The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy | Page 6

vanished:--from my horse quick springing, I followed:--lo! the poor
scared creature lay Stretched at the feet of a young, beauteous nun,
That strove with fond caress of her fair hands To still its throbbing
heart: wondering, I gazed; And motionless--my spear, in act to strike,
High poised--while she, with her large piteous eyes For mercy
sued--and thus we stood in silence Regarding one another. How long
the pause I know not--time itself forgot;--it seemed Eternity of bliss:
her glance of sweetness Flew to my soul; and quick the subtle flame
Pervaded all my heart:-- But what I spoke, And how this blessed
creature answered, none May ask; it floats upon my thought, a dream
Of childhood's happy dawn! Soon as my sense Returned, I felt her
bosom throb responsive To mine,--then fell melodious on my ear The
sound, as of a convent bell, that called To vesper song; and, like some
shadowy vision That melts in air, she flitted from my sight, And was
beheld no more.

Chorus (CAJETAN). Thy story thrills My breast with pious awe!
Prince, thou hast robbed The sanctuary, and for the bride of heaven
Burned with unholy passion! Oh, remember The cloister's sacred vows!
DON MANUEL. Thenceforth one path My footsteps wooed; the fickle
train was still Of young desires--new felt my being's aim, My soul
revealed! and as the pilgrim turns His wistful gaze, where, from the
orient sky, With gracious lustre beams Redemption's star;-- So to that
brightest point of heaven, her presence, My hopes and longings centred
all. No sun Sank in the western waves, but smiled farewell To two
united lovers:--thus in stillness Our hearts were twined,--the all-seeing
air above us Alone the faithful witness of our joys! Oh, golden hours!
Oh, happy days! nor Heaven Indignant viewed our bliss;--no vows
enchained Her spotless soul; naught but the link which bound it
Eternally to mine!
Chorus (CAJETAN). Those hallowed walls, Perchance the calm retreat
of tender youth, No living grave?
DON MANUEL. In infant innocence Consigned a holy pledge, ne'er
has she left Her cloistered home.
Chorus (CAJETAN). But what her royal line? The noble only spring
from noble stem.
DON MANUEL. A secret to herself,--she ne'er has learned Her name
or fatherland.
Chorus (CAJETAN). And not a trace Guides to her being's
undiscovered springs?
DON MANUEL. An old domestic, the sole messenger Sent by her
unknown mother, oft bespeaks her Of kingly race.
Chorus (CAJETAN). And hast thou won naught else From her
garrulous age?
DON MANUEL. Too much I feared to peril My secret bliss!

Chorus (CAJETAN). What were his words? What tidings He
bore--perchance thou know'st.
DON MANUEL. Oft he has cheered her With promise of a happier
time, when all Shall be revealed.
Chorus (CAJETAN). Oh, say--betokens aught The time is near?
DON MANUEL. Not distant far the day That to the arms of kindred
love once more Shall give the long forsaken, orphaned maid-- Thus
with mysterious words the aged man Has shadowed oft what most I
dread--for awe Of change disturbs the soul supremely blest: Nay, more;
but yesterday his message spoke The end of all my joys--this very
dawn, He told, should smile auspicious on her fate, And light to other
scenes--no precious hour Delayed my quick resolves--by night I bore
her In secret to Messina.
Chorus (CAJETAN). Rash the deed Of sacrilegious spoil! forgive, my
prince, The bold rebuke; thus to unthinking youth Old age may speak
in friendship's warning voice.
DON MANUEL. Hard by the convent of the Carmelites, In a
sequestered garden's tranquil bound, And safe from curious eyes, I left
her,--hastening To meet my brother: trembling there she counts The
slow-paced hours, nor deems how soon triumphant In queenly state,
high on the throne of fame, Messina shall behold my timid bride. For
next, encompassed by your knightly train, With pomp of greatness in
the festal show, Her lover's form shall meet her wondering gaze! Thus
will I lead her to my mother; thus-- While countless thousands on her
passage wait Amid the loud acclaim--the royal bride Shall reach my
palace gates!
Chorus (CAJETAN). Command us, prince, We live but to obey!
DON MANUEL. I tore myself Reluctant from her arms; my every
thought Shall still be hers: so come along, my friends, To where the
turbaned merchant spreads his store Of fabrics golden wrought with
curious art; And all the gathered wealth of eastern climes. First choose

the well-formed sandals--meet to guard And grace her delicate feet;
then for her robe The tissue, pure as Etna's snow that lies Nearest the
sun-light as the wreathy mist At summer dawn--so playful let it float
About her airy limbs. A girdle next, Purple with gold embroidered o'er,
to bind With witching grace the tunic that confines Her bosom's
swelling charms: of silk the mantle,