Early Plays - Catiline, the Warrior's Barrow, Olaf Liljekrans Part 21

AURELIA. O G.o.ds of mercy!

[She leans faint against the tree outside the tent.]

CATILINE. [To the Warriors.] And now away!

MANLIUS. The din of arms I hear!

SEVERAL VOICES. They come, they come.

CATILINE. Good! We will heed their warning.

Long was our night of shame; our dawn is near--.

To battle in the crimson sky of morning!

By Roman sword, with Roman fort.i.tude, The last of Romans perish in their blood!

[They rush out through the forest; a great alarm, rent with battle-cries, is heard from within the camp.]

FURIA. He is gone forever. My great task in life is done.

Cold and rigid we shall find him in the morning sun.

AURELIA. [Aside.]

In his pa.s.sion-glutted bosom then should love no longer dwell?

Was it nothing but a dream? His angry words I heard full well.

FURIA. Hark, the weapons clash; already at the brink of death he stands; Soon a noiseless shadow he will hasten toward the spirit lands.

AURELIA. [Startled.]

Who are you, prophetic voice, that yonder comes to me, Like the night-owl's cry of warning from some far-off tree!

Are you from the clammy underworld of spirits come Hence to lead my Catiline into your gloomy home?

FURIA. Home is ay the journey's goal, and all his wanderings lay Through the reeking swamps of life--

AURELIA. But only for a day.

Free and n.o.ble was his heart, his spirit strong and true, Till around it serpent-like a poisoned seedling grew.

FURIA.

So the plane-tree, too, keeps fresh and green its leafy dress, Till its trunk is smothered in a clinging vine's caress.

AURELIA.

Now did you betray your source. For time and time again Echoed from the lips of Catiline this one refrain.

You the serpent are, who poisoned all my joy in life, Steeled his heart against my kindness through your deadly strife.

From those waking night-dreams well I know your infamy, Like a threat I see you stand between my love and me.

With my husband at my side I cherished in my breast Longings for a tranquil life, a home of peace and rest.

Ah, a garden-bed I planted in his weary heart; As its fairest ornament our love I hedged apart.

Flower and all have you uprooted with malignant hand; In the dust it lies where thriving it did lately stand.

FURIA. Foolish weakling; you would guide the steps of Catiline?

Do you not perceive his heart was never wholly thine?

Think you that in such a soil your flower can survive?

In the sunny springtime only violets can thrive, While the henbane grows in strength beneath a clouded grey; And his soul was long ago a clouded autumn day.

All is lost to you. Soon dies the spark within his breast; As a victim of revenge he shall go to his rest.

AURELIA. [With increasing vehemence.]

Thus he shall not perish; no, by all the G.o.ds of day!

To his weary heart my tears will somehow force a way.

If I find him pale and gory on the battlefield, I shall throw my arms about him and his bosom shield, Breathe upon his speechless lips the love within my soul, Ease the pain within him and his suffering mind console.

Herald of revenge, your victim from you I shall wrest, Bind him to the land of sunshine, to a home of rest; If his eyes be dimmed already, stilled his beating heart, Linked together arm in arm we shall this life depart.

Grant me, G.o.ds of mercy, in return for what I gave, By the side of him I love, the stillness of the grave.

[She goes.]

FURIA. [Gazes after her.]

Seek him, deluded soul;--I have no fear; I hold the victory safe within my hands.

FURIA. The roar of battle grows; its rumble blends With death-cries and the crash of broken shields.

Is he perchance now dying? Still alive?

Oh, blessed is this hour! The sinking moon Secludes herself in ma.s.sive thunderclouds.

One moment more it will be night anew Ere comes the day;--and with the coming day All will be over. In the dark he dies, As in the dark he lived. O blessed hour!

[She listens.]

FURIA. Now sweeps the wind by, like an autumn gust, And lapses slowly in the far-off distance.

The ponderous armies slowly sweep the plain.

Like angry ocean billows on they roll, Unyielding, trampling down the fallen dead.

Out yonder I hear whines and moans and sighs,-- The final lullaby,--wherewith they lull Themselves to rest and all their pallid brothers.

Now speaks the night-owl forth to welcome them Into the kingdom of the gloomy shadows.

FURIA. [After a pause.]

How still it is. Now is he mine at last,-- Aye, mine alone, and mine forevermore.

Now we can journey toward the river Lethe-- And far beyond where never dawns the day.

Yet first I'll seek his bleeding body yonder, And freely glut my eyes upon those features, Hated and yet so fair, ere they be marred By rising sunshine and by watchful vultures.

[She starts to go, but is suddenly startled at something.]

FURIA. What is that gliding o'er the meadow yonder?

Is it the misty vapors of the moor That form a picture in the morning chill?

Now it draws near.--The shade of Catiline!

His spectre--! I can see his misty eye, His broken shield, his sword bereft of blade.

Ah, he is surely dead; one thing alone,-- Remarkable,--his wound I do not see.

[CATILINE comes through the forest, pale and weary, with drooping head and troubled countenance.]

CATILINE. [To himself.] "Perish thou shalt by deed thine own, And yet a stranger's hand shall fell thee."

Such was his prophecy. Now am I fallen-- Though struck by no one. Who will solve the riddle?

FURIA. I greet you after battle, Catiline!

CATILINE. Ah, who are you?

FURIA. I am a shadow's shadow.