Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

The ENCHANTRESS makes her spell: she is answered by a Spirit. Spirit. Within the silent centre of the earth

My mansion is; where I have lived insphered

From the beginning, and around my sleep Have woven all the wondrous imagery Of this dim spot, which mortals call the world;

Infinite depths of unknown elements Massed into one impenetrable mask; Sheets of immeasurable fire, and veins Of gold and stone, and adamantine iron. And as a veil in which I walk through Heaven

I have wrought mountains, seas, and waves, and clouds,

And lastly light, whose interfusion dawns

In the dark space of interstellar air.

A good Spirit, who watches over the Pirate's fate, leads, in a mysterious manner, the lady of his love to the Enchanted Isle; and has also led thither a Youth, who loves the lady, but whose passion she returns only with a sisterly affection. The ensuing scene takes place between

them on their arrival at the Isle, where they meet, but without distinct mutual recognition.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

That which I seek, some human sym- All pathy

In this mysterious island.

Indian.
Oh! my friend,
My sister, my beloved!-What do I
Say?

touched,

All familiar things he

common words he spoke, became

to me

Like forms and sounds of a diviner

world.

He was as is the sun in his fierce youth, As terrible and lovely as a tempest;

My brain is dizzy, and I scarce know He came, and went, and left me what

[blocks in formation]

Alas! Why must I think how oft we From such an islet, such a riverspring――!

two

Have sate together near the river springs, I dare not ask her if there stood upon Under the green pavilion which the

willow

Spreads on the floor of the unbroken

fountain,

Strewn by the nurslings that linger there,

it

A pleasure - dome surmounted by a crescent,

With steps to the blue water. [Aloud.] It may be

That Nature masks in life several copies

Over that islet paved with flowers and Of the same lot, so that the sufferers May feel another's sorrow as their own,

moss,

While the musk-rose leaves, like flakes And find in friendship what they lost in

love.

Showered on us, and the dove mourned That cannot be: yet it is strange that

of crimson snow,

in the pine,

Sad prophetess of sorrows not her own? The crane returned to her unfrozen haunt,

And the false cuckoo bade the Spring good morn;

And on a wintry bough the widowed bird,

Hid in the deepest night of ivy-leaves, Renewed the vigils of a sleepless

sorrow.

I, left like her, and leaving one like her,

Alike abandoned and abandoning (Oh! unlike her in this!) the gentlest youth,

[blocks in formation]

Whose love had made my sorrows dear For he seemed stormy, and would often

[blocks in formation]

Even as my sorrow made his love to A quenchless sun masked in portentous

[blocks in formation]

I loved him well, but not as he desired; More need that I should be most true

[blocks in formation]

To share remorse and scorn and soli- Brighter than morning light, and purer tude, than

And all the ills that wait on those who The water of the springs of Himalah.

do

The tasks of ruin in the world of life.
He fled, and I have followed him.

Indian.

Indian. You waked not?

[blocks in formation]

Such a one Like a child's legend on the tideless

Is he who was the winter of my peace. But, fairest stranger, when didst thou depart

From the far hills where rise the springs of India,

How didst thou pass the intervening sea?
Lady. If I be sure I am not dream-
ing now,

I should not doubt to say it was a dream.
Methought a star came down from heaven,
And rested 'mid the plants of India,
Which I had given a shelter from the
frost

Within my chamber.

lay,

sand,

Which the first foam erases half, and half
Leaves legible. At length I rose, and

went,

Visiting my flowers from pot to pot, and thought

To set new cuttings in the empty urns, And when I came to that beside the lattice,

I saw two little dark-green leaves Lifting the light mould at their birth, and then

I half-remembered my forgotten dream. There the meteor And day by day, green as a gourd in

June,

Panting forth light among the leaves The plant grew fresh and thick, yet no one knew

and flowers, As if it lived, and was outworn with What plant it was; its stem and tendrils speed; seemed Or that it loved, and passion made the Like emerald snakes, mottled and pulse

diamonded

Of its bright life throb like an anxious With azure mail and streaks of woven

silver;

heart, Till it diffused itself, and all the chamber And all the sheaths that folded the dark And walls seemed melted into emerald

fire

buds

Rose like the crest of cobra-di-capel, That burned not; in the midst of which Until the golden eye of the bright flower, Through the dark lashes of those veinèd

appeared

[blocks in formation]

I nursed the plant, and on the double Whose pulse, elapsed in unlike sym

flute Played to it on the sunny winter days Soft melodies, as sweet as April rain On silent leaves, and sang those words in which

Passion makes Echo taunt the sleeping strings;

And I would send tales of forgotten love Late into the lone night, and sing wild

songs

Of maids deserted in the olden time, And weep like a soft cloud in April's bosom

Upon the sleeping eyelids of the plant, So that perhaps it dreamed that Spring

was come,

And crept abroad into the moonlight air, And loosened all its limbs, as, noon by

noon,

The sun averted less his oblique beam.
Indian. And the plant died not in
the frost?
Lady.
It grew;
And went out of the lattice which I left
Half open for it, trailing its quaint spires
Along the garden and across the lawn,
And down the slope of moss and through

the tufts

Of wild-flower roots, and stumps of trees o'ergrown

With simple lichens, and old hoary stones,
On to the margin of the glassy pool,
Even to a nook of unblown violets
And lilies-of-the-valley yet unborn,
Under a pine with ivy overgrown.

pathies, Kept time

Among the snowy water-lily buds.
Its shape was such as summer melody
Of the south wind in spicy vales might
give

To some light cloud bound from the golden dawn

To fairy isles of evening, and it seemed In hue and form that it had been a mirror Of all the hues and forms around it and Upon it pictured by the sunny beams Which, from the bright vibrations of the pool,

Were thrown upon the rafters and the roof

Of boughs and leaves, and on the pillared

stems

Of the dark sylvan temple, and reflections
Of every infant flower and star of moss
And veined leaf in the azure odorous air.
And thus it lay in the Elysian calm
Of its own beauty, floating on the line
Which, like a film in purest space,
divided

The heaven beneath the water from the heaven

Above the clouds; and every day I went Watching its growth and wondering; And as the day grew hot, methought I

saw

A glassy vapour dancing on the pool, And on it little quaint and filmy shapes, With dizzy motion, wheel and rise and fall,

And there its fruit lay like a sleeping Like clouds of gnats with perfect linea

[blocks in formation]

CHARLES THE FIRST

DRAMATIS PERSONE

KING CHARLES I.
QUEEN HENRIETTA.

LAUD, Archbishop of Canterbury.
WENTWORTH, Earl of Strafford.
LORD COTTINGTON.
LORD WESTON.

LORD COVENTRY.
WILLIAMS, Bishop of Lincoln.
Secretary LYTTELTON.
JUXON.

ST. JOHN.

ARCHY, the Court Fool.

HAMPDEN.

PYм.

CROMWELL.

CROMWELL'S DAUGHTER.

SIR HARRY VANE the younger.
LEIGHTON.

BASTWICK.

PRYNNE.

Gentlemen of the Inns of Court, Citizens, Pur

That sin and wrongs wound as an orphan's cry,

The patience of the great Avenger's ear.
A Youth. Yet, father, 'tis a happy
sight to see,

Beautiful, innocent, and unforbidden
By God or man;-'tis like the bright
procession

Of skiey visions in a solemn dream
From which men wake as from a para-
dise,

And draw new strength to tread the thorns of life.

If God be good, wherefore should this be evil?

And if this be not evil, dost thou not draw

Unseasonable poison from the flowers Which bloom so rarely in this barren world?

suivants, Marshalsmen, Law Students, Oh, kill these bitter thoughts which make Judges, Clerk. the present

SCENE I. THE MASK OF THE INNS

OF COURT.

of the Mask!

Dark as the future!

When Avarice and Tyranny, vigilant
Fear,

A Pursuivant. Place, for the Marshal And open-eyed Conspiracy lie sleeping As on Hell's threshold; and all gentle thoughts

First Citizen. What thinkest thou of this quaint mask which turns, Like morning from the shadow of the night,

The night to day, and London to a place

Of peace and joy?

Second Citizen.

Heaven.

Eight years are gone,

Waken to worship Him who giveth joys
With his own gift.

Second Citizen. How young art thou
in this old age of time!

How green in this gray world! Canst thou discern

And Hell to The signs of seasons, yet perceive no

And they seem hours, since in this

populous street

I trod on grass made green by summer's rain,

For the red plague kept state within that palace

Where now reigns vanity. In nine years

more

The roots will be refreshed with civil

blood;

And thank the mercy of insulted Heaven

hint

Of change in that stage-scene in which

thou art

Not a spectator but an actor? or
Art thou a puppet moved by [enginery]?
The day that dawns in fire will die in

storms,

Even though the noon be calm. My travel's done,—

Before the whirlwind wakes I shall have
found

My inn of lasting rest; but thou must
Still

« PredošláPokračovať »