Early Plays | Page 8

background burns a lamp with the sacred fire.]
[CATILINE, followed by CURIUS, comes stealing in between the pillars.]
CURIUS. What, Catiline,--you mean to bring me here? In Vesta's temple!
CATILINE. [Laughing.] Well, yes; so you see!
CURIUS. Ye gods,--what folly! On this very day Has Cicero denounced you in the council; And yet you dare--
CATILINE. Oh, let that be forgotten!
CURIUS. You are in danger, and forget it thus-- By rushing blindly into some new peril.
CATILINE. [Gaily.] Well, change is my delight. I never knew Ere now a vestal's love,--forbidden fruit;-- Wherefore I came to try my fortune here.
CURIUS. What,--here, you say? Impossible! A jest!
CATILINE. A jest? Why, yes,--as all my loving is. And yet I was in earnest when I spoke. During the recent games I chanced to see The priestesses in long and pompous train. By accident I cast my roving eye On one of them,--and with a hasty glance She met my gaze. It pierced me to the soul. Ah, the expression in those midnight eyes I never saw before in any woman.
CURIUS. Yes, yes, I know. But speak--what followed then?
CATILINE. A way into the temple I have found, And more than once I've seen and spoken to her. Oh, what a difference between this woman And my Aurelia!
CURIUS. And you love them both At once? No,--that I cannot understand.
CATILINE. Yes, strange, indeed; I scarcely understand myself. And yet--I love them both, as you have said. But oh, how vastly different is this love! The one is kind: Aurelia often lulls With soothing words my soul to peace and rest;-- But Furia--. Come, away; some one approaches.
[They hide themselves among the pillars.]
FURIA. [Enters from the opposite side.] Oh, hated walls,--witnesses of my anguish. Home of the torment I must suffer still! My hopes and cherished aspirations languish Within my bosom,--now with feverish chill Pervaded, now with all the heat of passion, More hot and burning than yon vestal fire.
FURIA. Ah, what a fate! And what was my transgression That chained me to this temple-prison dire,-- That robbed my life of every youthful pleasure,-- In life's warm spring each innocent delight?
FURIA. Yet tears I shall not shed in undue measure; Hatred and vengeance shall my heart excite.
CATILINE. [Comes forward.] Not even for me, my Furia, do you cherish Another feeling,--one more mild than this?
FURIA. Ye gods! you, reckless man,--you here again? Do you not fear to come--?
CATILINE. I know no fear. 'Twas always my delight to mock at danger.
FURIA. Oh, splendid! Such is also my delight;-- This peaceful temple here I hate the more, Because I live in everlasting calm, And danger never lurks within its walls.
FURIA. Oh, this monotonous, inactive life, A life faint as the flicker of the lamp--! How cramped a field it is for all my sum Of fervid longings and far-reaching plans! Oh, to be crushed between these narrow walls;-- Life here grows stagnant; every hope is quenched; The day creeps slowly on in drowsiness,-- And not one single thought is turned to deeds.
CATILINE. O Furia, strange, in truth, is your complaint! It seems an echo out of my own soul,-- As if with flaming script you sought to paint My every longing towards a worthy goal. Rancour and hate in my soul likewise flourish; My heart--as yours--hate tempers into steel; I too was robbed of hopes I used to nourish; An aim in life I now no longer feel.
CATILINE. In silence still I mask my grief, my want; And none can guess what smoulders in my breast. They scoff and sneer at me,--these paltry things; They can not grasp how high my bosom beats For right and freedom, all the noble thoughts That ever stirred within a Roman mind.
FURIA. I knew it! Ah, your soul, and yours alone, Is born for me,--thus clearly speaks a voice That never fails and never plays me false. Then come! Oh, come--and let us heed the call.
CATILINE. What do you mean, my sweet enthusiast?
FURIA. Come,--let us leave this place, flee far away, And seek a new and better fatherland. Here is the spirit's lofty pride repressed; Here baseness smothers each auspicious spark Ere it can break into a burning flame. Come, let us fly;--lo, to the free-born mind The world's wide compass is a fatherland!
CATILINE. Oh, irresistibly you lure me on--
FURIA. Come, let us use the present moment then! High o'er the hills, beyond the sea's expanse,-- Far, far from Rome we first will stay our journey. Thousands of friends will follow you outright; In foreign lands we shall a home design; There shall we rule; 'twill there be brought to light That no hearts ever beat as yours and mine.
CATILINE. Oh, wonderful!--But flee? Why must we flee? Here too our love for freedom can be nourished; Here also is a field for thought and action, As vast as any that