The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (2 of 2), by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Casimir. O agony! [To Emerick.
Sire, hear me! [To Kiuprili, who turns from him.
Hear me, father!

Emerick. Take in arrest that traitor and assassin!
Who pleads for his life, strikes at mine, his sovereign's. 410

Raab Kiuprili. As the Co-regent of the Realm, I stand
Amenable to none save to the States
Met in due course of law. But ye are bond-slaves,
Yet witness ye that before God and man
I here impeach Lord Emerick of foul treason, 415
And on strong grounds attaint him with suspicion
Of murder—

Emerick. Hence with the madman!

Raab Kiuprili. Your Queen's murder,
The royal orphan's murder: and to the death
[897] Defy him, as a tyrant and usurper. [Hurried off by Ragozzi and the Guard.

Emerick. Ere twice the sun hath risen, by my sceptre 420
This insolence shall be avenged.

Casimir. O banish him!
This infamy will crush me. O for my sake,
Banish him, my liege lord!

Emerick. What? to the army?
Be calm, young friend! Nought shall be done in anger.
The child o'erpowers the man. In this emergence 425
I must take counsel for us both. Retire. [Exit Casimir.

Emerick (alone, looks at a Calendar). The changeful planet, now in her decay,
Dips down at midnight, to be seen no more.
With her shall sink the enemies of Emerick,
Cursed by the last look of the waning moon: 430
And my bright destiny, with sharpened horns,
Shall greet me fearless in the new-born crescent. [Exit.

Scene changes to the back of the Palace—a Wooded Park, and Mountains. Enter Zapolya, with an infant in arms.

Zapolya. Hush, dear one! hush! My trembling arm disturbs thee!
Thou, the protector of the helpless! Thou,
The widow's husband and the orphan's father, 435
Direct my steps! Ah whither? O send down
Thy angel to a houseless babe and mother,
Driven forth into the cruel wilderness!
Hush, sweet one! Thou art no Hagar's offspring: thou art
The rightful heir of an anointed king! 440
What sounds are those? It is the vesper chaunt
Of labouring men returning to their home!
Their queen has no home! Hear me, heavenly Father!
And let this darkness——
Be as the shadow of thy outspread wings 445
To hide and shield us! Start'st thou in thy slumbers?
Thou canst not dream of savage Emerick. Hush!
Betray not thy poor mother! For if they seize thee
I shall grow mad indeed, and they'll believe
Thy wicked uncle's lie. Ha! what? A soldier? 450

Chef Ragozzi. Sure Heaven befriends us. Well! he hath escaped!
O rare tune of a tyrant's promises
That can enchant the serpent treachery
From forth its lurking hole in the heart. 'Ragozzi!
O brave Ragozzi! Count! Commander! What not?' 455
And all this too for nothing! a poor nothing!
Merely to play the underling in the murder
Of my best friend Kiuprili! His own son—monstrous!
Tyrant! I owe thee thanks, and in good hour
Will I repay thee, for that thou thought'st me too 460
A serviceable villain. Could I now
But gain some sure intelligence of the queen:
Heaven bless and guard her!

Zapolya (coming forward). Art thou not Ragozzi?

Chef Ragozzi. The Queen! Now then the miracle is full! 465
I see heaven's wisdom is an over-match
For the devil's cunning. This way, madam, haste!

Zapolya. Stay! Oh, no! Forgive me if I wrong thee!
This is thy sovereign's child: Oh, pity us,
And be not treacherous! [Kneeling.

Chef Ragozzi (raising her). Madam! For mercy's sake! 470

Zapolya. But tyrants have a hundred eyes and arms!

Chef Ragozzi. Take courage, madam! 'Twere too horrible,
(I can not do't) to swear I'm not a monster!—
Scarce had I barr'd the door on Raab Kiuprili—

Zapolya. Kiuprili! How?

Chef Ragozzi. There is not time to tell it,— 475
The tyrant called me to him, praised my zeal—
(And be assured I overtopt his cunning
And seemed right zealous.) But time wastes: In fine,
Bids me dispatch my trustiest friends, as couriers
With letters to the army. The thought at once 480
Flashed on me. I disguised my prisoner—

Zapolya. What, Raab Kiuprili?

Chef Ragozzi. Yes! my noble general!
I sent him off, with Emerick's own pacquet,
Haste, and post haste—Prepared to follow him——

Zapolya. Ah, how? Is it joy or fear? My limbs seem sinking!— 485

Chef Ragozzi (supporting her). Heaven still befriends us. I have left my charger,
A gentle beast and fleet, and my boy's mule,
One that can shoot a precipice like a bird,
Just where the wood begins to climb the mountains.
The course we'll thread will mock the tyrant's guesses, 490
Or scare the followers. Ere we reach the main road
The Lord Kiuprili will have sent a troop
To escort me. Oh, thrice happy when he finds
The treasure which I convoy!

Zapolya. One brief moment,
That praying for strength I may have strength. This babe, 495
Heaven's eye is on it, and its innocence
Is, as a prophet's prayer, strong and prevailing!
Through thee, dear babe, the inspiring thought possessed me,
When the loud clamor rose, and all the palace
Emptied itself—(They sought my life, Ragozzi!) 500
Like a swift shadow gliding, I made way
To the deserted chamber of my lord.— [Then to the infant.
And thou didst kiss thy father's lifeless lips,
And in thy helpless hand, sweet slumberer!
Still clasp'st the signet of thy royalty. 505
As I removed the seal, the heavy arm
Dropt from the couch aslant, and the stiff finger
Seemed pointing at my feet. Provident Heaven!
Lo, I was standing on the secret door,
Which, through a long descent where all sound perishes, 510
Led out beyond the palace. Well I knew it——
But Andreas framed it not! He was no tyrant!

Chef Ragozzi. Haste, madam! Let me take this precious burden! [He kneels as he takes the child.

Zapolya. Take him! And if we be pursued, I charge thee,
Flee thou and leave me! Flee and save thy king! 515
[Then as going off, she looks back on the palace.
Thou tyrant's den, be called no more a palace!
The orphan's angel at the throne of heaven
Stands up against thee, and there hover o'er thee
A Queen's, a Mother's, and a Widow's curse.
Henceforth a dragon's haunt, fear and suspicion 520
Stand sentry at thy portals! Faith and honour,
[900] Driven from the throne, shall leave the attainted nation:
And, for the iniquity that houses in thee,
False glory, thirst of blood, and lust of rapine,
(Fateful conjunction of malignant planets) 525
Shall shoot their blastments on the land. The fathers
Henceforth shall have no joy in their young men,
And when they cry: Lo! a male child is born!
The mother shall make answer with a groan.
For bloody usurpation, like a vulture, 530
Shall clog its beak within Illyria's heart.
Remorseless slaves of a remorseless tyrant,
They shall be mocked with sounds of liberty,
And liberty shall be proclaimed alone
To thee, O Fire! O Pestilence! O Sword! 535
Till Vengeance hath her fill.—And thou, snatched hence,
Poor friendless fugitive! with mother's wailing,
Offspring of Royal Andreas, shalt return,
With trump and timbrel-clang, and popular shout,
In triumph to the palace of thy fathers! [Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

Part II

THE SEQUEL, ENTITLED 'THE USURPER'S FATE'

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS

Between the flight of the Queen, and the civil war which immediately followed, and in which Emerick remained the victor, a space of twenty years is supposed to have elapsed.

USURPATION ENDED; OR, SHE COMES AGAIN

ACT I

Scene I

A Mountainous Country. Bathory's Dwelling at the end of the Stage. Enter Lady Sarolta and Glycine.

Glycine. Well then! our round of charity is finished.
Rest, Madam! You breathe quick.

Sarolta. What, tired, Glycine?
No delicate court-dame, but a mountaineer
By choice no less than birth, I gladly use
The good strength Nature gave me.

Glycine. That last cottage 5
Is built as if an eagle or a raven
Had chosen it for her nest.

Sarolta. So many are
The sufferings which no human aid can reach,
It needs must be a duty doubly sweet
To heal the few we can. Well! let us rest. 10

Glycine. There? [Pointing to Bathory's dwelling.

Sarolta. Here! For on this spot Lord Casimir
Took his last leave. On yonder mountain-ridge
I lost the misty image which so long
Lingered, or seemed at least to linger on it.

Glycine. And what if even now, on that same ridge, 15
A speck should rise, and still enlarging, lengthening,
As it clomb downwards, shape itself at last
To a numerous cavalcade, and spurring foremost,
Who but Sarolta's own dear lord returned
From his high embassy?

Sarolta. Thou hast hit my thought! 20
All the long day, from yester-morn to evening,
The restless hope fluttered about my heart.
Oh we are querulous creatures! Little less
Than all things can suffice to make us happy;
And little more than nothing is enough 25
To discontent us.—Were he come, then should I
Repine he had not arrived just one day earlier
To keep his birth-day here, in his own birth-place.

Glycine. But our best sports belike, and gay processions
Would to my lord have seemed but work-day sights 30
Compared with those the royal court affords.

Sarolta. I have small wish to see them. A spring morning
With its wild gladsome minstrelsy of birds
And its bright jewelry of flowers and dew-drops
(Each orbéd drop an orb of glory in it) 35
Would put them all in eclipse. This sweet retirement
Lord Casimir's wish alone would have made sacred:
But, in good truth, his loving jealousy
Did but command, what I had else entreated.

Glycine. And yet had I been born Lady Sarolta, 40
Been wedded to the noblest of the realm,
So beautiful besides, and yet so stately——

Sarolta. Hush! Innocent flatterer!

Glycine. Nay! to my poor fancy
The royal court would seem an earthly heaven,
Made for such stars to shine in, and be gracious. 45

Sarolta. So doth the ignorant distance still delude us!
Thy fancied heaven, dear girl, like that above thee,
In its mere self cold, drear, colourless void,
Seen from below and in the large, becomes
The bright blue ether, and the seat of gods! 50
Well! but this broil that scared you from the dance?
And was not Laska there: he, your betrothed?

Glycine. Yes, madam! he was there. So was the maypole,
For we danced round it.

Sarolta. Ah, Glycine! why,
[903]Why did you then betroth yourself?

Glycine. Because 55
My own dear lady wished it! 'twas you asked me!

Sarolta. Yes, at my lord's request, but never wished,
My poor affectionate girl, to see thee wretched.
Thou knowest not yet the duties of a wife.

Glycine. Oh, yes! It is a wife's chief duty, madam! 60
To stand in awe of her husband, and obey him,
And, I am sure, I never shall see Laska
But I shall tremble.

Sarolta. Not with fear, I think,
For you still mock him. Bring a seat from the cottage.
[Exit Glycine into the cottage, Sarolta continues her speech looking after her.
Something above thy rank there hangs about thee, 65
And in thy countenance, thy voice, and motion,
Yea, e'en in thy simplicity, Glycine,
A fine and feminine grace, that makes me feel
More as a mother than a mistress to thee!
Thou art a soldier's orphan! that—the courage, 70
Which rising in thine eye, seems oft to give
A new soul to its gentleness, doth prove thee!
Thou art sprung too of no ignoble blood,
Or there's no faith in instinct! [Angry voices and clamour within.

Glycine. Oh, madam! there's a party of your servants, 75
And my lord's steward, Laska, at their head,
Have come to search for old Bathory's son,
Bethlen, that brave young man! 'twas he, my lady,
That took our parts, and beat off the intruders,
And in mere spite and malice, now they charge him 80
With bad words of Lord Casimir and the king.
Pray don't believe them, madam! This way! This way!
Lady Sarolta's here.— [Calling without.

Sarolta. Be calm, Glycine.

Laska (to Bathory). We have no concern with you! What needs your presence?

Old Bathory. What! Do you think I'll suffer my brave boy 85
[904] To be slandered by a set of coward-ruffians,
And leave it to their malice,—yes, mere malice!—
To tell its own tale? [Laska and Servants bow to Lady Sarolta.

Sarolta. Laska! What may this mean?

Laska. Madam! and may it please your ladyship!
This old man's son, by name Bethlen Bathory, 90
Stands charged, on weighty evidence, that he,
On yester-eve, being his lordship's birth-day,
Did traitorously defame Lord Casimir:
The lord high steward of the realm, moreover——

Sarolta. Be brief! We know his titles!

Laska. And moreover 95
Raved like a traitor at our liege King Emerick.
And furthermore, said witnesses make oath,
Led on the assault upon his lordship's servants;
Yea, insolently tore, from this, your huntsman,
His badge of livery of your noble house, 100
And trampled it in scorn.

Sarolta (to the Servants who offer to speak). You have had your spokesman!
Where is the young man thus accused?

Old Bathory. I know not:
But if no ill betide him on the mountains,
He will not long be absent!

Sarolta. Thou art his father? 105

Old Bathory. None ever with more reason prized a son;
Yet I hate falsehood more than I love him.
But more than one, now in my lady's presence,
Witnessed the affray, besides these men of malice;
And if I swerve from truth——

Glycine. Yes! good old man! 110
My lady! pray believe him!

Sarolta. Hush, Glycine
Be silent, I command you. [Then to Bathory.
Speak! we hear you!

Old Bathory. My tale is brief. During our festive dance,
Your servants, the accusers of my son,
Offered gross insults, in unmanly sort, 115
To our village maidens. He (could he do less?)
Rose in defence of outraged modesty,
And so persuasive did his cudgel prove,
[905] (Your hectoring sparks so over-brave to women
Are always cowards) that they soon took flight, 120
And now in mere revenge, like baffled boasters,
Have framed this tale, out of some hasty words
Which their own threats provoked.

Sarolta. Old man! you talk
Too bluntly! Did your son owe no respect
To the livery of our house?

Old Bathory. Even such respect 125
As the sheep's skin should gain for the hot wolf
That hath begun to worry the poor lambs!

Laska. Old insolent ruffian!

Glycine. Pardon! pardon, madam!
I saw the whole affray. The good old man
Means no offence, sweet lady!—You, yourself, 130
Laska! know well, that these men were the ruffians!
Shame on you!

Sarolta. What! Glycine? Go, retire! [Exit Glycine.
Be it then that these men faulted. Yet yourself,
Or better still belike the maidens' parents,
Might have complained to us. Was ever access 135
Denied you? Or free audience? Or are we
Weak and unfit to punish our own servants?

Old Bathory. So then! So then! Heaven grant an old man patience!
And must the gardener leave his seedling plants,
Leave his young roses to the rooting swine 140
While he goes ask their master, if perchance
His leisure serve to scourge them from their ravage?

Laska. Ho! Take the rude clown from your lady's presence!
I will report her further will!

Sarolta. Wait then,
Till thou hast learnt it! Fervent good old man! 145
Forgive me that, to try thee, I put on
A face of sternness, alien to my meaning! [Then speaks to the Servants.
Hence! leave my presence! and you, Laska! mark me!
Those rioters are no longer of my household!
If we but shake a dewdrop from a rose 150
In vain would we replace it, and as vainly
Restore the tear of wounded modesty
[906] To a maiden's eye familiarized to licence.—
But these men, Laska—

Laska (aside). Yes, now 'tis coming.

Sarolta. Brutal aggressors first, then baffled dastards, 155
That they have sought to piece out their revenge
With a tale of words lured from the lips of anger
Stamps them most dangerous; and till I want
Fit means for wicked ends, we shall not need
Their services. Discharge them! You, Bathory! 160
Are henceforth of my household! I shall place you
Near my own person. When your son returns,
Present him to us!

Old Bathory. Ha! what strangers here!
[906:1]What business have they in an old man's eye?
Your goodness, lady—and it came so sudden— 165
I can not—must not—let you be deceived.
I have yet another tale, but— [Then to Sarolta aside.
not for all ears!

Sarolta. I oft have passed your cottage, and still praised
Its beauty, and that trim orchard-plot, whose blossoms
The gusts of April showered aslant its thatch. 170
Come, you shall show it me! And, while you bid it
Farewell, be not ashamed that I should witness
The oil of gladness glittering on the water
Of an ebbing grief. [Bathory shows her into his cottage.

Laska (alone). Vexation! baffled! school'd!
Ho! Laska! wake! why? what can all this mean? 175
She sent away that cockatrice in anger!
Oh the false witch! It is too plain, she loves him.
And now, the old man near my lady's person,
She'll see this Bethlen hourly!
[Laska flings himself into the seat. Glycine peeps in.

Glycine. Laska! Laska!
Is my lady gone?

Laska. Gone.