The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy | Page 9

next, as good and fair, Extends the zone of feminine grace, And veil of purity:-- Oh, happy race! What vision glads my raptured eye! Equal in nature's blooming pride, I see the mother and the virgin bride.
BEATRICE (awaking from her reverie).
Oh, luckless hour! Alas! ill-fated maid! Where shall I fly From these rude warlike men? Lost and betrayed! A shudder o'er me came, When of this race accursed--the brothers twain-- Their hands embrued with kindred gore, I heard the dreaded name; Oft told, their strife and serpent hate With terror thrilled lay bosom's core:-- And now--oh, hapless fate! I tremble, 'mid the rage of discord thrown, Deserted and alone!
[She runs into the alcove.
Chorus (BOHEMUND).
Son of the immortal deities, And blest is he, the lord of power; His every joy the world can give; Of all that mortals prize He culls the flower.
(ROGER).
For him from ocean's azure caves The diver bears each pearl of purest ray; Whate'er from nature's boundless field Or toil or art has won, Obsequious at his feet we lay; His choice is ever free; We bow to chance, and fortune's blind decree.
(BOHEMUND.)
But this of princes' lot I deem The crowning treasure, joy supreme-- Of love the triumph and the prize, The beauty, star of neighboring eyes! She blooms for him alone, He calls the fairest maid his own.
(ROGER).
Armed for the deadly fray, The corsair bounds upon the strand, And drags, amid the gloom of night, away, The shrieking captive train, Of wild desires the hapless prey; But ne'er his lawless hands profane The gem--the peerless flower-- Whose charms shall deck the Sultan's bower.
(BOHEMUND.)
Now haste and watch, with curious eye, These hallowed precincts round, That no presumptuous foot come nigh The secret, solitary ground Guard well the maiden fair, Your chieftain's brightest jewel owns your care.
[The Chorus withdraws to the background.
[The scene changes to a chamber in the interior of the palace. DONNA ISABELLA between DON MANUEL and DON CAESAR.
ISABELLA. The long-expected, festal day is come, My children's hearts are twined in one, as thus I fold their hands. Oh, blissful hour, when first A mother dares to speak in nature's voice, And no rude presence checks the tide of love. The clang of arms affrights mine ear no more; And as the owls, ill-omened brood of night, From some old, shattered homestead's ruined walls, Their ancient reign, fly forth a dusky swarm, Darkening the cheerful day; when absent long, The dwellers home return with joyous shouts, To build the pile anew; so Hate departs With all his grisly train; pale Envy, scowling Malice, And hollow-eyed Suspicion; from our gates, Hoarse murmuring, to the realms of night; while Peace, By Concord and fair Friendship led along, Comes smiling in his place. [She pauses. But not alone This day of joy to each restores a brother; It brings a sister! Wonderstruck you gaze! Yet now the truth, in silence guarded long, Bursts from my soul. Attend! I have a daughter! A sister lives, ordained by heaven to bind ye With ties unknown before.
DON CAESAR. We have a sister! What hast thou said, my mother? never told Her being till this hour!
DON MANUEL. In childhood's years, Oft of a sister we have heard, untimely Snatched in her cradle by remorseless death; So ran the tale.
ISABELLA. She lives!
DON CAESAR. And thou wert silent!
ISABELLA. Hear how the seed was sown in early time, That now shall ripen to a joyful harvest. Ye bloomed in boyhood's tender age; e'en then By mutual, deadly hate, the bitter spring Of grief to this torn, anxious heart, dissevered; Oh, may your strife return no more! A vision, Strange and mysterious, in your father's breast Woke dire presage: it seemed that from his couch, With branches intertwined, two laurels grew, And in the midst a lily all in flames, That, catching swift the boughs and knotted stems, Burst forth with crackling rage, and o'er the house Spread in one mighty sea of fire: perplexed By this terrific dream, my husband sought An Arab, skilled to read the stars, and long The trusted oracle, whose counsels swayed His inmost purpose: thus the boding sage Spoke Fate's decrees: if I a daughter bore, Destruction to his sons and all his race From her should spring. Soon, by heaven's will, this child Of dreadful omen saw the light; your sire Commanded instant in the waves to throw The new-born innocent; a mother's love Prevailed, and, aided by a faithful servant, I snatched the babe from death.
DON CAESAR. Blest be the hands The ministers of thy care! Oh, ever rich Of counsels was a parent's love!
ISABELLA. But more Than Nature's mighty voice, a warning dream Impelled to save my child: while yet unborn She slumbered in my womb, sleeping I saw An infant, fair as of celestial kind, That played upon