The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy

 
   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!
 

Chorus (CAJETAN)

 
                  Command us, prince,
   We live but to obey!
 

DON MANUEL

 
              I tore myself
   Reluctant from her arms; my every thought
   Shall still be hers: so come along, my friends,
   To where the turbaned merchant spreads his store
   Of fabrics golden wrought with curious art;
   And all the gathered wealth of eastern climes.
   First choose the well-formed sandals – meet to guard
   And grace her delicate feet; then for her robe
   The tissue, pure as Etna's snow that lies
   Nearest the sun-light as the wreathy mist
   At summer dawn – so playful let it float
   About her airy limbs. A girdle next,
   Purple with gold embroidered o'er, to bind
   With witching grace the tunic that confines
   Her bosom's swelling charms: of silk the mantle,
   Gorgeous with like empurpled hues, and fixed
   With clasp of gold – remember, too, the bracelets
   To gird her beauteous arms; nor leave the treasure
   Of ocean's pearly deeps and coral caves.
   About her locks entwine a diadem
   Of purest gems – the ruby's fiery glow
   Commingling with the emerald's green. A veil,
   From her tiara pendent to her feet,
   Like a bright fleecy cloud shall circle round
   Her slender form; and let a myrtle wreath
   Crown the enchanting whole!
 

Chorus (CAJETAN)

 
                  We haste, my prince.
   Amid the Bazar's glittering rows, to cull
   Each rich adornment.
 

DON MANUEL

 
              From my stables lead
   A palfrey, milk-white as the steeds that draw
   The chariot of the sun; purple the housings,
   The bridle sparkling o'er with precious gems,
   For it shall bear my queen! Yourselves be ready
   With trumpet's cheerful clang, in martial train
   To lead your mistress home: let two attend me,
   The rest await my quick return; and each
   Guard well my secret purpose.
 

[He goes away accompanied by two of the CHORUS.

 

Chorus (CAJETAN)

 
      The princely strife is o'er, and say,
       What sport shall wing the slow-paced hours,
      And cheat the tedious day?
       With hope and fear's enlivening zest
       Disturb the slumber of the breast,
       And wake life's dull, untroubled sea
       With freshening airs of gay variety.
 

One of the Chorus (MANFRED)

 
      Lovely is peace! A beauteous boy,
       Couched listless by the rivulet's glassy tide,
       'Mid nature's tranquil scene,
      He views the lambs that skip with innocent joy,
       And crop the meadow's flowering pride: —
      Then with his flute's enchanting sound,
      He wakes the mountain echoes round,
       Or slumbers in the sunset's ruddy sheen,
       Lulled by the murmuring melody.
      But war for me! my spirit's treasure,
      Its stern delight, and wilder pleasure:
      I love the peril and the pain,
      And revel in the surge of fortune's boisterous main!
 

A second (BERENGAR)

 
      Is there not love, and beauty's smile
      That lures with soft, resistless wile?
      'Tis thrilling hope! 'tis rapturous fear
      'Tis heaven upon this mortal sphere;
      When at her feet we bend the knee,
      And own the glance of kindred ecstasy
      For ever on life's checkered way,
       'Tis love that tints the darkening hues of care
      With soft benignant ray:
      The mirthful daughter of the wave,
       Celestial Venus ever fair,
      Enchants our happy spring with fancy's gleam,
      And wakes the airy forms of passion's golden dream.
 

First (MANFRED)

 
       To the wild woods away!
       Quick let us follow in the train
      Of her, chaste huntress of the silver bow;
       And from the rocks amain
      Track through the forest gloom the bounding roe,
       The war-god's merry bride,
      The chase recalls the battle's fray,
       And kindles victory's pride: —
      Up with the streaks of early morn,
       We scour with jocund hearts the misty vale,
      Loud echoing to the cheerful horn
       Over mountain – over dale —
      And every languid sense repair,
      Bathed in the rushing streams of cold, reviving air.
 

Second (BERENGAR)

 
      Or shall we trust the ever-moving sea,
      The azure goddess, blithe and free.
      Whose face, the mirror of the cloudless sky,
      Lures to her bosom wooingly?
       Quick let us build on the dancing waves
      A floating castle gay,
      And merrily, merrily, swim away!
      Who ploughs with venturous keel the brine
      Of the ocean crystalline —
      His bride is fortune, the world his own,
      For him a harvest blooms unsown: —
       Here, like the wind that swift careers
      The circling bound of earth and sky,
      Flits ever-changeful destiny!
      Of airy chance 'tis the sportive reign,
      And hope ever broods on the boundless main
 

A third (CAJETAN)

 
      Nor on the watery waste alone
       Of the tumultuous, heaving sea; —
      On the firm earth that sleeps secure,
       Based on the pillars of eternity.
      Say, when shall mortal joy endure?
      New bodings in my anxious breast,
        Waked by this sudden friendship, rise;
      Ne'er would I choose my home of rest
       On the stilled lava-stream, that cold
        Beneath the mountain lies
       Not thus was discord's flame controlled —
      Too deep the rooted hate – too long
       They brooded in their sullen hearts
      O'er unforgotten, treasured wrong. In warning visions oft dismayed,
       I read the signs of coming woe;
      And now from this mysterious maid
       My bosom tells the dreaded ills shall flow:
      Unblest, I deem, the bridal chain
       Shall knit their secret loves, accursed
      With holy cloisters' spoil profane.
      No crooked paths to virtue lead;
      Ill fruit has ever sprung from evil seed!
 

BERENGAR

 
   And thus to sad unhallowed rites
   Of an ill-omened nuptial tie,
   Too well ye know their father bore
   A bride of mournful destiny,
   Torn from his sire, whose awful curse has sped
   Heaven's vengeance on the impious bed!
   This fierce, unnatural rage atones
   A parent's crime – decreed by fate,
   Their mother's offspring, strife and hate!
 

[The scene changes to a garden opening on the sea.

BEATRICE (steps forward from an alcove. She walks to and fro with an agitated air, looking round in every direction. Suddenly she stands still and listens)

 
   No! 'tis not he: 'twas but the playful wind
   Rustling the pine-tops. To his ocean bed
   The sun declines, and with o'erwearied heart
   I count the lagging hours: an icy chill
   Creeps through my frame; the very solitude
   And awful silence fright my trembling soul!
   Where'er I turn naught meets my gaze – he leaves me
   Forsaken and alone!
   And like a rushing stream the city's hum
   Floats on the breeze, and dull the mighty sea
   Rolls murmuring to the rocks: I shrink to nothing
   With horrors compassed round; and like the leaf,
   Borne on the autumn blast, am hurried onward
   Through boundless space.
                Alas! that e'er I left
   My peaceful cell – no cares, no fond desires
   Disturbed my breast, unruffled as the stream
   That glides in sunshine through the verdant mead:
   Nor poor in joys. Now – on the mighty surge
   Of fortune, tempest-tossed – the world enfolds me
   With giant arms! Forgot my childhood's ties
   I listened to the lover's flattering tale —
   Listened, and trusted! From the sacred dome
   Allured – betrayed – for sure some hell-born magic
   Enchained my frenzied sense – I fled with him,
   The invader of religion's dread abodes!
   Where art thou, my beloved? Haste – return —
   With thy dear presence calm my struggling soul!
 

[She listens.

 
   Hark! the sweet voice! No! 'twas the echoing surge
   That beats upon the shore; alas! he comes not.
   More faintly, o'er the distant waves, the sun
   Gleams with expiring ray; a deathlike shudder
   Creeps to my heart, and sadder, drearier grows
   E'en desolation's self.
 

[She walks to and fro, and then listens again.

 
                Yes! from the thicket shade
   A voice resounds! 'tis he! the loved one!
   No fond illusion mocks my listening ear.
   'Tis louder – nearer: to his arms I fly —
   To his breast!
 

[She rushes with outstretched arms to the extremity of the garden. DON CAESAR meets her.

DON CASAR. BEATRICE.

BEATRICE (starting back in horror)

 
   What do I see?
 

[At the same moment the Chorus comes forward.

DON CAESAR

 
           Angelic sweetness! fear not.
 

[To the Chorus.

 
   Retire! your gleaming arms and rude array
   Affright the timorous maid.
 

[To BEATRICE.

 

 
                  Fear nothing! beauty
   And virgin shame are sacred in my eyes.
 

[The Chorus steps aside. He approaches and takes her hand.

 
   Where hast thou been? for sure some envious power
   Has hid thee from my gaze: long have I sought thee:
   E'en from the hour when 'mid the funeral rites
   Of the dead prince, like some angelic vision,
   Lit with celestial brightness, on my sight
   Thou shonest, no other image in my breast
   Waking or dreaming, lives; nor to thyself
   Unknown thy potent spells; my glance of fire,
   My faltering accents, and my hand that lay
   Trembling in thine, bespoke my ecstasy!
   Aught else with solemn majesty the rite
   And holy place forbade:
                The bell proclaimed
   The awful sacrifice! With downcast eyes,
   And kneeling I adored: soon as I rose,
   And caught with eager gaze thy form again,
   Sudden it vanished; yet, with mighty magic
   Of love enchained, my spirit tracked thy presence;
   Nor ever, with unwearied quest, I cease
   At palace gates, amid the temple's throng,
   In secret paths retired, or public scenes,
   Where beauteous innocence perchance might rove,
   To mark each passing form – in vain; but, guided
   By some propitious deity this day
   One of my train, with happy vigilance,
   Espied thee in the neighboring church.
 

[BEATRICE, who had stood trembling with averted eyes, here makes a gesture of terror.

 
                   I see thee
   Once more; and may the spirit from this frame
   Be severed ere we part! Now let me snatch
   This glad, auspicious moment, and defy
   Or chance, or envious demon's power, to shake
   Henceforth my solid bliss; here I proclaim thee,
   Before this listening warlike train my bride,
   With pledge of knightly honors!
 

[He shows her to the Chorus.

 
                    Who thou art,
   I ask not: thou art mine! But that thy soul
   And birth are pure alike one glance informed
   My inmost heart; and though thy lot were mean,
   And poor thy lowly state, yet would I strain thee
   With rapture to my arms: no choice remains,
   Thou art my love – my wife! Know too, that lifted
   On fortune's height, I spurn control; my will
   Can raise thee to the pinnacle of greatness —
   Enough my name – I am Don Caesar! None
   Is nobler in Messina!
 

[BEATRICE starts back in amazement. He remarks her agitation, and after a pause continues.

 
               What a grace
   Lives in thy soft surprise and modest silence!
   Yes! gentle humbleness is beauty's crown —