And how she nurs'd him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest leaves
A dying man he lay;

22

His dying words—but when I reach'd 85
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My fault'ring voice and pausing harp
Disturb'd her soul with pity.

23

All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrill'd my guiltless Genevieve— 90
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;

24

And hopes and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng;
And gentle wishes long subdu'd, 95
Subdu'd and cherish'd long.

25

She wept with pity and delight—
She blush'd with love and maiden shame,
And like the murmurs of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name. 100

26

I saw her bosom heave and swell,
Heave and swell with inward sighs—
I could not choose but love to see
Her gentle bosom rise.

27

Her wet cheek glow'd; she stept aside, 105
As conscious of my look she stept;
Then suddenly, with tim'rous eye,
She flew to me, and wept;

28

She half-inclos'd me with her arms—
She press'd me with a meek embrace; 110
And, bending back her head, look'd up,
And gaz'd upon my face.

29

'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel than see, 115
The swelling of her heart.

30

I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beaut'ous bride. 120

31

And now once more a tale of woe,
A woeful tale of love, I sing:
For thee, my Genevieve! it sighs,
And trembles on the string.

32

When last I sang the cruel scorn 125
That craz'd this bold and lonely Knight,
And how he roam'd the mountain woods,
Nor rested day or night;

33

I promis'd thee a sister tale
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).

[2]

Rose upon] Rose-bud on MS. B. M. (1).

[3]

fair] dear erased MS. (1).

[7]

mournfully] sad and sweet MS. (1).

[8]

in] to MS. (1).

[16]

Ladie] Ladié MS. (2).

[20]

The song that makes her grieve. MS. (1).

[21-4]
Each thought, each feeling of the Soul,
All lovely sights, each tender, name,
All, all are ministers of Love,
That stir our mortal frame.

MS. (1).

[22]

All, all that stirs this mortal frame MS. B. M. (2).

[24]

feed] fan MS. (2).

[25]
O ever in my lonely walk

erased MS. (1).

In lonely walk and noontide dreams

MS. (1).

O ever when I walk alone

erased MS. (1).

[26]
I feed upon that blissful hour

MS. (1).

I feed upon that hour of Bliss

erased MS. (1).

That ruddy eve that blissful hour

erased MS. (1).

[26]

dwell] feed MS. (2).

[27]
we sate
When midway on the mount I stood

MS. (1).

When we too stood upon the Hill

erased MS. (1).

[29]
The Moonshine stole upon the ground

erased MS. (1).

The Moon be blended on the ground

MS. (1).

[30]

Had] And erased MS. (1).

[31]

was there] stood near (was there erased) MS. (1).

[33-6]
Against a grey stone rudely carv'd,
The statue of an armed Knight,
in
She lean'd the melancholy mood,
And To watch'd the lingering Light

MS. (1).

[33-4]
She lean'd against a chissold stone
tall
The statue of a

MS. (1).

[34]

the] an MS. (1) [Stanza 10, revised.]

[37]

sad] soft MSS. (1, 2).

doleful] mournful erased MS. (1).

[39]

An] And MS. (2).

rude] wild erased MS. (1).

[41-4]
With flitting Blush and downcast eyes,
In modest melancholy grace
The Maiden stood: perchance I gaz'd
Too fondly on her face.

Erased MS. (1).

[45-8]

om. MS. (1).

[49]

I gaz'd and when I sang of love MS. (1).

[53-6]
With flitting Blush and downcast eyes
and
With downcast eyes in modest grace
for
She listen'd; and perchance I gaz'd
Too fondly on her face.

MS. (1).

[55]

And] Yet MS. (1).

[57]

told] sang MS. (1).

[59]

roam'd] cross'd MS. (1).

[60]

or] nor MS. (1).

[61-4]

om. MS. (1).

[65]

How sometimes from the hollow Trees MS. (1).

[69-72]
look'd
There came and star'd him in the face
An[d] Angel beautiful and bright,
And how he knew it was a fiend
And yell'd with strange affright.

MS. (1).

[74]

lawless] murderous MS. (1).

[77]

clasp'd] kiss'd MS. (1).

[79]

meekly] how she MS. (1).

[87]

fault'ring] trembling MS. (1) erased.

[90]

guiltless] guileless MS. (1).

Between 96 and 97

And while midnight
While Fancy like the nuptial Torch
That bends and rises in the wind
Lit up with wild and broken lights
The Tumult of her mind.

MS. (1) erased.

[99]
And like the murmur of a dream

MSS. (1, 2).

And in a murmur faint and sweet

MS. (1) erased.

[100]
She half pronounced my name.
She breathed her Lover's name.

MS. (1) erased.

[101-4]
I saw her gentle Bosom heave
Th' inaudible and frequent sigh;
modest
And ah! the bashful Maiden mark'd
The wanderings of my eye[s]

MS. (1) erased.

[105-8]

om. MS. (1).

[105]

cheek] cheeks MS. (2).

[108]

flew] fled MS. (2).

[109-16]
side
And closely to my heart she press'd
And ask'd me with her swimming eyes
might
That I would rather feel than see
Her gentle Bosom rise.—

Or

side
And closely to my heart she press'd
And closer still with bashful art—
That I might rather feel than see
The swelling of her Heart.

MS. (1) erased.

[111]

And] Then MS. (2) erased.

[117]
And now serene, serene and chaste
But soon in calm and solemn tone

MS. (1) erased.

[118]

And] She MS. (1) erased.

virgin] maiden MSS. (1, 2).

[120]

bright] dear MS. (1) erased.

beaut'ous] lovely MS. (1) erased.

[125-8]
When last I sang of Him whose heart
Was broken by a woman's scorn—
And how he cross'd the mountain woods
All frantic and forlorn

MS. (1).

[129]

sister] moving MS. (1).

[131]

wrong] wrongs MS. (1).

[132]

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.

Apoecides.
Quis hoc scit factum?
Epidicus.
Ego ita esse factum dico.
Periphanes.
Scin' tu istuc?
Epidicus.
Scio.
Periphanes.
Qui tu scis?
Epidicus.
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]

(Plaut. Epidicus. Act 2. Scen. 2, ll. 22 sqq.)

 

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.)

Fernandez. But little, General! and my faithful charger 105
Liked it still less.
The field of battle in the level plain
By Fontarabia was more to our taste.
Earl Henry. Where is my brother, Don Curio! Have you
Seen him of late?

Fernandez. Scarcely, dear General! 110
For by my troth I have been laughing at him
Even till the merry tears so filled my eyes
That I lost sight of him.
Sandoval. But wherefore, Captain.
Fernandez. He hath been studying speeches with fierce gestures;
Speeches brimfull of wrath and indignation, 115
The which he hopes to vent in open council:
And, in the heat and fury of this fancy
He grasp'd your groom of the Chamber by the throat
Who squeaking piteously, Ey! quoth your brother,
I cry you Mercy, Fool! Hadst been indeed 120
The Chancellor, I should have strangled thee.
Sandoval. Ha, ha! poor Barnard!
Fernandez. What you know my Gentleman,
My Groom of the Chamber, my Sieur Barnard, hey?
Sandoval. I know him for a barren-pated coxcomb.
Fernandez. But very weedy, Sir! in worthless phrases, 125
A sedulous eschewer of the popular
And the colloquial—one who seeketh dignity
I' th' paths of circumlocution! It would have
Surpris'd you tho', to hear how nat'rally
He squeak'd when Curio had him by the throat. 130
Sandoval. I know him too for an habitual scorner
Of Truth.
Fernandez. And one that lies more dully than
Old Women dream, without pretence of fancy,
Humour or mirth, a most disinterested,
Gratuitous Liar.
Earl Henry. Ho! enough, enough! 135
Spare him, I pray you, were't but from respect
To the presence of his Lord.
Sandoval. I stand reprov'd.
Fernandez. I too, but that I know our noble General
Maintains him near his person, only that
If he should ever go in jeopardy 140
Of being damn'd (as he's now persecuted)
For his virtue and fair sense, he may be sav'd
By the supererogation of this Fellow's
Folly and Worthlessness.——