Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Sarolta. Here! For on this spot Lord Casimir

Took his last leave. On yonder mountain-ridge

I lost the misty image which so long

Lingered, or seemed at least to linger on it.

Glycine. And what if even now, on that same ridge, 15

A speck should rise, and still enlarging, lengthening,

As it clomb downwards, shape itself at last

To a numerous cavalcade, and spurring foremost,

Who but Sarolta’s own dear lord returned

From his high embassy?

Sarolta. Thou hast hit my thought! 20

All the long day, from yestermorn to evening,

The restless hope fluttered about my heart.

Oh we are querulous creatures! Little less

Than all things can suffice to make us happy;

And little more than nothing is enough 25

To discontent us. — Were he come, then should I

Repine he had not arrived just one day earlier

To keep his birthday here, in his own birthplace.

Glycine. But our best sports belike, and gay processions

Would to my lord have seemed but work-day sights 30

Compared with those the royal court affords.

Sarolta. I have small wish to see them. A spring morning

With its wild gladsome minstrelsy of birds

And its bright jewelry of flowers and dewdrops

(Each orbéd drop an orb of glory in it) 35

Would put them all in eclipse. This sweet retirement

Lord Casimir’s wish alone would have made sacred:

But, in good truth, his loving jealousy

Did but command, what I had else entreated.

Glycine. And yet had I been born Lady Sarolta, 40

Been wedded to the noblest of the realm,

So beautiful besides, and yet so stately ——

Sarolta. Hush! Innocent flatterer!

Glycine. Nay! to my poor fancy

The royal court would seem an earthly heaven,

Made for such stars to shine in, and be gracious. 45

Sarolta. So doth the ignorant distance still delude us!

Thy fancied heaven, dear girl, like that above thee,

In its mere self cold, drear, colourless void,

Seen from below and in the large, becomes

The bright blue ether, and the seat of gods! 50

Well! but this broil that scared you from the dance?

And was not Laska there: he, your betrothed?

Glycine. Yes, madam! he was there. So was the maypole,

For we danced round it.

Sarolta. Ah, Glycine! why,

Why did you then betroth yourself?

Glycine. Because 55

My own dear lady wished it! ‘twas you asked me!

Sarolta. Yes, at my lord’s request, but never wished,

My poor affectionate girl, to see thee wretched.

Thou knowest not yet the duties of a wife.

Glycine. Oh, yes! It is a wife’s chief duty, madam! 60

To stand in awe of her husband, and obey him,

And, I am sure, I never shall see Laska

But I shall tremble.

Sarolta. Not with fear, I think,

For you still mock him. Bring a seat from the cottage.

[Exit GLYCINE into the cottage, SAROLTA continues her

speech looking after her.

Something above thy rank there hangs about thee, 65

And in thy countenance, thy voice, and motion,

Yea, e’en in thy simplicity, Glycine,

A fine and feminine grace, that makes me feel

More as a mother than a mistress to thee!

Thou art a soldier’s orphan! that — the courage, 70

Which rising in thine eye, seems oft to give

A new soul to its gentleness, doth prove thee!

Thou art sprung too of no ignoble blood,

Or there’s no faith in instinct!

[Angry voices and clamour within.

Re-enter GLYCINE.

Glycine. Oh, madam! there’s a party of your servants, 75

And my lord’s steward, Laska, at their head,

Have come to search for old Bathory’s son,

Bethlen, that brave young man! ‘twas he, my lady,

That took our parts, and beat off the intruders,

And in mere spite and malice, now they charge him 80

With bad words of Lord Casimir and the king.

Pray don’t believe them, madam! This way! This way!

Lady Sarolta’s here. — [Calling without.

Sarolta. Be calm, Glycine.

Enter LASKA and Servants with OLD BATHORY.

Laska (to Bathory). We have no concern with you! What needs your

presence?

Old Bathory. What! Do you think I’ll suffer my brave boy 85

To be slandered by a set of coward-ruffians,

And leave it to their malice, — yes, mere malice! —

To tell its own tale?

[LASKA and Servants bow to Lady SAROLTA.

Sarolta. Laska! What may this mean?

Laska. Madam! and may it please your ladyship!

This old man’s son, by name Bethlen Bathory, 90

Stands charged, on weighty evidence, that he,

On yester-eve, being his lordship’s birthday,

Did traitorously defame Lord Casimir:

The lord high steward of the realm, moreover ——

Sarolta. Be brief! We know his titles!

Laska. And moreover 95

Raved like a traitor at our liege King Emerick.

And furthermore, said witnesses make oath,

Led on the assault upon his lordship’s servants;

Yea, insolently tore, from this, your huntsman,

His badge of livery of your noble house, 100

And trampled it in scorn.

Sarolta (to the Servants who offer to speak). You have had your

spokesman!

Where is the young man thus accused?

Old Bathory. I know not:

But if no ill betide him on the mountains,

He will not long be absent!

Sarolta. Thou art his father? 105

Old Bathory. None ever with more reason prized a son;

Yet I hate falsehood more than I love him.

But more than one, now in my lady’s presence,

Witnessed the affray, besides these men of malice;

And if I swerve from truth ——

Glycine. Yes! good old man! 110

My lady! pray believe him!

Sarolta. Hush, Glycine

Be silent, I command you. [Then to BATHORY.

Speak! we hear you!

Old Bathory. My tale is brief. During our festive dance,

Your servants, the accusers of my son,

Offered gross insults, in unmanly sort, 115

To our village maidens. He (could he do less?)

Rose in defence of outraged modesty,

And so persuasive did his cudgel prove,

(Your hectoring sparks so over-brave to women

Are always cowards) that they soon took flight, 120

And now in mere revenge, like baffled boasters,

Have framed this tale, out of some hasty words

Which their own threats provoked.

Sarolta. Old man! you talk

Too bluntly! Did your son owe no respect

To the livery of our house?

Old Bathory. Even such respect 125

As the sheep’s skin should gain for the hot wolf

That hath begun to worry the poor lambs!

Laska. Old insolent ruffian!

Glycine. Pardon! pardon, madam!

I saw the whole affray. The good old man

Means no offence, sweet lady! — You, yourself, 130

Laska! know well, that these men were the ruffians!

Shame on you!

Sarolta. What! Glycine? Go, retire! [Exit GLYCINE.

Be it then that these men faulted. Yet yourself,

Or better still belike the maidens’ parents,

Might have complained to us. Was ever access 135

Denied you? Or free audience? Or are we

Weak and unfit to punish our own servants?

Old Bathory. So then! So then! Heaven grant an old man patience!

And must the gardener leave his seedling plants,

Leave his young roses to the rooting swine 140

While he goes ask their master, if perchance

His leisure serve to scourge them from their ravage?

Laska. Ho! Take the rude clown from your lady’s presence!

I will report her further will!

Sarolta. Wait then,

Till thou hast learnt it! Fervent good old man! 145

Forgive me that, to try thee, I put on

A face of sternness, alien to my meaning!

[Then speaks to the Servants.