Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Sarolta. Be calm, Glycine!

Glycine. No, I shall break my heart.

Sarolta. Ha! is it so?

O strange and hidden power of sympathy, 280

That of — like fates, though all unknown to each,

Dost make blind instincts, orphan’s heart to orphan’s

Drawing by dim disquiet!

Glycine. Old Bathory —

Sarolta. Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears.

Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen 285

Seems a most noble and deserving youth.

Glycine. My lady does not mock me?

Sarolta. Where is Laska?

Has he not told thee?

Glycine. Nothing. In his fear —

Anger, I mean — stole off — I am so fluttered —

Left me abruptly —

Sarolta. His shame excuses him! 290

He is somewhat hardly tasked; and in discharging

His own tools, cons a lesson for himself.

Bathory and the youth henceforward live

Safe in my lord’s protection.

Glycine. The saints bless you!

Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear, 295

Lady Sarolta could be cruel?

Sarolta. Come,

Be yourself, girl!

Glycine. O, ‘tis so full here!

And now it can not harm him if I tell you,

That the old man’s son —

Sarolta. Is not that old man’s son!

A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his. 300

For all I know of thee is, that thou art

A soldier’s orphan: left when rage intestine

Shook and engulphed the pillars of Illyria.

This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake,

This, so mysteriously inscribed by nature, 305

Perchance may piece out and interpret thine.

Command thyself! Be secret! His true father ——

Hear’st thou?

Glycine. O tell —

Bethlen (rushing out). Yes, tell me, Shape from heaven!

Who is my father?

Sarolta (gazing with surprise). Thine? Thy father? Rise!

Glycine. Alas! He hath alarmed you, my dear lady! 310

Sarolta. His countenance, not his act!

Glycine. Rise, Bethlen! Rise!

Bethlen. No; kneel thou too! and with thy orphan’s tongue

Plead for me! I am rooted to the earth

And have no power to rise! Give me a father!

There is a prayer in those uplifted eyes 315

That seeks high Heaven! But I will overtake it,

And bring it back, and make it plead for me

In thine own heart! Speak! Speak! Restore to me

A name in the world!

Sarolta. By that blest Heaven I gazed at,

I know not who thou art. And if I knew, 320

Dared I — But rise!

Bethlen. Blest spirits of my parents,

Ye hover o’er me now! Ye shine upon me!

And like a flower that coils forth from a ruin,

I feel and seek the light I can not see!

Sarolta. Thou see’st yon dim spot on the mountain’s ridge, 325

But what it is thou know’st not. Even such

Is all I know of thee — haply, brave youth,

Is all Fate makes it safe for thee to know!

Bethlen. Safe? Safe? O let me then inherit danger,

And it shall be my birthright!

Sarolta (aside). That look again! — 330

The wood which first incloses, and then skirts

The highest track that leads across the mountains —

Thou know’st it, Bethlen?

Bethlen. Lady, ‘twas my wont

To roam there in my childhood oft alone

And mutter to myself the name of father. 335

For still Bathory (why, till now I guessed not)

Would never hear it from my lips, but sighing

Gazed upward. Yet of late an idle terror ——

Glycine. Madam, that wood is haunted by the war-wolves,

Vampires, and monstrous ——

Sarolta. Moon-calves, credulous girl! 340

Haply some o’ergrown savage of the forest

Hath his lair there, and fear hath framed the rest.

After that last great battle, (O young man!

Thou wakest anew my life’s sole anguish) that

Which fixed Lord Emerick on his throne, Bathory 345

Led by a cry, far inward from the track,

In the hollow of an oak, as in a nest,

Did find thee, Bethlen, then a helpless babe.

The robe that wrapt thee was a widow’s mantle.

Bethlen. An infant’s weakness doth relax my frame. 350

O say — I fear to ask ——

Sarolta. And I to tell thee.

Bethlen. Strike! O strike quickly! See, I do not shrink.

I am stone, cold stone.

Sarolta. Hid in a brake hard by,

Scarce by both palms supported from the earth,

A wounded lady lay, whose life fast waning 355

Seemed to survive itself in her fixt eyes,

That strained towards the babe. At length one arm

Painfully from her own weight disengaging,

She pointed first to heaven, then from her bosom

Drew forth a golden casket. Thus entreated 360

Thy foster-father took thee in his arms,

And kneeling spake: ‘If aught of this world’s comfort

Can reach thy heart, receive a poor man’s troth,

That at my life’s risk I will save thy child!’

Her countenance worked, as one that seemed preparing 365

A loud voice, but it died upon her lips

In a faint whisper, ‘Fly! Save him! Hide — hide all!’

Bethlen. And did he leave her? What! had I a mother?

And left her bleeding, dying? Bought I vile life

With the desertion of a dying mother? 370

Oh agony!

Glycine. Alas! thou art bewildered,

And dost forget thou wert a helpless infant!

Bethlen. What else can I remember, but a mother

Mangled and left to perish?

Sarolta. Hush, Glycine!

It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct: 375

Let it but lift itself to air and sunshine,

And it will find a mirror in the waters

It now makes boil above it. Check him not!

Bethlen. O that I were diffused among the waters

That pierce into the secret depths of earth, 380

And find their way in darkness! Would that I

Could spread myself upon the homeless winds!

And I would seek her! for she is not dead!

She can not die! O pardon, gracious lady!

You were about to say, that he returned — 385

Sarolta. Deep Love, the godlike in us, still believes

Its objects as immortal as itself!

Bethlen. And found her still —

Sarolta. Alas! he did return,

He left no spot unsearched in all the forest,

But she (I trust me by some friendly hand) 390

Had been borne off.

Bethlen. O whither?

Glycine. Dearest Bethlen!

I would that you could weep like me! O do not

Gaze so upon the air!

Sarolta. While he was absent,

A friendly troop, ‘tis certain, scoured the wood,

Hotly pursued indeed by Emerick.

Bethlen. Emerick. 395

Oh hell!

Glycine. Bethlen!

Bethlen. Hist! I’ll curse him in a whisper!

This gracious lady must hear blessings only.

She hath not yet the glory round her head,

Nor those strong eagle wings, which make swift way

To that appointed place, which I must seek; 400

Or else she were my mother!

Sarolta. Noble youth!

From me fear nothing! Long time have I owed

Offerings of expiation for misdeeds

Long past that weigh me down, though innocent!

Thy foster-father hid the secret from thee, 405

For he perceived thy thoughts as they expanded,

Proud, restless, and ill-sorting with thy state!

Vain was his care! Thou’st made thyself suspected

E’en where suspicion reigns, and asks no proof

But its own fears! Great Nature hath endowed thee 410

With her best gifts! From me thou shalt receive

All honourable aidance! But haste hence!

Travel will ripen thee, and enterprise

Beseems thy years! Be thou henceforth my soldier!

And whatsoe’er betide thee, still believe 415

That in each noble deed, achieved or suffered,

Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth!