The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats

I fear! whom? What?

LASKA

GLYCINE.

Were I in Laska's place.

LASKA.

You dare own all this?

Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.

I know, what I should fear, Mine, pamper'd Miss! you shall be; and I'll make

LASKA.

What?

GLYCINE.

Ha! Bethlen coming this way!

[GLYCINE then cries out as if afraid of being beaten. Oh, save me! save me! Pray don't kill me, Laska! Enter BETHLEN in a Hunting Dress.

What, beat a woman!

BETHLEN.

LASKA (lo GLYCINE).

O you cockatrice!

BETHLEN.

[Going. Unmanly dastard, hold!

Stop! stop! one question only

GLYCINE.

Ay, as the old song says,

Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove.

LASKA (pompously).

Do you chance to know Who-I-am, Sir?-(S'death how black he looks!)

BETHLEN.

I have started many strange beasts in my time, But none less like a man, than this before me

Nay now, I have marr'd the verse: well! this one That lifts his hand against a timid female.

Why press'd you forward? Why did you defend him? Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought
False witnesses to swear away your life:
Your life, and old Bathory's too.

Oh! that's a different thing. To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious To his good old father. But for loving himNay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska! Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him; For I sigh so deeply when I think of him! And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes, And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt That the war-wolf* had gored him as he hunted In the haunted forest!

For the best account of the War-wolf or Lycanthropus, see Drayton's Moon-calf, Chalmers' English Poets, vol. iv. p. 13 e.

[BETHLEN retires. BETHLEN (who had overheard the last few words, now

To roam there in my childhood oft alone,
And mutter to myself the name of father.
For still Bathory (why, till now I guess'd not)
Would never hear it from my lips, but sighing
Gazed upward. Yet of late an idle terror-

GLYCINE. ·

Madam, that wood is haunted by the war-wolves, Vampires, and monstrous

SAROLTA (with a smile).

Moon-calves, credulous girl
Haply some o'ergrown savage of the forest
Hath his lair there, and fear hath framed the rest.
[Then speaking again to Bethlen.

After that last great battle (O young man!
Thou wakest anew my life's sole anguish), that
Which fix'd Lord Emerick on his throne, Bathory
Led by a cry, far inward from the track,

In the hollow of an old oak, as in a nest,
Did find thee, Bethlen, then a helpless babe :

The robe, that wrapt thee, was a widow's mantle.

BETHLEN.

An infant's weakness doth relax my frame. O say-I fear to ask

Hid in a brake hard by,
Scarce by both palms supported from the earth,
A wounded lady lay, whose life fast waning
Seem'd to survive itself in her fixt eyes,

That strain'd towards the babe. At length one arm
Painfully from her own weight disengaging,
She pointed first to Heaven, then from her bosom
Drew forth a golden casket. Thus entreated
Thy foster-father took thee in his arms,

And, kneeling, spake: If aught of this world's comfort

Can reach thy heart, receive a poor man's troth,
That at my life's risk I will save thy child!
Her countenance work'd, as one that seem'd pre-
paring

A loud voice, but it died upon her lips

In a faint whisper, “Fly! Save him! Hide-hide all!"

BETHLEN.

And did he leave her? What! Had I a mother?
And left her bleeding, dying? Bought I vile life
With the desertion of a dying mother?
Oh agony!

GLYCINE.

Alas! thou art bewilder'd,

And dost forget thou wert a helpless infant!

BETHLEN.

What else can I remember, but a mother Mangled and left to perish?

SAROLTA.

Hush, Glycine! It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct: Let it but lift itself to air and sunshine, And it will find a mirror in the waters, It now makes boil above it. Check him not!

BETHLEN.

O that I were diffused among the waters
That pierce into the secret depths of earth,
And find their way in darkness! Would that I
Could spread myself upon the homeless winds!

Emerick!

GLYCINE (to silence him). Bethlen!

BETHLEN.

Hist! I'll curse him in a whisper! This gracious lady must hear blessings only. She hath not yet the glory round her head, Nor those strong eagle wings, which made swift

way

To that appointed place, which I must seek: Or else she were my mother!

SAROLTA.

Noble youth! From me fear nothing! Long time have I owed Offerings of expiation for misdeeds Long pass'd that weigh me down, though innocent! Thy foster-father hid the secret from thee, For he perceived thy thoughts as they expanded, Proud, restless, and ill-sorting with thy state! Vain was his care! Thou 'st made thyself suspected E'en where Suspicion reigns, and asks no proof But its own fears! Great Nature hath endow'd thee With her best gifts! From me thou shalt receive All honorable aidance! But haste hence! Travel will ripen thee, and enterprise

Beseems thy years! Be thou henceforth my soldier!
And whatsoe'er betide thee, still believe

That in each noble deed, achieved or suffer'd,
Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth!
And may the light that streams from thine own
honor

Guide thee to that thou seekest!

And then, perchance, I might have power to unbosom
These thanks that struggle here. Eyes fair as thine
Have gazed on me with tears of love and anguish,
Which these eyes saw not, or beheld unconscious;
And tones of anxious fondness, passionate prayers,
Have been talk'd to me! But this tongue ne'er
soothed

A mother's ear, lisping a mother's name!
O, at how dear a price have I been loved,
And no love could return! One boon then, lady!
Where'er thou bidd'st, I go thy faithful soldier,
But first must trace the spot, where she lay bleeding
Who gave me life. No more shall beast of ravine
Affront with baser spoil that sacred forest!
Or if avengers more than human haunt there,
Take they what shape they list, savage or heavenly,
They shall make answer to me, though my heart's

blood

Nay, that's too late, man.
Say, what thy mother and thy godfather
Were pleased to call thee?

LASKA.

Laska, my liege Sovereign.

EMERICK.

Well, my liege subject Laska! And you are
Lord Casimir's steward?

LASKA.

And your majesty's creature.

EMERICK.

Two gentle dames made off at our approach.
Which was your lady?

LASKA.

My liege lord, the taller. The other, please your grace, is her poor handmaid, Long since betrothed to me. But the maid's froward

Yet would your grace but speak

EMERICK.

Hum, master steward!
I am honor'd with this sudden confidence.
Lead on.

[TO LASKA, then to RUDOLPH.
Lord Rudolph, you'll announce our coming.
Greet fair Sarolta from me, and entreat her
To be our gentle hostess. Mark, you add
How much we grieve, that business of the state
Hath forced us to delay her lord's return.

LORD RUDOLPH (aside).
Lewd, ingrate tyrant! Yes, I will announce thee.

Now onward all.

EMERICK.

[Exeunt attendants.

EMERICK (solus).

A fair one, by my faith!
If her face rival but her gait and stature,
My good friend Casimir had his reasons too.

Her tender health, her vow of strict retirement,
Made early in the convent-His word pledged—”
All fictions, all! fictions of jealousy.

Well! if the mountain move not to the prophet,
The prophet must to the mountain! In this Laska
There's somewhat of the knave mix'd up with dolt
Through the transparence of the fool, methought,
I saw (as I could lay my finger on it)

The crocodile's eye, that peer'd up from the bottom
This knave may do us service. Hot ambition
Won me the husband. Now let vanity
And the resentment for a forced seclusion
Decoy the wife! Let him be deem'd the aggressor
Whose cunning and distrust began the game!

(Erit.

ACT II.
SCENE I.

A savage wood. At one side a cavern, overhung with ivy. ZAPOLYA and RAAB KIUPRILI discovered: both, but especially the latter, in rude and savage garments.

RAAB KIUPRILI.

Heard you then aught while I was slumbering?

ZAPOLYA.

Nothing, Only your face became convulsed. We miserable! Is Heaven's last mercy fled? Is sleep grown treacherous?

RAAB KIUPRILI.

O for a sleep, for sleep itself to rest in!

I dreamt I had met with food beneath a tree,
And I was seeking you, when all at once
My feet became entangled in a net:
Sull more entangled as in rage I tore it.

At length I freed myself, had sight of you,
But as I hasten'd eagerly, again

I found my frame encumber'd: a huge serpent
Twined round my chest, but tightest round my

ZAPOLYA.

Alas! 't was lack of food. for hunger chokes!

RAAB KIUPRILI.

And think thou see'st thy sainted lord commission'd
And on his way to aid us! Whence those late dreams,
Which after such long interval of hopeless
And silent resignation, all at once
Night after night commanded thy return
Hither? and still presented in clear vision
This wood as in a scene? this very cayern?
Thou darest not doubt that Heaven's especial hand
Work'd in those signs. The hour of thy deliverance
Is on the stroke :-for Misery cannot add
Grief to thy griefs, or Patience to thy sufferance!

ZAPOLYA.

Cannot! Oh, what if thou wert taken from me?
Nay, thou saidst well: for that and death were one.
Life's grief is at its height indeed; the hard
Necessity of this inhuman state

Has made our deeds inhuman as our vestments.
Housed in this wild wood, with wild usages,
Danger our guest, and famine at our portal-
Wolf-like to prowl in the shepherd's fold by night!
At once for food and safety to affrighten
The traveller from his road-

[GLYCINE is heard singing without.

RAAB KIUPRILI.

throat.

Hark! heard you not

A distant chant!

Gnawn itself blunt. O, I could queen it well

O'er my own sorrows as my rightful subjects.
But wherefore, O revered Kiuprili! wherefore

Did my importunate prayers, my hopes and fancies, It is a maiden's voice! quick to the cave!

Force thee from thy secure though sad retreat?

ZAPOLYA.

Would that my tongue had then cloven to my mouth! Hark! her voice falters!
But Heaven is just! With tears I conquer'd thee,
And not a tear is left me to repent with!
Hadst thou not done already-hadst thou not
Suffer'd-oh, more than e'er man feign'd of friend-
ship?

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The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume