with the spirit of prophecy, and has no foreboding of the storm which is about to burst upon Europe. “The Man,” in the meanwhile, pursues his life of adventure, unshackled by the fetters of social life. (A beautiful region. Hill and woods. tance.) Mountains in the dis [years. THE MAN. This have I sought, this prayed for, through long Now am I near my goal. I leave behind me The world, with all its busy, striving people. There let each ant bear off his separate load, And if he lose it, let him skip in frenzy, Or die of grief. Voice of the MAIDEN. Hither, beloved one, hither! But the moment of disenchantment, of remorse, arrives at length. (Cliffs and precipices on the sea-shore. Thick clouds, storm.) THE MAN. Whither have I been guided? All is changed; I breathe no more the perfumed breath of morning; The sky is dark; I stand on this bare rock, The abyss below me, wild winds raging round me. THE MAN. Her voice comes from the distance. I cannot pass this yawning gulf. A VOICE (near). Where are thy wings? Thy wings, Thou mocking fiend, I scorn thee! ANOTHER VOICE. Here, then, thy soul, thy great immortal That, in one unchecked flight, should soar to heaven, On this bare pinnacle has found her goal. Here the poor trembler prays thee stay thy steps. O thou great heart! Thou mighty, deathless soul ! May I lose her for ever, if I fear thee! MAIDEN'S VOICE (from the other side of precipice). Love, grasp my hand and fly. THE MAN. What change is this? The withered flowers are falling from thy brows, And, as they touch the ground, creep off like lizards, Or glide away like snakes. MAIDEN'S VOICE. Beloved one, hither! [spirit, THE MAN. The wind has torn thy garments from thy shoul And rent them into fragments. [ders, MAIDEN. O, delay not! THE MAN. The rain drips from thy hair. The sharp_white Wear through thy sides. MAIDEN. THE MAN. [bones sworn? Old one, Hast thou not promised, Now back to hell! Thou hast befooled him rarely, - That was erewhile his own and the world's wonder! Come, thou great soul, now follow thy beloved! That heavenly beauty hath been in my eyes THE MAN. My God! And hast thou, then, for this con Fairer than earthly, - that I still have loved it, [demned me, [tory! We triumph. Vic THE MAN. My latest hour has struck; the storm careers In raging whirlpools; dashing up the cliffs, The fierce waves seek me; while a power unseen Urges me onward, — onward. EVIL SPIRITS. Brothers, joy! THE MAN. In vain the struggle; - now the giddy impulse Has seized me; my soul reels; my God, my God! Thine enemy prevails! GUARDIAN ANGEL. Waves, peace, be still! Go to thy home again. On thy son's head His home holds now no other thing to love. He reaches his house; he enters the room where we have seen him seated with his wife. The piano is still there, but silent; the little cradle no longer stands in the corner; the tender mother no longer lulls her child. As "The Man " enters, a servant comes in at the opposite door; the count demands of him news of the countess. The servant is confused and agitated; he answers the count's questions unwillingly. SERVANT. My lord, my lady is not in her room. THE MAN. SERVANT. THE MAN. SERVANT. And where then? Where? They have carried her, my lord To the mad-house. [Runs out of the room. Dost thou not feign? Art thou not hiding somewhere John ! Catharine! The house is dumb, deserted. · Eternal happiness? And now, through me, O Mary, on what pillow lies thy head? [Throws open the door. Saddle my Tatar! bring my cloak and pistols ! He hurries to the hospital whither his wife has been conveyed, introduces himself as the friend of her husband, and demands permission to see her. Within the walls of this asylum, we are once more met by tokens, terrible tokens, of the agitations of the times. Voices issue from the cells which surround that of the countess. VOICE (from below the floor). Off on the scaffold, heads of kings and nobles! VOICE (from the right).. Kneel to the king, your lord! VOICE (from the left). The comet blazes ! The day of the last judgment is at hand! VOICE (from above the ceiling). You have bound God in chains. The one God died Upon the cross; I am the other God, Like him, delivered up to the tormentors. The interview between the dying wife and the repentant husband is infinitely touching. The exaltation of madness gives her a sense of inspiration; she believes she is at length raised to a level with her husband, and is able to share his high thoughts and poetic visions. THE WOMAN. Have patience but a little while, my husband; I shall be worthy of thee yet. THE MAN. What sayest thou? THE WOMAN. I watched and prayed three nights, and God THE MAN. I do not understand thee. THE WOMAN. [has heard me. When I lost thee, There was a change in me; "Lord God!" I cried, And beat my breast, and placed upon my bosom "Breathe into me the breath of poetry!" THE MAN. Mary! THE WOMAN. O, thou wilt not despise me now, My husband? I am full of inspiration! Thou wilt not now go from me in the evenings? THE MAN. Never, O, never! THE WOMAN. Do but look at me! Am I not grown like thee? O, I know all things! Now I can understand, invent, compose. stars, - storms, -battles. Yes; storms, stars, and seas. Ah! there is one thing that escapes me yet. It is a battle; take me to a battle; Let me behold, and then I can describe it. THE MAN. O God! O God! billows, - dewdrops,-coffins. How blest I am, my Henry! VOICE (from below). Three kings have I laid dead with my own hand; There are yet ten; All singing masses. The sun has lost the The day is come! Is come indeed! and yet a hundred priests VOICE (from the left). Woe! The stars are meeting! third part of his light! To me the day of judgment THE WOMAN. Look happier, my Henry; Or thou wilt force me to be sad again. Stay, I have one thing more to say to thee. THE MAN. What is it, love? THE WOMAN. THE MAN. What? Thy son will be a poet. THE WOMAN. At the christening, the priest gave him Poet For his first name, then, Jerzy Stanislav. 'T was I arranged it all. And then I blessed him, And then I cursed him. He will be a poet. THE MAN. O my sweet Mary, wilt thou not be calm, THE WOMAN. DOCTOR'S WIFE (with women rushes in). Some pills! some powders ! Run to the medicine-room ! no, some liquid medicine! The gentleman has been the cause himself. "T is the count in person! THE WOMAN. O, I am happy! I shall die near thee! DOCTOR'S WIFE. I think the blood is rushing to her brain. But see how red she looks! THE MAN. It will be over soon. Nay, it is nothing. DOCTOR (enters, and, going up to the sofa, finds her dead). It is all over! The second part of the Nieboska Komedyia is principally devoted to the little Orcio, the child of the poet. The prologue gives us his portrait. Wherefore not riding on a stick, thou child, What mean those dark blue eyes, downcast, but fiery, Downbent with thought, like a flower bowed with dew? What dost thou see? what hear? with whom discourse ? For in thine eye are rays, none know from whence. |