LIONEL.

I'll defend thee, maid.

JOHANNA.

I die if thou shouldst perish by their hands!

LIONEL.

Am I then dear to thee?

JOHANNA.

Ye heavenly powers!

LIONEL.

Shall I again behold thee--hear from thee?

JOHANNA.

No! never!

LIONEL.

Thus this sword I seize in pledge

That I again behold thee!

[He snatches her sword.

JOHANNA.

Madman, hold!

Thou darest?

LIONEL.

Now I yield to force--again

I'll see thee!

[He retires.

SCENE XI.

JOHANNA, DUNOIS, LA HIRE.

LA HIRE.

It is she! The maiden lives!

DUNOIS.

Fear not, Johanna! friends are at thy side.

LA HIRE.

Is not that Lionel who yonder flies?

DUNOIS.

Let him escape! Maiden, the righteous cause

Hath triumphed now. Rheims opens wide its gates;

The joyous crowds pour forth to meet their king.

LA HIRE.

What ails thee, maiden? She grows pale--she sinks!

[JOHANNA grows dizzy, and is about to fall.

DUNOIS.

She's wounded--rend her breastplate--'tis her arm!

The wound is not severe.

LA HIRE.

Her blood doth flow.

JOHANNA.

Oh, that my life would stream forth with my blood!

[She lies senseless in LA HIRE'S arms.

ACT IV.

A hall adorned as for a festival; the columns are hung

with garlands; behind the scene flutes and hautboys.

SCENE I.

JOHANNA.

Hushed is the din of arms, war's storms subside,

Glad songs and dance succeed the bloody fray,

Through all the streets joy echoes far and wide,

Altar and church are decked in rich array,

Triumphal arches rise in vernal pride,

Wreathes round the columns wind their flowery way,

Wide Rheims cannot contain the mighty throng,

Which to joyous pageant rolls along.

One thought alone doth every heart possess,

One rapt'rous feeling o'er each breast preside.

And those to-day are linked in happiness

Whom bloody hatred did erewhile divide.

All who themselves of Gallic race confess

The name of Frenchman own with conscious pride,

France sees the splendor of her ancient crown,

And to her monarch's son bows humbly down.

Yet I, the author of this wide delight,

The joy, myself created, cannot share;

My heart is changed, in sad and dreary plight

It flies the festive pageant in despair;

Still to the British camp it taketh flight,

Against my will my gaze still wanders there,

And from the throng I steal, with grief oppressed,

To hide the guilt which weighs upon my breast!

What! I permit a human form

To haunt my bosom's sacred cell?

And there, where heavenly radiance shone,

Doth earthly love presume to dwell?

The savior of my country, I,

The warrior of God most high,

Burn for my country's foeman? Dare I name

Heaven's holy light, nor feel o'erwhelmed with shame?

[The music behind the scene passes into a soft and moving melody.

Woe is me! Those melting tones!

They distract my 'wildered brain!

Every note, his voice recalling,

Conjures up his form again

Would that spears were whizzing round!

Would that battle's thunder roared!

'Midst the wild tumultuous sound

My former strength were then restored.

These sweet tones, these melting voices,

With seductive power are fraught!

They dissolve, in gentle longing,

Every feeling, every thought,

Waking tears of plaintive sadness.

[After a pause, with more energy.

Should I have killed him? Could I, when I gazed

Upon his face? Killed him? Oh, rather far

Would I have turned my weapon 'gainst myself!

And am I culpable because humane?

Is pity sinful? Pity! Didst then hear

The voice of pity and humanity

When others fell the victims of thy sword?

Why was she silent when the gentle youth

From Wales entreated thee to spare his life?

Oh, cunning heart! Thou liest before high heaven!

It is not pity's voice impels thee now!

Why was I doomed to look into his eyes!

To mark his noble features! With that glance,

Thy crime, thy woe commenced. Unhappy one!

A sightless instrument thy God demands,

Blindly thou must accomplish his behest!

When thou didst see, God's shield abandoned thee,

And the dire snares of hell around thee pressed!

[Flutes are again heard, and she subsides into a quiet melancholy.

Harmless staff! Oh, that I ne'er

Had for the sword abandoned thee!

Had voices never reached mine ear,

From thy branches, sacred tree!

High queen of heaven! Oh, would that thou

Hadst ne'er revealed thyself to me!

Take back--I dare not claim it now--

Take back thy crown, 'tis not for me!

I saw the heavens open wide,

I gazed upon that face of love!

Yet here on earth my hopes abide,

They do not dwell in heaven above!

Why, Holy One, on me impose

This dread vocation? Could I steel,

And to each soft emotion close

This heart, by nature formed to feel?

Wouldst thou proclaim thy high command,

Make choice of those who, free from sin,

In thy eternal mansions stand;

Send forth thy flaming cherubim!

Immortal ones, thy law they keep,

They do not feel, they do not weep!

Choose not a tender woman's aid,

Not the frail soul of shepherd maid!

Was I concerned with warlike things,

With battles or the strife of kings?

In innocence I led my sheep

Adown the mountain's silent steep,

But thou didst send me into life,

Midst princely halls and scenes of strife,

To lose my spirit's tender bloom

Alas, I did not seek my doom!

SCENE II.

AGNES SOREL, JOHANNA.

SOREL (advances joyfully. When she perceives JOHANNA she hastens to

her and falls upon her neck; then suddenly recollecting herself; she

relinquishes her hold, and falls down before her).

No! no! not so! Before thee in the dust----

JOHANNA (trying to raise her).

Arise! Thou dost forget thyself and me.

SOREL.

Forbid me not! 'tis the excess of joy

Which throws me at thy feet--I must pour forth

My o'ercharged heart in gratitude to God;

I worship the Invisible in thee.

Thou art the angel who has led my lord

To Rheims, to crown him with the royal crown.

What I ne'er dreamed to see is realized!

The coronation march will soon set forth;

Arrayed in festal pomp the monarch stands;

Assembled are the nobles of the realm,

The mighty peers to bear the insignia;

To the cathedral rolls the billowy crowd;

Glad songs resound, the bells unite their peal:

Oh, this excess of joy I cannot bear!

[JOHANNA gently raises her. AGNES SOREL pauses a moment,

and surveys the MAIDEN more narrowly.

Yet thou remainest ever grave and stern;

Thou canst create delight, yet share it not.

Thy heart is cold, thou feelest not our joy,

Thou hast beheld the glories of the skies;

No earthly interest moveth thy pure breast.

[JOHANNA seizes her hand passionately, but soon lets it fall again.

Oh, couldst thou own a woman's feeling heart!

Put off this armor, war is over now,

Confess thy union with the softer sex!

My loving heart shrinks timidly from thee,

While thus thou wearest Pallas' brow severe.

JOHANNA.

What wouldst thou have me do?

SOREL.

Unarm thyself!

Put off this coat of mail! The God of Love

Fears to approach a bosom clad in steel.

Oh, be a woman, thou wilt feel his power!

JOHANNA.

What, now unarm myself? Midst battle's roar

I'll bare my bosom to the stroke of death!

Not now! Would that a sevenfold wall of brass

Could hide me from your revels, from myself!

SOREL.

Thou'rt loved by Count Dunois. His noble heart,

Which virtue and renown alone inspire,

With pure and holy passion glows for thee.

Oh, it is sweet to know oneself beloved

By such a hero--sweeter still to love him!

[JOHANNA turns away with aversion.

Thou hatest him?--No, no, thou only canst

Not love him:--how could hatred stir thy breast!

Those who would tear us from the one we love,

We hate alone; but none can claim thy love.

Thy heart is tranquil--if it could but feel----

JOHANNA.

Oh, pity me! Lament my hapless fate!

SOREL.

What can be wanting to complete thy joy?

Thou hast fulfilled thy promise, France is free,

To Rheims, in triumph, thou hast led the king,

Thy mighty deeds have gained thee high renown,

A happy people praise and worship thee;

Thy name, the honored theme of every tongue;

Thou art the goddess of this festival;

The monarch, with his crown and regal state,

Shines not with greater majesty than thou!

JOHANNA.

Oh, could I hide me in the depths of earth!

SOREL.

Why this emotion? Whence this strange distress?

Who may to-day look up without a fear

If thou dost cast thine eyes upon the ground!

It is for me to blush, me, who near thee

Feel all my littleness; I cannot reach

The lofty virtue, thy heroic strength!

For--all my weakness shall I own to thee?

Not the renown of France, my Fatherland,

Not the new splendor of the monarch's crow,

Not the triumphant gladness of the crowds,

Engage this woman's heart. One only form

Is in its depths enshrined; it hath no room

For any feeling save for one alone:

He is the idol, him the people bless,

Him they extol, for him they strew these flowers,

And he is mine, he is my own true love!

JOHANNA.

Oh, thou art happy! thou art blessed indeed!

Thou lovest, where all love. Thou may'st, unblamed

Pour forth thy rapture, and thine inmost heart,

Fearless discover to the gaze of man!

Thy country's triumph is thy lover's too.

The vast, innumerable multitudes,

Who, rolling onward, crowd within these walls,

Participate thy joy, they hallow it;

Thee they salute, for thee they twine the wreath,

Thou art a portion of the general joy;

Thou lovest the all-inspiring soul, the sun,

And what thou seest is thy lover's glory!

SOREL (falling on her neck).

Thou dost delight me, thou canst read my heart!

I did thee wrong, thou knowest what love is,

Thou tell'st my feelings with a voice of power.

My heart forgets its fear and its reserve,

And seeks confidingly to blend with thine----

JOHANNA (tearing herself from her with violence).

Forsake me! Turn away! Do not pollute

Thyself by longer intercourse with me!

Be happy! go--and in the deepest night

Leave me to hide my infamy, my woe!

SOREL.

Thou frighten'st me, I understand thee not,

I ne'er have understood thee--for from me

Thy dark mysterious being still was veiled.

Who may divine what thus disturbs thy heart,

Thus terrifies thy pure and sacred soul!

JOHANNA.

Thou art the pure, the holy one! Couldst thou

Behold mine inmost heart, thou, shuddering,

Wouldst fly the traitoress, the enemy!

SCENE III.

DUNOIS, DUCHATEL, and LA HIRE, with the banner of JOHANNA.

DUNOIS.

Johanna, thee we seek. All is prepared;

The king hath sent us, 'tis his royal will

That thou before him shouldst thy banner bear,

The company of princes thou shalt join;

And march immediately before the king:

For he doth not deny it, and the world

Shall witness, maiden, that to thee alone

He doth ascribe the honor of this day.

LA HIRE.

Here is the banner. Take it, noble maiden

Thou'rt stayed for by the princes and the people.

JOHANNA.

I march before him? I the banner bear?

DUNOIS.

Whom else would it become? What other hand

Is pure enough to bear the sacred ensign!

Amid the battle thou hast waved it oft;

To grace our glad procession bear it now.

[LA HIRE presents the banner to her, she draws back, shuddering.

JOHANNA.

Away! away!

LA HIRE.

Art thou terrified

At thine own banner, maiden? Look at it!

[He displays the banner.

It is the same thou didst in conquest wave.

Imaged upon it is the queen of heaven,

Floating in glory o'er this earthly ball;

For so the Holy Mother showed it thee.

[JOHANNA gazing upon it with horror.

'Tis she herself! so she appeared to me.

See, how she looks at me and knits her brow,

And anger flashes from her threatening eye!

SOREL.

Alas, she raveth! Maiden, be composed!

Collect thyself! Thou seest nothing real!

That is her pictured image; she herself

Wanders above, amid the angelic choir!

JOHANNA.

Thou comest, fearful one, to punish me?

Destroy, o'erwhelm, thy lightnings hurl,

And let them fall upon my guilty head.

Alas, my vow I've broken. I've profaned

And desecrated thy most holy name!

DUNOIS.

Woe's us! What may this mean? What unblest words?

LA HIRE (in astonishment, to DUCHATEL).

This strange emotion canst thou comprehend?

DUCHATEL.

That which I see, I see--I long have feared it.

DUNOIS.

What sayest thou?

DUCHATEL.

I dare not speak my thoughts.

I would to heaven that the king were crowned!

LA HIRE.

How! hath the awe this banner doth inspire

Turned back upon thyself? before this sign

Let Britons tremble; to the foes of France

'Tis fearful, but to all true citizens

It is auspicious.

JOHANNA.

Yes, thou sayest truly!

To friends 'tis gracious! but to enemies

It causeth horror!

[The Coronation march is heard.

DUNOIS.

Take thy banner, then!

The march begins--no time is to be lost!

[They press the banner upon her; she seizes it with

evident emotion, and retires; the others follow.

[The scene changes to an open place before the Cathedral.

SCENE IV.

Spectators occupy the background; BERTRAND, CLAUDE MARIE, and

ETIENNE come forward; then MARGOT and LOUISON. The Coronation

march is heard in the distance.

BERTRAND.

Hark to the music! They approach already!

What had we better do? Shall we mount up

Upon the platform, or press through the crowd,

That we may nothing lose of the procession?

ETIENNE.

It is not to be thought of. All the streets

Are thronged with horsemen and with carriages.

Beside these houses let us take our stand,

Here we without annoyance may behold

The train as it goes by.

CLAUDE MARIE.

Almost it seems

As were the half of France assembled here,

So mighty is the flood that it hath reached

Even our distant Lotharingian land

And borne us thither!

BERTRAND.

Who would sit at home

When great events are stirring in the land!

It hath cost plenty, both of sweat and blood,

Ere the crown rested on its rightful head!

Nor shall our lawful king, to whom we give

The crown, be worse accompanied than he

Whom the Parisians in St. Denis crowned!

He is no loyal, honest-minded man

Who doth absent him from this festival,

And joins not in the cry: "God save the King!"

SCENE V.

MARGOT and LOUISON join them.

LOUISON.

We shall again behold our sister, Margot!

How my heart beats!

MARGOT.

In majesty and pomp

We shall behold her, saying to ourselves:

It is our sister, it is our Johanna!

LOUISON.

Till I have seen her, I can scarce believe

That she, whom men the Maid of Orleans name,

The mighty warrior, is indeed Johanna,

Our sister whom we lost!

[The music draws nearer.

MARGOT.

Thou doubtest still!

Thou wilt thyself behold her!

BERTRAND.

See, they come!

SCENE VI.

Musicians, with flutes and hautboys, open the procession. Children

follow, dressed in white, with branches in their hands; behind them

two heralds. Then a procession of halberdiers, followed by

magistrates in their robes. Then two marshals with their staves;

the DUKE of BURGUNDY, bearing the sword; DUNOIS with the sceptre,

other nobles with the regalia; others with sacrificial offerings.

Behind these, KNIGHTS with the ornaments of their order; choristers

with incense; two BISHOPS with the ampulla; the ARCHBISHOP with the

crucifix. JOHANNA follows, with her banner, she walks with downcast

head and wavering steps; her sisters, on beholding her, express

their astonishment and joy. Behind her comes the KING under a

canopy, supported by four barons; courtiers follow, soldiers

conclude the procession; as soon as it has entered the church the

music ceases.

SCENE VII.

LOUISON, MARGOT, CLAUDE MARIE, ETIENNE, BERTRAND.

MARGOT.

Saw you our sister?

CLAUDE MARIE.

She in golden armor,

Who with the banner walked before the king?

MARGOT.

It was Johanna. It was she, our sister!

LOUISON.

She recognized us not! She did not feel

That we, her sisters, were so near to her.

She looked upon the ground, and seemed so pale,

And trembled so beneath her banner's weight

When I beheld her, I could not rejoice.

MARGOT.

So now, arrayed in splendor and in pomp,

I have beheld our sister--who in dreams

Would ever have imagined or conceived,

When on our native hills she drove the flock,

That we should see her in such majesty?

LOUISON.

Our father's dream is realized, that we

In Rheims before our sister should bow down.

That is the church, which in his dream he saw

And each particular is now fulfilled.

But images of woe he also saw!

Alas! I'm grieved to see her raised so high!

BERTRAND.

Why stand we idly here? Let's to the church

To view the coronation!

MARGOT.

Yes! perchance

We there may meet our sister; let us go!

LOUISON.

We have beheld her. Let us now return

Back to our village.

MARGOT.

How? Ere we with her

Have interchanged a word?

LOUISON.

She doth belong

To us no longer; she with princes stands

And monarchs. Who are we, that we should seek

With foolish vanity to near her state?

She was a stranger while she dwelt with us!

MARGOT.

Will she despise, and treat us with contempt?

BERTRAND.

The king himself is not ashamed of us,

He kindly greets the meanest of the crowd.

How high soever she may be exalted,

The king is raised still higher!

[Trumpets and kettle-drums are heard from the church.

CLAUDE MARIE.

Let's to the church!

[They hasten to the background, where they are lost among the crowd.

SCENE VIII.

THIBAUT enters, clad in black. RAIMOND follows him, and tries

to hold him back.

RAIMOND.

Stay, father Thibaut! Do not join the crowds!

Here, at this joyous festival you meet

None but the happy, whom your grief offends.

Come! Let us quit the town with hasty steps.

THIBAUT.

Hast thou beheld my child? My wretched child?

Didst thou observe her?

RAIMMOND.

I entreat you, fly!

THIBAUT.

Didst mark her tottering and uncertain steps,

Her countenance, so pallid and disturbed?

She feels her dreadful state; the hour is come

To save my child, and I will not neglect it.

[He is about to retire.

RAIMOND.

What would you do?

THIBAUT.

Surprise her, hurl her down

From her vain happiness, and forcibly

Restore her to the God whom she denies.

RAIMOND.

Oh, do not work the ruin of your child!

THIBAUT.

If her soul lives, her mortal part may die.

[JOHANNA rushes out of the church, without her banner.

The people press around her, worship her, and kiss her

garments. She is detained in the background by the crowd.

She comes! 'tis she! She rushes from the church.

Her troubled conscience drives her from the fane!

'Tis visibly the judgment of her God!

RAIMOND.

Farewell! Require not my attendance further!

Hopeful I came, and sorrowful depart.

Your daughter once again I have beheld,

And feel again that she is lost to me!

[He goes out. THIBAUT retires on the opposite side.

SCENE IX.

JOHANNA, People. Afterwards her Sisters.

JOHANNA (she has freed herself from the crowd and comes forward).

Remain I cannot--spirits chase me forth!

The organ's pealing tones like thunder sound,

The dome's arched roof threatens to overwhelm me!

I must escape and seek heaven's wide expanse!

I left my banner in the sanctuary,

Never, oh, never, will I touch it more!

It seemed to me as if I had beheld

My sisters pass before me like a dream.

'Twas only a delusion!--they, alas!

Are far, far distant--inaccessible--

E'en as my childhood, as mine innocence!

MARGOT (stepping forward).

'Tis she! It is Johanna!

LOUISON (hastening toward her).

Oh, my sister!

JOHANNA.

Then it was no delusion--you are here--

Thee I embrace, Louison! Thee, my Margot?

Here in this strange and crowded solitude,

I clasp once more my sisters' faithful breasts!

MARGOT.

She knows us still, she is our own kind sister.

JOHANNA.

Your love hath led you to me here so far!

So very far! You are not wroth with her

Who left her home without one parting word!

LOUISON.

God's unseen providence conducted thee.

MARGOT.

Thy great renown, which agitates the world,

Which makes thy name the theme of every tongue,

Hath in our quiet village wakened us,

And led us hither to this festival.

To witness all thy glory we are come;

And we are not alone!

JOHANNA (quickly).

Our father's here!

Where is he? Why doth he conceal himself?

MARGOT.

Our father is not with us.

JOHANNA.

Not with you?

He will not see me, then! You do not bring

His blessing for his child?

LOUISON.

He knoweth not

That we are here.

JOHANNA.

Not know it! Wherefore not?

You are embarrassed, and you do not speak;

You look upon the ground! Where is our father?

MARGOT.

Since thou hast left----

LOUISON (making a sign to MARGOT).

Margot!

MARGOT.

Our father hath

Become dejected.

JOHANNA.

Ah!

LOUISON.

Console thyself!

Our sire's foreboding spirit well thou knowest!

He will collect himself, and be composed,

When he shall learn from us that thou art happy.

MARGOT.

And thou art happy? Yes, it must be so,

For thou art great and honored!

JOHANNA.

I am so,

Now I again behold you, once again

Your voices hear, whose fond, familiar tones

Bring to my mind my dear paternal fields.

When on my native hills I drove my herd,

Then I was happy as in paradise--

I ne'er can be so more, no, never more!

[She hides her face on LOUISON'S bosom. CLAUDE MARIE,

ETIENNE, and BERTRAND appear, and remain timidly standing

in the distance.

MARGOT.

Come, Bertrand! Claude Marie! come, Etienne!

Our sister is not proud: she is so gentle,

And speaks so kindly,--more so than of yore,

When in our village she abode with us.

[They draw near, and hold out their hands; JOHANNA

gazes on them fixedly, and appears amazed.

JOHANNA.

Where am I? Tell me! Was it all a dream,

A long, long dream? And am I now awake?

Am I away from Dom Remi? Is't so?

I fell asleep beneath the Druid tree,

And I am now awake; and round me stand

The kind, familiar forms? I only dreamed

Of all these battles, kings, and deeds of war,--

They were but shadows which before me passed;

For dreams are always vivid 'neath that tree.

How did you come to Rheims? How came I here?

No, I have never quitted Dom Remi!

Confess it to me, and rejoice my heart.

LOUISON.

We are at Rheims. Thou hast not merely dreamed

Of these great deeds--thou hast achieved them all.

Come to thyself, Johanna! Look around--

Thy splendid armor feel, of burnished gold!

[JOHANNA lays her hand upon her breast, recollects herself,

and shrinks back.

BERTRAND.

Out of my hand thou didst receive this helm.

CLAUDE MARIE.

No wonder thou shouldst think it all a dream;

For nothing in a dream could come to pass

More wonderful than what thou hast achieved.

JOHANNA (quickly).

Come, let us fly! I will return with you

Back to our village, to our father's bosom.

LOUISON.

Oh, come! Return with us!

JOHANNA.

The people here

Exalt me far above what I deserve.

You have beheld me weak and like a child;

You love me, but you do not worship me.

MARGOT.

Thou wilt abandon this magnificence.

JOHANNA.

I will throw off the hated ornaments

Which were a barrier 'twixt my heart and yours,

And I will be a shepherdess again,

And like a humble maiden I will serve you,

And will with bitter penitence atone,

That I above you vainly raised myself.

[Trumpets sound.

SCENE X.

The KING comes forth from the church. He is in the coronation

robes. AGNES SOREL, ARCHBISHOP, BURGUNDY, DUNOIS, LA HIRE,

DUCHATEL, KNIGHTS, COURTIERS, and PEOPLE.

Many voices shout repeatedly, while the KING advances,--

Long live the king! Long live King Charles the Seventh!

[The trumpets sound. Upon a signal from the KING, the HERALDS

with their staves command silence.

KING.

Thanks, my good people! Thank you for your love!

The crown which God hath placed upon our brow

Hath with our valiant swords been hardly won:

With noble blood 'tis wetted; but henceforth

The peaceful olive branch shall round it twine.

Let those who fought for us receive our thanks;

Our pardon, those who joined the hostile ranks,

For God hath shown us mercy in our need,

And our first royal word shall now be, mercy!

PEOPLE.

Long live the king! Long live King Charles the good!

KING.

From God alone, the highest potentate,

The monarchs of the French receive the crown;

But visibly from his Almighty hand

Have we received it.

[Turning to the MAIDEN.

Here stands the holy delegate of heaven,

Who hath restored to you your rightful king,

And rent the yoke of foreign tyranny.

Her name shall equal that of holy Denis,

The guardian and protector of this realm,

And to her fame an altar shall be reared.

PEOPLE.

Hail to the maiden, the deliverer!

[Trumpets.

KING (to JOHANNA).

If thou art born of woman, like ourselves,

Name aught that can augment thy happiness.

But if thy fatherland is there above,

If in this virgin form thou dost conceal

The radiant glory of a heavenly nature,

From our deluded sense remove the veil,

And let us see thee in thy form of light

As thou art seen in heaven, that in the dust

We may bow down before thee.

[A general silence; every eye is fixed upon the MAIDEN.

JOHANNA (with a sudden cry).

God! my father!

SCENE XI.

THIBAUT comes forth from the crowd, and stands opposite to her.

Many voices exclaim,--

Her father!

THIBAUT.

Yes, her miserable father,

Who did beget her, and whom God impels

Now to accuse his daughter.

BURGUNDY.

Ha! What's this?

DUCHATEL.

Now will the fearful truth appear!

THIBAUT (to the KING).

Thou think'st

That thou art rescued through the power of God?

Deluded prince! Deluded multitude!

Ye have been rescued through the arts of hell!

[All step back with horror.

DUNOIS.

Is this man mad?

THIBAUT.

Not I, but thou art mad.

And this wise bishop, and these noble lords,

Who think that through a weak and sinful maid

The God of heaven would reveal himself.

Come, let us see if to her father's face

She will maintain the specious, juggling arts

Wherewith she hath deluded king and people.

Now, in the name of the blest Trinity,

Belongst thou to the pure and holy ones?

[A general silence; all eyes are fixed upon her;

she remains motionless.

SOREL.

God! she is dumb!

THIBAUT.

Before that awful name,

Which even in the depths of hell is feared,

She must be silent! She a holy one,

By God commissioned? On a cursed spot

It was conceived; beneath the Druid tree

Where evil spirits have from olden time

Their Sabbath held. There her immortal soul

She bartered with the enemy of man

For transient, worldly glory. Let her bare

Her arm, and ye will see impressed thereon

The fatal marks of hell!

BURGUNDY.

Most horrible!

Yet we must needs believe a father's words

Who 'gainst his daughter gives his evidence.

DUNOIS.

The madman cannot be believed

Who in his child brings shame upon himself.

SOREL (to JOHANNA).

Oh, maiden, speak! this fatal silence break!

We firmly trust thee! we believe in thee!

One syllable from thee, one single word

Shall be sufficient. Speak! annihilate

This horrid accusation. But declare

Thine innocence, and we will all believe thee.

[JOHANNA remains motionless; AGNES steps back with horror.

LA HIRE.

She's frightened. Horror and astonishment

Impede her utterance. Before a charge

So horrible e'en innocence must tremble.

[He approaches her.

Collect thyself, Johanna! innocence

Hath a triumphant look, whose lightning flash

Strikes slander to the earth! In noble wrath

Arise! look up, and punish this base doubt,

An insult to thy holy innocence.

[JOHANNA remains motionless; LA HIRE steps back;

the excitement increases.

DUNOIS.

Why do the people fear, the princes tremble?

I'll stake my honor on her innocence!

Here on the ground I throw my knightly gage;

Who now will venture to maintain her guilt?

[A loud clap of thunder; all are horror-struck.

THIBAUT.

Answer, by Him whose thunders roll above!

Give me the lie! Proclaim thine innocence;

Say that the enemy hath not thy heart!

[Another clap of thunder, louder than the first;

the people fly on all sides.

BURGUNDY.

God guard and save us! What appalling signs!

DUCHATEL (to the KING).

Come, come, my king! Forsake this fearful place!

ARCHBISHOP (to JOHANNA).

I ask thee in God's name. Art thou thus silent

From consciousness of innocence or guilt?

If in thy favor the dread thunder speaks,

Touch with thy hand this cross, and give a sign!

[JOHANNA remains motionless. More violent peals of thunder.

The KING, AGNES SOREL, the ARCHBISHOP, BURGUNDY, LA HIRE,

DUCHATEL retire.

SCENE XII.

DUNOIS, JOHANNA.

DUNOIS.

Thou art my wife; I have believed in thee

From the first glance, and I am still unchanged.

In thee I have more faith than in these signs,

Than in the thunder's voice, which speaks above.

In noble anger thou art silent thus;

Enveloped in thy holy innocence,

Thou scornest to refute so base a charge.

Still scorn it, maiden, but confide in me;

I never doubted of thine innocence.

Speak not one word; only extend thy hand

In pledge and token that thou wilt confide

In my protection and thine own good cause.

[He extends his hand to her; she turns from him with

a convulsive motion; he remains transfixed with horror.

SCENE XIII.

JOHANNA, DUCHATEL, DUNOIS, afterwards RAIMOND.

DUCHATEL (returning).

Johanna d'Arc! uninjured from the town

The king permits you to depart. The gates

Stand open to you. Fear no injury,--

You are protected by the royal word.

Come follow me, Dunois! You cannot here

Longer abide with honor. What an issue!

[He retires. DUNOIS recovers from his stupor, casts

one look upon JOHANNA, and retires. She remains standing

for a moment quite alone. At length RAIMOND appears;

he regards her for a time with silent sorrow, and then

approaching takes her hand.

RAIMOND.

Embrace this opportunity. The streets

Are empty now. Your hand! I will conduct you.

[On perceiving him, she gives the first sign of consciousness.

She gazes on him fixedly, and looks up to heaven; then taking

his hand she retires.

ACT V.

A wild wood: charcoal-burners' huts in the distance.

It is quite dark; violent thunder and lightning;

firing heard at intervals.

SCENE I.

CHARCOAL-BURNER and his WIFE.

CHARCOAL-BURNER.

This is a fearful storm, the heavens seem

As if they would vent themselves in streams of fire;

So thick the darkness which usurps the day,

That one might see the stars. The angry winds

Bluster and howl like spirits loosed from hell.

The firm earth trembles, and the aged elms

Groaning, bow down their venerable tops.

Yet this terrific tumult, o'er our heads,

Which teacheth gentleness to savage beasts,

So that they seek the shelter of their caves,

Appeaseth not the bloody strife of men--

Amidst the raging of the wind and storm

At intervals is heard the cannon's roar;

So near the hostile armaments approach,

The wood alone doth part them; any hour

May see them mingle in the shock of battle.

WIFE.

May God protect us then! Our enemies,

Not long ago, were vanquished and dispersed.

How comes it that they trouble us again?

CHARCOAL-BURNER.

Because they now no longer fear the king,

Since that the maid turned out to be a witch

At Rheims, the devil aideth us no longer,

And things have gone against us.

WIFE.

Who comes here?

SCENE II.

RAIMOND and JOHANNA enter.

RAIMOND.

See! here are cottages; in them at least

We may find shelter from the raging storm.

You are not able longer to endure it.

Three days already you have wandered on,

Shunning the eye of man--wild herbs and root

Your only nourishment. Come, enter in.

These are kind-hearted cottagers.

[The storm subsides; the air grows bright and clear.

CHARCOAL-BURNER.

You seem

To need refreshment and repose--you're welcome

To what our humble roof can offer you!

WIFE.

What has a tender maid to do with arms?

Yet truly! these are rude and troublous times

When even women don the coat of mail!

The queen herself, proud Isabel, 'tis said,

Appears in armor in the hostile camp;

And a young maid, a shepherd's lowly daughter,

Has led the armies of our lord the king.

CHARCOAL-BURNER.

What sayest thou? Enter the hut, and bring

A goblet of refreshment for the damsel.

[She enters the hut.

RAIMOND (to JOHANNA).

All men, you see, are not so cruel; here

E'en in the wilderness are gentle hearts.

Cheer up! the pelting storm hath spent its rage,

And, beaming peacefully, the sun declines.

CHARCOAL-BURNER.

I fancy, as you travel thus in arms,

You seek the army of the king. Take heed!

Not far remote the English are encamped,

Their troops are roaming idly through the wood.

RAIMOND.

Alas for us! how then can we escape?

CHARCOAL-BURNER.

Stay here till from the town my boy returns.

He shall conduct you safe by secret paths.

You need not fear-we know each hidden way.

RAIMOND (to JOHANNA).

Put off your helmet and your coat-of-mail,

They will not now protect you, but betray.

[JOHANNA shakes her head.

CHARCOAL-BURNER.

The maid seems very sad--hush! who comes here?

SCENE III.

CHARCOAL-BURNER'S WIFE comes out of the hut

with a bowl. A Boy.

WIFE.

It is our boy whom we expected back.

[To JOHANNA.

Drink, noble maiden! may God bless it to you!

CHARCOAL-BURNER (to his son).

Art come, Anet? What news?

[The boy looks at JOHANNA, who is just raising the

bowl to her lips; he recognizes her, steps forward,

and snatches it from her.

BOY.

Oh, mother! mother!

Whom do you entertain? This is the witch

Of Orleans!

CHARCOAL-BURNER (and his WIFE).

God be gracious to our souls!

[They cross themselves and fly.

SCENE IV.

RAIMOND, JOHANNA.

JOHANNA (calmly and gently)

Thou seest, I am followed by the curse,

And all fly from me. Do thou leave me, too;

Seek safety for thyself.

RAIMOND.

I leave thee! now

Alas, who then would bear thee company?

JOHANNA.

I am not unaccompanied. Thou hast

Heard the loud thunder rolling o'er my head--

My destiny conducts me. Do not fear;

Without my seeking I shall reach the goal.

RAIMOND.

And whither wouldst thou go? Here stand our foes,

Who have against thee bloody vengeance sworn--

There stand our people who have banished thee.

JOHANNA.

Naught will befall me but what heaven ordains.

RAIMOND.

Who will provide thee food? and who protect thee

From savage beasts, and still more savage men?

Who cherish thee in sickness and in grief?

JOHANNA.

I know all roots and healing herbs; my sheep

Taught me to know the poisonous from the wholesome.

I understand the movements of the stars,

And the clouds' flight; I also hear the sound

Of hidden springs. Man hath not many wants,

And nature richly ministers to life.

RAIMOND (seizing her hand).

Wilt thou not look within? Oh, wilt thou not

Repent thy sin, be reconciled to God,

And to the bosom of the church return?

JOHANNA.

Thou hold'st me guilty of this heavy sin?

RAIMOND.

Needs must I--thou didst silently confess----

JOHANNA.

Thou, who hast followed me in misery,

The only being who continued true,

Who slave to me when all the world forsook,

Thou also hold'st me for a reprobate

Who hath renounced her God----

[RAIMOND is silent.

Oh, this is hard!

RAIMOND (in astonishment).

And thou wert really then no sorceress?

JOHANNA.

A sorceress!

RAIMOND.

And all these miracles

Thou hast accomplished through the power of God

And of his holy saints?

JOHANNA.

Through whom besides?

RAIMOND.

And thou wert silent to that fearful charge?

Thou speakest now, and yet before the king,

When words would have availed thee, thou wert dumb!

JOHANNA.

I silently submitted to the doom

Which God, my lord and master, o'er me hung.

RAIMOND.

Thou couldst not to thy father aught reply?

JOHANNA.

Coming from him, methought it came from God;

And fatherly the chastisement will prove.

RAIMOND.

The heavens themselves bore witness to thy guilt!

JOHANNA.

The heavens spoke, and therefore I was silent.

RAIMOND.

Thou with one word couldst clear thyself, and hast

In this unhappy error left the world?

JOHANNA.

It was no error--'twas the will of heaven.

RAIMOND.

Thou innocently sufferedst this shame,

And no complaint proceeded from thy lips!

--I am amazed at thee, I stand o'erwhelmed.

My heart is troubled in its inmost depths.

Most gladly I receive the word as truth,

For to believe thy guilt was hard indeed.

But could I ever dream a human heart

Would meet in silence such a fearful doom!

JOHANNA.

Should I deserve to be heaven's messenger

Unless the Master's will I blindly honored?

And I am not so wretched as thou thinkest.

I feel privation--this in humble life

Is no misfortune; I'm a fugitive,--

But in the waste I learned to know myself.

When honor's dazzling radiance round me shone,

There was a painful struggle in my breast;

I was most wretched, when to all I seemed

Most worthy to be envied. Now my mind

Is healed once more, and this fierce storm in nature,

Which threatened your destruction, was my friend;

It purified alike the world and me!

I feel an inward peace--and come, what may,

Of no more weakness am I conscious now!

RAIMOND.

Oh, let us hasten! come, let us proclaim

Thine innocence aloud to all the world!

JOHANNA.

He who sent this delusion will dispel it!

The fruit of fate falls only when 'tis ripe!

A day is coming that will clear my name,

When those who now condemn and banish me,

Will see their error and will weep my doom.

RAIMOND.

And shall I wait in silence, until chance----

JOHANNA (gently taking her hand).

Thy sense is shrouded by an earthly veil,

And dwelleth only on external things,

Mine eye hath gazed on the invisible!

--Without permission from our God no hair

Falls from the head of man. Seest thou the sun

Declining to the west? So certainly

As morn returneth in her radiant light,

Infallibly the day of truth shall come!

SCENE V.

QUEEN ISABEL, with soldiers, appears in the background.

ISABEL (behind the scene).

This is the way toward the English camp!

RAIMOND.

Alas! the foe!

[The soldiers advance, and perceiving JOBANNA fall back in terror.

ISABEL.

What now obstructs the march?

SOLDIERS.

May God protect us!

ISABEL.

Do ye see a spirit?

How! Are ye soldiers! Ye are cowards all!

[She presses forward, but starts back on beholding the MAIDEN.

What do I see!

[She collects herself quickly and approaches her.

Submit thyself! Thou art

My prisoner!

JOHANNA.

I am.

[RAIMOND flies in despair.

ISABEL (to the soldiers).

Lay her in chains!

[The soldiers timidly approach the MAIDEN;

she extends her arms and is chained.

Is this the mighty, the terrific one,

Who chased your warriors like a flock of lambs,

Who, powerless now, cannot protect herself?

Doth she work miracles with credulous fools,

And lose her influence when she meets a man?

[To the MAIDEN.

Why didst thou leave the army? Where's Dunois,

Thy knight and thy protector.

JOHANNA.

I am banished.

[ISABEL, stepping back astonished.

ISABEL.

What say'st thou? Thou art banished? By the Dauphin?

JOHANNA.

Inquire no further! I am in thy power,

Decide my fate.

ISABEL.

Banished, because thou hast

Snatched him from ruin, placed upon his brow

The crown at Rheims, and made him King of France?

Banished! Therein I recognize my son!

--Conduct her to the camp, and let the host

Behold the phantom before whom they trembled!

She a magician? Her sole magic lies

In your delusion and your cowardice!

She is a fool who sacrificed herself

To save her king, and reapeth for her pains

A king's reward. Bear her to Lionel.

The fortune of the French! send him bound;

I'll follow anon.

JOHANNA.

To Lionel?

Slay me at once, ere send me unto him.

ISABEL (to the soldiers).

Obey your orders, soldiers! Bear her hence.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

JOHANNA, SOLDIERS.

JOHANNA (to the soldiers).

Ye English, suffer not that I escape

Alive out of your hands! Revenge yourselves!

Unsheath your weapons, plunge them in my heart,

And drag me lifeless to your general's feet!

Remember it was I who slew your heroes,

Who never showed compassion, who poured forth

Torrents of English blood, who from your sons

Snatched the sweet pleasure of returning home!

Take now a bloody vengeance! Murder me!

I now am in your power; I may perchance

Not always be so weak.

CONDUCTOR OF THE SOLDIERS.

Obey the queen!

JOHANNA.

Must I be yet more wretched than I was!

Unpitying Virgin! Heavy is thy hand

Hast thou completely thrust me from thy favor?

No God appears, no angel shows himself;

Closed are heaven's portals, miracles have ceased.

[She follows the SOLDIERS.

SCENE VII.

The French Camp.

DUNOIS, between the ARCHBISHOP and DUCHATEL.

ARCHBISHOP.

Conquer your sullen indignation, prince!

Return with us! Come back unto your king!

In this emergency abandon not

The general cause, when we are sorely pressed,

And stand in need of your heroic arm.

DUNOIS.

Why are ye sorely pressed? Why doth the foe

Again exalt himself? all was achieved;--

France was triumphant--war was at an end;--

The savior you have banished; you henceforth

May save yourselves; I'll not again behold

The camp wherein the maid abideth not.

DUCHATEL.

Think better of it, prince! Dismiss us not

With such an answer!

DUNOIS.

Silence, Duchatel!

You're hateful to me; I'll hear naught from you;

You were the first who doubted of her truth.

ARCHBISHOP.

Who had not wavered on that fatal day,

And been bewildered, when so many signs

Bore evidence against her! We were stunned,

Our hearts were crushed beneath the sudden blow.

--Who in that hour of dread could weigh the proofs?

Our calmer judgment now returns to us,

We see the maid as when she walked with us,

Nor have we any fault to charge her with.

We are perplexed--we fear that we have done

A grievous wrong. The king is penitent,

The duke remorseful, comfortless La Hire,

And every heart doth shroud itself in woe.

DUNOIS.

She a deluder? If celestial truth

Would clothe herself in a corporeal form,

She needs must choose the features of the maiden.

If purity of heart, faith, innocence,

Dwell anywhere on earth, upon her lips

And in her eyes' clear depths they find their home.

ARCHBISHOP.

May the Almighty, through a miracle,

Shed light upon this awful mystery,

Which baffles human insight. Howsoe'er

This sad perplexity may be resolved,

One of two grievous sins we have committed!

Either in fight we have availed ourselves

Of hellish arms, or banished hence a saint!

And both call down upon this wretched land

The vengeance and the punishment of heaven.

SCENE VIII.

The same, a NOBLEMAN, afterwards RAIMOND.

NOBLEMAN.

A shepherd youth inquires after your highness,

He urgently entreats an interview,

He says he cometh from the maiden----

DUNOIS.

Haste!

Conduct him hither! He doth come from her!

[The NOBLEMAN opens the door to RAIMOND, DUNOIS hastens to meet him.

Where is she? Where is the maid?

RAIMOND.

Hail! noble prince!

And blessed am I that I find with you

This holy man, the shield of the oppressed,

The father of the poor and destitute!

DUNOIS.

Where is the maiden?

ARCHBISHOP.

Speak, my son, inform us!

RAIMOND.

She is not, sir, a wicked sorceress!

To God and all his saints I make appeal.

An error blinds the people. You've cast forth

God's messenger, you've banished innocence!

DUNOIS.

Where is she?

RAIMOND.

I accompanied her flight

Towards the woods of Ardennes; there she hath

Revealed to me her spirit's inmost depths.

In torture I'll expire, and will resign

My hopes of everlasting happiness,

If she's not guiltless, sir, of every sin!

DUNOIS.

The sun in heaven is not more pure than she!

Where is she? Speak!

RAIMOND.

If God hath turned your hearts,

Oh hasten, I entreat you--rescue her

She is a prisoner in the English camp.

DUNOIS.

A prisoner say you?

ARCHBISHOP.

Poor unfortunate!

RAIMOND.

There in the forest as we sought for shelter,

We were encountered by Queen Isabel,

Who seized and sent her to the English host.

Oh, from a cruel death deliver her

Who hath full many a time delivered you!

DUNOIS.

Sound an alarm! to arms! up! beat the drums.

Forth to the field! Let France appear in arms!

The crown and the palladium are at stake!

Our honor is in pledge! risk blood and life!

She must be rescued ere the day is done!

[Exit.

SCENE IX.

A watch-tower--an opening above. JOHANNA and LIONEL.

FASTOLFE (entering hastily).

The people can no longer be restrained.

With fury they demand the maiden's death.

In vain your opposition. Let her die

And throw her head down from the battlements!

Her blood alone will satisfy the host.

ISABEL (coming in).

With ladders they begin to scale the walls.

Appease the angry people! Will you wait

Till in blind fury they o'erthrow the tower,

And we beneath its towers are destroyed?

Protect her here you cannot. Give her up!

LIONEL.

Let them storm on. In fury let them rage!

Firm is this castle, and beneath its ruins

I will be buried ere I yield to them.

--Johanna, answer me! only be mine,

And I will shield thee 'gainst a world in arms.

ISABEL.

Are you a man?

LIONEL.

Thy friends have cast thee off.

To thy ungrateful country then dost owe

Duty and faith no longer. The false cowards

Who sought thy hand, forsake thee in thy need.

They for thy honor venture not the fight,

But I, against my people and 'gainst thine,

Will be thy champion. Once thou didst confess

My life was dear to thee; in combat then

I stood before thee as thine enemy--

Thou hast not now a single friend but me.

JOHANNA.

Thou art my people's enemy and mine.

Between us there can be no fellowship.

Thee I can never love, but if thy heart

Cherish affection for me, let it bring

A blessing on my people. Lead thy troops

Far from the borders of my fatherland;

Give up the keys of all the captured towns,

Restore the booty, set the captives free,

Send hostages the compact to confirm,

And peace I offer thee in my king's name.

ISABEL.

Wilt thou, a captive, dictate laws to us?

JOHANNA.

It must be done; 'tis useless to delay.

Never, oh never, will this land endure

The English yoke; sooner will France become

A mighty sepulchre for England's hosts.

Fallen in battle are your bravest chiefs.

Think how you may achieve a safe retreat;

Your fame is forfeited, your power is lost.

ISABEL.

Can you endure her raving insolence?

SCENE X.

A CAPTAIN enters hastily.

CAPTAIN.

Haste, general! Prepare the host for battle.

The French with flying banners come this way,

Their shining weapons glitter in the vale.

JOHANNA (with enthusiasm).

My people come this way! Proud England now

Forth in the field! now boldly must you fight!

FASTOLFE.

Deluded woman, moderate your joy!

You will not see the issue of this day.

JOHANNA.

My friends will win the fight and I shall die!

The gallant heroes need my arm no more.

LIONEL.

These dastard enemies I scorn. They have

In twenty battles fled before our arms,

Ere this heroic maiden fought for them.

All the whole nation I despise, save one,

And this one they have banished. Come, Fastolfe,

We soon will give them such another day

As that of Poictiers and of Agincourt.

Do you remain with the fortress, queen,

And guard the maiden till the fight is o'er.

I leave for your protection fifty knights.

FASTOLFE.

How! general, shall we march against the foe

And leave this raging fury in our rear?

JOHANNA.

What! can a fettered woman frighten thee?

LIONEL.

Promise, Johanna, not to free thyself.

JOHANNA.

To free myself is now my only wish.

ISABEL.

Bind her with triple chains. I pledged my life

That she shall not escape.

[She is bound with heavy chains.

LIONEL (to JOHANNA).

Thou will'st it so!

Thou dost compel us! still it rests with thee!

Renounce the French--the English banner bear,

And thou art free, and these rude, savage men

Who now desire thy blood shall do thy will.

FASTOLFE (urgently).

Away, away, my general!

JOHANNA.

Spare thy words,

The French are drawing near. Defend thyself!

[Trumpets sound, LIONEL hastens forth.

FASTOLFE.

You know your duty, queen! if fate declares

Against us, should you see our people fly.

ISABEL (showing a dagger).

Fear not. She shall not live to see our fall.

FASTOLFE (to JOHANNA).

Thou knowest what awaits thee, now implore

A blessing on the weapons of thy people.

[Exit.

SCENE XI.

ISABEL, JOHANNA, SOLDIERS.

JOHANNA.

Ay! that I will! no power can hinder me.

Hark to that sound, the war-march of my people!

How its triumphant notes inspire my heart!

Ruin to England! victory to France!

Up, valiant countrymen! The maid is near;

She cannot, as of yore, before you bear

Her banner--she is bound with heavy chains;

But freely from her prison soars her soul,

Upon the pinions of your battle-song.

ISABEL (to a SOLDIER).

Ascend the watch-tower which commands the field,

And thence report the progress of the fight.

[SOLDIER ascends.

JOHANNA.

Courage, my people! 'Tis the final struggle--

Another victory, and the foe lies low!

ISABEL.

What see'st thou?

SOLDIER.

They're already in close fight.

A furious warrior on a Barbary steed,

In tiger's skin, leads forward the gens d'armes.

JOHANNA.

That's Count Dunois! on, gallant warrior!

Conquest goes with thee.

SOLDIER.

The Burgundian duke

Attacks the bridge.

ISABEL.

Would that ten hostile spears

Might his perfidious heart transfix, the traitor!

SOLDIER.

Lord Fastolfe gallantly opposes him.

Now they dismount--they combat man to man

Our people and the troops of Burgundy.

ISABEL.

Behold'st thou not the Dauphin? See'st thou not

The royal wave?

SOLDIER.

A cloud of dust

Shrouds everything. I can distinguish naught.

JOHANNA.

Had he my eyes, or stood I there aloft,

The smallest speck would not elude my gaze!

The wild fowl I can number on the wing,

And mark the falcon in his towering flight.

SOLDIER.

There is a fearful tumult near the trench;

The chiefs, it seems, the nobles, combat there.

ISABEL.

Still doth our banner wave?

SOLDIER.

It proudly floats.

JOHANNA.

Could I look through the loopholes of the wall,

I with my lance the battle would control.

SOLDIER.

Alas! What do I see? Our general's

Surrounded by the foe!

ISABEL (points the dagger at JOHANNA).

Die, wretch!

SOLDIER (quickly).

He's free!

The gallant Fastolfe in the rear attacks

The enemy--he breaks their serried ranks.

ISABEL (withdrawing the dagger).

There spoke thy angel!

SOLDIER.

Victory! They fly.

ISABEL.

Who fly?

SOLDIER.

The French and the Burgundians fly;

The field is covered o'er with fugitives.

JOHANNA.

My God! Thou wilt not thus abandon me!

SOLDIER.

Yonder they lead a sorely wounded knight;

The people rush to aid him--he's a prince.

ISABEL.

One of our country, or a son of France?

SOLDIER.

They loose his helmet--it is Count Dunois.

JOHANNA (seizes her fetters with convulsive violence).

And I am nothing but a fettered woman!

SOLDIER.

Look yonder! Who the azure mantle wears

Bordered with gold?

JOHANNA.

That is my lord, the king.

SOLDIER.

His horse is restive, plunges, rears and falls--

He struggles hard to extricate himself.

[JOHANNA accompanies these words with passionate movements.

Our troops are pressing on in full career,

They near him, reach him--they surround him now.

JOHANNA.

Oh, have the heavens above no angels more!

ISABEL (laughing scornfully).

Now is the time, deliverer--now deliver!

JOHANNA (throws herself upon her knees, and prays with passionate

violence).

Hear me, O God, in my extremity!

In fervent supplication up to Thee,

Up to thy heaven above I send my soul.

The fragile texture of a spider's web,

As a ship's cable, thou canst render strong;

Easy it is to thine omnipotence

To change these fetters into spider's webs--

Command it, and these massy chains shall fall,

And these thick walls be rent, Thou, Lord of old,

Didst strengthen Samson, when enchained and blind

He bore the bitter scorn of his proud foes.

Trusting in thee, he seized with mighty power

The pillars of his prison, bowed himself,

And overthrew the structure.

SOLDIER.

Triumph!

ISABEL.

How?

SOLDIER.

The king is taken!

JOHANNA (springing up).

Then God be gracious to me!

[She seizes her chains violently with both hands, and

breaks them asunder. At the same moment rushing upon the

nearest soldier, she seizes his sword and hurries out.

All gaze after her, transfixed with astonishment.

SCENE XII.

The same, without JOHANNA.

ISABEL (after a long pause).

How was it? Did I dream? Where is she gone?

How did she break these ponderous iron chains?

A world could not have made me credit it,

If I had not beheld it with these eyes.

SOLDIER (from the tower).

How? Hath she wings? Hath the wind borne her down?

ISABEL.

Is she below?

SOLDIER.

She strides amidst the fight:

Her course outspeeds my sight--now she is here--

Now there--I see her everywhere at once!

--She separates the troops--all yield to her:

The scattered French collect--they form anew!

--Alas! what do I see! Our people cast

Their weapons to the ground, our banners sink----

ISABEL.

What? Will she snatch from us the victory?

SOLDIER.

She presses forward, right towards the king.

She reaches him--she bears him from the fight--

Lord Fastolfe falls--the general is taken!

ISABEL.

I'll hear no more! Come down!

SOLDIER.

Fly, queen! you will be taken by surprise.

Armed soldiers are advancing tow'rds the tower.

[He comes down.

ISABEL (drawing her sword).

Then fight, ye cowards!

SCENE IV.

LA HIRE with soldiers. At his entrance the people

of the QUEEN lay down their arms.

LA HIRE (approaching her respectfully).

Queen, submit yourself--

Your knights have yielded--to resist is vain!

--Accept my proffered services. Command

Where you would be conducted.

ISABEL.

Every place

The same, where I encounter not the Dauphin.

[She resigns her sword, and follows him with the soldiers.

The Scene changes to the battle-field.

SCENE XIV.

Soldiers with flying banners occupy the background. Before them the

KING and the DUKE OF BURGUNDY appear, bearing JOHANNA in their arms;

she is mortally wounded, and apparently lifeless. They advance

slowly to the front of the stage. AGNES SOREL rushes in.

SOREL (throwing herself on the bosom of the KING).

You're free--you live--I have you back again!

KING.

Yes, I am free--I am so at this price!

[Pointing to JOHANNA.

SOREL.

Johanna! God! she's dying!

BURGUNDY.

She is gone

An angel passeth hence! See, how she lies,

Easy and tranquil, like a sleeping child!

The peace of heaven around her features plays,

The breath of life no longer heaves her breast,

But vital warmth still lingers in her hand.

KING.

She's gone! She never will awaken more,

Her eye will gaze no more on earthly things.

She soars on high, a spirit glorified,

She seeth not our grief, our penitence.

SOREL.

Her eyes unclose--she lives!

BURGUNDY (in astonishment).

Can she return

Back from the grave, triumphant e'en o'er death?

She riseth up! She standeth!

JOHANNA (standing up, and looking round).

Where am I?

BURGUNDY.

With thine own people, maiden--with thy friends!

KING.

Supported by thy friend, and by thy king.

JOHANNA (after looking at him fixedly for some time).

No! I am not a sorceress! Indeed

I am not one.

KING.

Thou'rt holy, as an angel;

A cloud of error dimmed our mental sight.

JOHANNA (gazing round her with a joyful smile).

And am I really, then, among my friends,

And am no more rejected and despised?

They curse me not--kindly they look on me!

--Yes, all around me now seems clear again!

That is my king!--the banners these of France!

My banner I behold not--where is it?

Without my banner I dare not appear;

To me it was confided by my Lord,

And I before his throne must lay it down;

I there may show it, for I bore it truly.

KING (averting his face).

Give her the banner!

[It is given to her. She stands quite unsupported,

the banner in her hand. The heaven is illumined

by a rosy light.

JOHANNA.

See you the rainbow yonder in the air?

Its golden portals heaven doth wide unfold,

Amid the angel choir she radiant stands,

The eternal Son she claspeth to her breast,

Her arms she stretcheth forth to me in love.

How is it with me? Light clouds bear me up--

My ponderous mail becomes a winged robe;

I mount--I fly--back rolls the dwindling earth--

Brief is the sorrow--endless is the joy!

[Her banner falls and she sinks lifeless on the ground.

All remain for some time in speechless sorrow. Upon a

signal from the KING, all the banners are gently placed

over her, so that she is entirely concealed by them.

THE BRIDE OF MESSINA

AND

ON THE USE OF THE CHORUS IN TRAGEDY.

By Frederich Schiller

THE BRIDE OF MESSINA

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

ISABELLA, Princess of Messina.

DON MANUEL | her Sons.

DON CAESAR |

BEATRICE.

DIEGO, an ancient Servant.

MESSENGERS.

THE ELDERS OF MESSINA, mute.

THE CHORUS, consisting of the Followers of the two Princes.

SCENE I.

A spacious hall, supported on columns, with entrances on both sides;

at the back of the stage a large folding-door leading to a chapel.

DONNA ISABELLA in mourning; the ELDERS OF MESSINA.

ISABELLA.

Forth from my silent chamber's deep recesses,

Gray Fathers of the State, unwillingly

I come; and, shrinking from your gaze, uplift

The veil that shades my widowed brows: the light

And glory of my days is fled forever!

And best in solitude and kindred gloom

To hide these sable weeds, this grief-worn frame,

Beseems the mourner's heart. A mighty voice

Inexorable--duty's stern command,

Calls me to light again.

Not twice the moon

Has filled her orb since to the tomb ye bore

My princely spouse, your city's lord, whose arm

Against a world of envious foes around

Hurled fierce defiance! Still his spirit lives

In his heroic sons, their country's pride:

Ye marked how sweetly from their childhood's bloom

They grew in joyous promise to the years

Of manhood's strength; yet in their secret hearts,

From some mysterious root accursed, upsprung

Unmitigable, deadly hate, that spurned

All kindred ties, all youthful, fond affections,

Still ripening with their thoughtful age; not mine

The sweet accord of family bliss; though each

Awoke a mother's rapture; each alike

Smiled at my nourishing breast! for me alone

Yet lives one mutual thought, of children's love;

In these tempestuous souls discovered else

By mortal strife and thirst of fierce revenge.

While yet their father reigned, his stern control

Tamed their hot spirits, and with iron yoke

To awful justice bowed their stubborn will:

Obedient to his voice, to outward seeming

They calmed their wrathful mood, nor in array

Ere met, of hostile arms; yet unappeased

Sat brooding malice in their bosoms' depths;

They little reek of hidden springs whose power

Can quell the torrent's fury: scarce their sire

In death had closed his eyes, when, as the spark

That long in smouldering embers sullen lay,

Shoots forth a towering flame; so unconfined

Burst the wild storm of brothers' hate triumphant

O'er nature's holiest bands. Ye saw, my friends,

Your country's bleeding wounds, when princely strife

Woke discord's maddening fires, and ranged her sons

In mutual deadly conflict; all around

Was heard the clash of arms, the din of carnage,

And e'en these halls were stained with kindred gore.

Torn was the state with civil rage, this heart

With pangs that mothers feel; alas, unmindful

Of aught but public woes, and pitiless

You sought my widow's chamber--there with taunts

And fierce reproaches for your country's ills

From that polluted spring of brother's hate

Derived, invoked a parent's warning voice,

And threatening told of people's discontent

And princes' crimes! "Ill-fated land! now wasted

By thy unnatural sons, ere long the prey

Of foeman's sword! Oh, haste," you cried, "and end

This strife! bring peace again, or soon Messina

Shall bow to other lords." Your stern decree

Prevailed; this heart, with all a mother's anguish

O'erlabored, owned the weight of public cares.

I flew, and at my children's feet, distracted,

A suppliant lay; till to my prayers and tears

The voice of nature answered in their breasts!

Here in the palace of their sires, unarmed,

In peaceful guise Messina shall behold

The long inveterate foes; this is the day!

E'en now I wait the messenger that brings

The tidings of my sons' approach: be ready

To give your princes joyful welcome home

With reverence such as vassals may beseem.

Bethink ye to fulfil your subject duties,

And leave to better wisdom weightier cares.

Dire was their strife to them, and to the State

Fruitful of ills; yet, in this happy bond

Of peace united, know that they are mighty

To stand against a world in arms, nor less

Enforce their sovereign will against yourselves.

[The ELDERS retire in silence; she beckons to

an old attendant, who remains.

Diego!

DIEGO.

Honored mistress!

ISABELLA.

Old faithful servant, then true heart, cone near me;

Sharer of all a mother's woes, be thine

The sweet communion of her joys: my treasure

Shrined in thy heart, my dear and holy secret

Shall pierce the envious veil, and shine triumphant

To cheerful day; too long by harsh decrees,

Silent and overpowered, affection yet

Shall utterance find in Nature's tones of rapture!

And this imprisoned heart leap to the embrace

Of all it holds most dear, returned to glad

My desolate halls;

So bend thy aged steps

To the old cloistered sanctuary that guards

The darling of my soul, whose innocence

To thy true love (sweet pledge of happier days)!

Trusting I gave, and asked from fortune's storm

A resting place and shrine. Oh, in this hour

Of bliss; the dear reward of all thy cares.

Give to my longing arms my child again!

[Trumpets are heard in the distance.

Haste! be thy footsteps winged with joy--I hear

The trumpet's blast, that tells in warlike accents

My sons are near:

[Exit DIEGO. Music is heard in an opposite direction,

and becomes gradually louder.

Messina is awake!

Hark! how the stream of tongues hoarse murmuring

Rolls on the breeze,--'tis they! my mother's heart

Feels their approach, and beats with mighty throes

Responsive to the loud, resounding march!

They come! they come! my children! oh, my children!

[Exit.

The CHORUS enters.

(It consists of two semi-choruses which enter at the same time

from opposite sides, and after marching round the stage range

themselves in rows, each on the side by which it entered. One

semi-chorus consists of young knights, the other of older ones,

each has its peculiar costume and ensigns. When the two choruses

stand opposite to each other, the march ceases, and the two leaders

speak.) [The first chorus consists of Cajetan, Berengar, Manfred,

Tristan, and eight followers of Don Manuel. The second of Bohemund,

Roger, Hippolyte, and nine others of the party of Don Caesar.

First Chorus (CAJETAN).

I greet ye, glittering halls

Of olden time

Cradle of kings! Hail! lordly roof,

In pillared majesty sublime!

Sheathed be the sword!

In chains before the portal lies

The fiend with tresses snake-entwined,

Fell Discord! Gently treat the inviolate floor!

Peace to this royal dome!

Thus by the Furies' brood we swore,

And all the dark, avenging Deities!

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND).

I rage! I burn! and scarce refrain

To lift the glittering steel on high,

For, lo! the Gorgon-visaged train

Of the detested foeman nigh:

Shall I my swelling heart control?

To parley deign--or still in mortal strife

The tumult of my soul?

Dire sister, guardian of the spot, to thee

Awe-struck I bend the knee,

Nor dare with arms profane thy deep tranquillity!

First Chorus (CAJETAN).

Welcome the peaceful strain!

Together we adore the guardian power

Of these august abodes!

Sacred the hour

To kindred brotherly ties

And reverend, holy sympathies;--

Our hearts the genial charm shall own,

And melt awhile at friendship's soothing tone:--

But when in yonder plain

We meet--then peace away!

Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray!

The whole Chorus.

But when in yonder plain

We meet--then peace away!

Come gleaming arms, and battle's deadly fray!

First Chorus (BERENGAR).

I hate thee not--nor call thee foe,

My brother! this our native earth,

The land that gave our fathers birth:--

Of chief's behest the slave decreed,

The vassal draws the sword at need,

For chieftain's rage we strike the blow,

For stranger lords our kindred blood must flow.

Second Chorus (BOHEMUND).

Hate fires their souls--we ask not why;--

At honor's call to fight and die,

Boast of the true and brave!

Unworthy of a soldier's name

Who burns not for his chieftain's fame!

The whole Chorus.

Unworthy of a soldier's name

Who burns not for his chieftain's fame!

One of the Chorus (BERENGAR).

Thus spoke within my bosom's core

The thought--as hitherward I strayed;

And pensive 'mid the waving store,

I mused, of autumn's yellow glade:--

These gifts of nature's bounteous reign,--

The teeming earth, and golden grain,

Yon elms, among whose leaves entwine

The tendrils of the clustering vine;--

Gay children of our sunny clime,--

Region of spring's eternal prime!

Each charm should woo to love and joy,

No cares the dream of bliss annoy,

And pleasure through life's summer day

Speed every laughing hour away.

We rage in blood,--oh, dire disgrace!

For this usurping, alien race;

From some far distant land they came,

Beyond the sun's departing flame.

And owned upon our friendly shore

The welcome of our sires of yore.

Alas! their sons in thraldom pine,

The vassals of this stranger line.

A second (MANFRED).

Yes! pleased, on our land, from his azure way,

The sun ever smiles with unclouded ray.

But never, fair isle, shall thy sons repose

'Mid the sweets which the faithless waves enclose.

On their bosom they wafted the corsair bold,

With his dreaded barks to our coast of old.

For thee was thy dower of beauty vain,

'Twas the treasure that lured the spoiler's train.

Oh, ne'er from these smiling vales shall rise

A sword for our vanquished liberties;

'Tis not where the laughing Ceres reigns,

And the jocund lord of the flowery plains:--

Where the iron lies hid in the mountain cave,

Is the cradle of empire--the home of the brave!

[The folding-doors at the back of the stage are thrown open.

DONNA ISABELLA appears between her sons, DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR.

Both Choruses (CAJETAN).

Lift high the notes of praise!

Behold! where lies the awakening sun,

She comes, and from her queenly brow

Shoots glad, inspiring rays.

Mistress, we bend to thee!

First Chorus.

Fair is the moon amid the starry choir

That twinkle o'er the sky,

Shining in silvery, mild tranquillity;--

The mother with her sons more fair!

See! blooming at her side,

She leads the royal, youthful pair;

With gentle grace, and soft, maternal pride,

Attempering sweet their manly fire.

Second Chorus (BERENGAR).

From this fair stem a beauteous tree

With ever-springing boughs shall smile,

And with immortal verdure shade our isle;

Mother of heroes, joy to thee!

Triumphant as the sun thy kingly race

Shall spread from clime to clime,

And give a deathless name to rolling time!

ISABELLA (comes forward with her SONS).

Look down! benignant Queen of Heaven, and still,

This proud tumultuous heart, that in my breast

Swells with a mother's tide of ecstasy,

As blazoned in these noble youths, my image

More perfect shows;--Oh, blissful hour! the first

That comprehends the fulness of my joy,

When long-constrained affection dares to pour

In unison of transport from my heart,

Unchecked, a parent's undivided love:

Oh! it was ever one--my sons were twain.

Say--shall I revel in the dreams of bliss,

And give my soul to Nature's dear emotions?

Is this warm pressure of thy brother's hand

A dagger in thy breast?

[To DON MANUEL.

Or when my eyes

Feed on that brow with love's enraptured gaze,

Is it a wrong to thee?

[To DON CAESAR.

Trembling, I pause,

Lest e'en affection's breath should wake the fires

Of slumbering hate.

[After regarding both with inquiring looks

Speak! In your secret hearts

What purpose dwells? Is it the ancient feud

Unreconciled, that in your father's halls

A moment stilled; beyond the castle gates,

Where sits infuriate war, and champs the bit--

Shall rage anew in mortal, bloody conflict?

Chorus (BOHEMUND).

Concord or strife--the fate's decree

Is bosomed yet in dark futurity!

What comes, we little heed to know,

Prepared for aught the hour may show!

ISABELLA (looking round).

What mean these arms? this warlike, dread array,

That in the palace of your sires portends

Some fearful issue? needs a mother's heart

Outpoured, this rugged witness of her joys?

Say, in these folding arms shall treason hide

The deadly snare? Oh, these rude, pitiless men,

The ministers of your wrath!--trust not the show

Of seeming friendship; treachery in their breasts

Lurks to betray, and long-dissembled hate.

Ye are a race of other lands; your sires

Profaned their soil; and ne'er the invader's yoke

Was easy--never in the vassal's heart

Languished the hope of sweet revenge;--our sway

Not rooted in a people's love, but owns

Allegiance from their fears; with secret joy--

For conquest's ruthless sword, and thraldom's chains

From age to age, they wait the atoning hour

Of princes' downfall;--thus their bards awake

The patriot strain, and thus from sire to son

Rehearsed, the old traditionary tale

Beguiles the winter's night. False is the world,

My sons, and light are all the specious ties

By fancy twined: friendship--deceitful name!

Its gaudy flowers but deck our summer fortune,

To wither at the first rude breath of autumn!

So happy to whom heaven has given a brother;

The friend by nature signed--the true and steadfast!

Nature alone is honest--nature only--

When all we trusted strews the wintry shore--

On her eternal anchor lies at rest,

Nor heeds the tempest's rage.

DON MANUEL.

My mother!

DON CAESAR.

Hear me

ISABELLA (taking their hands).

Be noble, and forget the fancied wrongs

Of boyhood's age: more godlike is forgiveness

Than victory, and in your father's grave

Should sleep the ancient hate:--Oh, give your days

Renewed henceforth to peace and holy love!

[She recedes one or two steps, as if to give them space

to approach each other. Both fix their eyes on the ground

without regarding one another.

ISABELLA (after awaiting for some time, with suppressed emotion,

a demonstration on the part of her sons).

I can no more; my prayers--my tears are vain:--

'Tis well! obey the demon in your hearts!

Fulfil your dread intent, and stain with blood

The holy altars of your household gods;--

These halls that gave you birth, the stage where murder

Shall hold his festival of mutual carnage

Beneath a mother's eye!--then, foot to foot,

Close, like the Theban pair, with maddening gripe,

And fold each other in a last embrace!

Each press with vengeful thrust the dagger home,

And "Victory!" be your shriek of death:--nor then

Shall discord rest appeased; the very flame

That lights your funeral pyre shall tower dissevered

In ruddy columns to the skies, and tell

With horrid image--"thus they lived and died!"

[She goes away; the BROTHERS stand as before.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

How have her words with soft control

Resistless calmed the tempest of my soul!

No guilt of kindred blood be mine!

Thus with uplifted hands I prey;

Think, brothers, on the awful day,

And tremble at the wrath divine!

DON CAESAR (without taking his eyes from the ground).

Thou art my elder--speak--without dishonor

I yield to thee.

DON MANUEL.

One gracious word, an instant,

My tongue is rival in the strife of love!

DON CAESAR.

I am the guiltier--weaker----

DON MANUEL.

Say not so!

Who doubts thy noble heart, knows thee not well;

The words were prouder, if thy soul were mean.

DON CAESAR.

It burns indignant at the thought of wrong--

But thou--methinks--in passion's fiercest mood,

'Twas aught but scorn that harbored in thy breast.

DON MANUEL.

Oh! had I known thy spirit thus to peace

Inclined, what thousand griefs had never torn

A mother's heart!

DON CAESAR.

I find thee just and true:

Men spoke thee proud of soul.

DON MANUEL.

The curse of greatness!

Ears ever open to the babbler's tale.

DON CAESAR.

Thou art too proud to meanness--I to falsehood!

DON MANUEL.

We are deceived, betrayed!

DON CAESAR.

The sport of frenzy!

DON MANUEL.

And said my mother true, false is the world?

DON CAESAR.

Believe her, false as air.

DON MANUEL.

Give me thy hand!

DON CAESAR.

And thine be ever next my heart!

[They stand clasping each other's hands,

and regard each other in silence.

DON MANUEL.

I gaze

Upon thy brow, and still behold my mother

In some dear lineament.

DON CAESAR.

Her image looks

From thine, and wondrous in my bosom wakes

Affection's springs.

DON MANUEL.

And is it thou?--that smile

Benignant on thy face?--thy lips that charm

With gracious sounds of love and dear forgiveness?

DON CAESAR.

Is this my brother, this the hated foe?

His mien all gentleness and truth, his voice,

Whose soft prevailing accents breathe of friendship!

[After a pause.

DON MANUEL.

Shall aught divide us?

DON CAESAR.

We are one forever!

[They rush into each other's arms.

First CHORUS (to the Second).

Why stand we thus, and coldly gaze,

While Nature's holy transports burn?

No dear embrace of happier days

The pledge--that discord never shall return!

Brothers are they by kindred band;

We own the ties of home and native land.

[Both CHORUSES embrace.

A MESSENGER enters.

Second CHORUS to DON CAESAR (BOHEMUND).

Rejoice, my prince, thy messenger returns

And mark that beaming smile! the harbinger

Of happy tidings.

MESSENGER.

Health to me, and health

To this delivered state! Oh sight of bliss,

That lights mine eyes with rapture! I behold

Their hands in sweet accord entwined; the sons

Of my departed lord, the princely pair

Dissevered late by conflict's hottest rage.

DON CAESAR.

Yes, from the flames of hate, a new-born Phoenix,

Our love aspires!

MESSENGER.

I bring another joy;

My staff is green with flourishing shoots.

DON CAESAR (taking him aside).

Oh, tell me

Thy gladsome message.

MESSENGER.

All is happiness

On this auspicious day; long sought, the lost one

Is found.

DON CAESAR.

Discovered! Oh, where is she? Speak!

MESSENGER.

Within Messina's walls she lies concealed.

DON MANUEL (turning to the First SEMI-CHORUS).

A ruddy glow mounts in my brother's cheek,

And pleasure dances in his sparkling eye;

Whate'er the spring, with sympathy of love

My inmost heart partakes his joy.

DON CAESAR (to the MESSENGER).

Come, lead me;

Farewell, Don Manuel; to meet again

Enfolded in a mother's arms! I fly

To cares of utmost need.

[He is about to depart.

DON MANUEL.

Make no delay;

And happiness attend thee!

DON CAESAR (after a pause of reflection, he returns).

How thy looks

Awake my soul to transport! Yes, my brother,

We shall be friends indeed! This hour is bright

With glad presage of ever-springing love,

That in the enlivening beam shall flourish fair,

Sweet recompense of wasted years!

DON MANUEL.

The blossom

Betokens goodly fruit.

DON CAESAR.

I tear myself

Reluctant from thy arms, but think not less

If thus I break this festal hour--my heart

Thrills with a holy joy.

DON MANUEL (with manifest absence of mind).

Obey the moment!

Our lives belong to love.

DON CESAR.

What calls me hence----

DON MANUEL.

Enough! thou leav'st thy heart.

DON CAESAR.

No envious secret

Shall part us long; soon the last darkening fold

Shall vanish from my breast.

[Turning to the CHORUS.

Attend! Forever

Stilled is our strife; he is my deadliest foe,

Detested as the gates of hell, who dares

To blow the fires of discord; none may hope

To win my love, that with malicious tales

Encroach upon a brother's ear, and point

With busy zeal of false, officious friendship.

The dart of some rash, angry word, escaped

From passion's heat; it wounds not from the lips,

But, swallowed by suspicion's greedy ear,

Like a rank, poisonous weed, embittered creeps,

And hangs about her with a thousand shoots,

Perplexing nature's ties.

[He embraces his brother again, and goes away

accompanied by the Second CHORUS.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Wondering, my prince,

I gaze, for in thy looks some mystery

Strange-seeming shows: scarce with abstracted mien

And cold thou answered'st, when with earnest heart

Thy brother poured the strain of dear affection.

As in a dream thou stand'st, and lost in thought,

As though--dissevered from its earthly frame--

Thy spirit roved afar. Not thine the breast

That deaf to nature's voice, ne'er owned the throbs

Of kindred love:--nay more--like one entranced

In bliss, thou look'st around, and smiles of rapture

Play on thy cheek.

DON MANUEL.

How shall my lips declare

The transports of my swelling heart? My brother

Revels in glad surprise, and from his breast

Instinct with strange new-felt emotions, pours

The tide of joy; but mine--no hate came with me,

Forgot the very spring of mutual strife!

High o'er this earthly sphere, on rapture's wings,

My spirit floats; and in the azure sea,

Above--beneath--no track of envious night

Disturbs the deep serene! I view these halls,

And picture to my thoughts the timid joy

Of my sweet bride, as through the palace gates,

In pride of queenly state, I lead her home.

She loved alone the loving one, the stranger,

And little deems that on her beauteous brow

Messina's prince shall 'twine the nuptial wreath.

How sweet, with unexpected pomp of greatness,

To glad the darling of my soul! too long

I brook this dull delay of crowning bliss!

Her beauty's self, that asks no borrowed charm,

Shall shine refulgent, like the diamond's blaze

That wins new lustre from the circling gold!

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Long have I marked thee, prince, with curious eye,

Foreboding of some mystery deep enshrined

Within thy laboring breast. This day, impatient,

Thy lips have burst the seal; and unconstrained

Confess a lover's joy;--the gladdening chase,

The Olympian coursers, and the falcon's flight

Can charm no more:--soon as the sun declines

Beneath the ruddy west, thou hiest thee quick

To some sequestered path, of mortal eye

Unseen--not one of all our faithful train

Companion of thy solitary way.

Say, why so long concealed the blissful flame?

Stranger to fear--ill-brooked thy princely heart

One thought unuttered.

DON MANUEL.

Ever on the wing

Is mortal joy;--with silence best we guard

The fickle good;--but now, so near the goal

Of all my cherished hopes, I dare to speak.

To-morrow's sun shall see her mine! no power

Of hell can make us twain! With timid stealth

No longer will I creep at dusky eve,

To taste the golden fruits of Cupid's tree,

And snatch a fearful, fleeting bliss: to-day

With bright to-morrow shall be one! So smooth

As runs the limpid brook, or silvery sand

That marks the flight of time, our lives shall flow

In continuity of joy!

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Already

Our hearts, my prince, with silent vows have blessed

Thy happy love; and now from every tongue,

For her--the royal, beauteous bride--should sound

The glad acclaim; so tell what nook unseen,

What deep umbrageous solitude, enshrines

The charmer of thy heart? With magic spells

Almost I deem she mocks our gaze, for oft

In eager chase we scour each rustic path

And forest dell; yet not a trace betrayed

The lover's haunts, ne'er were the footsteps marked

Of this mysterious fair.

DON MANUEL.

The spell is broke!

And all shall be revealed: now list my tale:--

'Tis five months flown,--my father yet controlled

The land, and bowed our necks with iron sway;

Little I knew but the wild joys of arms,

And mimic warfare of the chase;--

One day,--

Long had we tracked the boar with zealous toil

On yonder woody ridge:--it chanced, pursuing

A snow-white hind, far from your train I roved

Amid the forest maze;--the timid beast,

Along the windings of the narrow vale,

Through rocky cleft and thick-entangled brake,

Flew onward, scarce a moment lost, nor distant

Beyond a javelin's throw; nearer I came not,

Nor took an aim; when through a garden's gate,

Sudden she vanished:--from my horse quick springing,

I followed:--lo! the poor scared creature lay

Stretched at the feet of a young, beauteous nun,

That strove with fond caress of her fair hands

To still its throbbing heart: wondering, I gazed;

And motionless--my spear, in act to strike,

High poised--while she, with her large piteous eyes

For mercy sued--and thus we stood in silence

Regarding one another.

How long the pause

I know not--time itself forgot;--it seemed

Eternity of bliss: her glance of sweetness

Flew to my soul; and quick the subtle flame

Pervaded all my heart:--

But what I spoke,

And how this blessed creature answered, none

May ask; it floats upon my thought, a dream

Of childhood's happy dawn! Soon as my sense

Returned, I felt her bosom throb responsive

To mine,--then fell melodious on my ear

The sound, as of a convent bell, that called

To vesper song; and, like some shadowy vision

That melts in air, she flitted from my sight,

And was beheld no more.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Thy story thrills

My breast with pious awe! Prince, thou hast robbed

The sanctuary, and for the bride of heaven

Burned with unholy passion! Oh, remember

The cloister's sacred vows!

DON MANUEL.

Thenceforth one path

My footsteps wooed; the fickle train was still

Of young desires--new felt my being's aim,

My soul revealed! and as the pilgrim turns

His wistful gaze, where, from the orient sky,

With gracious lustre beams Redemption's star;--

So to that brightest point of heaven, her presence,

My hopes and longings centred all. No sun

Sank in the western waves, but smiled farewell

To two united lovers:--thus in stillness

Our hearts were twined,--the all-seeing air above us

Alone the faithful witness of our joys!

Oh, golden hours! Oh, happy days! nor Heaven

Indignant viewed our bliss;--no vows enchained

Her spotless soul; naught but the link which bound it

Eternally to mine!

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Those hallowed walls,

Perchance the calm retreat of tender youth,

No living grave?

DON MANUEL.

In infant innocence

Consigned a holy pledge, ne'er has she left

Her cloistered home.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

But what her royal line?

The noble only spring from noble stem.

DON MANUEL.

A secret to herself,--she ne'er has learned

Her name or fatherland.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

And not a trace

Guides to her being's undiscovered springs?

DON MANUEL.

An old domestic, the sole messenger

Sent by her unknown mother, oft bespeaks her

Of kingly race.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

And hast thou won naught else

From her garrulous age?

DON MANUEL.

Too much I feared to peril

My secret bliss!

Chorus (CAJETAN).

What were his words? What tidings

He bore--perchance thou know'st.

DON MANUEL.

Oft he has cheered her

With promise of a happier time, when all

Shall be revealed.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Oh, say--betokens aught

The time is near?

DON MANUEL.

Not distant far the day

That to the arms of kindred love once more

Shall give the long forsaken, orphaned maid--

Thus with mysterious words the aged man

Has shadowed oft what most I dread--for awe

Of change disturbs the soul supremely blest:

Nay, more; but yesterday his message spoke

The end of all my joys--this very dawn,

He told, should smile auspicious on her fate,

And light to other scenes--no precious hour

Delayed my quick resolves--by night I bore her

In secret to Messina.

Chorus (CAJETAN).

Rash the deed

Of sacrilegious spoil! forgive, my prince,

The bold rebuke; thus to unthinking youth

Old age may speak in friendship's warning voice.

DON MANUEL.

Hard by the convent of the Carmelites,

In a sequestered garden's tranquil bound,

And safe from curious eyes, I left her,--hastening

To meet my brother: trembling there she counts

The slow-paced hours, nor deems how soon triumphant

In queenly state, high on the throne of fame,

Messina shall behold my timid bride.

For next, encompassed by your knightly train,

With pomp of greatness in the festal show,

Her lover's form shall meet her wondering gaze!

Thus will I lead her to my mother; thus--

While countless thousands on her passage wait

Amid the loud acclaim--the royal bride

Shall reach my palace gates!