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

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 mainA 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, looking round in every direction. Suddenly she stands still and listens)   No! 'tis not he: 'twas but the playful wind   Rustling the pine-tops. To his ocean bed   The sun declines, and with o'erwearied heart   I count the lagging hours: an icy chill   Creeps through my frame; the very solitude   And awful silence fright my trembling soul!   Where'er I turn naught meets my gaze – he leaves me   Forsaken and alone!   And like a rushing stream the city's hum   Floats on the breeze, and dull the mighty sea   Rolls murmuring to the rocks: I shrink to nothing   With horrors compassed round; and like the leaf,   Borne on the autumn blast, am hurried onward   Through boundless space.                Alas! that e'er I left   My peaceful cell – no cares, no fond desires   Disturbed my breast, unruffled as the stream   That glides in sunshine through the verdant mead:   Nor poor in joys. Now – on the mighty surge   Of fortune, tempest-tossed – the world enfolds me   With giant arms! Forgot my childhood's ties   I listened to the lover's flattering tale —   Listened, and trusted! From the sacred dome   Allured – betrayed – for sure some hell-born magic   Enchained my frenzied sense – I fled with him,   The invader of religion's dread abodes!   Where art thou, my beloved? Haste – return —   With thy dear presence calm my struggling soul!

[She listens.

   Hark! the sweet voice! No! 'twas the echoing surge   That beats upon the shore; alas! he comes not.   More faintly, o'er the distant waves, the sun   Gleams with expiring ray; a deathlike shudder   Creeps to my heart, and sadder, drearier grows   E'en desolation's self.

[She walks to and fro, and then listens again.

                Yes! from the thicket shade   A voice resounds! 'tis he! the loved one!   No fond illusion mocks my listening ear.   'Tis louder – nearer: to his arms I fly —   To his breast!

[She rushes with outstretched arms to the extremity of the garden. DON CAESAR meets her.

DON CASAR. BEATRICE.

BEATRICE (starting back in horror)   What do I see?

[At the same moment the Chorus comes forward.

DON CAESAR           Angelic sweetness! fear not.

[To the Chorus.

   Retire! your gleaming arms and rude array   Affright the timorous maid.

[To BEATRICE.

                  Fear nothing! beauty   And virgin shame are sacred in my eyes.

[The Chorus steps aside. He approaches and takes her hand.

   Where hast thou been? for sure some envious power   Has hid thee from my gaze: long have I sought thee:   E'en from the hour when 'mid the funeral rites   Of the dead prince, like some angelic vision,   Lit with celestial brightness, on my sight   Thou shonest, no other image in my breast   Waking or dreaming, lives; nor to thyself   Unknown thy potent spells; my glance of fire,   My faltering accents, and my hand that lay   Trembling in thine, bespoke my ecstasy!   Aught else with solemn majesty the rite   And holy place forbade:                The bell proclaimed   The awful sacrifice! With downcast eyes,   And kneeling I adored: soon as I rose,   And caught with eager gaze thy form again,   Sudden it vanished; yet, with mighty magic   Of love enchained, my spirit tracked thy presence;   Nor ever, with unwearied quest, I cease   At palace gates, amid the temple's throng,   In secret paths retired, or public scenes,   Where beauteous innocence perchance might rove,   To mark each passing form – in vain; but, guided   By some propitious deity this day   One of my train, with happy vigilance,   Espied thee in the neighboring church.

[BEATRICE, who had stood trembling with averted eyes, here makes a gesture of terror.

                   I see thee   Once more; and may the spirit from this frame   Be severed ere we part! Now let me snatch   This glad, auspicious moment, and defy   Or chance, or envious demon's power, to shake   Henceforth my solid bliss; here I proclaim thee,   Before this listening warlike train my bride,   With pledge of knightly honors!

[He shows her to the Chorus.

                    Who thou art,   I ask not: thou art mine! But that thy soul   And birth are pure alike one glance informed   My inmost heart; and though thy lot were mean,   And poor thy lowly state, yet would I strain thee   With rapture to my arms: no choice remains,   Thou art my love – my wife! Know too, that lifted   On fortune's height, I spurn control; my will   Can raise thee to the pinnacle of greatness —   Enough my name – I am Don Caesar! None   Is nobler in Messina!

[BEATRICE starts back in amazement. He remarks her agitation, and after a pause continues.

               What a grace   Lives in thy soft surprise and modest silence!   Yes! gentle humbleness is beauty's crown —   The beautiful forever hid, and shrinking   From its own lustre: but thy spirit needs   Repose, for aught of strange – e'en sudden joy —   Is terror-fraught. I leave thee.

[Turning to the Chorus.

                     From this hour   She is your mistress, and my bride; so teach her   With honors due to entertain the pomp   Of queenly state. I will return with speed,   And lead her home as fits Messina's princess.

[He goes away.

BEATRICE and the Chorus.

Chorus (BOHEMUND)      Fair maiden – hail to thee       Thou lovely queen!      Thine is the crown, and thine the victory!      Of heroes to a distant age,      The blooming mother thou shalt shine,      Preserver of this kingly line.(ROGER)       And thrice I bid thee hail,        Thou happy fair!      Sent in auspicious hour to bless      This favored race – the god's peculiar care.      Here twine the immortal wreaths of fame      And evermore, from sire to son,      Rolls on the sceptered sway,      To heirs of old renown, a race of deathless name!(BOHEMUND)      The household gods exultingly       Thy coming wait;      The ancient, honored sires,       That on the portals frown sedate,      Shall smile for thee!      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   Each day my steps.DON CAESAR             Yet three months flown, my father   Sleeps in the tranquil grave; say, whence delayed   The joyous tidings? Why so long concealed   The maid, nor earlier taught our hearts to glow   With brother's love?ISABELLA              The cause, your frenzied hate,   That raging unconfined, e'en on the tomb   Of your scarce buried father, lit the flames   Of mortal strife. What! could I throw my daughter   Betwixt your gleaming blades? Or 'mid the storm   Of passion would ye list a woman's counsels?   Could she, sweet pledge of peace, of all our hopes   The last and holy anchor, 'mid the rage   Of discord find a home? Ye stand as brothers,   So will I give a sister to your arms!   The reconciling angel comes; each hour   I wait my messenger's return; he leads her   From her sequestered cell, to glad once more   A mother's eyes.DON MANUEL            Nor her alone this day   Thy arms shall fold; joy pours through all our gates;   Soon shall the desolate halls be full, the seat   Of every blooming grace. Now hear my secret:   A sister thou hast given; to thee I bring   A daughter; bless thy son! My heart has found   Its lasting shrine: ere this day's sun has set   Don Manuel to thy feet shall lead his bride,   The partner of his days.ISABELLA                And to my breast   With transport will I clasp the chosen maid   That makes my first-born happy. Joy shall spring   Where'er she treads, and every flower that blooms   Around the path of life smile in her presence!   May bliss reward the son, that for my brows   Has twined the choicest wreath a mother wears.DON CAESAR   Yet give not all the fulness of thy blessing   To him, thy eldest born. If love be blest,   I, too, can give thee joy. I bring a daughter,   Another flower for thy most treasured garland!   The maid that in this ice-cold bosom first   Awoke the rapturous flame! Ere yonder sun   Declines, Don Caesar's bride shall call thee mother.DON MANUEL   Almighty Love! thou godlike power – for well   We call thee sovereign of the breast! Thy sway   Controls each warring element, and tunes   To soft accord; naught lives but owns thy greatness.   Lo! the rude soul that long defied thee melts   At thy command!

[He embraces DON CAESAR.

            Now I can trust thy heart,   And joyful strain thee to a brother's arms!   I doubt thy faith no more, for thou canst love!ISABELLA   Thrice blest the day, when every gloomy care   From my o'erlabored breast has flown. I see   On steadfast columns reared our kingly race,   And with contented spirit track the stream   Of measureless time. In these deserted halls,   Sad in my widow's veil, but yesterday   Childless I roamed; and soon, in youthful charms   Arrayed, three blooming daughters at my side   Shall stand! Oh, happiest mother! Chief of women,   In bliss supreme; can aught of earthly joy   O'erbalance thine?             But say, of royal stem,   What maidens grace our isle? For ne'er my sons   Would stoop to meaner brides.DON MANUEL                   Seek not to raise   The veil that hides my bliss; another day   Shall tell thee all. Enough – Don Manuel's bride   Is worthy of thy son and thee.ISABELLA                   Thy sire   Speaks in thy words; thus to himself retired   Forever would he brood o'er counsels dark,   And cloak his secret purpose; – your delay   Be short, my son.

[Turning to DON CAESAR.

             But thou – some royal maid,   Daughter of kings, hath stirred thy soul to love;   So speak – her name —DON CAESAR              I have no art to veil   My thoughts with mystery's garb – my spirit free   And open as my brows; which thou wouldst know   Concerned me never. What illumes above   Heaven's flaming orb? Himself! On all the world   He shines, and with his beaming glory tells   From light he sprung: – in her pure eyes I gazed,   I looked into her heart of hearts: – the brightness   Revealed the pearl. Her race – her name – my mother,   Ask not of me!ISABELLA           My son, explain thy words,   For, like some voice divine, the sudden charm   Has thralled thy soul: to deeds of rash emprise   Thy nature prompted, not to fantasies   Of boyish love: – tell me, what swayed thy choice?DON CAESAR   My choice? my mother! Is it choice when man   Obeys the might of destiny, that brings   The awful hour? I sought no beauteous bride,   No fond delusion stirred my tranquil breast,   Still as the house of death; for there, unsought,   I found the treasure of my soul. Thou know'st   That, heedless ever of the giddy race,   I looked on beauty's charms with cold disdain,   Nor deemed of womankind there lived another   Like thee – whom my idolatrous fancy decked   With heavenly graces: —                'Twas the solemn rite   Of my dead father's obsequies; we stood   Amid the countless throng, with strange attire   Hid from each other's glance; for thus ordained   Thy thoughtful care lest with outbursting rage,   E' en by the holy place unawed, our strife   Should mar the funeral pomp.                  With sable gauze   The nave was all o'erhung; the altar round   Stood twenty giant saints, uplifting each   A torch; and in the midst reposed on high   The coffin, with o'erspreading pall, that showed,   In white, redemption's sign; – thereon were laid   The staff of sovereignty, the princely crown,   The golden spurs of knighthood, and the sword,   With diamond-studded belt: —                  And all was hushed   In silent prayer, when from the lofty choir,   Unseen, the pealing organ spoke, and loud   From hundred voices burst the choral strain!   Then, 'mid the tide of song, the coffin sank   With the descending floor beneath, forever   Down to the world below: – but, wide outspread   Above the yawning grave, the pall upheld   The gauds of earthly state, nor with the corpse   To darkness fell; yet on the seraph wings   Of harmony, the enfranchised spirit soared   To heaven and mercy's throne:                   Thus to thy thought,   My mother, I have waked the scene anew,   And say, if aught of passion in my breast   Profaned the solemn hour; yet then the beams   Of mighty love – so willed my guiding star —   First lit my soul; but how it chanced, myself   I ask in vain.ISABELLA           I would hear all; so end   Thy tale.DON CAESAR         What brought her to my side, or whence   She came, I know not: – from her presence quick   Some secret all-pervading inward charm   Awoke; 'twas not the magic of a smile,   Nor playful Cupid in her cheeks, nor more,   The form of peerless grace; – 'twas beauty's soul,   The speaking virtue, modesty inborn,   That as with magic spells, impalpable   To sense, my being thralled. We breathed together   The air of heaven: – enough! – no utterance asked   Of words, our spiritual converse; – in my heart,   Though strange, yet with familiar ties inwrought   She seemed, and instant spake the thought – 'tis she!   Or none that lives!DON MANUEL (interposing with eagerness)              That is the sacred fire   From heaven! the spark of love – that on the soul   Bursts like the lightning's flash, and mounts in flame,   When kindred bosoms meet! No choice remains —   Who shall resist? What mortal break the band   That heaven has knit? Brother, my blissful fortune   Was echoed in thy tale – well thou hast raised   The veil that shadows yet my secret love.ISABELLA   Thus destiny has marked the wayward course   Of my two sons: the mighty torrent sweeps   Down from the precipice; with rage he wears   His proper bed, nor heeds the channel traced   By art and prudent care. So to the powers   That darkly sway the fortunes of our house,   Trembling I yield. One pledge of hope remains;   Great as their birth – their noble souls.

ISABELLA, DON MANUEL, DON CAESAR.

DIEGO is seen at the door.

ISABELLA                        But see,   My faithful messenger returns. Come near me,   Honest Diego. Quick! Where is she? Tell me,   Where is my child? There is no secret here.   Oh, speak! No longer from my eyes conceal her;   Come! we are ready for the height of joy.

[She is about to lead him towards the door.