The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy - novelonlinefull.com
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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 G.o.ds,--they dwell on high-- They circle thee with awful majesty!
All the Knights.
Confess the G.o.ds--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 G.o.ds 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 h.e.l.l-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,
DON CAESAR.
Be comforted; thy sons, with honest heart, To peace aspired, but heaven's decree was blood!
ISABELLA.
I know thou lovedst him well; I saw between ye, With joy, the bands old Nature sweetly twined; Thou wouldst have borne him in thy heart of hearts With rich atonement of long wasted years!
But see--fell murder thwarts thy dear design, And naught remains but vengeance!
DON CAESAR.
Come, my mother, This is no place for thee. Oh, haste and leave This sight of woe.
[He endeavors to drag her away.
ISABELLA (throwing herself into his arms).
Thou livest! I have a son!
BEATRICE.
Alas! my mother!
DON CAESAR.
On this faithful bosom Weep out thy pains; nor lost thy son,--his love Shall dwell immortal in thy Caesar's breast.
First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED).
Break forth, ye wounds!
Dumb witness! the truth proclaim; Flow fast, thou gory stream!
ISABELLA (clasping the hands of DON CAESAR and BEATRICE).
My children!
DON CAESAR.
Oh, 'tis ecstasy! my mother, To see her in thy arms! henceforth in love A daughter--sister----
ISABELLA (interrupting him).
Thou hast kept thy word.
My son; to thee I owe the rescued one; Yes, thou hast sent her----
DON CAESAR (in astonishment).
Whom, my mother, sayst thou, That I have sent?
ISABELLA.
She stands before thine eyes-- Thy sister.
DON CAESAR.
She! My sister?
ISABELLA.
Ay, What other?
