Выбрать главу

There blooming Hebe shall thy steps attend;

And golden victory, that sits

By Jove's eternal throne, with waving plumes

For conquest ever spread,

To welcome thee from heaven descend.

(ROGER.)

Ne'er from this queenly, bright array

The crown of beauty fades,

Departing to the realms of day,

Each to the 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 the grass; soon from the wood

A lion rushed, and from his gory jaws,

Caressing, in the infant's lap let fall

His prey, new-caught; then through the air down swept

An eagle, and with fond caress alike

Dropped from his claws a trembling kid, and both

Cowered at the infant's feet, a gentle pair.

A monk, the saintly guide whose counsels poured

In every earthly need, the balm of heaven

Upon my troubled soul, my dream resolved.

Thus spoke the man of God: a daughter, sent

To knit the warring spirits of my sons

In bonds of tender love, should recompense

A mother's pains! Deep in my heart I treasured

His words, and, reckless of the Pagan seer,

Preserved the blessed child, ordained of heaven

To still your growing strife; sweet pledge of hope

And messenger of peace!

DON MANUEL (embracing his brother).

There needs no sister

To join our hearts; she shall but bind them closer.

ISABELLA.

In a lone spot obscure, by stranger hands

Nurtured, the secret flower has grown; to me

Denied the joy to mark each infant charm

And opening grace from that sad hour of parting;

These arms ne'er clasped my child again! her sire,

To jealousy's corroding fears a prey,

And brooding dark suspicion, restless tracked