The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Chapter 320 : _Glycine._ Rise, Bethlen! Rise!_Bethlen._ No; kneel thou too! and with thy orphan'

_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 s.h.i.+ne 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 birth-right!

_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 suns.h.i.+ne, 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 G.o.dlike 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 h.e.l.l!

_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._ n.o.ble 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 n.o.ble deed, achieved or suffered, Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth!

And may the light that streams from thine own honour Guide thee to that thou seekest!

_Glycine._ Must he leave us?

_Bethlen._ And for such goodness can I return nothing 420 But some hot tears that sting mine eyes? Some sighs That if not breathed would swell my heart to stifling?

May heaven and thine own virtues, high-born lady, Be as a s.h.i.+eld of fire, far, far aloof To scare all evil from thee! Yet, if fate 425 Hath destined thee one doubtful hour of danger, From the uttermost region of the earth, methinks, Swift as a spirit invoked, I should be with thee!

And then, perchance, I might have power to unbosom These thanks that struggle here. Eyes fair as thine 430 Have gazed on me with tears of love and anguish, Which these eyes saw not, or beheld unconscious; And tones of anxious fondness, pa.s.sionate prayers, Have been talked to me! But this tongue ne'er soothed A mother's ear, lisping a mother's name! 435 O, at how dear a price have I been loved And no love could return! One boon then, lady!

Where'er thou bidd'st, I go thy faithful soldier, But first must trace the spot, where she lay bleeding Who gave me life. No more shall beast of ravine 440 Affront with baser spoil that sacred forest!

Or if avengers more than human haunt there, Take they what shape they list, savage or heavenly, They shall make answer to me, though my heart's blood Should be the spell to bind them. Blood calls for blood! 445

[_Exit Bethlen._

_Sarolta._ Ah! it was this I feared. To ward off this Did I withhold from him that old Bathory Returning hid beneath the self-same oak, Where the babe lay, the mantle, and some jewel Bound on his infant arm.

_Glycine._ Oh, let me fly 450 And stop him! Mangled limbs do there lie scattered Till the lured eagle bears them to her nest.

And voices have been heard! And there the plant grows That being eaten gives the inhuman wizard Power to put on the fell hyaena's shape. 455

_Sarolta._ What idle tongue hath bewitched thee, Glycine?

I hoped that thou had'st learnt a n.o.bler faith.

_Glycine._ O chide me not, dear lady; question Laska, Or the old man.

_Sarolta._ Forgive me, I spake harshly.