Classic Poem

SCENE I.

An Apartment in Elvira's House.

Enter E LVIRA and A SPATIA .

Elv. Here at this casement let us sit, and wile
The hours away till Julio comes. How sweetly
Through the green vale the tranquil stream is gliding,
While the pale stars are studding it with gems
Immaculate, and silence reigns unbroken,
Save by the soft toned rippling of the waves,
And that low night-wind, which, scarce audible,
Rises and softly dies away, as 'twere
The gentle breathings of a slumbering world,
Rock'd by its God to rest! Yon towering summit
Seems silver capt, while, down its glittering steep
The moonbeams fall in one unbroken line,
Until they reach the glassy stream that flows
Beneath, and seem to join another orb
As fair as that they dropt from. Sure some spirit,
Some glorious wanderer, is walking there,
His form invisible, though his shining footsteps
Betray the heavenly visit.
Asp. Beautiful!
Tis passing beautiful!
Elv. There was a time,
When in my father's humble cot I dwelt,
And childish fancies fill'd my idle brain,
I form'd the frequent wish to live and die
Like that mild planet — shining placidly,
Useful, though unobtrusive — rise like her,
Blessing and being blest — a little while
Brighten the lowly vale of life, and then
Wane peacefully away. But now, alas!
My path resembles more the glaring meteor's,
Which, from its fearful and portentous height,
Scatters unnatural brilliancy, until
Cimmerian blackness closes all around,
And blots it out for ever.
Asp. Dearest lady!
Why will you nurse such sad and gloomy thoughts,
And even in a scene like this, so full
Of beauty and tranquillity, find food
For the soul's maladies? Savona's Countess
Shall be no transitory meteor, nor,
Like the pale moon, shine in obscurity:
She shall be as the sun, which, in the morn,
Gives promise of a glorious day; at noon,
Pours his full radiance down; at even-tide,
Purples the west with glory; and, at last,
Only withdraws his brightness from the world,
To rest in heaven.
Elv. No more of this — for greatness
Was ne'er my idol. Had not Julio been
Savona's lord — had he been shadow'd by
A cloud of poverty, my heart had turn'd,
True as the sun-flower, to the orb it worships,
And paid its homage there. But I do fear
Matilda's fiery spirit. Should she learn
Her son, the promise of her house, has wedded
A humble cotter's child, I know the blood
That fills these veins would be deem'd cheaply spilt
To wash the stain away.
Asp. Oh! do not fear —
Count Julio will protect you from all evil,
Until the hour arrives in which the world
May know you for his wedded wife, and pay
The honours due to her.
Elv. Ah! my Aspatia,
Too gaily dost thou read futurity!
Thy mind is like the diamond, which throws
Its own bright hues o'er all which it approaches.
But listen to me, girl. In some fair garden,
Hast thou not known a weed flourish securely,
Beneath the friendly shelter of a flower,
Which hangs its sweet leaves over it, and hides it
From those who would destroy it?
Asp. Often, madam.
Elv. But hast thou mark'd it, wench, when the wind blew,
When the breeze came, and lifted up its covering,
That every eye might see it?
Asp. This I've marked too:
'Tis pluck'd away as worthless then, and trampled
To dust.
Elv. Ay, there thou read'st the riddle true —
For such a weed am I — am I, Aspatia: —
So do I rest securely for a season
Beneath my Julio's guardian love; and so
The storm will come, and tear him from my arms,
Leaving me, lorn and shelterless, the prey
Of the first pitiless spoiler.
Asp. Gentle madam,
Resist these dark forebodings, lest they cause
The ruin they anticipate; for fear
Is like th' electric rod, and draws down lightnings
Heaven never meant to visit us. Let me tell you
Some tale of joy, or chant some mirthful ditty,
To drive these sad thoughts from your mind.
Elv. No, no —
Small joy is mine; and mirth, instead of raising
Its feeble sparks into a blaze, serves only,
Like fuel heap'd upon decaying embers,
To put its faint flame out. But let me hear
That song you warbled me last night — 'twas mournful,
Yet withal pleasing, and although my soul
Trembled to its wild harmony, 'twas but
As the leaf flutters when the sweet south wind
Is fanning it with odours.
Asp. ( Sings .)
Love is a plant of holier birth,
Than aught that takes its root in earth;
A flower from heaven, which 'tis a crime
To number with the things of time.
Hope in the bud is often blasted,
And beauty on the desert wasted,
And joy, a primrose early gay,
Care's lightest footfall treads away.

But love shall live, and live for ever;
And chance and change shall reach it never.
Can hearts in which true love is plighted,
By want or woe be disunited?
Ah no! like buds on one stem born,
They share between them even the thorn,
Which round them dwells, but parts them not,
A lorn yet undivided lot.
Can death extinguish love, or part
The loved one from the lover's heart?
No, no! he does but guard the prize
Sacred from mortal injuries,
Making it purer, holier seem,
As the ice closing o'er the stream
Keeps (while storms ravage earth and air)
All baser things from mingling there.
Elv. Break off, break off; I hear my lord's light step —
My dearest Julio!

Enter J ULIO .

Jul. My own, my loved Elvira!
But why these tears?
Elv. Nay, wherefore should you wonder
If, in the bright sun's absence, dews should trickle
Over the earth's moist cheek? — but his warm presence
Soon dries those mournful drops.
Jul. Still so impatient
Of my short absence, my Elvira? Thus
I punish the sweet fault, then, — ( Kisses her ) — thus and thus
Feed, like the bee, on sweets, nor find the flower
Less fragrant for the dew. But what sad thoughts
Could blanch thy bright cheek thus, love?
Elv. Oh! methought
Time had exchanged his pinions for a crutch,
And let his glass stand still. Insatiate tyrant!
Where he should fly, he halts, and when his speed
Brings sorrow with it, hurries on, or only
Pauses to whet his scythe.
Jul. Nay, nay, I see
Your fears have been at work. — Dearest Elvira!
No real dangers threaten us, and these
Are but the illusive workings of your fancy;
For as a troubled stream shows trees and hills
And turrets rocking with the faintest breeze
That stirs its surface, so your trembling heart
Gives to the stable structure of our fortunes,
Its own wild motions.
Elv. How is this, my lord?
You bid me fear not, but your face is pale;
With faltering accents you attempt to cheer me;
And while you kiss the tears from off my cheek,
You stain it with your own. Say, dearest Julio,
Has the long lowering cloud at length broke o'er us,
And 'whelm'd our hopes? Tell me the whole — the worst.
Jul. Alas! it is in vain that we would hide

The winter of the heart: its envious mists
Will rise and dim the fading cheek and eye
With their betraying moisture. My Elvira,
We must away. This is no rest for us.
Nay, wherefore look thus wildly? We shall wander,
As the dove left the ark, soon to return,
Bearing the olive with us. Like yon stars,
Which brightest shine when envious frosts chain up
The earth below, so does all pitying Heaven
Look kindly on the winter of our fates,
And often send a brighter ray to guide us,
When all the friendships of this world grow cold,
And fail like ice from under us. The spies
My mother has employ'd have traced us here,
And she hopes to surprise us by her presence.
But be of good cheer; open violence
We need not fear, and ere her subtle wiles
Can weave their web around us, thou shalt be
Safe in a distant shelter.
Elv. Then I'll trust
In hope for once: — I know her light built nest
Weathers a thousand storms, which fear or foresight
Had vainly battled with. When the great ship
Sinks in the ocean depths, the gentle halcyon
In safety builds upon the reeling wave,
And slumbers through the tempest.
Jul. Ha! I hear
My mother's voice. She knows not of our marriage,
Nor must she learn it yet. Do thou retire,
While I attempt to lull her fears to rest.