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Автор: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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SAROLTA.

      Hail to Sarolta!

      Sarolta. Confederate friends! I bring to you a joy 330

       Worthy your noble cause! Kiuprili lives,

       And from his obscure exile, hath returned

       To bless our country. More and greater tidings

       Might I disclose; but that a woman’s voice

       Would mar the wondrous tale. Wait we for him, 335

       The partner of the glory — Raab Kiuprili;

       For he alone is worthy to announce it.

      [Shouts of ‘Kiuprili, Kiuprili,’ and ‘The Tyrant’s

       fallen,’ without. Enter KIUPRILI, CASIMIR,

       RUDOLPH, BATHORY, and Attendants.

      Raab Kiuprili. Spare yet your joy, my friends! A higher waits you:

       Behold, your Queen!

      [Enter ZAPOLYA and ANDREAS royally attired, with

       GLYCINE.

      Confederate. Comes she from heaven to bless us?

      Other Confederates. It is! it is!

      Zapolya. Heaven’s work of grace is

       full! 340

       Kiuprili, thou art safe!

      Raab Kiuprili. Royal Zapolya!

       To the heavenly powers, pay we our duty first;

       Who not alone preserved thee, but for thee

       And for our country, the one precious branch

       Of Andreas’ royal house. O countrymen, 345

       Behold your King! And thank our country’s genius,

       That the same means which have preserved our sovereign,

       Have likewise reared him worthier of the throne

       By virtue than by birth. The undoubted proofs

       Pledged by his royal mother, and this old man, 350

       (Whose name henceforth be dear to all Illyrians)

       We haste to lay before the assembled council.

      All. Hail, Andreas! Hail, Illyria’s rightful king!

      Andreas. Supported thus, O friends! ‘twere cowardice

       Unworthy of a royal birth, to shrink 355

       From the appointed charge. Yet, while we wait

       The awful sanction of convened Illyria,

       In this brief while, O let me feel myself

       The child, the friend, the debtor! — Heroic mother! —

       But what can breath add to that sacred name? 360

       Kiuprili! gift of Providence, to teach us

       That loyalty is but the public form

       Of the sublimest friendship, let my youth

       Climb round thee, as the vine around its elm:

       Thou my support and I thy faithful fruitage. 365

       My heart is full, and these poor words express not,

       They are but an art to check its over-swelling.

       Bathory! shrink not from my filial arms!

       Now, and from henceforth thou shalt not forbid me

       To call thee father! And dare I forget 370

       The powerful intercession of thy virtue,

       Lady Sarolta? Still acknowledge me

       Thy faithful soldier! — But what invocation

       Shall my full soul address to thee, Glycine?

       Thou sword that leap’dst forth from a bed of roses: 375

       Thou falcon-hearted dove?

      Zapolya. Hear that from me, son!

       For ere she lived, her father saved thy life,

       Thine, and thy fugitive mother’s!

      Casimir. Chef Ragozzi!

       O shame upon my head! I would have given her

       To a base slave!

      Zapolya. Heaven overruled thy purpose, 380

       And sent an angel to thy house to guard her!

       Thou precious bark! freighted with all our treasures!

       The sports of tempests, and yet ne’er the victim,

       How many may claim salvage in thee! Take her, son!

       A queen that brings with her a richer dowry 385

       Than orient kings can give!

      Sarolta. A banquet waits! —

       On this auspicious day, for some few hours

       I claim to be your hostess. Scenes so awful

       With flashing light, force wisdom on us all!

       E’en women at the distaff hence may see, 390

       That bad men may rebel, but ne’er be free;

       May whisper, when the waves of faction foam,

       None love their country, but who love their home:

       For freedom can with those alone abide,

       Who wear the golden chain, with honest pride, 395

       Of love and duty, at their own fireside:

       While mad ambition ever doth caress

       Its own sure fate, in its own restlessness!

      END OF ZAPOLYA.

      [After 16] [They take hands, &c. 1817, 1828, 1829.

      Casimir. Mark too, the edges of yon lurid mass!

       Restless and vext, as if some angering hand,

       With fitful, tetchy snatch, unrolled and pluck’d

       The jetting ringlets of the vaporous fleece!

       These are sure signs of conflict nigh at hand,

       And elemental war!

      1817-1851.

      [Note. — The text of 1829, 1831 is inscribed in Notebook 20 (1808-1825).]

      Neighs at the gate. [A volley of Trumpets.

      1817, 1828, 1829.

      [After 68: [Exit RUDOLPH and manet CASIMIR.

      That but oppressed me hitherto, now scares me.

       You will ken Bethlen?

      Glycine. O at farthest distance,

       Yea, oft where Light’s own courier-beam exhausted

       Drops at the threshold, and forgets its message,

       A something round me of a wider reach

       Feels his approach, and trembles back to tell me.

      MS. correction (in the margin of Zapolya 1817) inserted in text of P.

       and D. W. 1877, iv. pp. 270-71.

      [After 99] [ZAPOLYA, who had been gazing affectionately after GLYCINE,

       starts at BATHORY’S voice. 1817, 1828, 1829.

      [Before 128] Pestalutz (affecting to start). 1817, 1828, 1829.

      [Before 134] Laska (pompously). 1817, 1828, 1829.

      [Before 139] Laska (throwing down a bow and arrows). 1817, 1828, 1829.

      These points are tipt with venom.

      [Starts and sees GLYCINE without.

      1817, 1828, 1829.