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The Poems of Felicia Hemans

Mrs. Hemans

Have bounded there to meet you, clinging arms Hung on your neck, fond tears o’erflow’d your cheek, Think upon those that loved you thus, for thus Doth woman love! and spare me!--think on them; They, too, may yet need mercy! Aymer, Aymer! Wilt _thou_ not hear and aid me? _Rai._ (_starting._) There’s a name To bring back strength! Shall I not strike to save His honour and his life? Were his _life_ all---- _Mor._ To save his life and honour!--will my death---- [_She rises and stands before him, covering her face hurriedly._ Do it with one stroke! I may not _live_ for him! _Rai._ (_with surprise._) A woman meet death thus! _Mor._ (_uncovering her eyes._) Yet one thing more-- I have sisters and a father. Christian knight! Oh! by your mother’s memory, let them know I died with a name unstain’d. _Rai._ (_softened and surprised._) And such high thoughts from _her_!--an infidel! And she named my mother!--Once in early youth From the wild waves I snatch’d a woman’s life; My mother bless’d me for it (_slowly dropping his dagger_)--even with tears She bless’d me. Stay, are there no other means? (_Suddenly recollecting himself._) Follow me, maiden! Fear not now. _Mor._ But he-- But Aymer-- _Rai._ (_sternly._) Wouldst thou perish? Name him not!-- Look not as if thou wouldst! Think’st thou dark thoughts Are blown away like dew-drops? or I, like him, A leaf to shake and turn i’ the changing wind? Follow me, and beware! [_She bends over the tomb for a moment, and follows him._ Aymer _enters, and slowly comes forward from the background._ _Aym._ For the last time--yes! it must be the last! Earth and heaven say--the last! The very dead Rise up to part us! But _one_ look--and then She must go hence for ever! Will she weep? It had been little to have _died_ for her-- I have borne shame. She shall know all! Moraima! Said they not She would be found here at her brother’s grave? Where should she go? Moraima! There’s the print Of her step--what gleams beside it? (_Seeing the dagger, he takes it up._) Ha! men work Dark deeds with things like this! [_Looking wildly and anxiously around._ I see no----blood! [_Looking at the dagger._ Stain’d!--it may be from battle; ’tis not--wet. [_Looks round, intently listening; then again examines the spot._ Ha!--what is this? another step in the grass!-- Hers and another’s step! [_He rushes into the cypress-grove._ Scene III.--_A hall in the citadel, hung with arms and banners._ Rainier, Herman--_Knights in the background, laying aside their armour._ _Her._ (_coming forward and speaking hurriedly._) Is it done? Have you done it? _Rai._ (_with disgust._) What! you thirst For blood so deeply? _Her._ (_indignantly._) Have you struck, and saved The honour of your house? _Rai._ (_thoughtfully to himself._) The light i’ the soul Is such a wavering thing! Have I done well? (_To_ Herman). Ask me not! Never shall they meet again. Is ’t not enough? Aymer _enters hurriedly with the dagger, and goes up with it to several of the knights, who begin to gather round the front_. _Aym._ Whose is this dagger? _Rai._ (_coming forward and taking it._) Mine. _Aym._ Yours! yours!--and know you where-- _Rai._ (_about to sheath it, but stopping._) Oh! you do well So to remind me! Yes! it must have lain In the Moslem burial-ground--and that vile dust-- Hence with it! ’tis defiled. [_Throws it from him._ _Aym._ If such a deed---- Brother! where is she? _Rai._ Who?--what knight hath lost A Ladye-love? _Aym._ Could he speak thus, and wear That scornful calm, if----No! he is not calm. What have you done? _Rai._ (_aside._) Yes! she shall die to him! _Aym._ (_grasping his arm._) What have you done--speak! _Rai._ You should know the tale Of our dark ancestor, the Lion-Chief, And his son’s bride. _Aym._ Man! man! you _murder’d_ her! [_Sinking back._ It grows so dark around me! She is dead! (_Wildly._) I’ll not believe it! No! she never look’d Like what could die! [_Goes up to his brother._ If you have done that deed---- _Rai._ (_sternly._) If I have done it, I have flung off shame From my brave father’s house! _Aym._ (_in a low voice to himself._) So young, and dead!--because I loved her--dead! (_To_ Rainier). Where is she, murderer? Let me see her face. You think to hide it with the dust!--ha! ha! The dust to cover _her_! We’ll mock you still: If I call her back, she’ll come! Where is she?--speak! Now, by my father’s tomb! but I am calm. _Rai._ Never more hope to see her! _Aym._ Never more! [_Sitting down on the ground._ I loved her, so she perish’d!--All the earth Hath not another voice to reach my soul, Now hers is silent! Never, never more! If she had but said farewell!--(_Bewildered._) It grows so dark! This is some fearful dream. When the morn comes I shall wake. ----My life’s bright hours are done! _Rai._ I must be firm. (_Takes a banner from the wall, and brings it to_ Aymer.) Have you forgotten _this_? We thought it lost, But it rose proudly waving o’er the fight In a warrior’s hand again! Yours, Aymer! yours! Brother! redeem your fame! _Aym._ (_putting it from him._) The worthless thing! Fame! _She_ is dead!--give a king’s robe to one Stretch’d on the rack! Hence with your pageantries Down to the dust! _Her._ The banner of the Cross! Shame on the recreant! Cast him from us! _Rai._ Boy! Degenerate boy! _Here_, with the trophies won By the sainted chiefs of old in Paynim war Above you and around; the very air, When it but shakes their armour on the walls, Murmuring of glorious deeds; to sit and weep _Here_ for an Infidel! My father’s son, Shame! shame! deep shame! _Knights._ Aymer de Chatillon! Go from us, leave us! _Aym._ (_starting up._) Leave you! what! ye thought That I would stay to breathe the air _you_ breathe!-- And fight by you! Murderers! I burst all ties! [_Throws his sword on the ground before them._ There’s not a thing of the desert half so free! (_To_ Rainier.) You have no brother! Live to need the love Of a human heart, and steep your soul in fame To still its restless yearnings! Die alone! Midst all your pomps and trophies--die alone! [_Going out, he suddenly returns._ Did she not call on me to succour her? Kneel to you--plead for life? The Voice of Blood Follow you to your grave! [_Exit._ _Rai._ (_with emotion._) Alas! my brother! The time hath been, when in the face of Death I have bid him leave me, and he would not! (_Turning to the Knights._) Knights! The Soldan marches for Jerusalem-- We’ll meet him on the way. ACT IV. Scene I.--_Camp of Melech, the Saracen Emir._ Melech, Sadi, _Soldiers_. _Mel._ Yes! he I mean--Rainier de Chatillon! Go, send swift riders o’er the mountains forth, And through the deserts, to proclaim the price I set upon his life! _Sadi._ Thou gav’st the word Before; it hath been done--they are gone forth. _Mel._ Would that my soul could wing them! Didst thou heed To say his _life_? I’ll have my own revenge! Yes! I would _save_ him from another’s hand! Thou said’st he must be brought alive? _Sadi._ I heard Thy will, and I obey’d. _Mel._ He slew my son-- That was in battle--but to shed _her_ blood! My child Moraima’s! Could he see and strike her? A Christian see her face, too! From my house The crown is gone! Who brought the tale? _Sadi._ A slave Of your late son’s, escaped. _Mel._ Have I a son Left? speak, the slave of which? Kaled is gone-- And Octar gone--both, both are fallen-- Both my young stately trees, and she my flower-- No hand but mine shall be upon him, none!-- [_A sound of festive music without._ What mean they there? [_An attendant enters._ _Att._ Tidings of joy, my chief! _Mel._ Joy!--is the Christian taken? Moraima _enters, and throws herself into his arms_. _Mor._ Father! Father! I did not think this world had yet so much Of aught like happiness! _Mel._ My own fair child! Is it on _thee_ I look indeed, my child? [_Turning to attendants._ Away, there!--gaze not on us! Do I hold _Thee_ in my arms! They told me thou wert slain. Rainier de Chatillon, they said---- _Mor._ (_hurriedly._) Oh, no! Twas he that sent thee back thy child, my father. _Mel._ He! why, his brother Aymer still refused A monarch’s ransom for thee! _Mor._ (_with a momentary delight._) Did he thus? [_Suddenly checking herself._ --Yes! I knew well! Oh! do not speak of him! _Mel._ What! hath he wrong’d thee? Thou hast suffer’d much Amongst these Christians! Thou art changed, my child. There’s a dim shadow in thine eye, where once---- But they shall pay me back for all thy tears With their best blood. _Mor._ (_alarmed._) Father! not so, not so! They still were gentle with me. But I sat And watch’d beside my dying brother’s couch Through many days: and I have wept since then-- Wept much. _Mel._ Thy dying brother’s couch!--yes, thou Wert ever true and kind. _Mor._ (_covering her face._) Oh! praise me not! Look gently on me, or I sink to earth; Not thus! _Mel._ No praise! thou’rt faint, my child, and worn: The length of way hath---- _Mor._ (_eagerly._) Yes! the way was long, The desert’s wind breath’d o’er me. Could I rest? _Mel._ Yes! thou shalt rest within thy father’s tent. Follow me, gentle child! Thou look’st so changed. _Mor._ (_hurriedly._) The weary way,--the desert’s burning wind---- [_Laying her hand on him as she goes out._ Think thou no evil of those Christians, father!-- They were still kind. Scene II.--_Before a Fortress amongst Rocks, with a Desert beyond._--_Military Music._ Rainier de Chatillon--_Knights and Soldiers_. _Rai._ They speak of truce? _The Knights._ Even so. Of truce between The Soldan and our King. _Rai._ Let him who fears Lest the close helm should wear his locks away, Cry “truce,” and cast it off. I have no will To change mine armour for a masquer’s robe, And sit at festivals. Halt, lances, there! Warriors and brethren! hear. I own no truce-- I hold my life but as a weapon now Against the infidel! He shall not reap His field, nor gather of his vine, nor pray To his false gods--no! save by trembling stealth,