The Poems of Felicia Hemans
[_Wild Turkish music heard without. The background of the scene
becomes more and more crowded with armed men._
Lay lance in rest!--wave, noble banners! wave!
[_Throwing down his sword._
Go from me!--leave the fallen!
_Her._ Nay, but the cause?
Tell us the cause!
_Rai._ (_approaching him indignantly._)
Your sword--your crested helm
And your knight’s mantle--cast them down! your name
Is in the dust!--our father’s name! The cause?
--Tell it not, tell it not!
[_Turning to the soldiers and waving his hand._
Sound, trumpets! sound!
On, lances! for the Cross!
[_Military music. As the knights march out,
he looks back at_ Aymer.
I would not now
Call back my noble father from the dead,
If I could with but a breath!--Sound, trumpets, sound!
[_Exeunt knights and soldiers._
_Aym._ Why should I bear this shame? ’tis not too late!
[_Rushing after them, he suddenly checks himself._
My faith! my knightly faith pledged to my fall!
[_Exit._
Scene IV. _Before a Church._
_Groups of Citizens passing to and fro._ Aymer _standing against one
of the pillars of the church in the background, and leaning on his
sword_.
_1st Cit._ (_to 2d._) From the walls, how goes the battle?
_2d Cit._ Well, all well,
Praise to the Saints! I saw De Chatillon
Fighting, as if upon his single arm
The fate o’ the day were set.
_3d Cit._ Shame light on those
That strike not with him in their place!
_1st Cit._ You mean
His brother? Ay, is’t not a fearful thing
That one of such a race--a brave one too--
Should have thus fallen?
_2d Cit._ They say the captive girl
Whom he so loved, hath won him from his faith
To the vile Paynim creed.
_Aym._ (_suddenly coming forward._) Who dares say _that_?
Show me who dares say that!
[_They shrink back--he laughs scornfully._
Ha! ha! ye thought
To play with a sleeper’s name!--to make your mirth
As low-born men sit by a tomb, and jest
O’er a dead warrior! Where’s the slanderer? Speak!
A Citizen _enters hastily_.
_Cit._ Haste to the walls! De Chatillon hath slain
The Paynim chief!
[_They all go out._
_Aym._ Why should they shrink? I, I should ask the night
To cover me! I that have flung my name
Away to scorn! Hush! am I not alone?
[_Listening eagerly._
There’s a voice calling me--a voice i’ the air--
My father’s!--’Twas my father’s! Are the dead,
Unseen, yet with us? Fearful!
(_Loud shouts without, he rushes forward exultingly._)
’Tis the shout
Of victory! We have triumph’d!--_We!_ my place
Is midst the fallen!
[_Music heard, which approaches, swelling into a triumphant march.
Knights enter in procession, with banners, torch-bearers, &c. The
gates of the church are thrown open, and the altar, tombs, &c. within,
are seen illuminated. Knights pass over, and enter the church. One
of them takes a torch, and lifts it to_ Aymer’s _face in passing. He
strikes it down with a sword; then, seeing_ Rainier _approach, drops
the sword, and covers his face_.
_Aym._ (_grasping Rainier by the mantle, as he is about to pass._)
Brother! forsake me not!
_Rai._ (_suddenly drawing his sword, and showing it him._)
_My_ sword is red
With victory and revenge! Look--dyed to the hilt!
--We fought--and where were you?
_Aym._ Forsake me not!
_Rai._ (_pointing with his sword to the tombs within the church._)
Those are proud tombs! The dead, the glorious dead,
Think you they sleep, and know not of their sons
In the mysterious grave? We laid _him_ there!
--Before the ashes of your father, speak!
Have you abjured your faith?
_Aym._ (_indignantly._)
Your name is mine--your blood--and you ask _this_!
Wake _him_ to hear me answer!--Have you? No!
--You have not _dared_ to think it.
[_Breaks from him, and goes out._
_Rai._ (_entering the church, and bending over one of the tombs._)
Not yet lost!
Not yet _all_ lost! He shall be thine again!
So shalt thou sleep in peace!
_Music and Chorus of Voices from the church._
Praise, praise to heaven!
Sing of the conquer’d field, the Paynim flying,--
Light up the shrines, and bid the banners wave!
Sing of the warrior for the red-cross dying--
Chant a proud requiem o’er his holy grave!
Praise, praise to heaven!
Praise!--lift the song through night’s resounding sky!
Peace to the valiant for the Cross that die!
Sleep soft, ye brave!
ACT III.
Scene I.--_A platform before the Citadel. Knights entering._
_Her._ (_to one of the Knights._) You would plead for him?
_Knight._ Nay, remember all
His past renown!
_Her._ I had a friend in youth--
This Aymer’s father had _him_ shamed for less
Than his son’s fault--far less!
We must accuse him;--he must have his shield
Reversed--his name degraded.
_Knight._ He might yet--
_All the Knights._ Must his shame cleave to _us_?
We cast him forth--
We will not bear it.
Rainier _enters_.
_Rai._ Knights! ye speak of _him_--
My brother--was’t not so? All silent! Nay,
Give your thoughts breath! What said ye?
_Her._ That his name
Must be degraded.
_Rai._ Silence! ye disturb
The dead. Thou hear’st, my father!
[_Going up indignantly to the Knights._
Which of ye
Shall first accuse him? He, whose bold step won
The breach at Ascalon ere Aymer’s step,
Let him speak first!
He that plunged deeper through the stormy fight,
Thence to redeem the banner of the Cross,
On Cairo’s plain, let him speak first! Or he
Whose sword burst swifter o’er the Saracen,
I’ the rescue of our king, by Jordan’s waves--
I say, let him speak first!
_Her._ Is he not an apostate?
_Rai._ No, no, no!
If he were _that_, had my life’s blood that taint,
This hand should pour it out! He is not _that_.
_Her._ _Not yet._
_Rai._ Not yet, nor ever! Let me die
In a lost battle first!
_Her._ Hath he let go
Name--kindred--honour--for an infidel,
And will he grasp his faith?
_Rai._ (_after a gloomy pause._)
That which bears poison--should it not be crush’d
What though the weed look lovely?
[_Suddenly addressing_ Du Mornay
You have seen
My native halls, Du Mornay, far away
In Languedoc?
_Du Mor._ I was your father’s friend--
I knew them well.
_Rai._ (_thoughtfully._) The weight of gloom that hangs--
The very banners seem to droop with it--
O’er some of those old rooms! Were we there now,
With a dull wind heaving the pale tapestries,
Why, I could tell you----
[_Coming closer to_ Du Mornay.
There’s a dark-red spot
Grain’d in the floor of one--you know the tale?
_Du Mor._ I may have heard it by the winter fires,
--Now ’tis of things gone by.
_Rai._ (_turning from him displeased._) Such legends give
_Some_ minds a deeper tone.
(_To_ Herman.) If _you_ had heard
That tale i’ the shadowy tower----
_Her._ Nay, tell it now!
_Rai._ They say the place is haunted--moaning sounds
Come thence at midnight--sounds of woman’s voice.
_Her._ And you believe----
_Rai._ I but believe the deed
Done there of old. I had an ancestor--
Bertrand, the lion-chief--whose son went forth
(A younger son--I am not of _his_ line)
To the wars of Palestine. He fought there well--
Ay, all his race were brave; but he return’d,
And with a Paynim bride.
_Her._ The recreant!--say,
How bore your ancestor?
_Rai._ Well may you think
It chafed him--but he bore it--for the love
Of that fair son, the child of his old age.
He pined in heart, yet gave the infidel
A place in his own halls.
_Her._ But did this last?
_Rai._ How _should_ it last? Again the trumpet blew,
And men were summon’d from their homes to guard
The city of the Cross. But _he_ seem’d cold--
That youth! He shunn’d his father’s eye, and took
No armour from the walls.
_Her._ Had he then fallen?
Was his faith wavering?
_Rai._ So the father fear’d.
_Her._ If _I_ had been that father----
_Rai._ Ay, _you_ come
Of an honour’d lineage. What would you have done?
_Her._ Nay, what did _he_?
_Rai._ What did the lion-chief?
[_Turning to_ Du Mornay.
Why, _thou_ hast seen the very spot of blood
On the dark floor! He slew the Paynim bride.
Was it not well?
(_He looks at them attentively, and as he goes out exclaims--_)
My brother must not fall!
Scene II.--_A deserted Turkish burying-ground in the city--tombs and
stones overthrown--the whole shaded by dark cypress-trees._
_Mor._
(_leaning over a monumental pillar, which has been lately raised._)
_He_ is at rest;--and I!--is there no power
In grief to win forgiveness from the dead?
When shall I rest? Hark! a step--Aymer’s step!
The thrilling sound!
[_She shrinks back as reproaching herself._
To feel _that_ joy even _here_!
Brother! oh, pardon me!
_Rai._ (_entering, and slowly looking round._)
A gloomy scene!
A place for----Is she not an infidel?
Who shall dare call it murder?
[_He advances to her slowly, and looks at her._
She is fair--
The deeper cause! Maid, have you thought of death
Midst these old tombs?
_Mor._ (_shrinking from him fearfully._) This is my brother’s grave.
_Rai._ _Thy_ brother’s! That a warrior’s grave had closed
O’er _mine_--the free and noble knight he was!
Ay, that the desert-sands had shrouded him
Before he look’d on thee!
_Mor._ If you are _his_--
If Aymer’s brother--though your brow be dark,
I may not fear you!
_Rai._ No? why, _thou_ shouldst fear
The very dust o’ the mouldering sepulchre,
If it had lived, and borne his name on earth!
Hear’st thou?--that dust hath stirr’d, and found a voice,
And said that thou must die!
_Mor._ (_clinging to the pillar as he approaches._)
Be with me, heaven!
You will not _murder_ me?
_Rai._ (_turning away._) A goodly word
To join with a warrior’s name!--a sound to make
Men’s flesh creep. What!--for Paynim blood
Did _he_ stand faltering thus--my ancestor--
In that old tower?
[_He again approaches her--she falls on her knees._
_Mor._ So young, and thus to die!
Mercy--have mercy! In your own far land
If there be love that weeps and watches for you,
And follows you with prayer--even by that love
Spare me--for it is woman’s! If light steps