My hope, my joy, my Genevieve!
She loves me best whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve. 20
6
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
7
I dwell upon that happy hour,
When midway on the Mount I sate
Beside the ruin'd Tow'r.
8
Had blended with the lights of eve, 30
And she was there, my hope! my joy!
My own dear Genevieve!
9
10
I sang an old and moving story,
An old rude song, that fitted well
The ruin wild and hoary. 40
11
With downcast eyes and modest grace:
For well she knew, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.
12
Upon his shield a burning brand.
And how for ten long years he woo'd
The Ladie of the Land:
13
The deep, the low, the pleading tone, 50
With which I sang another's love,
Interpreted my own!
14
With downcast eyes and modest grace.
And she forgave me, that I gaz'd 55
Too fondly on her face!
15
That craz'd this bold and lovely Knight;
And how he roam'd the mountain woods,
Nor rested day or night; 60
16
Thro' briars and swampy mosses beat;
How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs,
And low stubs gor'd his feet.
17
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once,
In green and sunny glade;
18
An Angel beautiful and bright, 70
And how he knew it was a Fiend,
This mis'rable Knight!
19
He leapt amid a lawless band,
And sav'd from outrage worse than death 75
The Ladie of the Land.
20
And how she tended him in vain,
And meekly strove to expiate
The scorn that craz'd his brain; 80
21
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest leaves
A dying man he lay;
22
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My fault'ring voice and pausing harp
Disturb'd her soul with pity.
23
Had thrill'd my guiltless Genevieve— 90
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;
24
An undistinguishable throng;
And gentle wishes long subdu'd, 95
Subdu'd and cherish'd long.
25
She blush'd with love and maiden shame,
And like the murmurs of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name. 100
26
Heave and swell with inward sighs—
I could not choose but love to see
Her gentle bosom rise.
27
As conscious of my look she stept;
Then suddenly, with tim'rous eye,
She flew to me, and wept;
28
She press'd me with a meek embrace; 110
And, bending back her head, look'd up,
And gaz'd upon my face.
29
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel than see, 115
The swelling of her heart.
30
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beaut'ous bride. 120
31
A woeful tale of love, I sing:
For thee, my Genevieve! it sighs,
And trembles on the string.
32
That craz'd this bold and lonely Knight,
And how he roam'd the mountain woods,
Nor rested day or night;
33
Of Man's perfidious cruelty: 130
Come, then, and hear what cruel wrong
Befel the Dark Ladie.
End of the Introduction.
FOOTNOTES:
[1052:1] Published in the Morning Post, Dec. 21, 1799. Collated with two MSS.—MS. (1); MS. (2)—in the British Museum [Add. MSS. 27,902]. See Coleridge's Poems, A Facsimile of the Proofs, &c., edited by the late James Dykes Campbell, 1899. MS. 1 consists of thirty-two stanzas (unnumbered), written on nine pages: MS. 2 (which begins with stanza 6, and ends with stanza 30) of fourteen stanzas (unnumbered) written on four pages.
LINENOTES:
Title—The Dark Ladiè. MS. B. M. (1).
Rose upon] Rose-bud on MS. B. M. (1).
fair] dear erased MS. (1).
mournfully] sad and sweet MS. (1).
in] to MS. (1).
Ladie] Ladié MS. (2).
The song that makes her grieve. MS. (1).
All lovely sights, each tender, name,
All, all are ministers of Love,
That stir our mortal frame.
All, all that stirs this mortal frame MS. B. M. (2).
feed] fan MS. (2).
dwell] feed MS. (2).
Had] And erased MS. (1).
was there] stood near (was there erased) MS. (1).
The statue of an armed Knight,
in
She lean'd
the] an MS. (1) [Stanza 10, revised.]
In modest melancholy grace
The Maiden stood: perchance I gaz'd
Too fondly on her face.
om. MS. (1).
I gaz'd and when I sang of love MS. (1).
and
With downcast eyes in modest grace
for
Too fondly on her face.
And] Yet MS. (1).
told] sang MS. (1).
roam'd] cross'd MS. (1).
or] nor MS. (1).
om. MS. (1).
How sometimes from the hollow Trees MS. (1).
There came and
An[d] Angel beautiful and bright,
And how he knew it was a fiend
And yell'd with strange affright.
lawless] murderous MS. (1).
clasp'd] kiss'd MS. (1).
meekly] how she MS. (1).
fault'ring] trembling MS. (1) erased.
guiltless] guileless MS. (1).
Between 96 and 97
That bends and rises in the wind
Lit up with wild and broken lights
The Tumult of her mind.
She breathed her Lover's name.
Th' inaudible and frequent sigh;
modest
And ah! the
The wanderings of my eye[s]
om. MS. (1).
cheek] cheeks MS. (2).
flew] fled MS. (2).
And closely to my
And ask'd me with her swimming eyes
might
That I
Her gentle Bosom rise.—
Or
And closely to my
And closer still with bashful art—
That I might rather feel than see
The swelling of her Heart.
And] Then MS. (2) erased.
But soon in calm and solemn tone
Was broken by a woman's scorn—
And how he cross'd the mountain woods
All frantic and forlorn
sister] moving MS. (1).
wrong] wrongs MS. (1).
Ladie] Ladié MS. (2).
After 132 The Dark Ladiè. MS. (1).
I
THE TRIUMPH OF LOYALTY.[1060:1]
[Vide ante, p. 421.]
AN HISTORIC DRAMA
IN
FIVE ACTS.
FIRST PERFORMED WITH UNIVERSAL APPLAUSE AT THE
THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, ON SATURDAY,
FEBRUARY THE 7TH, 1801.
Quis hoc scit factum?
Ego ita esse factum dico.
Scin' tu istuc?
Scio.
Qui tu scis?
Quia ego vidi.
Periphanes.
[Ipse vidistine [Tragediam?]] Nimis factum bene!
Epidicus.
Sed vestita, aurata, ornata, ut lepide! ut concinne! ut nove! [Proh Dii immortales! tempestatem (plausuum Populus) nobis nocte hac misit!][1060:2]
LONDON.
PRINTED FOR T. N. LONGMAN AND REES,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1801.
FOOTNOTES:
[1060:1] Now first published from an MS. in the British Museum (Add. MSS. 34,225). The Triumph of Loyalty, 'a sort of dramatic romance' (see Letter to Poole, December 5, 1800; Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 343), was begun and left unfinished in the late autumn of 1800. An excerpt (ll. 277-358) was revised and published as 'A Night Scene. A Dramatic Fragment,' in Sibylline Leaves (1817), vide ante, pp. 421-3. The revision of the excerpt (ll. 263-349) with respect to the order and arrangement of its component parts is indicated by asterisks, which appear to be contemporary with the MS. I have, therefore, in printing the MS., followed the revised and not the original order of these lines. Again, in the hitherto unpublished portion of the MS. (ll. 1-263) I have omitted rough drafts of passages which were rewritten, either on the same page or on the reverse of the leaf.
[1060:2] The words enclosed in brackets are not to be found in the text. They were either invented or adapted by Coleridge ad hoc. The text of the passage as a whole has been reconstructed by modern editors.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
| Earl Henry | Mr. Kemble |
| Don Curio | Mr. C. Kemble |
| Sandoval | Mr. Barrymore |
| Alva, the Chancellor | Mr. Aickin |
| Barnard, Earl Henry's Groom of the Chamber | Mr. Suett |
| Don Fernandez | Mr. Bannister, jun. |
| The Governor of the State Prison | Mr. Davis |
| Herreras (Oropeza's Uncle) and three Conspirators | Messrs. Packer, Wentworth, Mathew, and Gibbon |
| Officers and Soldiers of Earl Henry's Regiment. | |
| The Queen of Navarre | Mrs. Siddons |
| Donna Oropeza | Mrs. Powell |
| Mira, her attendant | Miss Decamp |
| Aspasia, a singer | Mrs. Crouch |
Scene, partly at the Country seat of Donna Oropeza, and partly in Pampilona [sic], the Capital of Navarre.
THE TRIUMPH OF LOYALTY
ACT I
Scene I. A cultivated Plain, skirted on the Left by a Wood. The Pyrenees are visible in the distance. Small knots of Soldiers all in the military Dress of the middle Ages are seen passing across the Stage. Then
Enter Earl Henry and Sandoval, both armed.
Sandoval. A delightful plain this, and doubly pleasant
after so long and wearisome a descent from the Pyranees
[sic]. Did you not observe how our poor over wearied horses
mended their pace as soon as they reached it?
Earl Henry. I must entreat your forgiveness, gallant 5
Castilian! I ought ere this to have bade you welcome to my
native Navarre.
Sandoval. Cheerily, General! Navarre has indeed but ill
repaid your services, in thus recalling you from the head of
an army which you yourself had collected and disciplined. 10
But the wrongs and insults which you have suffered——
Earl Henry. Deserve my thanks, Friend! In the sunshine
of Court-favor I could only believe that I loved my Queen and
my Country: now I know it. But why name I my Country or
my Sovereign? I owe all my Wrongs to the private enmity of 15
the Chancellor.
Sandoval. Heaven be praised, you have atchieved [sic]
a delicious revenge upon him!—that the same Courier who
brought the orders for your recall carried back with him the
first tidings of your Victory—it was exquisite good fortune! 20
Earl Henry. Sandoval! my gallant Friend! Let me not
deceive you. To you I have vowed an undisguised openness.
The gloom which overcast me, was occasioned by causes of less
public import.
Sandoval. Connected, I presume, with that Mansion, the 25
spacious pleasure grounds of which we noticed as we were
descending from the mountain. Lawn and Grove, River and
Hillock—it looked within these high walls, like a World of
itself.
Earl Henry. This Wood scarcely conceals these high walls 30
from us. Alas! I know the place too well. . . . Nay, why too
well?—But wherefore spake you, Sandoval, of this Mansion?
What know you?
Sandoval. Nothing. Therefore I spake of it. On our descent
from the mountain I pointed it out to you and asked to whom 35
it belonged—you became suddenly absent, and answered me
only by looks of Disturbance and Anxiety.
Earl Henry. That Mansion once belonged to Manric [sic],
Lord of Valdez.
Sandoval. Alas, poor Man! the same, who had dangerous 40
claims to the Throne of Navarre.
Earl Henry. Claims?—Say rather, pretensions—plausible
only to the unreasoning Multitude.
Sandoval. Pretensions then (with bitterness).
Earl Henry. Bad as these were, the means he employed to 45
give effect to them were still worse. He trafficked with France
against the independence of his Country. He was a traitor,
my Friend! and died a traitor's death. His two sons suffered
with him, and many, (I fear, too many) of his adherents.
Sandoval. Earl Henry! (a pause) If the sentence were just, 50
why was not the execution of it public. . . . It is reported, that
they were—but no! I will not believe it—the honest soul of
my friend would not justify so foul a deed.
Earl Henry. Speak plainly—what is reported?
Sandoval. That they were all assassinated by order of the 55
new Queen.
Earl Henry. Accursed be the hearts that framed and
the tongues that scattered the Calumny!—The Queen was
scarcely seated on her throne; the Chancellor, who had been
her Guardian, exerted a pernicious influence over her 60
judgement—she was taught to fear dangerous commotions in the
Capital, she was intreated to prevent the bloodshed of the
deluded citizens, and thus overawed she reluctantly consented
to permit the reinforcement of an obsolete law, and——
Sandoval. They were not assassinated then?—— 65
Earl Henry. Why these bitter tones to me, Sandoval? Can
a law assassinate? Don Manrique [sic] and his accomplices
drank the sleepy poison adjudged by that law in the State
Prison at Pampilona. At that time I was with the army on
the frontiers of France. 70
Sandoval. Had you been in the Capital——
Earl Henry. I would have pledged my life on the safety of
a public Trial and a public Punishment.
Sandoval. Poisoned! The Father and his Sons!—And this,
Earl Henry, was the first act of that Queen, whom you idolize! 75
Earl Henry. No, Sandoval, No! This was not her act. She
roused herself from the stupor of alarm, she suspended in
opposition to the advice of her council, all proceedings against
the inferior partisans of the Conspiracy; she facilitated the
escape of Don Manrique's brother, and to Donna Oropeza, his 80
daughter and only surviving child, she restored all her father's
possessions, nay became herself her Protectress and Friend.
These were the acts, these the first acts of my royal Mistress.
Sandoval. And how did Donna Oropeza receive these favors?
Earl Henry. Why ask you that? Did they not fall on her, 85
like heavenly dews?
Sandoval. And will they not rise again, like an earthly mist?
What is Gratitude opposed to Ambition, filial revenge, and
Woman's rivalry—what is it but a cruel Curb in the mouth of
a fiery Horse, maddening the fierce animal whom it cannot 90
restrain? Forgive me, Earl Henry! I meant not to move
you so deeply.
Earl Henry. Sandoval, you have uttered that in a waking
hour which having once dreamt, I feared the return of sleep
lest I should dream it over again. My Friend (his Voice 95
trembling) I woo'd the daughter of Don Manrique, but we are
interrupted.
Sandoval. It is Fernandez.
Earl Henry (struggling with his emotions). A true-hearted old
fellow—— 100
Sandoval. As splenetic as he is brave.
Enter Fernandez.
Earl Henry. Well, my ancient! how did you like our tour
through the mountains. (Earl Henry sits down on the seat by
the woodside.)