the stage, singing chorally.
CHORAL SONG
Up, up! ye dames, ye lasses gay!
To the meadows trip away.
‘Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
And scare the small birds from the corn. 150
Not a soul at home may stay:
For the shepherds must go
With lance and bow
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
Leave the hearth and leave the house 155
To the cricket and the mouse:
Find grannam out a sunny seat,
With babe and lambkin at her feet.
Not a soul at home may stay:
For the shepherds must go 160
With lance and bow
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
[Exeunt Huntsmen.
Re-enter BATHORY, BETHLEN, and GLYCINE.
Glycine. And now once more a woman ——
Bethlen. Was it then
That timid eye, was it those maiden hands
That sped the shaft, which saved me and avenged me? 165
Old Bathory. ‘Twas as a vision blazoned on a cloud
By lightning, shaped into a passionate scheme
Of life and death! I saw the traitor, Laska,
Stoop and snatch up the javelin of his comrade;
The point was at your back, when her shaft reached him. 170
The coward turned, and at the selfsame instant
The braver villain fell beneath your sword.
[Enter ZAPOLYA.
Zapolya. Bethlen! my child! and safe too!
Bethlen. Mother! Queen.
Royal Zapolya! name me Andreas!
Nor blame thy son, if being a king, he yet 175
Hath made his own arm minister of his justice.
So do the gods who launch the thunderbolt!
Zapolya. O Raab Kiuprili! Friend! Protector! Guide!
In vain we trenched the altar round with waters,
A flash from Heaven hath touched the hidden incense — 180
Bethlen. And that majestic form that stood beside thee
Was Raab Kiuprili!
Zapolya. It was Raab Kiuprili;
As sure as thou art Andreas, and the king.
Old Bathory. Hail Andreas! hail my king!
Andreas. Stop, thou revered one,
Lest we offend the jealous destinies 185
By shouts ere victory. Deem it then thy duty
To pay this homage, when ‘tis mine to claim it.
Glycine. Accept thine handmaid’s service! [Kneeling.
Zapolya. Raise her, son!
O raise her to thine arms! she saved thy life,
And through her love for thee, she saved thy mother’s! 190
Hereafter thou shalt know, that this dear maid
Hath other and hereditary claims
Upon thy heart, and with Heaven guarded instinct
But carried on the work her sire began!
Andreas. Dear maid! more dear thou canst not be! the rest 195
Shall make my love religion. Haste we hence:
For as I reached the skirts of this high forest,
I heard the noise and uproar of the chase,
Doubling its echoes from the mountain foot.
Glycine. Hark! sure the hunt approaches.
[Horn without, and afterwards distant thunder.
Zapolya. O Kiuprili! 200
Old Bathory. The demon-hunters of the middle air
Are in full cry, and scare with arrowy fire
The guilty! Hark! now here, now there, a horn
Swells singly with irregular blast! the tempest
Has scattered them! [Horns at a distance.
Zapolya. O Heavens! where stays Kiuprili? 205
Old Bathory. The wood will be surrounded! leave me here.
Andreas. My mother! let me see thee once in safety.
I too will hasten back, with lightning’s speed,
To seek the hero!
Old Bathory. Haste! my life upon it
I’ll guide him safe.
Andreas (thunder). Ha! what a crash was there! 210
Heaven seems to claim a mightier criminal
Than yon vile subaltern.
Zapolya. Your behest, High powers,
Lo, I obey! To the appointed spirit,
That hath so long kept watch round this drear cavern,
In fervent faith, Kiuprili, I entrust thee! 215
[Exeunt ZAPOLYA, ANDREAS, and GLYCINE.
Old Bathory. Yon bleeding corse may work us mischief still:
Once seen, ‘twill rouse alarm and crowd the hunt
From all parts towards this spot. Stript of its armour,
I’ll drag it hither.
[Exit BATHORY. Several Hunters cross the Stage.
Enter KIUPRILI.
Raab Kiuprili (throwing off his disguise). Since Heaven alone
can save me, Heaven alone 220
Shall be my trust.
Haste! haste! Zapolya, flee!
Gone! Seized perhaps? Oh no, let me not perish
Despairing of Heaven’s justice! Faint, disarmed,
Each sinew powerless; senseless rock, sustain me!
Thou art parcel of my native land!
A sword! 225
Ha! and my sword! Zapolya hath escaped,
The murderers are baffled, and there lives
An Andreas to avenge Kiuprili’s fall! —
There was a time, when this dear sword did flash
As dreadful as the storm-fire from mine arm — 230
I can scarce raise it now — yet come, fell tyrant!
And bring with thee my shame and bitter anguish,
To end his work and thine! Kiuprili now
Can take the deathblow as a soldier should.
[Re-enter BATHORY, with the dead body of PESTALUTZ.
Old Bathory. Poor tool and victim of another’s guilt! 235
Thou follow’st heavily: a reluctant weight!
Good truth, it is an undeservéd honour
That in Zapolya and Kiuprili’s cave
A wretch like thee should find a burial-place.