Demetrius | Page 2

us that you are indeed his son.?And you shall find that the republic bears?A generous spirit. She has never quailed?To Russia in the field! She loves, alike,?To be a noble foe--a cordial friend.
DEMETRIUS.?Ivan Wasilowitch, the mighty Czar?Of Moscow, took five spouses to his bed,?In the long years that spared him to the throne.?The first, a lady of the heroic line?Of Romanoff, bare him Feodor, who reigned?After his father's death. One only son,?Dmitri, the last blossom of his strength,?And a mere infant when his father died,?Was born of Marfa, of Nagori's line.?Czar Feodor, a youth, alike effeminate?In mind and body, left the reins of power?To his chief equerry, Boris Godunow,?Who ruled his master with most crafty skill.?Feodor was childless, and his barren bride?Denied all prospect of an heir. Thus, when?The wily Boiar, by his fawning arts,?Had coiled himself into the people's favor,?His wishes soared as high as to the throne.?Between him and his haughty hopes there stood?A youthful prince, the young Demetrius?Iwanowitsch, who with his mother lived?At Uglitsch, where her widowhood was passed.?Now, when his fatal purpose was matured,?He sent to Uglitsch ruffians, charged to put?The Czarowitsch to death.?One night, when all was hushed, the castle's wing,?Where the young prince, apart from all the rest,?With his attendants lay, was found on fire.?The raging flames ingulfed the pile; the prince?Unseen, unheard, was spirited away,?And all the world lamented him as dead.?All Moscow knows these things to be the truth.
ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.?Yes, these are facts familiar to us all.?The rumor ran abroad, both far and near,?That Prince Demetrius perished in the flames?When Uglitsch was destroyed. And, as his death?Raised to the throne the Czar who fills it now,?Fame did not hesitate to charge on him?This murder foul and pitiless. But yet,?His death is not the business now in hand!?This prince is living still! He lives in you!?So runs your plea. Now bring us to the proofs!?Whereby do you attest that you are he??What are the signs by which you shall be known??How 'scaped you those were sent to hunt you down?And now, when sixteen years are passed, and you?Well nigh forgot, emerge to light once more?
DEMETRIUS.?'Tis scarce a year since I have known myself;?I lived a secret to myself till then,?Surmising naught of my imperial birth.?I was a monk with monks, close pent within?The cloister's precincts, when I first began?To waken to a consciousness of self.?My impetuous spirit chafed against the bars,?And the high blood of princes began to course?In strange unbidden moods along my veins.?At length I flung the monkish cowl aside,?And fled to Poland, where the noble Prince?Of Sendomir, the generous, the good,?Took me as guest into his princely house,?And trained me up to noble deeds of arms.
ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.?How? You still ignorant of what you were??Yet ran the rumor then on every side,?That Prince Demetrius was still alive.?Czar Boris trembled on his throne, and sent?His sassafs to the frontiers, to keep?Sharp watch on every traveller that stirred.?Had not the tale its origin with you??Did you not give the rumor birth yourself??Had you not named to any that you were?Demetrius?
DEMETRIUS.
I relate that which I know.?If a report went forth I was alive,?Then had some god been busy with the fame.?Myself I knew not. In the prince's house,?And in the throng of his retainers lost,?I spent the pleasant springtime of my youth.
In silent homage?My heart was vowed to his most lovely daughter.?Yet in those days it never dreamed to raise?Its wildest thoughts to happiness so high.?My passion gave offence to her betrothed,?The Castellan of Lemberg. He with taunts?Chafed me, and in the blindness of his rage?Forgot himself so wholly as to strike me.?Thus savagely provoked, I drew my sword;?He, blind with fury, rushed upon the blade,?And perished there by my unwitting hand.
MEISCHEK.?Yes, it was even so.
DEMETRIUS.?Mine was the worst mischance! A nameless youth,?A Russian and a stranger, I had slain?A grandee of the empire--in the house?Of my kind patron done a deed of blood,?And sent to death his son-in-law and friend.?My innocence availed not; not the pity?Of all his household, nor his kindness--his,?The noble Palatine's,--could save my life;?For it was forfeit to the law, that is,?Though lenient to the Poles, to strangers stern.?Judgment was passed on me--that judgment death.?I knelt upon the scaffold, by the block;?To the fell headsman's sword I bared my throat,?And in the act disclosed a cross of gold,?Studded with precious gems, which had been hung?About my neck at the baptismal font.?This sacred pledge of Christian redemption?I had, as is the custom of my people,?Worn on my neck concealed, where'er I went,?From my first hours of infancy; and now,?When from sweet life I was compelled to part,?I grasped it as my only stay, and pressed it?With passionate devotion to my lips.
[The Poles intimate their sympathy by dumb show.
The jewel was observed; its sheen and worth?Awakened curiosity and wonder.?They set