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The Poems of Felicia Hemans

Mrs. Hemans

And I see my brethren’s lances gleam, And their pennons wave by the mountain-stream, And their plumes to the glad wind float. “Cease awhile, clarion! &c. “I am here with my heavy chain! And I look on a torrent sweeping by, And an eagle rushing to the sky, And a host to its battle-plain! Cease awhile, clarion! &c. “Must I pine in my fetters here? With the wild wave’s foam, and the free bird’s flight, And the tall spears glancing on my sight, And the trumpet in mine ear? Cease awhile, clarion!” &c.[289] Aymer _enters hurriedly_. _Aym._ Silence, thou minstrel! silence! _Her._ Aymer, here! And in that garb! Seize on the renegade! Knights he must die! _Aym._ (_scornfully._) Die! die!--the fearful threat! To be thrust out of this same blessed world, Your world--all yours! (_Fiercely._) But I will _not_ be made A thing to circle with your _pomps_ of death, Your chains, and guards, and scaffolds! Back! I’ll die As the free lion dies! [_Drawing his sabre._ _Her._ What seek’st thou here? _Aym._ Naught but to give your Christian swords a deed Worthier than----Where’s your chief? in the Paynim’s bonds! Made the wild Arabs’ prize! Ay, heaven is just! If ye will rescue him, then follow me: I know the way they bore him! _Her._ Follow thee! Recreant! deserter of thy house and faith! To think true knights would follow _thee_ again! ’Tis all some snare--away! _Aym._ Some snare! Heaven! heaven! Is my name sunk to this? Must men first crush My soul, then spurn the ruin they have made? --Why, let him perish!--blood for blood!--must earth Cry out in vain? Wine, wine! we’ll revel here! On, minstrel, with thy song! Troubadour _continues the song_. “They are gone--they have all pass’d by! They in whose wars I had borne my part, They that I loved with a brother’s heart, They have left me here to die! Sound again, clarion! clarion, pour thy blast! Sound, for the captive’s dream of hope is past!” _Aym._ (_starting up._) That was the lay he loved in our boyish days-- And he must die forsaken! No, by heaven! He shall not! Follow me! I say your chief Is bought and sold! Is there no generous trust Left in your souls? De Foix, I saved your life At Ascalon! Du Mornay, you and I On Jaffa’s wall together set our breasts Against a thousand spears! What! have I fought Beside you, shared your cup, slept in your tents, And ye can think---- [_Dashing off his turban._ Look on my burning brow! Read if there’s falsehood branded on it--read The marks of treachery there! _Knights, (gathering round him.)_ No, no! come on! To the rescue! lead us on! we’ll trust thee still! _Aym._ Follow, then!--this way. If I die for him, _There_ will be vengeance! He shall think of me To his last hour! [_Exeunt._ [289] “She preferred in music whatever was national and melancholy; and her strains adapted for singing were, of course, framed to the tones most congenial to the temperament of her own mind. How successfully wed to the magic of sweet sound many of her verses have been by her sister, no lover of music need to be reminded. The ‘Roman Girl’s Song’ is full of a solemn classic beauty; and, in one of her letters, it is said that of ‘The Captive Knight’ Sir Walter Scott never was weary. Indeed, it seems in his mind to have been the song of Chivalry, representative of the English; as the Flowers of the Forest was of the Scottish; the Cancionella Española of the Spanish; and the Rhine Song of the Germans.”--_Biographical Sketch by_ Delta, 1836. Of all Mrs Hemans’s lyrics set to music, ‘The Captive Knight’ has been the most popular, and deservedly so. It has indeed stirred many a heart “like the sound of a trumpet.”--_Chorley’s Memorials._ Scene II.--_A Pavilion in the Camp of Melech._ Melech, Sadi. _Mel._ It must be that these sounds and sights of war Shake her too gentle nature. Yes, her cheek Fades hourly in my sight! What other cause-- None, none! She must go hence! Choose from thy band The bravest, Sadi! and the longest tried, And I will send my child---- _Voice without._ Where is your chief? De Chatillon _enters, guarded by Arab and Turkish soldiers_. _Arab Chief._ The sons of Kedar’s tribe have brought to the son Of the Prophet’s house a prisoner! _Mel._ (_half drawing his sword._) Chatillon! That slew my boy! Thanks for the avenger’s hour! Sadi, their guerdon--give it them--the gold! And me the vengeance! (_Looking at_ Rainier, _who holds the upper fragment of his sword, and seems lost in thought_.) This is he That slew my first-born! _Rai._ (_to himself._) Surely there leap’d up A brother’s heart within him! Yes, he struck To the earth a Paynim---- _Mel._ (_raising his voice._) Christian! thou hast been Our nation’s deadliest foe! _Rai._ (_looking up and smiling proudly._) ’Tis joy to hear I have not lived in vain! _Mel._ Thou bear’st thyself With a conqueror’s mien! What is thy hope from me? _Rai._ A soldier’s death. _Mel._ (_hastily._) Then thou wouldst _fear_ a slave’s? _Rai._ Fear! As if man’s own spirit had not power To make his death a triumph! Waste not words; Let my blood bathe thine own sword. Infidel! I slew thy son! [_Looking at his broken sword._ Ay, there’s the red mark here! _Mel._ (_approaching him._) Thou darest to tell me this! [_A tumult heard without._ _Voices without._ A Chatillon! _Rai._ My brother’s voice! _He is saved!_ _Mel._ (_calling._) What, ho! my guards! Aymer _enters with the knights, fighting their way through_ Melech’s _soldiers, who are driven before them_. _Aym._ On with the war-cry of our ancient house: For the Cross--De Chatillon! _Knights._ For the Cross--De Chatillon! [Rainier _attempts to break from his guards_. Sadi _enters with more soldiers to the assistance of_ Melech. Aymer _and the knights are overpowered_. Aymer _is wounded and falls_. _Mel._ Bring fetters--bind the captives! _Rai._ Lost--all lost! No! he is saved! (_Breaking from his guards, he goes up to_ Aymer.) Brother, my brother! hast thou pardon’d me That which I did to save thee? Speak! forgive! _Aym._ (_turning from him._) Thou see’st I die for thee! She is avenged! _Rai._ I am no murderer! Hear me! turn to me! We are parting by the grave! Moraima _enters veiled, and goes up to_ Melech. _Mor._ Father! Oh! look not sternly on thy child. I came to plead. They said thou hast condemn’d A Christian knight to die---- _Mel._ Hence--to thy tent! Away--begone! _Aym._ (_attempting to rise._) Moraima! hath her spirit come To make death beautiful? Moraima! speak. _Mor._ It was his voice! Aymer! [_She rushes to him, throwing aside her veil._ _Aym._ Thou liv’st--thou liv’st! I knew thou couldst not die! Look on me still Thou livest! and makest this world so full of joy-- But I depart! _Mel._ (_approaching her._) Moraima! hence! Is this A place for thee? _Mor._ Away! away! There is no place but this for me on earth! Where should I go? There is no place but this! My soul is bound to it! _Mel._ (_to the guards._) Back, slaves! and look not on her! [_They retreat to the background._ ’Twas for this She droop’d to the earth. _Aym._ Moraima, fare thee well! Think on me! I have loved thee! I take hence That deep love with my soul! for well I know It must be deathless! _Mor._ Oh! thou hast not known What _woman’s_ love is! Aymer, Aymer, stay! If I could die for thee! My heart is grown So strong in its despair! _Rai._ (_turning from them._) And all the past Forgotten!--our young days! His last thoughts _hers_! The Infidel’s! _Aym._ (_with a violent effort turning his head round._) Thou art no murderer! Peace Between us--peace, my brother! In our deaths We shall be join’d once more! _Rai._ (_holding the cross of the sword before him._) Look yet on this! _Aym._ If thou hadst only told me that she lived! --But our hearts meet at last! [_Presses the cross to his lips._ Moraima! save my brother! Look on me! Joy--there is joy in death! [_He dies on_ Rainier’s _arm_. _Mor._ Speak--speak once more! Aymer! how is it that I call on thee, And that thou answer’st not? Have we not loved? Death! death!--and this is--death! _Rai._ So thou art gone, Aymer! I never thought to weep again-- But now--farewell! Thou wert the bravest knight That e’er laid lance in rest--and thou didst wear The noblest form that ever woman’s eye Dwelt on with love; and till that fatal dream Came o’er thee! Aymer! Aymer! thou wert still The most true-hearted brother! There thou art Whose breast was once my shield! I never thought That foes should see me weep! but there thou art, Aymer, my brother!---- _Mor._ (_suddenly rising._) With his last, last breath He bade me save his brother! (_Falling at Melech’s feet_.) Father, spare The Christian--spare him! _Mel._ For _thy_ sake spare _him_ That slew thy father’s son!--Shame to thy race! (_To the soldiers in the background._) Soldiers! come nearer with your levell’d spears! Yet nearer!--gird him in! My boy’s young blood Is on his sword. Christian, abjure thy faith, Or die: thine hour is come! _Rai._ (_turning and throwing himself on the weapons of the soldiers._) Thou hast mine answer, Infidel! [_Calling aloud to the knights as he falls back._ Knights of France! Herman! De Foix! Du Mornay! be ye strong! _Your_ hour will come!---- Must the old war-cry cease? [_Half raising himself, and waving the cross triumphantly._ For the Cross--De Chatillon! [_He dies._ (_The curtain falls._) ANNOTATION ON “DE CHATILLON.” [“The merits of ‘The Siege of Valencia’ are more of a descriptive than of a strictly dramatic kind; and abounding as it does with fine passages of narrative beauty, and with striking scenes and situations, it is not only not adapted for representation, but, on the contrary, the characters are developed by painting much more than by incident. Withal, it wants unity and entireness, and in several places is not rhetorical but diffuse. “From the previous writings of the same author, and until the appearance of ‘The Vespers of Palermo,’ it seemed to be the prevalent opinion of critics, that the genius of Mrs Hemans was not of a dramatic cast--that it expatiated too much in the development of sentiment, too much in the luxuriancy of description, to be ever brought under the trammels essentially necessary for the success of scenic dialogue. “The merits of ‘The Vespers’ are great, and have been acknowledged to be so, not only by the highest of contemporary literary authorities, but by the still more unequivocal testimony of theatrical applause.