The Works of Lord Byron

SCENE III.

The secret Passage.

Four

Grib. (solus.) Five-six hours have I counted, like the guard Of outposts on the never-merry clock: That hollow tongue of time, which, even when It sounds for joy, takes something from enjoyment With every clang. 'Tis a perpetual knell, Though for a marriage-feast it rings: each sroke Peals for a hope the less; the funeral note Of Love deep-buried without resurrection In the grave of Possession; while the knoll Of long-lived parents finds a jovial echo To triple Time in the son's ear.

I'm cold

I'm dark;-I've blown my fingers-number'd o'er
And o'er my steps-and knock'd my head against
Some fifty buttresses-and roused the rats
And bats in general insurrection, till
Their cursed pattering feet and whirring wings
Leave me scarce hearing for another sound.
A light! It is at a distance, (if I can
Measure in darkness distance :) but it blinks
As through a crevice or a keyhole, in
The inhibited direction: I must on,
Nevertheless from curiosity.

A distant lamp-light is an incident

In such a den as this. Pray Heaven it lead me

To nothing that may tempt me! Else-Heaven aid

To obtain or to escape it! Shining still! Were it the star of Lucifer himself,

Or he himself girt with its beams, I could

Contain no longer. Softly! mighty well.

Some means of restitution, which would ease
My soul in part; but how without discovery?—
It must be done, however; and I'll pause
Upon the method the first hour of safety.
The madness of my misery led to this
Base infamy; repentance must retrieve it:
I will have nought of Stralenhnim's upon
My spirit, though he would grasp all of mine;
Lands, freedom, life,—and yet he sleeps! as soundly,
Perhaps, as infancy, with gorgeous curtains
Spread for his canopy, o'er silken pillows,
Such as when-Hark! what noise is that? Again!
The branches shake; and some loose stones have
fallen
From yonder terrace.

[ULRIC leaps down from the terrace Ulric! ever welcome! Thrice welcome now! this filial

Ulr.

We approach, tell me

Wer. Ulr.

Behold my father, or

Wer. Ulr.

Stop! Before

Why look you so?

Do I

What?

An assassin ?

Reply, sir, as

To what must I

Wer. Insane or insolent!
Ulr.

You prize your life, or mine!

Wer. Answer?

Ulr. Are you or are you not the assassin Of Stralenheim?

The murderer of any man. What mean you?
Ulr. Did not you this night (as the night before)

That corner's turn'd-so-ah! no ;-right! it draws Retrace the secret passage? Did you not

Nearer. Here is a darksome angle-so

That's weather'd.-Let me pause.-Suppose it leads
Into some greater danger than that which
I have escaped-no matter, 'tis a new one;
And novel perils, like fresh mistresses,
Wear more magnetic aspects :-I will on,
And be it where it may-I have my dagger,
Which may protect me at a pinch.-Burn still,
Thou little light! Thou art my ignis fatuus!
My stationary Will-o'the-wisp;-so! so:
He hears my invocation, and fails not.

Died he not by your hand?
Great God!
Ulr. You are innocent, then! my father's inno-
cent!

Embrace me! Yes, your tone-your look-yes,
yes-
Yet say so.
Wer.

If I e'er, in heart or mind,
[The scene closes. Conceived deliberately such a thought,
But rather strove to trample back to hell

All's ready. Idenstein has kept his word:
And station'd in the outskirts of the town,
Upon the forest's edge, the vehicle
Awaits us. Now the dwindling stars begin
To pale in heaven; and for the last time I
Look on these horrible walls. Oh! never, never
Shall I forget them. Here I came most poor,
But not dishonor'd: but I leave them with
A stain,-if not upon my name, yet in
My heart!-a never-dying canker-worm,
Which all the coming splendor of the lands,
And rights, and sovereignty of Siegendorf
Can scarcely lull a moment. I must find

Such thoughts-if e'er they glared a moment through
The irritation of my oppressed spirit-

May heaven be shut for ever from my hopes
As from mine eyes!

Ulr.
But Stralenheim is dead
Wer. 'Tis horrible! 'tis hideous, as 'tis hateful
But what have I to do with this?

And favorable moment to escape

The myrmidons of Idenstein, who were

Dogging him yester-even.

Ulr.

The panel?

Wer.

You reclosed

Yes; and not without reproach

(And inner trembling for the avoided peril) At his dull heedlessness, in leaving thus

His shelterer's asylum to the risk

Of a discovery.

Ulr.

You are sure you closed it?

Wer. Certain.
Ulr.

Wer. Most true; but still I would not have it
Engraved in crimson in men's memories,
Though in this most obscure abodes of men-
Besides, the search-

Ulr.

I will provide against
Aught that can touch you. No one knows you here
As heir of Siegendorf: If Idenstein
Suspects, 'tis but suspicion, and he is

A fool: his folly shall have such enjoyment,
Too, that the unknown Werner shall give way
To nearer thoughts of self. The laws (if e'er
Laws reach'd this village) are all in abeyance
With the late general war of thirty years,

That's well; but had been better, if Or crush'd, or rising slowly from the dust,

You ne'er had turn'd it to a den for――

[He pauses. Wer. Thieves! Thou wouldst say: I must bear it and deserve it; But not

To which the march of armies trampled them.
Stralenheim, although noble, is unheeded
Here, save as such-without lands, influence,
Save what hath perish'd with him. Few prolong
A week beyond their funeral rites their sway
O'er men, unless by relatives, whose interest
Is roused: such is not here the case; he died
Alone, unknown,-a solitary grave,
Obscure as his deserts, without a scutcheon,
Could I shun it? Is all he'll have, or wants. If I discover

Ulr.
No, father, do not speak of this:
This is no hour to think of petty crimes,
But to prevent the consequence of great ones.
Why would you shelter this man?
Wer.

A man pursued by my chief foe; disgraced
For my own crime; a victim to my safety,
Imploring a few hours' concealment from
The very wretch who was the cause he needed
Such refuge. Had he been a wolf, I could not
Have in such circumstances thrust him forth.

Ulr. And like the wolf he hath repaid you.
It is too late to ponder thus :-you must
Set out ere dawn. I will remain here to
Trace the murderer, if 'tis possible.

The assassin, 'twill be well-if not, believe me
None else; though all the full-fed train of menials
May howl above his ashes (as they dil
Around him in his danger on the Oder)
Will no more stir a finger now than then.
Hence! hence! I must not hear your answer.-Look!
But The stars are almost faded, and the gray
Begins to grizzle the black hair of night.
You shall not answer-pardon me that I
Am peremptory; 'tis your son that speaks,

Wer. But this my sudden flight will give the Your long-lost late-found son.-Let's call my

Moloch

Suspicion: two new victims in the licu

Of one, if I remain. The fled Hungarian,
Who seems the culprit, and-

Ulr.

Can be so ?

mother;

Softly and swiftly step, and leave the rest
To me: I'll answer for the event as far

As regards you, and that is the chief point,

Who seems? Who else As my first duty, which shall be observed.

Wer. Not I, though just now you doubtedYou, my son!-doubted

Ulr.

The fugitive?

Wer.

We'll meet in Castle Siegendorf-once more
Our banners shall be glorious! Think of that
Alone, and leave all other thoughts to me,

And do you doubt of him Whose youth may better battle with them.-Hence!

Boy! since I fell into

The abyss of crime, (though not of such crime,) I,
Having seen the innocent oppress'd for me
May doubt even the guilty's guilt. Your heart
Is free, and quick with virtuous wrath to accuse
Appearances; and views a criminal

A Gothic Hall in the Castle of Siegendorf, near But what beyond 'tis not ours to pronounce.

The wars are over: in the hall, who like
Count Ulric for a well-supported pride,
Which awes, but yet offends not? in the field,
Who like him with his spear in hand, when, gnash-
ing

His tusks, and ripping up from right to left
The howling hounds, the boar makes for the thicket?
Who backs a horse, or bears a hawk, or wears
A sword like him? Whose plume nods knightlier?
Hen. No one's, I grant you. Do not fear, if war
Be long in coming he is of that kind
Will make it for himself, if he hath not
Already done as much.

Eric.

What do you mean? Hen. You can't deny his train of followers

(But few our native fellow vassals born

Be silent.

'Tis nothing-but

Eric. I will upon what you have said.

Hen. I assure you I meant nothing,-a mere sport' Of words, no more; besides, had it been otherwise, He is to espouse the gentle baroness

Ida of Stralenheim, the late baron's heiress,
And she no doubt will soften whatsoe'er
Of fierceness the late long intestine wars
Have given all natures, and most unto those
Who were born in them, and bred up upon
The knees of Homicide; sprinkled, as it were,
With blood even at their baptism. Prithee, peace
On all that I have said!

Enter ULRIC and RODOLPH.

Good morrow, count. Ulr. Good morrow, worthy Henrick. Eric, is All ready for the chase?

Eric. The dogs are order'd Down to the forest, and the vassals out To beat the bushes, and the day looks promising. Shall I call forth your excellency's suite? What courser will you please to mount? Ulr. Walstein.

The dun,

Eric. I fear he scarcely has recover'd The toils of Monday: 'twas a noble chase; You spear'd four with your own hand.

Ulr.

True, good Eric,

I had forgotten-let it be the gray, then,
Old Ziska: he has not been out this fortnight.
Eric. He shall be straight caparison'd. How many
Of your immediate retainers shall
Escort you?

Ulr. I leave that to Weilburgh, our
Master of the horse.

Rod.

Ulr.

[Exit ERIC

Is awkward from the-(RODOLPH points to HENRICK.)

Loiter you here?

Hen.

How

now, Henrick? why

For your commands, my lord. Ulr. Go to my father, and present my duty,

Ulr.

As well as on that night

We will not speak of that until We can repeat the same with like success: And when you have join'd, give Rosenberg this letter. [Gives a letter. Add further, that I have sent this slight addition To our force with you and Wolffe, as herald of My coming, though I could but spare them ill At this time, as my father loves to keep Full numbers of retainers round the castle, Until this marriage, and its feasts and fooleries, Are rung out with its peal of nuptial nonsense. Rod. I thought you loved the lady Ida? Ulr.

Why,

Is scarcely known.

Ulr.

Some obscure village on The Saxon or Silesian frontier.

Rod.

Has left no testament-no farewell words?
Ulr. I am neither confessor nor notary,
So cannot say.
Rod.

Ah! here's the lady Ida.

Enter IDA STRALENHEIM.
Ulr. You are early, my sweet cousin!
Ida.

Dear Ulric, if I do not interrupt you.
Why do you call me "cousin?"
Ulr. (smiling.)

Not too early,

Are we not so ?

Ida. Yes, but I do not like the name; methinks It sounds so cold, as if you thought upon Our pedigree, and only weigh'd our blood. Ulr. (starting.)

Blood! Ida. Why does yours start from your cheeks? Ulr. Ay! doth it? Ida. It doth-but no! it rushes like a torrent Even to your brow again.

Ulr. (recovering himself.) And if it fled, It only was because your presence sent it Back to my heart, which beats for you, sweet cousin! Ida. "Cousin" again.

Ulr.

Nay, then I'll call you sister. Ida. I like that name still worse.-Would we had ne'er

Yes, Ulric,

Did I not echo your own wish?

Ida. But then I wish'd it not with such a glance, And scarce knew what I said; but let me be Sister or cousin, what you will, so that I still to you am something. Ulr. All-all

Ida.

You shall be

And you to me are so already; But I can wait.

Ulr.

Ida.

Dear Ida!

Call me Ida,

Ida.

But you do not see his face?

Ida. (looking at him.) No! Oh, my God! do you?

No, Ulric
It were not well that you alone of all
Our young nobility-

Ida.

Ulr.
Why do you ask?
Ida. Because you look as if you saw a murderer!
Ulr. (agitatedly.) Ida, this is mere childishness; In aspect and demeanor.

your weakness

Infects me, to my shame; but as all feelings
Of yours are common to me, it affects me.
Prithee, sweet child, change-

Ida.

Full fifteen summers!
Rod.

Child, indeed! I have [A bugle sounds. Hark, my lord, the bugle! Ida. (peevishly to RODOLPH.) Why need you tell him that? Can he not hear it

Sieg. (to IDA.)

And far the noblest

True, dear child,

Though somewhat frankly said for a fair damsel,—
But, Ulric, recollect too our position,

So lately reinstated in our honors:
Believe me, 'twould be mark'd in any house,
But most in ours, that ONE should be found want-
ing

At such a time and place. Besides, the Heaven
Which gave us back our own, in the same moment
It spread its peace o'er all, hath double claims
On us for thanksgiving: first, for our country;
And next, that we are here to share its blessings.
Ulr. (aside.) Devout, too! well, sir,
obey at
(Then aloud to a Servant.)
Ludwig, dismiss the train without! [Exit LUDWIG.
Ida.
And so
You yield at once to him what I for hours
Might supplicate in vain.

once.

Sieg. (smiling.) You are not jealous
Of me, I trust, my pretty rebel! who
Would sanction disobedience against all

Except thyself? But fear not: thou shalt rule him
Hereafter with a fonder sway and firmer.

You shall,

Ida. But I should like to govern now.
Sieg.
Your harp, which by the way awaits you with
The countess in her chamber. She complains
That you are a sad truant to your music:

My lord, within this quarter of an hour
You have changed more than e'er I saw you change She attends you.

In years.
Ulr. 'Tis nothing; but if 'twere, the air
Would soon restore me. I'm the true chameleon,
And live but on the atmosphere: your feasts
In castle halls, and social banquets, nurse not
My spirit-I'm a forester and a breather
Of the sweet mountain-tops, where I love all
The eagle loves.

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The Works of Lord Byron: Embracing His Suppressed Poems, and a Sketch of His ...