy sage besought response
   From heaven, and many a curse with earnest prayer
   Averted: thither at my bidding flew,
   On wings of youthful haste, a messenger,
   To ask some tidings of my child: each hour
   I wait his homeward footsteps.

DIEGO

                   If mine eyes
   Deceive me not, he comes; and well his speed
   Has earned thy praise.

MESSENGER, ISABELLA, DIEGO.

ISABELLA (to MESSENGER)

               Now speak, and nothing hide
   Of weal or woe; be truth upon thy lips!
   What tidings bear'st thou from the mountain seer?

MESSENGER

His answer: "Quick! retrace thy steps; the lost one
Is found."

ISABELLA

         Auspicious tongue! Celestial sounds
   Of peace and joy! thus ever to my vows.
   Thrice honored sage, thy kindly message spoke!
   But say, which heaven-directed brother traced
   My daughter?

MESSENGER

'Twas thy eldest born that found
The deep-secluded maid.

ISABELLA

                Is it Don Manuel
   That gives her to my arms? Oh, he was ever
   The child of blessing! Tell me, hast thou borne
   My offering to the aged man? the tapers
   To burn before his saint? for gifts, the prize
   Of worldly hearts, the man of God disdains.

MESSENGER

   He took the torches from my hands in silence
   And stepping to the altar – where the lamp
   Burned to his saint – illumed them at his fire,
   And instant set in flames the hermit cell,
   Where he has honored God these ninety years!

ISABELLA

What hast thou said? What horrors fright my soul?

MESSENGER

   And three times shrieking "Woe!" with downward course,
   He fled; but silent with uplifted arm
   Beckoned me not to follow, nor regard him
   So hither I have hastened, terror-sped.

ISABELLA

   Oh, I am tossed amid the surge again
   Of doubt and anxious fears; thy tale appals
   With ominous sounds of ill. My daughter found —
   Thou sayest; and by my eldest born, Don Manuel?
   The tidings ne'er shall bless, that heralded
   This deed of woe!

MESSENGER

             My mistress! look around
   Behold the hermit's message to thine eyes
   Fulfilled. Some charm deludes my sense, or hither
   Thy daughter comes, girt by the warlike train
   Of thy two sons!

[BEATRICE is carried in by the Second Chorus on a litter, and placed in the front of the stage. She is still without perception, and motionless.
ISABELLA, DIEGO, MESSENGER, BEATRICE.
Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE, and the other nine followers of DON CAESAR.)

Chorus (BOHEMUND)

            Here at thy feet we lay
   The maid, obedient to our lord's command:
   'Twas thus he spoke – "Conduct her to my mother;
   And tell her that her son, Don Caesar, sends her!"

ISABELLA (is advancing towards her with outstretched arms, and starts back in horror)

Heavens! she is motionless and pale!

Chorus (BOHEMUND)

                      She lives,
   She will awake, but give her time to rouse
   From the dread shock that holds each sense enthralled.

ISABELLA

   My daughter! Child of all my cares and pains!
   And is it thus I see thee once again?
   Thus thou returnest to thy father's halls!
   Oh, let my breath relume thy vital spark;
   Yes! I will strain thee to a mother's arms
   And hold thee fast – till from the frost of death
   Released thy life-warm current throbs again.

[To the Chorus.

Where hast thou found her? Speak! What dire mischance
Has caused this sight of woe?

Chorus (BOHEMUND)

                   My lips are dumb!
   Ask not of me: thy son will tell thee all —
   Don Caesar – for 'tis he that sends her.

ISABELLA

'Tell me
Would'st thou not say Don Manuel?

Chorus (BOHEMUND)

'Tis Don Caesar
That sends her to thee.

ISABELLA (to the MESSENGER)

How declared the Seer?
Speak! Was it not Don Manuel?

MESSENGER

'Twas he!
Thy elder born.

ISABELLA

            Be blessings on his head
   Which e'er it be; to him I owe a daughter,
   Alas! that in this blissful hour, so long
   Expected, long implored, some envious fiend
   Should mar my joy! Oh, I must stem the tide
   Of nature's transport! In her childhood's home
   I see my daughter; me she knows not – heeds not —
   Nor answers to a mother's voice of love
   Ope, ye dear eyelids – hands be warm – and heave
   Thou lifeless bosom with responsive throbs
   To mine! 'Tis she! Diego, look! 'tis Beatrice!
   The long-concealed – the lost – the rescued one!
   Before the world I claim her for my own!

Chorus (BOHEMUND)

   New signs of terror to my boding soul
   Are pictured; – in amazement lost I stand!
   What light shall pierce this gloom of mystery?

ISABELLA (to the Chorus, who exhibit marks of confusion and embarrassment)

   Oh, ye hard hearts! Ye rude unpitying men!
   A mother's transport from your breast of steel
   Rebounds, as from the rocks the heaving surge!
   I look around your train, nor mark one glance
   Of soft regard. Where are my sons? Oh, tell me
   Why come they not, and from their beaming eyes
   Speak comfort to my soul? For here environed
   I stand amid the desert's raging brood,
   Or monsters of the deep!

DIEGO

She opes her eyes!
She moves! She lives!

ISABELLA

She lives! On me be thrown
Her earliest glance!

DIEGO

See! They are closed again —
She shudders!

ISABELLA (to the Chorus)

Quick! Retire – your aspect frights her.

[Chorus steps back.

RORER

Well pleased I shun her sight.

DIEGO

With outstretched eyes,
And wonderstruck, she seems to measure thee.

BEATRICE

Not strange those lineaments – where am I?

ISABELLA

Slowly
Her sense returns.

DIEGO

Behold! upon her knees
She sinks.

BEATRICE

Oh, angel visage of my mother!

ISABELLA

Child of my heart!

BEATRICE

See! kneeling at thy feet
The guilty one!

ISABELLA

I hold thee in my arms!
Enough – forgotten all!

DIEGO

Look in my face,
Canst thou remember me?

BEATRICE

The reverend brows
Of honest old Diego!

ISABELLA

Faithful guardian
Of thy young years.

BEATRICE

And am I once again
With kindred?

ISABELLA

Naught but death shall part us more!

BEATRICE

Will thou ne'er send me to the stranger?

ISABELLA

Never!
Fate is appeased.

BEATRICE

             And am I next thy heart?
   And was it all a dream – a hideous dream?
   My mother! at my feet he fell! I know not
   What brought me hither – yet 'tis well. Oh, bliss!
   That I am safe in thy protecting arms;
   They would have ta'en me to the princess, mother —
   Sooner to death!

ISABELLA

My daughter, calm thy fears;
Messina's princess —

BEATRICE

              Name her not again!
   At that ill-omened sound the chill of death
   Creeps through my trembling frame.

ISABELLA

My child! but hear me —

BEATRICE

She has two sons by mortal hate dissevered,
Don Manuel and Don Caesar —

ISABELLA

'Tis myself!
Behold thy mother!

BEATRICE

Have I heard thee? Speak!

ISABELLA

I am thy mother, and Messina's princess!

BEATRICE

Art thou Don Manuel's and Don Caesar's mother?

ISABELLA

And thine! They are thy brethren whom thou namest.

BEATRICE

Oh, gleam of horrid light!

ISABELLA

What troubles thee?
Say, whence this strange emotion?

BEATRICE

                     Yes! 'twas they!
   Now I remember all; no dream deceived me,
   They met – 'tis fearful truth! Unhappy men!
   Where have ye hid him?

[She rushes towards the Chorus; they turn away from her.
A funeral march is heard in the distance.

CHORUS

Horror! Horror!

ISABELLA

                         Hid!
   Speak – who is hid? and what is true? Ye stand
   In silent dull amaze – as though ye fathomed
   Her words of mystery! In your faltering tones —
   Your brows – I read of horrors yet unknown,
   That would refrain my tongue! What is it? Tell me!
   I will know all! Why fix ye on the door
   That awe-struck gaze? What mournful music sounds?

[The march is heard nearer.

Chorus (BOHEMUND)

   It comes! it comes! and all shall be declared
   With terrible voice. My mistress! steel thy heart,
   Be firm, and bear with courage what awaits thee —
   For more than women's soul thy destined griefs
   Demand.

ISABELLA

        What comes? and what awaits me? Hark
   With fearful tones the death-wail smites mine ear —
   It echoes through the house! Where are my sons?

[The first Semi-chorus brings in the body of DON MANUEL on a bier, which is placed at the side of the stage. A black pall is spread over it.
ISABELLA, BEATRICE, DIEGO.
Both Choruses.

First Chorus (CAJETAN)

        With sorrow in his train,
      From street to street the King of Terror glides;
       With stealthy foot, and slow,
        He creeps where'er the fleeting race
      Of man abides
      In turn at every gate
      Is heard the dreaded knock of fate,
       The message of unutterable woe!

BERENGAR

      When, in the sere
       And autumn leaves decayed,
       The mournful forest tells how quickly fade
      The glories of the year!
       When in the silent tomb oppressed,
      Frail man, with weight of days,
       Sinks to his tranquil rest;
      Contented nature but obeys
      Her everlasting law, —
      The general doom awakes no shuddering awe!
      But, mortals, oh! prepare
      For mightier ills; with ruthless hand
      Fell murder cuts the holy band —
       The kindred tie: insatiate death,
      With unrelenting rage,
      Bears to his bark the flower of blooming age!

CAJETAN

      When clouds athwart the lowering sky
       Are driven – when bursts with hollow moan
       The thunder's peal – our trembling bosoms own
      The might of awful destiny!
      Yet oft the lightning's glare
      Darts sudden through the cloudless air: —
       Then in thy short delusive day
      Of bliss, oh! dread the treacherous snare;
      Nor prize the fleeting goods in vain,
       The flowers that bloom but to decay!
      Nor wealth, nor joy, nor aught but pain,
      Was e'er to mortal's lot secure: —
      Our first best lesson – to endure!

ISABELLA

What shall I hear? What horrors lurk beneath
This funeral pall?

[She steps towards the bier, but suddenly pauses, and stands irresolute.

Some strange, mysterious dread
Enthrals my sense. I would approach, and sudden
The ice-cold grasp of terror holds me back!

[To BEATRICE, who has thrown herself between her and the bier.

Whate'er it be, I will unveil —

[On raising the pall she discovers the body of DON MANUEL.

Eternal Powers! it is my son!

[She stands in mute horror. BEATRICE sinks to the ground with a shriek of anguish near the bier.

CHORUS

Unhappy mother! 'tis thy son. Thy lips
Have uttered what my faltering tongue denied.

ISABELLA

   My soul! My Manuel! Oh, eternal grief!
   And is it thus I see thee? Thus thy life
   Has bought thy sister from the spoiler's rage?
   Where was thy brother? Could no arm be found
   To shield thee? Oh, be cursed the hand that dug
   These gory wounds! A curse on her that bore
   The murderer of my son! Ten thousand curses
   On all their race!

CHORUS

Woe! Woe!

ISABELLA

                   And is it thus
   Ye keep your word, ye gods? Is this your truth?
   Alas for him that trusts with honest heart
   Your soothing wiles! Why have I hoped and trembled?
   And this the issue of my prayers! Attend,
   Ye terror-stricken witnesses, that feed
   Your gaze upon my anguish; learn to know
   How warning visions cheat, and boding seers
   But mock our credulous hopes; let none believe
   The voice of heaven!
              When in my teeming womb
   This daughter lay, her father, in a dream
   Saw from his nuptial couch two laurels grow,
   And in the midst a lily all in flames,
   That, catching swift the boughs and knotted stems
   Burst forth with crackling rage, and o'er the house
   Spread in one mighty sea of fire. Perplexed
   By this terrific dream my husband sought
   The counsels of the mystic art, and thus
   Pronounced the sage: "If I a daughter bore,
   The murderess of his sons, the destined spring
   Of ruin to our house, the baleful child
   Should see the light."

Chorus (CAJETAN and BOHEMUND)

What hast thou said, my mistress?
Woe! Woe!

ISABELLA

         For this her ruthless father spoke
   The dire behest of death. I rescued her,
   The innocent, the doomed one; from my arms
   The babe was torn; to stay the curse of heaven,
   And save my sons, the mother gave her child;
   And now by robber hands her brother falls;
   My child is guiltless. Oh, she slew him not!

CHORUS

Woe! Woe!

ISABELLA

   No trust the fabling readers of the stars
   Have e'er deserved. Hear how another spoke
   With comfort to my soul, and him I deemed
   Inspired to voice the secrets of the skies!
   "My daughter should unite in love the hearts
   Of my dissevered sons;" and thus their tales
   Of curse and blessing on her head proclaim
   Each other's falsehood. No, she ne'er has brought
   A curse, the innocent; nor time was given
   The blessed promise to fulfil; their tongues
   Were false alike; their boasted art is vain;
   With trick of words they cheat our credulous ears,
   Or are themselves deceived! Naught ye may know
   Of dark futurity, the sable streams
   Of hell the fountain of your hidden lore,
   Or yon bright spring of everlasting light!

First Chorus (CAJETAN)

       Woe! Woe! thy tongue refrain!
      Oh, pause, nor thus with impious rage
       The might of heaven profane;
      The holy oracles are wise —
      Expect with awe thy coming destinies!

ISABELLA

   My tongue shall speak as prompts my swelling heart;
   My griefs shall cry to heaven. Why do we lift
   Our suppliant hands, and at the sacred shrines
   Kneel to adore? Good, easy dupes! What win we
   From faith and pious awe? to touch with prayers
   The tenants of yon azure realms on high,
   Were hard as with an arrow's point to pierce
   The silvery moon. Hid is the womb of time,
   Impregnable to mortal glance, and deaf
   The adamantine walls of heaven rebound
   The voice of anguish: – Oh, 'tis one, whate'er
   The flight of birds – the aspect of the stars!
   The book of nature is a maze – a dream
   The sage's art – and every sign a falsehood!

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND)

      Woe! Woe! Ill-fated woman, stay
       Thy maddening blasphemies;
       Thou but disown'st, with purblind eyes,
      The flaming orb of day!
      Confess the gods, – they dwell on high —
      They circle thee with awful majesty!

All the Knights

Confess the gods – they dwell on high —
They circle thee with awful majesty!

BEATRICE

   Why hast thou saved thy daughter, and defied
   The curse of heaven, that marked me in thy womb
   The child of woe? Short-sighted mother! – vain
   Thy little arts to cheat the doom declared
   By the all-wise interpreters, that knit
   The far and near; and, with prophetic ken,
   See the late harvest spring in times unborn.
   Oh, thou hast brought destruction on thy race,
   Withholding from the avenging gods their prey;
   Threefold, with new embittered rage, they ask
   The direful penalty; no thanks thy boon
   Of life deserves – the fatal gift was sorrow!

Second Chorus (BERENGAR) looking towards the door with signs of agitation.

       Hark to the sound of dread!
      The rattling, brazen din I hear!
      Of hell-born snakes the hissing tones are near!
       Yes – 'tis the furies' tread!

CAJETAN

       In crumbling ruin wide,
      Fall, fall, thou roof, and sink, thou trembling floor
       That bear'st the dread, unearthly stride!
      Ye sable damps arise!
       Mount from the abyss in smoky spray,
       And pall the brightness of the day!
      Vanish, ye guardian powers!
      They come! The avenging deities

DON CAESAR, ISABELLA, BEATRICE. The Chorus

[On the entrance of DON CAESAR the Chorus station themselves before him imploringly. He remains standing alone in the centre of the stage.

BEATRICE

Alas! 'tis he —

ISABELLA (stepping to meet him)

            My Caesar! Oh, my son!
   And is it thus I meet the? Look! Behold!
   The crime of hand accursed!

[She leads him to the corpse.

First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR)

       Break forth once more
      Ye wounds! Flow, flow, in swarthy flood,
       Thou streaming gore!

ISABELLA

   Shuddering with earnest gaze, and motionless,
   Thou stand'st. – yes! there my hopes repose, and all
   That earth has of thy brother; in the bud
   Nipped is your concord's tender flower, nor ever
   With beauteous fruit shall glad a mother's eyes,