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The Poems of Felicia Hemans

Mrs. Hemans

Whilst I can grasp a sword! Wherefore, noble friends, Think not of truce with me!--but think to quaff Your wine to the sound of trumpets, and to rest In your girt hauberks, and to hold your steeds Barded in the hall beside you. Now turn back, [_He throws a spear on the ground before them._ Ye that are weary of your armour’s load: Pass o’er the spear, away! _They all shout._ A Chatillon! We’ll follow thee--all! all! _Rai._ A soldier’s thanks! [_Turns away from them agitated._ There’s one face gone, and that a brother’s! (_Aloud._) War!-- War to the Paynim--war! March and set up On our stronghold the banner of the Cross, Never to sink! [_Trumpets sound. They march on, winding through the rocks with military music._ _Enter_ Gaston, _an aged vassal of_ Rainier’s, _as an armed follower_--Rainier _addresses him_. You come at last! And she--where left you her? The Paynim maid? _Gas._ I found her guides, my lord, Of her own race, and left her on the way To reach her father’s tents. _Rai._ Speak low!--the tale Must rest with us. It must be thought she _died_. I can trust _you_. _Gas._ Your father trusted me. _Rai._ He did, he did!--my father! You have been Long absent, and you bring a troubled eye Back with you. Gaston! heard you aught of _him_? _Gas._ Whom means my lord? _Rai._ (_impatiently._) Old man, you know too well-- Aymer, my brother. _Gas._ I have seen him. _Rai._ How! Seen him! Speak on. _Gas._ Another than my chief Should have my life before the shameful tale! _Rai._ Speak quickly. _Gas._ In the desert, as I journey’d back, A band of Arabs met me on the way, And I became their captive. Till last night-- _Rai._ Go on! Last night? _Gas._ They slumber’d by their fires-- _I_ could not sleep; when one--I thought him one O’ the tribe at first--came up and loosed my bonds, And led me from the shadow of the tents, Pointing my way in silence. _Rai._ Well, and he-- You thought him one o’ the tribe. _Gas._ Ay, till we stood In the clear moonlight forth;--and then, my lord---- _Rai._ You dare not say ’twas Aymer? _Gas._ Woe and shame! It was, it was! _Rai._ In their vile garb too? _Gas._ Yes, Turban’d and robed like them. _Rai._ What!--did he speak? _Gas._ No word, but waved his hand, Forbidding speech to me. _Rai._ Tell me no more!-- Lost, lost--for ever lost! He that was rear’d Under my father’s roof with me, and grew Up by my side to glory!--lost! Is this My work?--who dares to call it mine? And yet, Had I not dealt so sternly with his soul In its deep anguish----What! he wears their garb I’ the face of heaven? You saw the turban on him? You should have struck him to the earth, and so Put out our shame for ever! _Gas._ Lift my sword Against your father’s son! _Rai._ My father’s son! Ay, and so loved!--that yearning love for _him_ Was the last thing death conquer’d! See’st thou there? [_The banner of the Cross is raised on the fortress._ The very banner he redeem’d for us I’ the fight at Cairo! No! by yon bright sign, He shall not perish! This way--follow me-- I’ll tell thee of a thought. (_Suddenly stopping him._) Take heed, old man! Thou hast a fearful secret in thy grasp: Let me not see thee wear mysterious looks. But no! thou lovest our name!--I’ll trust thee, Gaston! [_Exeunt._ Scene III.--_An Arab Encampment round a few palm-trees in the Desert--Watch-fires in the background.--Night._ _Several Arabs enter with_ Aymer. _Arab Chief._ Thou hast fought bravely, stranger; Now, come on To share the spoil. _Aym._ I reck not of it. Go, Leave me to rest. _Arab._ Well, thou hast earn’d thy rest With a red sabre. Be it as thou wilt. [_They go out.--He throws himself under a palm-tree._ _Aym._ This were an hour--if they would answer us. --They from whose viewless world no answer comes-- To hear their whispering voices. Would they but Speak once, and say they loved! If I could hear thy thrilling voice once more, It would be well with me. Moraima! speak! Rainier _enters disguised as a dervise_. Moraima, speak! No! the dead cannot love! _Rai._ What doth the stranger here!--is there not mirth Around the watch-fires yonder? _Aym._ Mirth!--away!-- I’ve naught to do with mirth. Begone! _Rai._ They tell Wild tales by that red light; would’st thou not hear Of Eastern marvels? _Aym._ Hence! I heed them not. _Rai._ Nay, then hear _me_! _Aym._ _Thee!_ _Rai._ Yes, I know a tale Wilder than theirs. _Aym._ (_raising himself in surprise._) Thou know’st!-- _Rai._ (_without minding, continues._) A tale of one Who flung in madness to the reckless deep A gem beyond all price. _Aym._ _My_ day is closed. What is aught human unto me? _Rai._ Yet mark! His name was of the noblest--dost thou heed?-- Even in a land of princely chivalry; Brightness was on it--but he cast it down. _Aym._ I will not hear--speak’st _thou_ of chivalry? _Rai._ Yes! I have been upon thy native hills. There’s a gray cliff juts proudly from their woods, Crown’d with baronial towers--rememberest thou? And there’s a chapel by the moaning sea-- Thou know’st it well--tall pines wave over it, Darkening the heavy banners, and the tombs. Is not the cross upon thy fathers’ tombs!-- Christian! what dost thou _here_? _Aym._ (_starting up indignantly._) Man! who art thou Thy voice disturbs my soul. Speak! I will know Thy right to question _me_. _Rai._ (_throwing off his disguise, stands before him in the full dress of a Crusader._) My birth-right!--look! _Aym._ Brother! (_Retreating from him with horror._) --Her blood is on your hands!--keep back! _Rai._ (_scornfully._) Nay, keep the Paynim’s garb from touching mine. Answer me _thence_!--what dost thou here? _Aym._ You shrink From your own work!--you, that have made me thus! Wherefore are you here? Are you not afraid To stand beneath the awful midnight sky, And you a murderer? Leave me. _Rai._ I lift up No murderer’s brow to heaven! _Aym._ You _dare_ speak thus!-- Do not the bright stars, with their searching rays, Strike through your guilty soul? Oh, no!--tis well, Passing well! Murder! Make the earth’s harvests grow With Paynim blood!--_Heaven_ wills it! The free air, The sunshine--I forgot--they were not made For infidels. Blot out the race from day! Who talks of _murder_? Murder! when you die Claim your soul’s place of happiness i’ the name Of that good deed! (_In a tone of deep feeling._) If you had loved a flower I would not have destroy’d it! _Rai._ (_with emotion._) Brother! _Aym._ (_impetuously._) No!-- No brother now. She knelt to you in vain; And that hath set a gulf--a boundless gulf-- Between our souls. Your very face is changed-- There’s a red cloud shadowing it: your forehead wears The marks of blood--_her_ blood! (_In a triumphant tone._) But you prevail not! You have made the dead The mighty--the victorious! Yes! you thought To dash her image into fragments down, And you have given it power--such deep sad power, I see naught else on earth! _Rai._ (_aside._) I dare not say she lives. (_To_ Aymer, _holding up the cross of his sword_.) You see not _this_! Once by our father’s grave I ask’d, and here, I’ the silence of the waste, I ask once more-- Have you abjured your faith? _Aym._ Why are you come To torture me? No, no! I have not. No! But you have sent the torrent through my soul, And by their deep strong roots torn fiercely up Things that were part of it--inborn feelings, thoughts-- I know not what I cling to! _Rai._ Aymer! yet Heaven hath not closed its gates! Return, return, Before the shadow of the palm-tree fades I’ the waning moonlight. Heaven gives time. Return, My brother! By our early days--the love That nurtured us!--the holy dust of those That sleep i’ the tomb!--sleep! no, they cannot sleep! Doth the night bring no voices from the dead Back on your soul? _Aym._ (_turning from him._) Yes--_hers_! _Rai._ (_indignantly turning off._) Why should I strive? Why doth it cost me these deep throes to fling A weed off? [_Checking himself._ Brother, hath the stranger come Between our hearts for ever? Yet return-- Win back your fame, my brother! _Aym._ Fame again! Leave me the desert!--leave it me! I hate Your false world’s glittering draperies, that press down Th’ o’erlabour’d heart! They have crush’d mine. Your vain And hollow-sounding words are wasted now: You should adjure me by the name of _him_ That slew his son’s young bride!--our ancestor-- _That_ were a spell! Fame! fame!--your hand hath rent The veil from off your world! To speak of fame, When the soul is parch’d like mine! Away! I have join’d these men because they war with man, And all his hollow pomp! Will you go hence? (_Fiercely._) Why do I talk thus with a _murderer_? Ay, This is the desert, where _true_ words may rise Up unto heaven i’ the stillness! Leave it me!-- The free wild desert! _Arab Chief enters._ _Arab._ Stranger, we have shared The spoil, forgetting not----A Christian here! Ho! sons of Kedar!--’tis De Chatillon! This way!--surround him! There’s an Emir’s wealth Set on his life! Come on! [_Several Arabs rush in and surround_ Rainier, _who, after vainly endeavouring to force his way through them, is made prisoner_. _Rai._ And he stands there To see me bought and sold! Death, death!--not chains! [Aymer, _who has stood for a moment as if bewildered, rushes forward, and strikes down one of the Arabs_. _Aym._ Off from my brother, infidel! [_The others hurry_ Rainier _away_. (_Recollecting himself._) Why, then, heaven Is just! So! now I see it! Blood for blood! [_Again rushing forward._ No! he shall feel _remorse_! I’ll rescue him, And make him weep for her! [_Exit._ ACT V. Scene I.--_A Hall in the Fortress occupied by_ De Chatillon’s _followers_. _Knights listening to a Troubadour._ _Her._ No more soft strains of love. Good Vidal, sing The imprison’d warrior’s lay. There’s a proud tone Of lofty sadness in it. Troubadour _sings_. ’Twas a trumpet’s pealing sound! And the knight look’d down from the Paynim’s tower, And a Christian host in its pride and power Through the pass beneath him wound. “Cease awhile, clarion! clarion, wild and shrill. Cease! let them hear the captive’s voice--be still! “I knew ’twas a trumpet’s note!