The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Chapter 251 : Where can my son be tarrying?FOOTNOTES: [718:1] It probably did not suit Schiller'

Where can my son be tarrying?

FOOTNOTES:

[718:1] It probably did not suit Schiller's purposes to remark, what he doubtless knew, that Butler was of a n.o.ble Irish family, indeed one of the n.o.blest. _MS. R_.

LINENOTES:

[18] _me_ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[55] _Octavio (coldly)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[After 92] [_BUTLER is suddenly struck._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 115] _Butler (his voice trembling)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 136] _Butler (strides up and down in excessive agitation, then steps up to Octavio with resolved countenance)._ 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE VI

_OCTAVIO and MAX PICCOLOMINI._

_Octavio (advances to Max)._ I am going off, my son.

[_Receiving no answer he takes his hand._

My son, farewell.

_Max._ Farewell.

_Octavio._ Thou wilt soon follow me?

_Max._ I follow thee?

Thy way is crooked--it is not my way.

[_OCTAVIO drops his hand, and starts back._

O, hadst thou been but simple and sincere, Ne'er had it come to this--all had stood otherwise. 5 He had not done that foul and horrible deed, The virtuous had retained their influence o'er him: He had not fallen into the snares of villains.

Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice Did'st creep behind him--lurking for thy prey? 10 O, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil!

Thou misery-making demon, it is thou That sink'st us in perdition. Simple truth, Sustainer of the world, had saved us all!

Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee! 15 Wallenstein has deceived me--O, most foully!

But thou hast acted not much better.

_Octavio._ Son!

My son, ah! I forgive thy agony!

_Max._ Was't possible? had'st thou the heart, my father, Had'st thou the heart to drive it to such lengths, 20 With cold premeditated purpose? Thou-- Had'st thou the heart, to wish to see him guilty, Rather than saved? Thou risest by his fall.

Octavio, 'twill not please me.

_Octavio._ G.o.d in Heaven!

_Max._ O, woe is me! sure I have changed my nature. 25 How comes suspicion here--in the free soul?

Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all Lied to me, all what I e'er loved or honoured.

No! No! Not all! She--she yet lives for me, And she is true, and open as the Heavens! 30 Deceit is every where, hypocrisy, Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury: The single holy spot is now our love, The only unprofaned in human nature.

_Octavio._ Max!--we will go together. 'Twill be better. 35

_Max._ What? ere I've taken a last parting leave, The very last--no never!

_Octavio._ Spare thyself The pang of necessary separation.

Come with me! Come, my son! [_Attempts to take him with him._

_Max._ No! as sure as G.o.d lives, no! 40

_Octavio._ Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.

_Max._ Command me what is human. I stay here.

_Octavio._ Max! in the Emperor's name I bid thee come.

_Max._ No Emperor has power to prescribe Laws to the heart; and would'st thou wish to rob me 45 Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me, Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed Be done with cruelty? The unalterable Shall I perform ign.o.bly--steal away, With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No! 50 She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish, Hear the complaints of the disparted soul, And weep tears o'er me. Oh! the human race Have steely souls--but she is as an angel.

From the black deadly madness of despair 55 Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!

_Octavio._ Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not.

O, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.

_Max._ Squander not thou thy words in vain. 60 The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.

_Octavio._ Max! Max! if that most d.a.m.ned thing could be, If thou--my son--my own blood--(dare I think it?) Do sell thyself to him, the infamous, Do stamp this brand upon our n.o.ble house, 65 Then shall the world behold the horrible deed, And in unnatural combat shall the steel Of the son trickle with the father's blood.

_Max._ O hadst thou always better thought of men, Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion! 70 Unholy miserable doubt! To him Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm, Who has no faith.

_Octavio._ And if I trust thy heart, Will it be always in thy power to follow it?

_Max._ The heart's voice thou hast not o'erpower'd--as little 75 Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.

_Octavio._ O, Max! I see thee never more again!

_Max._ Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.

_Octavio._ I go to Frauenberg--the Pappenheimers I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Toskana 80 And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee.

They love thee, and are faithful to their oath, And will far rather fall in gallant contest Than leave their rightful leader, and their honour.

_Max._ Rely on this, I either leave my life 85 In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.

_Octavio._ Farewell, my son!