Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active. 65

Only be manageable when that friendship

Points you the road to full accomplishment.

How long may it be since you declared your passion?

Max. This morning did I hazard the first word.

Countess. This morning the first time in twenty days? 70

Max. ‘Twas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here

And Nepomuck, where you had joined us, and —

That was the last relay of the whole journey!

In a balcony we were standing mute,

And gazing out upon the dreary field: 75

Before us the dragoons were riding onward,

The safeguard which the Duke had sent us — heavy

The inquietude of parting lay upon me,

And trembling ventured I at length these words:

This all reminds me, noble maiden, that 80

To-day I must take leave of my good fortune.

A few hours more, and you will find a father,

Will see yourself surrounded by new friends,

And I henceforth shall be but as a stranger,

Lost in the many—’Speak with my aunt Tertsky!’ 85

With hurrying voice she interrupted me.

She faltered. I beheld a glowing red

Possess her beautiful cheeks, and from the ground

Raised slowly up her eye met mine — no longer

Did I control myself.

[The PRINCESS THEKLA appears at the door, and remains

standing, observed by the COUNTESS, but not by

PICCOLOMINI.

With instant boldness 90

I caught her in my arms, my mouth touched hers;

There was a rustling in the room close by;

It parted us—’Twas you. What since has happened,

You know.

Countess. And is it your excess of modesty;

Or are you so incurious, that you do not 95

Ask me too of my secret?

Max. Of your secret?

Countess. Why, yes! When in the instant after you

I stepped into the room, and found my niece there,

What she in this first moment of the heart

Ta’en with surprise —

Max. Well? 100

Table of Contents

THEKLA (hurries forward), COUNTESS, MAX PICCOLOMINI.

Thekla (to the Countess). Spare yourself the trouble:

That hears he better from myself.

Max. My Princess!

What have you let her hear me say, aunt Tertsky?

Thekla (to the Countess). Has he been here long?

Countess. Yes; and soon

must go.

Where have you stayed so long?

Thekla. Alas! my mother 5

Wept so again! and I — I see her suffer,

Yet cannot keep myself from being happy.

Max. Now once again I have courage to look on you.

To-day at noon I could not.

The dazzle of the jewels that play’d round you 10

Hid the beloved from me.

Thekla. Then you saw me

With your eye only — and not with your heart?

Max. This morning, when I found you in the circle

Of all your kindred, in your father’s arms,

Beheld myself an alien in this circle, 15

O! what an impulse felt I in that moment

To fall upon his neck, to call him father!

But his stern eye o’erpowered the swelling passion —

It dared not but be silent. And those brilliants,

That like a crown of stars enwreathed your brows, 20

They scared me too! O wherefore, wherefore should he

At the first meeting spread as ‘twere the ban

Of excommunication round you, wherefore

Dress up the angel as for sacrifice,

And cast upon the light and joyous heart 25

The mournful burthen of his station? Fitly

May love dare woo for love; but such a splendour

Might none but monarchs venture to approach.

Thekla. Hush! not a word more of this mummery.

You see how soon the burthen is thrown off. 30

[To the COUNTESS.

He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not?

‘Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy!

He had quite another nature on the journey —

So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent. [To MAX.

It was my wish to see you always so, 35

And never otherwise!

Max. You find yourself

In your great father’s arms, belovéd lady!

All in a new world, which does homage to you,

And which, wer’t only by its novelty,

Delights your eye.

Thekla. Yes; I confess to you 40

That many things delight me here: this camp,

This motley stage of warriors, which renews

So manifold the image of my fancy,

And binds to life, binds to reality,

What hitherto had but been present to me 45

As a sweet dream!

Max. Alas! not so to me.

It makes a dream of my reality.

Upon some island in the ethereal heights

I’ve lived for these last days. This mass of men

Forces me down to earth. It is a bridge 50

That, reconducting to my former life,

Divides me and my heaven.

Thekla. The game of life

Looks cheerful, when one carries in one’s heart

The inalienable treasure. ‘Tis a game,

Which having once reviewed, I turn more joyous 55

Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss.

In this short time that I’ve been present here,

What new unheard-of things have I not seen!

And yet they all must give place to the wonder

Which this mysterious castle guards.

Countess. And what 60

Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted

With all the dusky corners of this house.

Thekla. Ay, but the road thereto is watched by spirits,

Two griffins still stand sentry at the door.

Countess (laughs). The astrological tower! — How happens it 65

That this same sanctuary, whose access

Is to all others so impracticable,

Opens before you even at your approach?

Thekla. A dwarfish old man with a friendly face

And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services 70

Were mine at first sight, opened me the doors.

Max. That is the Duke’s astrologer, old Seni.

Thekla. He questioned me on many points; for instance,

When I was born, what month, and on what day,

Whether by day or in the night.

Countess. He wished 75

To erect a figure for your horoscope.

Thekla. My hand too he examined, shook his head

With much sad meaning, and the lines methought,

Did not square over truly with his wishes.

Countess. Well, Princess, and what found you in this tower? 80

My highest privilege has been to snatch

A side-glance, and away!

Thekla. It was a strange

Sensation that came o’er me, when at first

From the broad sunshine I stepped in; and now

The narrowing line of daylight, that ran after 85

The closing door, was gone; and all about me

‘Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows

Fantastically cast. Here six or seven

Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me

In a half-circle. Each one in his hand 90

A sceptre bore, and on his head a star;

And in the tower no other light was there

But from these stars: all seemed to come from them.

‘These are the planets,’ said that low old man,

‘They govern worldly fates, and for that cause 95

Are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you,

Spiteful, and cold, an old man melancholy,

With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn.

He opposite, the king with the red light,

An arm’d man for the battle, that is Mars: 100

And both these bring but little luck to man.’

But at his side a lovely lady stood,

The star upon her head was soft and bright,

And that was Venus, the bright star of joy.

On the left hand, lo! Mercury, with wings. 105

Quite in the middle glittered silver-bright

A cheerful man, and with a monarch’s mien;

And this was Jupiter, my father’s star:

And at his side I saw the Sun and Moon.

Max. O never rudely will I blame his faith 110