Classic Poem

Scene — A Garden.

  Em. Why do my feet unbidden seek this grove?
Why do I trace his steps? I thought him here;
This is his hour of walking, and these shades
His daily haunt: oft have they heard his vows:
Ah! fatal vows, which stole my peace away!
But now he shuns my presence: yet who knows
He may not be ungrateful, but unhappy!
Yes, he will come to clear his past offences,
With such prevailing eloquence will plead,
So mourn his former faults, so blame his coldness,
And by ten thousand graceful ways repair them,
That I shall think I never was offended.
He comes, and every doubt's at once dispell'd:
'Twas fancy all; he never meant to wrong me.

  Or. Why at this hour of universal joy,
When every heart beats high with grateful rapture
And pleasure dances her enchanting round;
O tell me why, at this auspicious hour,
You quit the joyful circle of your friends;
Rob social pleasure of its sweetest charm,
And leave a void e'en in the happiest hearts,
An aching void which only you can fill?
Why do you seek these unfrequented shades?
Why court these gloomy haunts unfit for beauty;
But made for meditation and misfortune?
  Em. I might retort the charge, my lord Orlando!
I might inquire how the lov'd friend of Rivers,
Whom he has held deep-rooted in his heart
Beyond a brother's dearness, sav'd his life,
And cherish'd it when sav'd beyond his own;—
I might inquire, why when this Rivers comes,
After long tedious months of expectation,
Alive, victorious, and as firm in friendship
As fondness could have wished, or fancy feign'd;
I might inquire why thus Orlando shuns him—
Why thus he courts this melancholy gloom,
As if he were at variance with delight,
And scorn'd to mingle in the general joy?
  Or. Oh, my fair monitress! I have deserv'd
Your gentle censure. Henceforth I'll be gay.
  Em. Julia complains too of you.
  Or. Ah! does Julia?
If Julia chides me, I have err'd indeed:
For harshness is a stranger to her nature.
But why does she complain? O tell me wherefore?
That I may soon repair the unwilling crime,
And prove my heart at least ne'er meant to wrong her.
  Em. Why so alarm'd?
  Or. Alarm'd!
  Em. Indeed, you seem'd so.
  Or. Sure you mistake. Alarm'd! oh no, I was not;
There was no cause—I could not be alarm'd
Upon so slight a ground. Something you said,
But what I know not, of your friend.
  Em. Of Julia?
  Or. That Julia was displeas'd—was it not so?
'Twas that, or something like it.
  Em. She complains
That you avoid her.
  Or. How! that I avoid her?
Did Julia say so? ah! you had forgot—
It could not be.
  Em. Why are you terrified?
  Or. No.
Not terrified—I am not—but were those
Her very words? you might mistake her meaning;
Did Julia say Orlando shunn'd her presence?
Oh! did she, could she say so?
  Em. If she did,
Why this disorder? there's no cause.
  Or. No cause?
Oh! there's a cause of dearer worth than empire!
Quick let me fly, and find the fair upbraider;
Tell her she wrongs me, tell her I would die
Rather than meet her anger.
Ah, she faints!
What have I said? curse my imprudent tongue!
Look up, sweet innocence! my Emmelina—
My gentle friend, awake! look up, fair creature!
'Tis your Orlando calls.
  Em. Orlando's voice!
Methought he talked of love—nay, do not mock me;
My heart is but a weak, a very weak one!
I am not well—perhaps I've been to blame.
Spare my distress; the error has been mine.
  Or. So then, all's over; I've betrayed my secret,
And stuck a poison'd dagger to her heart,
Her innocent heart. Why, what a wretch am I!
Ruin approaches—shall I tamely meet it,
And dally with destruction till it blast me?
No, I will fly thee, Julia, fly for ever.
Ah, fly! what then becomes of Emmelina?
Shall I abandon her? it must be so;
Better escape with this poor wreck of honour,
Than hazard all by staying. Rivers here?

  Riv. The same. My other self! my own Orlando!
I came to seek thee; 'twas in thy kind bosom,
My suffering soul reposed its secret cares,
When doubts and difficulties stood before me:
And now now when my prosperous fortune shines,
And gilds the smiling hour with her bright beams,
Shall I become a niggard of my bliss,
Defraud thee of thy portion of my joys,
And rob thee of thy well-earn'd claim to share them?
  Or. That I have ever lov'd thee, witness Heaven!
That I have thought thy friendship the best blessing
That mark'd the fortune of my happier days,
I here attest the sovereign Judge of hearts!
Then think, O think what anguish I endure,
When I declare, in bitterness of spirit,
That we must part——
  Riv. What does Orlando mean?
  Or. That I must leave thee, Rivers; must renounce
Thy lov'd society.
  Riv. Thou hast been injur'd;
Thy merit has been slighted: sure my father,
Who knew how dear I held thee, would not wrong thee.
  Or. He is all goodness; no—there is a cause—
Seek not to know it.
  Riv. Now, by holy friendship!
I swear thou shalt not leave me; what, just now,
When I have safely pass'd so many perils,
Escap'd so many deaths, return'd once more
To the kind arms of long desiring friendship;
Just now, when I expected such a welcome,
As happy souls in paradise bestow
Upon a new inhabitant, who comes
To taste their blessedness, you coldly tell me
You will depart: it must not he, Orlando.
  Or. It must, it must.
  Riv. Ah, must! then tell me wherefore?
  Or. I would not dim thy dawn of happiness,
Nor shade the brighter beams of thy good fortune
With the dark sullen cloud that hangs o'er mine.
  Riv. Is this the heart of him I call'd my friend,
Full of the graceful weakness of affection?
How have I known it bend at my request!
How lose the power of obstinate resistance,
Because his friend entreated! This Orlando!
How is he chang'd!
  Or. Alas, how chang'd indeed!
How dead to every relish of delight!
How chang'd in all but in his love for thee!
Yet think not that my nature is grown harder,
That I have lost that ductile, yielding heart;
Rivers, I have not—oh! 'tis still too soft;
E'en now it melts, it bleeds in tenderness—
Farewell! I dare not trust myself—farewell!
  Riv. Then thou resolv'st to go?
  Or. This very day?
  Riv. What do I hear? To-day! It must not be.
This is the day that makes my Julia mine.
  Or. Wed her to-day?
  Riv. This day unites me to her;
Then stay at least till thou behold'st her mine.
  Or. Impossible! another day were ruin.
  Riv. Then let me fly to Julia, and conjure her
To bless me with her hand this hour—this moment.
  Or. Oh! no, no, no!
  Riv. I will; in such a cause
Surely she will forego the rigid forms
Of cold decorum; then, my best Orlando!
I shall receive my Julia from thy hand;
The blessing will be doubled! I shall owe
The precious gift of love to sacred friendship!
  Or. Canst thou bear this, my heart?
  Riv. Then, my Orlando,
Since thy unkind reserve denies my heart
Its partnership in this thy board of sorrows,
I will not press to know it; thou shalt go
Soon as the holy priest has made us one:
For, oh! 'twill soothe thee in the hour of parting,
To know I'm in possession of my love,
To think I'm blest with Julia, to reflect
Thou gav'st her to my arms, my bride! my wife!
  Or. Ah! my brain turns!
  Riv. 'Tis as I thought; I'll try him.
Now answer me, Orlando, and with truth;
Hide nothing from thy friend—dost thou not love?
  Or. Ha! how! I am betray'd! he reads my heart.
  Riv. Hast thou, with all that tenderness of soul,
From love's infection kept thy yielding heart?
Say, couldst thou bask in all the blaze of beauty,
And never feel its warmth?——Impossible!
Oh! I shall probe thy soul, till thou confess
The conqu'ring fair one's name—but why confess?
Come, come, I know full well—
  Or. Ha! dost thou know?
And knowing, dost thou suffer me to live?
And dost thou know my guilt, and call me friend?
He mocks but to destroy me!
  Riv. Come, no more;
Love is a proud, an arbitrary god,
And will not choose as rigid fathers bid;
I know that thine has destin'd for thy bride
A Tuscan maid; but hearts disdain all force.
  Or. How's this? what, dost thou justify my passion
  Riv. Applaud it—glory in it—will assist it.
She is so fair, so worthy to be loved,
That I should be thy rival, were not she
My sister.
  Or. How!
  Riv. She is another Julia.
  Or. I stood upon a fearful precipice—
I'm giddy still—oh, yes! I understand thee—
Thy beauteous sister! what a wretch I've been!
Oh, Rivers! too much softness has undone me.
Yet I will never wrong the maid I love,
Nor injure thee; first let Orlando perish!
  Riv. Be more explicit.
  Or. For the present spare me.
Think not too hardly of me, noble Rivers!
I am a man, and full of human frailties;
But hate like hell the crime which tempts me on.
When I am ready to depart I'll see thee,
Clear all my long accounts of love and honour,
Remove thy doubts, embrace thee, and expire.

Manel Rivers .

  Riv. It must be so—to what excess he loves her!
Yet wherefore not demand her? for his birth
May claim alliance with the proudest fortune.
Sure there's some hidden cause—perhaps—ah, no!
Turn from that thought, my soul! 'twas vile suspicion;
And I could hate the heart which but conceiv'd it.
'Tis true their faiths are different—then his father,
Austere and rigid, dooms him to another.
That must not be—these bars shall be remov'd;
I'll serve him with my life, nor taste of bliss
Till I have sought to bless the friend I love.

  Or. Wed her to-day? wed her perhaps this hour?
Hasten the rites for me? I give her to him?
I stand a tame spectator of their bliss?
I live a patient witness of their joy?
First let this dagger drink my heart's warm blood.
The sorceress comes! oh, there's a charm about her
Which holds my hand, and makes me wish to live.
I shudder at her sight! open, thou earth,
And save me from the peril of her charms!

  Julia. Methought I heard the cry of one in pain;
From hence it came; ah, me! my lord Orlando!
What means that sigh? that agonizing voice?
Those groans which read your heart? those frantic looks?
Indeed I'm terrified. What would you do?
  Or. Die!
  Julia. Talk you of death? renounce the fatal thought;
Live for my sake, Orlando.
  Or. For thy sake?
That were indeed a cause to live for ages,
Would nature but extend the narrow limits
Of human life so far.
  Julia. And for the sake
Of Rivers; live for both; he sends me here
To beg you would delay your purpos'd parting;
His happiness, he swears, if you are absent,
Will be but half complete.
  Or. Is it to-night?
This marriage, Julia, did you say to-night?
  Julia. It is, and yet you leave us.
  Or. No.——I'll stay.
Since you command, stay and expire before you.
  Julia. What mean you?
  Or. That I'll perish at the feat
Of——Rivers.
  Julia. Tell your sorrows to my lord;
Upon his faithful breast repose the weight
That presses you to earth.
  Or. Tell him? Tell Rivers?
Is he not yours? Does not the priest now wait
To make you one? Then do not mock me thus:
What leisure can a happy bridegroom find
To think upon so lost a wretch as I am?
You hate me, Julia.
  Julia. Hate you! how you wrong me!
Live to partake our joy.
  Or. Hope you for joy?
  Julia. Have I not cause? Am I not lov'd by Rivers?
Rivers, the best, the bravest of his sex!
Whose valour fabled heroes ne'er surpass'd,
Whose virtues teach the young and charm the old;
Whose graces are the wonder of our sex,
And envy of his own.
  Or. Enough! enough!
O spare this prodigality of praise.
But Julia, if you would not here behold me,
Stretch'd at your feet a lifeless bloody corpse,
Promise what I shall now request.
  Julia. What is it?
  Or. That till to-morrow's sun, I ask no longer,
You will defer this marriage.
  Julia. Ah! defer it!
Impossible; what would my Rivers think?
  Or. No matter what: 'tis for his sake I ask it:
His pence, his happiness, perhaps his life
Depends on what I ask.
  Julia. His life! the life of Rivers!
Some dreadful thought seems lab'ring in your breast;
Explain this horrid mystery.
  Or. I dare not.
If you comply, before to-morrow's dawn,
All will be well, the danger past; then finish
These—happy nuptials; but if you refuse,
Tremble for him you love; the altar's self
Will be no safeguard from a madman's rage.
  Julia. What rage? what madman? what remorseless villain?
Orlando—will not you protect your friend?
Think how he loves you—he would die for you—
Then save him, on my knees I beg you save him—
Oh! guard my Rivers from this bloody foe.
  Or. Dearer than life I love him—ask no more,
But promise in the awful face of Heaven,
To do what I request—and promise further,
Not to disclose the cause.
  Julia. Oh save him! save him!
  Or. 'Tis to preserve him that I ask it: promise,
Or see me full before you.
  Julia. I do promise.
Hide, hide that deadly weapon—I do promise.
How wild you look! you tremble more than I.
I'll call my Rivers hither.
  Or. Not for worlds.
If you have mercy in your nature, Julia,
Retire. Oh leave me quickly to myself;
Do not expose me to the strong temptation
Which now assaults me.—Yet you are not gone.
  Julia. Be more compos'd; I leave you with regret.
His noble mind is shaken from its seat?
What may these transports mean? Heav'n guard my Rivers!
  Ber. Why, this is well; this has a face; she weeps,
He seems disorder'd.—Now to learn the cause,
And then make use of what I hear by chance;
As of a thing I knew.
  Or. And is she gone?
Her parting words shot fire into my soul;
Did she not say she left me with regret?
Her look was tender, and the starting tear
Fill'd her bright eye; she left me with regret—
She own'd it too.
  Ber. 'Twill do.
What have you done?
The charming Julia is dissolv'd in wo,
Her radiant eyes are quench'd in floods of tears;
For you they fall; her blushes have confess'd it.
  Or. For me? what sayst thou? Julia weep for me;
Yet she is gentle, and she would have wept
For thee; for any who but seem'd unhappy.
  Ber. Ungrateful!
  Or. How?
  Ber. Not by her tears, I judge,
But by her words not meant for me to hear.
  Or. What did she say? What didst thou hear, good Bertrand?
Speak—I'm on fire.
  Ber. It is not safe to tell you.
Farewell! I would not injure Rivers.
  Or. Stay,
Or tell me all, or I renounce thy friendship.
  Ber. That threat unlocks my tongue; I must not lose thee.
Sweet Julia wept, clasp'd her fair hands, and cried,
Why was I left a legacy to Rivers,
Robb'd of the power of choice? Seeing me she started,
Would have recall'd her words, blush'd, and retir'd.
  Or. No more; thou shalt not tempt me to my ruin;
Deny what thou hast said, deny it quickly,
Ere I am quite undone; for, oh! I feel
Retreating virtue touches its last post,
And my lost soul now verges on destruction.
Bertrand! she promis'd to defer the marriage.
  Ber. Then my point's gain'd; that will make Rivers jealous.
She loves you.
  Or. No; and even if she did
I have no hope.
  Ber. You are too scrupulous.
Be bold, and be successful; sure of this,
There is no crime a woman sooner pardons
Than that of which her beauty is the cause.
  Or. Shall I defraud my friend? he bled to gain her!
What! rob the dear preserver of my life
Of all that makes the happiness of his?
And yet her beauty might excuse a falsehood;
Nay, almost sanctify a perjury.
Perdition's in that thought—'twas born in hell.
My soul is up in arms, my reason's lost,
And love, and rage, and jealousy, and honour,
Pull my divided heart, and tear my soul.

Manet B ERTRAND .

 Rave on, and beat thy wings; poor bird! thou'rt lim'd,
And vain will be thy struggles to get loose.
How much your very honest men lack prudence!
Though all the nobler virtues fill one scale,
Yet place but indiscretion in the other,
In worldly business, and the ways of men,
That single folly weighs the balance down,
While all th' ascending virtues kick the beam.
Here's this Orlando now, of rarest parts,
Honest, heroic, generous, frank, and kind,
As inexperience of the world can make him
Yet shall this single weakness, this imprudence ,
Pull down unheard-of plagues upon his head,
And snare his heedless soul beyond redemption:
While dull unfeeling hearts, and frozen spirits,
Sordidly safe, secure because untempted,
Look up, and wonder at the generous crime
They wanted wit to frame, and souls to dare.