The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 462

ISABELLA.

Live--for thy mother, live, my son-- Must I lose all?

[She throws her arms about him with pa.s.sionate emotion.

He gently disengages himself, and turning his face away extends to her his hand.

DON CAESAR.

Farewell!

ISABELLA.

I can no more; Too well my tortured bosom owns how weak A mother's prayers: a mightier voice shall sound Resistless on thy heart.

[She goes towards the entrance of the scene.

My daughter, come.

A brother calls him to the realms of night; Perchance with golden hues of earthly joy The sister, the beloved, may gently lure The wanderer to life again.

[BEATRICE appears at the entrance of the scene.

DONNA ISABELLA, DON CAESAR, and the Chorus.

DON CAESAR (on seeing her, covers his face with his hands).

My mother!

What hast thou done?

ISABELLA (leading BEATRICE forwards).

A mother's prayers are vain!

Kneel at his feet--conjure him--melt his heart!

Oh, bid him live!

DON CAESAR.

Deceitful mother, thus Thou triest thy son! And wouldst thou stir my soul Again to pa.s.sion's strife, and make the sun Beloved once more, now when I tread the paths Of everlasting night? See where he stands-- Angel of life!--and wondrous beautiful, Shakes from his plenteous horn the fragrant store Of golden fruits and flowers, that breathe around Divinest airs of joy;--my heart awakes In the warm sunbeam--hope returns, and life Thrills in my breast anew.

ISABELLA (to BEATRICE).

Thou wilt prevail!

Or none! Implore him that he live, nor rob The staff and comfort of our days.

BEATRICE.

The loved one A sacrifice demands. Oh, let me die To soothe a brother's shade! Yes, I will be The victim! Ere I saw the light forewarned To death, I live a wrong to heaven! The curse Pursues me still: 'twas I that slew thy son-- I waked the slumbering furies of their strife-- Be mine the atoning blood!

CAJETAN.

Ill-fated mother!

Impatient all thy children haste to doom, And leave thee on the desolate waste alone Of joyous life.

BEATRICE.

Oh, spare thy precious days For nature's band. Thy mother needs a son; My brother, live for her! Light were the pang To lose a daughter--but a moment shown, Then s.n.a.t.c.hed away!

DON CAESAR (with deep emotion).

'Tis one to live or die, Blest with a sister's love!

BEATRICE.

Say, dost thou envy Thy brother's ashes?

DON CAESAR.

In thy grief he lives A hallowed life!--my doom is death forever!

BEATRICE.

My brother!

DON CAESAR.

Sister! are thy tears for me?

BEATRICE.

Live for our mother!

DON CAESAR (dropping her hand, and stepping back).

For our mother?

BEATRICE (hiding her head in his breast).

Live For her and for thy sister!

Chorus (BOHEMUND).

She has won!

Resistless are her prayers. Despairing mother, Awake to hope again--his choice is made!

Thy son shall live!

[At this moment an anthem is heard. The folding doors are thrown open, and in the church is seen the catafalque erected, and the coffin surrounded with candlesticks.

DON CAESAR (turning to the coffin).

I will not rob thee, brother!

The sacrifice is thine:--Hark! from the tomb, Mightier than mother's tears, or sister's love, Thy voice resistless cries:--my arms enfold A treasure, potent with celestial joys, To deck this earthly sphere, and make a lot Worthy the G.o.ds! but shall I live in bliss, While in the tomb thy sainted innocence Sleeps unavenged? Thou, Ruler of our days, All just--all wise--let not the world behold Thy partial care! I saw her tears!--enough-- They flowed for me! I am content: my brother!

I come!

[He stabs himself with a dagger, and falls dead at his sister's feet. She throws herself into her mother's arms.

Chorus, CAJETAN (after a deep silence).

In dread amaze I stand, nor know If I should mourn his fate. One truth revealed Speaks in my breast;--no good supreme is life; But all of earthly ills the chief is--Guilt!

THE END

ON THE USE OF THE CHORUS IN TRAGEDY.

A poetical work must vindicate itself: if the execution be defective, little aid can be derived from commentaries.