The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Part 49

This old Francesco Cenci, as you know, Borrowed the dowry of my wife from me, _300 And then denied the loan; and left me so In poverty, the which I sought to mend By holding a poor office in the state.

It had been promised to me, and already I bought new clothing for my ragged babes, _305 And my wife smiled; and my heart knew repose.

When Cenci's intercession, as I found, Conferred this office on a wretch, whom thus He paid for vilest service. I returned With this ill news, and we sate sad together _310 Solacing our despondency with tears Of such affection and unbroken faith As temper life's worst bitterness; when he, As he is wont, came to upbraid and curse, Mocking our poverty, and telling us _315 Such was G.o.d's scourge for disobedient sons.

And then, that I might strike him dumb with shame, I spoke of my wife's dowry; but he coined A brief yet specious tale, how I had wasted The sum in secret riot; and he saw _320 My wife was touched, and he went smiling forth.

And when I knew the impression he had made, And felt my wife insult with silent scorn My ardent truth, and look averse and cold, I went forth too: but soon returned again; _325 Yet not so soon but that my wife had taught My children her harsh thoughts, and they all cried, 'Give us clothes, father! Give us better food!

What you in one night squander were enough For months!' I looked, and saw that home was h.e.l.l. _330 And to that h.e.l.l will I return no more Until mine enemy has rendered up Atonement, or, as he gave life to me I will, reversing Nature's law...

ORSINO: Trust me, The compensation which thou seekest here _335 Will be denied.

GIACOMO: Then...Are you not my friend?

Did you not hint at the alternative, Upon the brink of which you see I stand, The other day when we conversed together?

My wrongs were then less. That word parricide, _340 Although I am resolved, haunts me like fear.

ORSINO: It must be fear itself, for the bare word Is hollow mockery. Mark, how wisest G.o.d Draws to one point the threads of a just doom, So sanctifying it: what you devise _345 Is, as it were, accomplished.

GIACOMO: Is he dead?

ORSINO: His grave is ready. Know that since we met Cenci has done an outrage to his daughter.

GIACOMO: What outrage?

ORSINO: That she speaks not, but you may Conceive such half conjectures as I do, _350 From her fixed paleness, and the lofty grief Of her stern brow bent on the idle air, And her severe unmodulated voice, Drowning both tenderness and dread; and last From this; that whilst her step-mother and I, _355 Bewildered in our horror, talked together With obscure hints; both self-misunderstood And darkly guessing, stumbling, in our talk, Over the truth, and yet to its revenge, She interrupted us, and with a look _360 Which told, before she spoke it, he must die:...

GIACOMO: It is enough. My doubts are well appeased; There is a higher reason for the act Than mine; there is a holier judge than me, A more unblamed avenger. Beatrice, _365 Who in the gentleness of thy sweet youth Hast never trodden on a worm, or bruised A living flower, but thou hast pitied it With needless tears! Fair sister, thou in whom Men wondered how such loveliness and wisdom _370 Did not destroy each other! Is there made Ravage of thee? O, heart, I ask no more Justification! Shall I wait, Orsino, Till he return, and stab him at the door?

ORSINO: Not so; some accident might interpose _375 To rescue him from what is now most sure; And you are unprovided where to fly, How to excuse or to conceal. Nay, listen: All is contrived; success is so a.s.sured That...

[ENTER BEATRICE.]

BEATRICE: 'Tis my brother's voice! You know me not?

GIACOMO: My sister, my lost sister! _380

BEATRICE: Lost indeed!

I see Orsino has talked with you, and That you conjecture things too horrible To speak, yet far less than the truth. Now, stay not, He might return: yet kiss me; I shall know _385 That then thou hast consented to his death.

Farewell, farewell! Let piety to G.o.d, Brotherly love, justice and clemency, And all things that make tender hardest hearts Make thine hard, brother. Answer not...farewell. _390

[EXEUNT SEVERALLY.]

SCENE 3.2: A MEAN APARTMENT IN GIACOMO'S HOUSE.

GIACOMO ALONE.

GIACOMO: 'Tis midnight, and Orsino comes not yet.

[THUNDER, AND THE SOUND OF A STORM.]

What! can the everlasting elements Feel with a worm like man? If so, the shaft Of mercy-winged lightning would not fall On stones and trees. My wife and children sleep: _5 They are now living in unmeaning dreams: But I must wake, still doubting if that deed Be just which is most necessary. O, Thou unreplenished lamp! whose narrow fire Is shaken by the wind, and on whose edge _10 Devouring darkness hovers! Thou small flame, Which, as a dying pulse rises and falls, Still flickerest up and down, how very soon, Did I not feed thee, wouldst thou fail and be As thou hadst never been! So wastes and sinks _15 Even now, perhaps, the life that kindled mine: But that no power can fill with vital oil That broken lamp of flesh. Ha! 'tis the blood Which fed these veins that ebbs till all is cold: It is the form that moulded mine that sinks _20 Into the white and yellow spasms of death: It is the soul by which mine was arrayed In G.o.d's immortal likeness which now stands Naked before Heaven's judgement seat!

[A BELL STRIKES.]

One! Two!

The hours crawl on; and, when my hairs are white, _25 My son will then perhaps be waiting thus, Tortured between just hate and vain remorse; Chiding the tardy messenger of news Like those which I expect. I almost wish He be not dead, although my wrongs are great; _30 Yet...'tis Orsino's step...

[ENTER ORSINO.]

Speak!

ORSINO: I am come To say he has escaped.

GIACOMO: Escaped!

ORSINO: And safe Within Petrella. He pa.s.sed by the spot Appointed for the deed an hour too soon.

GIACOMO: Are we the fools of such contingencies? _35 And do we waste in blind misgivings thus The hours when we should act? Then wind and thunder, Which seemed to howl his knell, is the loud laughter With which Heaven mocks our weakness! I henceforth Will ne'er repent of aught designed or done _40 But my repentance.

ORSINO: See, the lamp is out.

GIACOMO: If no remorse is ours when the dim air Has drank this innocent flame, why should we quail When Cenci's life, that light by which ill spirits See the worst deeds they prompt, shall sink for ever? _45 No, I am hardened.

ORSINO: Why, what need of this?

Who feared the pale intrusion of remorse In a just deed? Although our first plan failed, Doubt not but he will soon be laid to rest.

But light the lamp; let us not talk i' the dark. _50

GIACOMO [LIGHTING THE LAMP]: And yet once quenched I cannot thus relume My father's life: do you not think his ghost Might plead that argument with G.o.d?

ORSINO: Once gone You cannot now recall your sister's peace; Your own extinguished years of youth and hope; _55 Nor your wife's bitter words; nor all the taunts Which, from the prosperous, weak misfortune takes; Nor your dead mother; nor...

GIACOMO: O, speak no more!

I am resolved, although this very hand Must quench the life that animated it. _60

ORSINO: There is no need of that. Listen: you know Olimpio, the castellan of Petrella In old Colonna's time; him whom your father Degraded from his post? And Marzio, That desperate wretch, whom he deprived last year _65 Of a reward of blood, well earned and due?

GIACOMO: I knew Olimpio; and they say he hated Old Cenci so, that in his silent rage His lips grew white only to see him pa.s.s.

Of Marzio I know nothing.

ORSINO: Marzio's hate _70 Matches Olimpio's. I have sent these men, But in your name, and as at your request, To talk with Beatrice and Lucretia.

GIACOMO: Only to talk?

ORSINO: The moments which even now Pa.s.s onward to to-morrow's midnight hour _75 May memorize their flight with death: ere then They must have talked, and may perhaps have done, And made an end...

GIACOMO: Listen! What sound is that?

ORSINO: The house-dog moans, and the beams crack: nought else.

GIACOMO: It is my wife complaining in her sleep: _80 I doubt not she is saying bitter things Of me; and all my children round her dreaming That I deny them sustenance.

ORSINO: Whilst he Who truly took it from them, and who fills Their hungry rest with bitterness, now sleeps _85 Lapped in bad pleasures, and triumphantly Mocks thee in visions of successful hate Too like the truth of day.

GIACOMO: If e'er he wakes Again, I will not trust to hireling hands...

ORSINO: Why, that were well. I must be gone; good-night. _90 When next we meet--may all be done!

NOTE: _91 may all be done!

Giacomo: And all edition 1821; Giacomo: May all be done, and all edition 1819.