The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy | Page 3

But never, fair isle, shall thy sons repose 'Mid the
sweets which the faithless waves enclose. On their bosom they wafted
the corsair bold, With his dreaded barks to our coast of old. For thee
was thy dower of beauty vain, 'Twas the treasure that lured the spoiler's
train. Oh, ne'er from these smiling vales shall rise A sword for our
vanquished liberties; 'Tis not where the laughing Ceres reigns, And the
jocund lord of the flowery plains:-- Where the iron lies hid in the
mountain cave, Is the cradle of empire--the home of the brave!
[The folding-doors at the back of the stage are thrown open. DONNA
ISABELLA appears between her sons, DON MANUEL and DON
CAESAR.
Both Choruses (CAJETAN).
Lift high the notes of praise! Behold! where lies the awakening sun,
She comes, and from her queenly brow Shoots glad, inspiring rays.
Mistress, we bend to thee!
First Chorus.
Fair is the moon amid the starry choir That twinkle o'er the sky,
Shining in silvery, mild tranquillity;-- The mother with her sons more
fair! See! blooming at her side, She leads the royal, youthful pair; With
gentle grace, and soft, maternal pride, Attempering sweet their manly
fire.
Second Chorus (BERENGAR).
From this fair stem a beauteous tree With ever-springing boughs shall
smile, And with immortal verdure shade our isle; Mother of heroes, joy
to thee! Triumphant as the sun thy kingly race Shall spread from clime
to clime, And give a deathless name to rolling time!

ISABELLA (comes forward with her SONS). Look down! benignant
Queen of Heaven, and still, This proud tumultuous heart, that in my
breast Swells with a mother's tide of ecstasy, As blazoned in these
noble youths, my image More perfect shows;--Oh, blissful hour! the
first That comprehends the fulness of my joy, When long-constrained
affection dares to pour In unison of transport from my heart,
Unchecked, a parent's undivided love: Oh! it was ever one--my sons
were twain. Say--shall I revel in the dreams of bliss, And give my soul
to Nature's dear emotions? Is this warm pressure of thy brother's hand
A dagger in thy breast? [To DON MANUEL. Or when my eyes Feed
on that brow with love's enraptured gaze, Is it a wrong to thee? [To
DON CAESAR. Trembling, I pause, Lest e'en affection's breath should
wake the fires Of slumbering hate. [After regarding both with inquiring
looks Speak! In your secret hearts What purpose dwells? Is it the
ancient feud Unreconciled, that in your father's halls A moment stilled;
beyond the castle gates, Where sits infuriate war, and champs the bit--
Shall rage anew in mortal, bloody conflict?
Chorus (BOHEMUND).
Concord or strife--the fate's decree Is bosomed yet in dark futurity!
What comes, we little heed to know, Prepared for aught the hour may
show!
ISABELLA (looking round). What mean these arms? this warlike,
dread array, That in the palace of your sires portends Some fearful issue?
needs a mother's heart Outpoured, this rugged witness of her joys? Say,
in these folding arms shall treason hide The deadly snare? Oh, these
rude, pitiless men, The ministers of your wrath!--trust not the show Of
seeming friendship; treachery in their breasts Lurks to betray, and
long-dissembled hate. Ye are a race of other lands; your sires Profaned
their soil; and ne'er the invader's yoke Was easy--never in the vassal's
heart Languished the hope of sweet revenge;--our sway Not rooted in a
people's love, but owns Allegiance from their fears; with secret joy--
For conquest's ruthless sword, and thraldom's chains From age to age,
they wait the atoning hour Of princes' downfall;--thus their bards
awake The patriot strain, and thus from sire to son Rehearsed, the old

traditionary tale Beguiles the winter's night. False is the world, My sons,
and light are all the specious ties By fancy twined: friendship--deceitful
name! Its gaudy flowers but deck our summer fortune, To wither at the
first rude breath of autumn! So happy to whom heaven has given a
brother; The friend by nature signed--the true and steadfast! Nature
alone is honest--nature only-- When all we trusted strews the wintry
shore-- On her eternal anchor lies at rest, Nor heeds the tempest's rage.
DON MANUEL. My mother!
DON CAESAR. Hear me
ISABELLA (taking their hands). Be noble, and forget the fancied
wrongs Of boyhood's age: more godlike is forgiveness Than victory,
and in your father's grave Should sleep the ancient hate:--Oh, give your
days Renewed henceforth to peace and holy love!
[She recedes one or two steps, as if to give them space to approach each
other. Both fix their eyes on the ground without regarding one another.
ISABELLA (after awaiting for some time, with suppressed emotion, a
demonstration on the part of her sons). I can no more; my prayers--my
tears are vain:-- 'Tis well! obey