The Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Prose and Verse

Which, through a long descent where all sound which immediately followed, and in which Emerick

perishes,

Let out beyond the palace. Well I knew itBut Andreas framed it not! He was no tyrant!

CHEF RAGOZZI.

Haste, madam! Let me take this precious burden! [He kneels as he takes the child.

ZAPOLYA.

Take him! And if we be pursued, I charge thee, Flee thou and leave me! Flee and save thy king!

[Then as going off, she looks back on the palace. Thou tyrant's den, be call'd no more a palace! The orphan's angel at the throne of Heaven Stands up against thee, and there hover o'er thee A Queen's, a Mother's, and a Widow's curse. Henceforth a dragon's haunt, fear and suspicion Stand sentry at thy portals! Faith and honor, Driven from the throne, shall leave the attainted na

tion:

And, for the iniquity that houses in thee,
False glory, thirst of blood, and lust of rapine
(Fateful conjunction of malignant planets),
Shall shoot their blastments on the land. The fathers
Henceforth shall have no joy in their young men,
And when they cry: Lo! a male child is born!
The mother shall make answer with a groan.
For bloody usurpation, like a vulture,
Shall clog its beak within Illyria's heart.
Remorseless slaves of a remorseless tyrant!
They shall be mock'd with sounds of liberty,
And liberty shall be proclaim'd alone

To thee, O Fire! O Pestilence! O Sword!

Till Vengeance hath her fill.—And thou, snatch'd

hence,

Took his last leave. On yonder mountain ridge
Here! For on this spot Lord Casimir
I lost the misty image which so long
Linger'd or seem'd at least to linger on it.

GLYCYNE.

And what if even now, on that same ridge,
A speck should rise, and still enlarging, lengthening
As it clomb downwards, shape itself at last
To a numerous cavalcade, and spurring foremost,
Who but Sarolta's own dear Lord return'd
From his high embassy?

Yes, madam! he was there. So was the maypole, Be brief! We know his titles! For we danced round it.

SAROLTA.

Ah, Glycine! why, Why did you then betroth yourself?

GLYCINE.

Because

My own dear lady wish'd it! 'twas you ask'd me!

SAROLTA.

Yes, at my Lord's request, but never wish'd, My poor affectionate girl, to see thee wretched. Thou know'st not yet the duties of a wife.

GLYCINE.

Oh, yes! It is a wife's chief duty, madam,
To stand in awe of her husband, and obey him;
And, I am sure, I never shall see Laska
But I shall tremble.

SAROLTA.

Not with fear, I think,

For you still mock him. Bring a seat from the cottage. [Exit GLYCINE into the cottage, SAROLTA continues her speech, looking after her. Something above thy rank there hangs about thee, And in thy countenance, thy voice, and motion,

LASKA.

And moreover
Raved like a traitor at our liege King Emerick.
And furthermore, said witnesses make oath,
Led on the assault upon his lordship's servants;
Yea, insolently tore, from this, your huntsman,
His badge of livery of your noble house,
And trampled it in scorn.

SAROLTA (to the Servants who offer to speak).
You have had your spokesman.
Where is the young man thus accused?

OLD BATHORY.

I know not: But if no ill betide him on the mountains, He will not long be absent!

SAROLTA.

Thou art his father!

OLD BATHORY.

None ever with more reason prized a son:
Yet I hate falsehood more than I love him.
But more than one, now in my lady's presence,
Witness'd the affray, besides these men of malice;
And if I swerve from truth-

My tale is brief. During our festive dance,
Your servants, the accusers of my son,
Offer'd gross insults, in unmanly sort,

To our village maidens. He (could he do less?)
Rose in defence of outraged modesty,
And so persuasive did his cudgel prove
(Your hectoring sparks so over brave to women
Are always cowards), that they soon took flight,
And now in mere revenge, like baffled boasters,
Have framed this tale, out of some hasty words
Which their own threats provoked.

SAROLTA.

Too bluntly! Did your son owe no respect
To the livery of our house?

OLD BATHORY.

LASKA (aside).

Yes, now 'tis coming.

SAROLTA.

Brutal aggressors first, then baffled dastards,
That they have sought to piece out their revenge
With a tale of words lured from the lips of anger,
Stamps them most dangerous; and till I want
Fit means for wicked ends, we shall not need
Their services. Discharge them! You, Bathory!
Are henceforth of my household! I shall place you
Near my own person. When your son returns,
Present him to us.

OLD BATHORY.

Ha! what, strangers* here!
What business have they in an old man's eye?
Your goodness, lady-and it came so sudden-
I cannot-must not-let you be deceived.

I have yet another tale, but― [Then to SAROLTA aside.
Not for all ears!

SAROLTA.

Old man! you talk I oft have pass'd your cottage, and still praised
Its beauty, and that trim orchard-plot, whose blossoms
The gusts of April shower'd aslant its thatch.
Come, you shall show it me! And while you bid it
Farewell, be not ashamed that I should witness
The oil of gladness glittering on the water
Of an ebbing grief.

Even such respect As the sheep's skin should gain for the hot wolf That hath begun to worry the poor lambs!

Old insolent ruffian!

LASKA.

GLYCINE.

Pardon! pardon, madam!
I saw the whole affray. The good old man
Means no offence, sweet lady!-You, yourself,
Laska! know well, that these men were the ruffians!
Shame on you!

SAROLTA (speaks with affected anger).

What! Glycine! Go, retire!

[Exit GLYCINE, mournfully.
Be it then that these men faulted. Yet yourself,
Or better still belike the maidens' parents,
Might have complain'd to us. Was ever access
Denied you? Or free audience? Or are we
Weak and unfit to punish our own servants?

OLD BATHORY.

[BATHORY bowing, shows her into his cottage
LASKA (alone).

Vexation! baffled! school'd!
Ho! Laska! wake! why? what can all this mean!
She sent away that cockatrice in anger!
Oh the false witch! It is too plain, she loves him
And now, the old man near my lady's person,
She'll see this Bethlen hourly!

[LASKA flings himself into the seat. GLYCINE
peeps in timidly.

So then! So then! Heaven grant an old man patience! Is he return'd?

GLYCINE.

Have you yet seen him?

[LASKA starts up from his seat Has the seat stung you, Laska?

And must the gardener leave his seedling plants,
Leave his young roses to the rooting swine,
While he goes ask their master, if perchance
His leisure serve to scourge them from their ravage?

No! serpent! no;
What! you would

Till thou hast learnt it! Fervent, good old man!
Forgive me that, to try thee, I put on
A face of sternness, alien to my meaning!
[Then speaks to the Servants.

Hence! leave my presence! and you, Laska! mark
me!

Those rioters are no longer of my household!
If we but shake a dew-drop from a rose,
In vain would we replace it, and as vainly
Restore the tear of wounded modesty
To a maiden's eye familiarized to license.-
But these men, Laska-

LASKA.

'tis you that sting me; you! cling to him again!

GLYCINE.
Whom?

LASKA.

Bethlen! Bethlen!

Yes; gaze as if your very eyes embraced him!
Ha! you forget the scene of yesterday!
Mute ere he came, but then-Out on your screams,
And your pretended fears!

GLYCINE.

Your fears. at least,
Were real, Laska! or your trembling limbs
And white cheeks play'd the hypocrites most vilely!

Refers to the tear, which he fees starting in his eye. The following line was borrowed unconsciously from Mr. Wor worth's Excursion.

I fear! whom? What?

LASKA.

GLYCINE.

LASKA.

You dare own all this?

Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.

I know, what I should fear, Mine, pamper'd Miss! you shall be; and I'll make

Were I in Laska's place.

[Going. Unmanly dastard, hold!

Stop! stop! one question only

GLYCINE.

Ay, as the old song says,

Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove.

I have started many strange beasts in my time, But none less like a man, than this before me

Nay now, I have marr'd the verse: well! this one That lifts his hand against a timid female.

Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused,

Why press'd you forward? Why did you defend him? Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought
False witnesses to swear away your life:
Your life, and old Bathory's too.

GLYCINE.

Question meet question: that's a woman's privilege. Why, Laska, did you urge Lord Casimir

To make my lady force that promise from me?

Oh! that's a different thing. To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious To his good old father. But for loving him— Nay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska! Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him; For I sigh so deeply when I think of him! And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes, And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt That the war-wolf* had gored him as he hunted In the haunted forest!

For the best account of the War-wolf or Lycanthropus, see Drayton's Moon-calf, Chalmers' English Poets, vol. iv. p.

13e.

BETHLEN.

Bathory's! Where is my father? Answer, or- -Ha! gone! [LASKA during this time slinks off the Stage, using threatening gestures to GLYCINE.

GLYCINE.

Oh, heed not him! I saw you pressing onward, And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth, It is your life they seek!

BETHLEN.

My life?

GLYCINE

Alas!

Lady Sarolta even

BETHLEN.

She does not know me! GLYCINE.

Oh that she did! she could not then have spoken With such stern countenance. But though she spurn

me,

I will kneel, Bethlen

BETHLEN.

Not for me, Glycine!
What have I done? or whom have I offended?
GLYCINE.

Rash words, 't is said, and treasonous, of the king.
[BETHLEN mutters to himself indignantly
So looks the statue, in our hall, o' the god,
GLYCINE (aside).
The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!

Hist! 'tis my lady's step! She must not see you!

GLYCINE.

O, 'tis so full here.

[At her heart

And now it cannot harm him if I tell you, That the old man's son

SAROLTA.

Is not that old man's son!

A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his.
For all I know of thee is, that thou art
A soldier's orphan: left when rage intestine
Shook and ingulf'd the pillars of Illyria.

This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake,

This, so mysteriously inscribed by Nature,
Perchance may piece out and interpret thine.
Command thyself! Be secret! His true father-
Hear'st thou ?

GLYCINE (eagerly).

O tell

[BETHLEN retires. BETHLEN (who had overheard the last few words, now

rushes out).

No, I shall break my heart.

SAROLTA (taking her hand).

Ha! is it so?

O strange and hidden power of sympathy,
That of like fates, though all unknown to each,
Dost make blind instincts, orphan's heart to orphan's
Drawing by dim disquiet!

GLYCINE.

Old Bathory

SAROLTA.

Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears. Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen Seems a most noble and deserving youth.

GLYCINE.

My lady does not mock me?

SAROLTA.

Where is Laska?

Has he not told thee?

GLYCINE.

Nothing. In his fearAnger, I mean-stole off-I am so flutter'd

Left me abruptly—

SAROLTA,

His shame excuses him!

He is somewhat hardly task'd; and in discharging
His own tools, cons a lesson for himself.

Bathory and the youth henceforward live
Safe in my Lord's protection.

GLYCINE.

The saints bless you! Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear Lady Sarolta could be cruel'

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The Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Prose and Verse: Complete in One Volume