The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy | Page 7

Gorgeous with like empurpled
hues, and fixed With clasp of gold--remember, too, the bracelets To
gird her beauteous arms; nor leave the treasure Of ocean's pearly deeps
and coral caves. About her locks entwine a diadem Of purest gems--the
ruby's fiery glow Commingling with the emerald's green. A veil, From
her tiara pendent to her feet, Like a bright fleecy cloud shall circle
round Her slender form; and let a myrtle wreath Crown the enchanting
whole!
Chorus (CAJETAN). We haste, my prince. Amid the Bazar's glittering
rows, to cull Each rich adornment.
DON MANUEL. From my stables lead A palfrey, milk-white as the
steeds that draw The chariot of the sun; purple the housings, The bridle
sparkling o'er with precious gems, For it shall bear my queen!
Yourselves be ready With trumpet's cheerful clang, in martial train To
lead your mistress home: let two attend me, The rest await my quick
return; and each Guard well my secret purpose.
[He goes away accompanied by two of the CHORUS.
Chorus (CAJETAN).
The princely strife is o'er, and say, What sport shall wing the
slow-paced hours, And cheat the tedious day? With hope and fear's
enlivening zest Disturb the slumber of the breast, And wake life's dull,
untroubled sea With freshening airs of gay variety.
One of the Chorus (MANFRED).
Lovely is peace! A beauteous boy, Couched listless by the rivulet's
glassy tide, 'Mid nature's tranquil scene, He views the lambs that skip
with innocent joy, And crop the meadow's flowering pride:-- Then with

his flute's enchanting sound, He wakes the mountain echoes round, Or
slumbers in the sunset's ruddy sheen, Lulled by the murmuring melody.
But war for me! my spirit's treasure, Its stern delight, and wilder
pleasure: I love the peril and the pain, And revel in the surge of
fortune's boisterous main!
A second (BERENGAR).
Is there not love, and beauty's smile That lures with soft, resistless wile?
'Tis thrilling hope! 'tis rapturous fear 'Tis heaven upon this mortal
sphere; When at her feet we bend the knee, And own the glance of
kindred ecstasy For ever on life's checkered way, 'Tis love that tints the
darkening hues of care With soft benignant ray: The mirthful daughter
of the wave, Celestial Venus ever fair, Enchants our happy spring with
fancy's gleam, And wakes the airy forms of passion's golden dream.
First (MANFRED).
To the wild woods away! Quick let us follow in the train Of her, chaste
huntress of the silver bow; And from the rocks amain Track through the
forest gloom the bounding roe, The war-god's merry bride, The chase
recalls the battle's fray, And kindles victory's pride:-- Up with the
streaks of early morn, We scour with jocund hearts the misty vale,
Loud echoing to the cheerful horn Over mountain--over dale-- And
every languid sense repair, Bathed in the rushing streams of cold,
reviving air.
Second (BERENGAR).
Or shall we trust the ever-moving sea, The azure goddess, blithe and
free. Whose face, the mirror of the cloudless sky, Lures to her bosom
wooingly? Quick let us build on the dancing waves A floating castle
gay, And merrily, merrily, swim away! Who ploughs with venturous
keel the brine Of the ocean crystalline-- His bride is fortune, the world
his own, For him a harvest blooms unsown:-- Here, like the wind that
swift careers The circling bound of earth and sky, Flits ever-changeful
destiny! Of airy chance 'tis the sportive reign, And hope ever broods on
the boundless main

A third (CAJETAN).
Nor on the watery waste alone Of the tumultuous, heaving sea;-- On the
firm earth that sleeps secure, Based on the pillars of eternity. Say, when
shall mortal joy endure? New bodings in my anxious breast, Waked by
this sudden friendship, rise; Ne'er would I choose my home of rest On
the stilled lava-stream, that cold Beneath the mountain lies Not thus
was discord's flame controlled-- Too deep the rooted hate--too long
They brooded in their sullen hearts O'er unforgotten, treasured wrong.
In warning visions oft dismayed, I read the signs of coming woe; And
now from this mysterious maid My bosom tells the dreaded ills shall
flow: Unblest, I deem, the bridal chain Shall knit their secret loves,
accursed With holy cloisters' spoil profane. No crooked paths to virtue
lead; Ill fruit has ever sprung from evil seed!
BERENGAR. And thus to sad unhallowed rites Of an ill-omened
nuptial tie, Too well ye know their father bore A bride of mournful
destiny, Torn from his sire, whose awful curse has sped Heaven's
vengeance on the impious bed! This fierce, unnatural rage atones A
parent's crime--decreed by fate, Their mother's offspring, strife and
hate!
[The scene changes to a garden opening on the sea.
BEATRICE (steps forward from an alcove. She walks to and fro with
an agitated air,