Early Plays | Page 8

side by side we fought. Often his young son went with him to war.
Even his early years were wild and headstrong; Yet he gave open proof
of rare endowments,-- His mind was noble, dauntless was his courage.
LENTULUS. We'll find him, as I think, most prompt and willing. I met
him late this evening much depressed; He meditates in secret some
bold plan;-- Some desperate scheme he long has had in mind.
STATILIUS. No doubt; the consulate he long has sought.
LENTULUS. His efforts are in vain; his enemies Have madly raged
against him in the senate;-- He was himself among them; full of wrath
He left the council--brooding on revenge.
STATILIUS. Then will he surely welcome our proposal.
LENTULUS. I hope so. Yet must we in secret weigh Our enterprise.
The time is opportune.
[They go.]
* * * * *
[In the Temple of Vesta in Rome. On an altar in the 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