Слике страница
PDF
ePub

Orc. E'en as it was e'er I received my mission. Cordenius Maro is on public duty;

I have not seen him.-When he knows your offer
His heart will bound with joy, like eaglet plumed
Whose out-stretch'd pinions wheeling round and
round,

Shape their first circles in the sunny air.
Sul. And with good cause.

Orc. Methinks I see him now!

A face with blushes mantling to the brow,
Eyes with bright tears surcharged, and parted lips
Quivering to utter joy which hath no words.

Sul. His face, indeed, as I have heard thee say,
Is like a wave which sun and shadow cross;
Each thought makes there its momentary mark.

Orc. And then his towering form, and vaulting
step,

As tenderness gives way to exultation!
O it had been a feast to look upon him;
And still shall be.

Sul.

Art thou so well convinced-
He loves my little damsel? she is fair,
But seems to me too simple, gay, and thoughtless,
For noble Maro. Heiress as she is

To all my wealth, had I suspected sooner,
That he had smother'd wishes in his breast
As too presumptuous, or that she in secret
Preferr'd his silent homage to the praise
Of any other man, I had most frankly
Removed all hinderance to so fair a suit.
For, in these changeling and degenerate days,
I scarcely know a man of nobler worth.

Orc. Thou scarcely know'st! Say certainly thou dost not.

He is, to honest right, as simply true
As shepherd child on desert pasture bred,
Where falsehood and deceit have never been;
And to maintain them, ardent, skilful, potent,
As the shrewd leader of unruly tribes.
A simple heart and subtle spirit join'd,
Make such an union as in Nero's court
May pass for curious and unnatural.

Sul. But is the public duty very urgent,
That so untowardly delays our happiness?

Orc. The punishment of those poor Nazarenes, Who, in defiance of imperial power,

To their forbidden faith and rites adhere
With obstinacy most astonishing.

Sul. A stubborn contumacy unaccountable!
Orc. There's sorcery in it, or some stronger
power.

But be it what it may, or good or ill,
They look on death in its most dreadful form,
As martial heroes on a wreath of triumph.
The fires are kindled in the place of death,
And bells toll dismally. The life of Rome
In one vast clustering mass hangs round the spot,
And no one to his neighbour utters word,
But in an alter'd voice; with breath restrain'd,
Like those who speak at midnight near the dead.
Cordenius heads the band that guards the pile;
So station'd, who could speak to him of pleasure?
For it would seem as an ill-omen'd thing.

Sul. Cease; here comes Portia, with a careless

face:

She knows not yet the happiness that waits her.

[blocks in formation]

I knew not you were here; but yet I guess
The song which this sly creature sings so well,
Will please you also.

Orc. How can it fail, fair Portia, so commended?
Sul. What is this boasted lay?

Por. That tune, my father,

Which you so oft have tried to recollect;
But link'd with other words, of new device,
That please my fancy well.-Come, sing it, boy!
Sul. Nay, sing it, Syphax, be not so abash'd,
If thou art really so.-Begin, begin!
But speak thy words distinctly as thou sing'st,
That I may have their meaning perfectly.

SONG.

The storm is gathering far and wide,

Yon mortal hero must abide.

Power on earth, and power in air,
Falchion's gleam and lightning's glare;
Arrows hurtling through the blast;
Stenes from flaming meteor cast:
Floods from burden'd skies are pouring,
O'er mingled strife of battle roaring;
Nature's rage and Denion's ire,
Belt him round with turmoil dire:
Noble hero! earthly wight!
Brace thee bravely for the fight.

And so, indeed, thou takest thy stand,
Shield on arm and glaive in hand;
Breast encased in burnish'd steel,
Helm on head, and pike on heel;
And, more than meets the outward eye
The soul's high-temper'd panoply,
Which every limb for action lightens,
The form dilates, the visage brightens :
Thus art thou, lofty, mortal wight
Full nobly harness'd for the fight.

Orc. The picture of some very noble hero
These lines portray.

Sul. So it should seem; one of the days of old. Por. And why of olden days? There liveth now The very man-a man-I mean to say, There may be found amongst our Roman youth, One, who in form and feelings may compare With him whose lofty virtues these few lines So well describe.

Orc. Thou mean'st the lofty Gorbus.

Por. Out on the noisy braggart! Arms without He hath, indeed, well burnish'd and well plumed, But the poor soul, within, is pluck'd and bare, Like any homely thing.

Orc. Sertorius Galba then?
Por. O, stranger still!

For if he hath no lack of courage, certes,

He hath much lack of grace. Sertorius Galba!

Orc. Perhaps thou mean'st Cordenius Maro, lady. Thy cheeks grow scarlet at the very name, Indignant that I still should err so strangely. Por. No, not indignant, for thou errest not; Nor do I blush, albeit thou think'st I do, To say, there is not of our Romans one, Whose martial form a truer image gives Of firm, heroic courage.

Sul.

Cease, sweet Portia ; He only laughs at thy simplicity.

Orc. Simplicity seen through a harmless wile, Like to the infant urchin, half conceal'd Behind his smiling dam's transparent veil. The song is not a stranger to mine ear, Methinks I've heard it, passing through those wilds, Whose groves and caves, if rumour speak the truth, Are by the Nazarenes or Christians haunted.

Sul. Let it no more be sung within my walls: A chant of theirs to bring on pestilence! Sing it no more. What sounds are those I hear? Orc. The dismal death-drum and the crowd

without.

They are this instant leading past your door Those wretched Christians to their dreadful doom. Sul. We'll go and see them pass.

[EXEUNT hastily Sulpicius, Orceres. Por. (Stopping her ears.) I cannot look on them, nor hear the sound.

I'll to my chamber.

Page.

May not I, I pray,

Look on them as they pass?

Por. No; go not, child: "Twill frighten thee; it is a horrid sight. Page. Yet, and it please you, lady, let me go. Por. I say it is a horrid, piteous sight, Thou wilt be frighten'd at it.

Page. Nay, be it e'er so piteous or so horrid, I have a longing, strong desire to see it.

Por. Go, then; there is in this no affectation : There's all the harden'd cruelty of man Lodged in that tiny form, child as thou art.

[EXEUNT, severally.

Officers and Soldiers still remaining; the Officers on the front, and Cordenius apart from them in a thoughtful posture.)

First Offi. Brave Varus marches boldly at the head

Of that deluded band.

Second Offi. Are these the men, who hateful orgies hold

In dens and deserts, courting, with enchantments, The intercourse of demons?

Third Offi.

Ay, with rites
Cruel and wild. To crucify a babe ;
And while it yet hangs shrieking on the rood
Fall down and worship it! device abominable
First Offi. Dost thou believe it?

Third Offi. I can believe all this or any thing
Of the possess'd and mad.

First Offi. What demonry, thinkest thou, possesses Varus ?

Second Offi. That is well urged. (To the other.)
Is he a maniac?

Alas, that I should see so brave a soldier
Thus, as a malefactor, led to death!

First Offi. Viewing his keen, enliven'd coun

[blocks in formation]

He is a man, who makes a show of valour
To which his deeds have borne slight testimony.
Cor. (advancing indignantly.) Thou liest: a
better and a braver soldier

Ne'er fronted foe, or closed in bloody strife.

(Turning away angrily to the back ground.) First Offi. Our chief, methinks, is in a fretful mood,

Which is not usual with him.

Second Offi. He did not seem to listen to our words.

But see he gives the signal to proceed;
We must advance, and with our closing ranks
The fatal pile encircle.

[EXEUNT in order, whilst a chorus of Martyrs is heard at a distance.)

SCENE II.-AN OPEN SQUARE WITH BUILDINGS. Enter CORDENIUS MARO, at the head of his SOLDIERS, who draw up on either side: then enters along procession of public Functionaries, &c. conducting MARTYRS to the place of execution, who, as they pass on, sing together in unison: one more noble than the others, SCENE III.-AN APARTMENT IN A PRIVATE HOUSE. walking first.

SONG.

A long farewell to sin and sorrow,

To beam of day and evening shade!
High in glory breaks our morrow,
With light that cannot fade.

While mortal flesh in flame is bleeding,
For humble penitence and love,
Our brother and our Lord is pleading
At mercy's throne above.

We leave the hated and the hating,
Existence sad in toil and strife;

The great, the good, the brave are waiting
To hail our opening life.

Earth's fated sounds our ears forsaking,
A moment's silence death shall be;
Then, to heaven's jubilee awaking,
Faith ends in victory.

[EXEUNT Martyrs, &c. &c. Cordenius with his

Enter two CHRISTIAN WOMEN, by opposite sides. First Wom. Hast thou heard any thing?

Second Wom. Naught, save the murmur of the multitude,

Sinking at times to deep and awful silence,
From which again a sudden burst will rise
Like mingled exclamations, as of horror
Or admiration. In these neighbouring streets
I have not met a single citizen,

The town appearing uninhabited.

But wherefore art thou here? Thou should'st have

stay'd

With the unhappy mother of poor Cælus.

First Wom. She sent me hither in her agony Of fear and fearful hope.

Second Wom. Ha! does she hope deliverance from death?

First Wom. O no! thou wrong'st her, friend; is not that:

Deliverance is her fear, and death her hope.
A second time she bears a mother's throes
For her young stripling, whose exalted birth
To endless life is at this fearful crisis,

Or earn'd or lost. May heaven forefend the last!
He is a timid youth, and soft of nature:
God grant him strength to bear that fearful proof!
Second Wom. Here comes our reverend father.

Enter a CHRISTIAN FATHER.

What tidings dost thou bring? are they in bliss ? Fath. Yes, daughter, as I trust, they are ere this In high immortal bliss. Cælus alone

First Wom. He hath apostatized! O wo is me! O wo is me for his most wretched mother!

Fath. Apostatized! No; stripling as he is, His fortitude, where all were braced and brave, Shone paramount.

For his soft downy cheek and slender form

Made them conceive they might subdue his firm

ness,

Therefore he was reserved till noble Varus
And his compeers had in the flames expired.

Then did they court and tempt him with fair pro

mise

Of all that earthly pleasure or ambition
Can offer, to deny his holy faith.

But he, who seem'd before so meek and timid,
Now suddenly imbued with holy grace,
Like the transition of some watery cloud
In passing o'er the moon's refulgent disc,

disperse and leave him alone. He walks a few paces slowly, then stops and continues for a short time in a thoughtful posture.

Cor. There is some power in this, or good or ill,
Surpassing nature. When the soul is roused
To desperate sacrifice, 'tis ardent passion,
Or high exalted virtue that excites it.
Can loathsome demonry in dauntless bearing,
Outdo the motives of the lofty brave?
It cannot be! There is some power in this
Mocking all thought-incomprehensible.
(Remains for a moment silent and thoughtful,
while Sylvius enters behind him unperceived.
Delusion! ay, 'tis said the cheated sight
Will see unreal things; the cheated ear
List to sweet sounds that are not; even the reason
Maintain conclusions wild and inconsistent.
We hear of this :-the weak may be deluded;
But is the learn'd, th' enlighten'd, noble Varus
The victim of delusion ?-Can it be?
I'll not believe it.

Syl. (advancing to him.) No, believe it not.
Cor. (starting.) Ha! one so near me !

I have seen thy face before; but where ?-who art thou?

Syl. E'en that centurion of the seventh legion, Who, with Cordenius Maro, at the siege Of Fort Volundum, mounted first the breach; And kept the clustering enemy in check, Till our encouraged Romans follow'd us.

Cor. My old companion then, the valiant Sylvius.

Thou'st done hard service since I saw thee last:

Glow'd with new life; and from his fervid tongue Thy countenance is mark'd with graver lines

Words of most firm, indignant constancy
Pour'd eloquently forth; then to the pile
Sprung lightly up, like an undaunted warrior
Scaling the breach of honour; or, alas!
As I have seen him midst his boyish mates,
Vaulting aloft for every love of motion.

First Wom. High heaven be praised for this !—
Thine eyes beheld it?

Fath. I saw it not: the friend who witness'd it, Left him yet living midst devouring flame; Therefore I spoke of Cælus doubtfully, If he as yet belong'd to earth or heaven.

Than in those greener days: I knew thee not. Where goest thou now? I'll bear thee company. Syl. I thank thee: yet thou may'st not go with

me.

The way that I am wending suits not thee,
Though suiting well the noble and the brave.
It were not well, in fiery times like these,
To tempt thy generous mind.

Cor. What dost thou mean?

Syl. (after looking cautiously round to see that nobody is near.) Did I not hear thee commune with thyself

(They cover their faces, and remain silent.) Of that most blessed martyr gone to rest,

Enter a CHRISTIAN BROTHER.

Broth. Lift up your heads, my sisters! let your

voices

In grateful thanks be raised! Those ye lament,
Have earthly pangs for heavenly joy exchanged.
The manly Varus and the youthful Cælus,
The lion and the dove, yoke-fellows link'd,
Have equal bliss and equal honour gain'd.

Varus Dobella?

Cor. How blessed? My unsettled thoughts were

busy

With things mysterious; with those magic powers
That work the mind to darkness and destruction;
With the sad end of the deluded Varus.

Syl. Not so, not so! The wisest prince on earth,
With treasured wealth and armies at command,

First Wom. And praised be God, who makes the Ne'er earn'd withal such lofty exaltation

weakest strong!

I'll to his mother with the blessed tidings. [Exit. Fath. Let us retire and pray. How soon our lives

May have like ending, God alone doth know!
O! may like grace support us in our need!

[EXEUNT. SCENE IV.-AN OPEN SPACE IN FRONT OF A TEMPLE. Enter CORDENIUS, as returning from the execution with his SOLDIERS, who, upon a signal from him,

As Varus now enjoys.

Cor. Thy words amaze me, friend; what is their meaning?

Syl. They cannot be explain'd with hasty speech In such a place. If thou would'st really knowAnd may such light

Cor. Why dost thou check thy words, And look so much disturb'd, like one in doubt? Syl. What am I doing! Zeal, perhaps, betrays

me.

Yet, wherefore hide salvation from a man Who is so worthy of it?

(Granting again that such a one might be,) Who hath but seen the element of fire

Cor. Why art thou agitated thus? What moves On household earth or woodman's smoky pile,

thee?

Syl. And would'st thou really know it?
Cor. Dost thou doubt me?

I have an earnest, most intense desire.

Syl. Sent to thy heart, brave Roman, by a power Which I may not resist. (Bowing his head.) But go not with me now in open day. At fall of eve, I'll meet thee in the suburb, Close to the pleasure garden of Sulpicius; Where in a bushy crevice of the rock There is an entry to the catacombs, Known but to few

[blocks in formation]

Syl. A dismal place, I own, but heed not that; For there thou'lt learn what, to thy ardent mind, Will make this world but as a thorny pass To regions of delight; man's natural life With all its varied turmoil of ambition, But as the training of a wayward child To manly excellence; yea, death itself But as a painful birth to life unending. The word eternal has not to thine ears, As yet, its awful, ample sense convey'd. Cor. Something possesses thee. Syl. Yes, noble Maro; But it is something which can ne'er possess A mind that is not virtuous.-Let us part; It is expedient now.-All good be with thee! Cor. And good be with thee, also, valiant soldier! Syl. (returning as he is about to go out.) At close of day, and near the pleasure garden,

[blocks in formation]

SCENE I. THE CATACOMBS, SHOWING LONG, LOWROOFED AISLES, IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS, SUPPORTED BY THICK PILLARS OF THE ROUGH

UNHEWN ROCK, WITH RUDE TOMBS AND HEAPS OF HUMAN BONES, AND THE WALLS IN MANY PLACES LINED WITH HUMAN SKULLS.

Enter CORDENIUS MARO, speaking to a CHRISTIAN FATHER, on whose arm he leans, and followed by SYLVIUS.

And looks at once, midst 'stounding thunder-peals,
On Jove's magnificence of lightning.-Pardon,
I pray you pardon me! I mean his lightning,
Who is the Jove of Jove, the great Jehovah.
Fath. (smiling.) Be not disturb'd, my son: the
lips will utter,

From lengthen'd habit, what the mind rejects.

Cor. These blessed hours which I have pass'd with you

Have to my intellectual being given

New feelings and expansion, like to that
Which once I felt, on viewing by degrees

The wide development of nature's amplitude.
Fath. And how was that, my son?

Cor. I well remember it; even at this moment Imagination sees it all again.

'Twas on a lofty mountain of Armenia,
O'er which I led by night my martial cohort,
To shun the fierce heat of a summer's day.
Close round us hung, the vapours of the night
Had form'd a woofy curtain, dim and pale,
Through which the waning moon did faintly mark
Its slender crescent.

Fath. Ay, the waned moon through midnight vapours seen,

Fit emblem is of that retrenching light,
Dubious and dim, which to the earliest patriarchs
Was at the first vouchsafed; a moral guide,
Soon clouded and obscured to their descendants,
Who peopled far and wide, in scatter'd tribes,
The fertile earth.-But this is interruption.
Proceed, my son.

Cor.
Well, on the lofty summit
We halted, and the day's returning light
On this exalted station found us. Then
Our brighten'd curtain, wearing into shreds
And rifted masses, through its opening gave
Glimpse after glimpse of slow revealed beauty,
Which held th' arrested senses magic bound,
In the intensity of charm'd attention.

Fath. From such an eminence, the opening

mist

Would to the eye reveal most beauteous visions.

Cor. First, far beneath us, woody peaks appear'd,
And knolls with cedars crested; then, beyond,
And lower still, the herdsmen's cluster'd dwellings,
With pasture slopes, and flocks just visible;
Then, further still, soft wavy wastes of forest,

Cor. One day and two bless'd nights, spent in In all the varied tints of sylvan verdure,

acquiring

Your heavenly lore, so powerful and sublime-
O! what an alter'd creature they have made me !
Fath. Yes, gentle son, I trust that thou art
alter'd.

Descending to the plain; then wide and boundless
The plain itself, with towns and cultured tracks,
And its fair river gleaming in the light,
With all its sweepy windings, seen and lost,
And seen again, till through the pale gray tint

Cor. I am, methinks, like one, who, with bent Of distant space, it seem'd a loosen'd cestus

back

And downward gaze-if such a one might be-
Hath only known the boundless azure sky
By the strait circle of reflected beauty,
Seen in the watery gleam of some deep pit,
Till of a sudden roused, he stands erect,
And wondering looks aloft and all around
On the bright sunny firmament :-like one

From virgin's tunic blown; and still beyond,
The earth's extended vastness from the sight,
Wore like the boundless ocean.
My heart beat rapidly at the fair sight-⚫
This ample earth, man's natural habitation.
But now, when to my mental eye reveal'd,
His moral destiny, so grand and noble,
Lies stretching on e'en to immensity,

It overwhelms me with a flood of thoughts,

Of happy thoughts.

Fath. Thanks be to God that thou dost feel it so!

Cor. I am most thankful for the words of power Which from thy gifted lips and sacred Scripture I have received. What feelings they have raised! O what a range of thought given to the mind! And to the soul what loftiness of hope! That future dreamy state of faint existence Which poets have described and sages taught, In which the brave and virtuous pined and droop'd In useless indolence, changed for a state Of social love, and joy, and active bliss,A state of brotherhood,—a state of virtue, So grand, so purified ;-0, it is excellent! My soul is roused within me at the sound, Like some poor slave, who from a dungeon issues To range with free-born men his native land. Fath. Thou may'st, indeed, my son, redeem'd from thraldom,

Become the high compeer of blessed spirits.
Cor. The high compeer of such !-These gushing
tears,

Nature's mysterious tears, will have their way.
Fath. To give thy heart relief.

Cor. And yet mysterious. Why do we weep
At contemplation of exalted virtue ?
Perhaps in token of the fallen state
In which we are, as thrilling sympathy
Strangely acknowledges some sight and sound,
Connected with a dear and distant home,
Albeit the memory hath that link forgotten:
A kind of latent sense of what we were
Or might have been; a deep, mysterious token.
Fath. Perhaps thou'rt right, my son; for e'en

the wicked

Will sometimes weep at lofty, generous deeds.
Some broken traces of our noble nature

Were yet preserved; therefore our great Creator Still loved his work, and thought it worth redemption.

And therefore his bless'd Son, our generous master,
Did, as the elder brother of that race,

Whose form he took, lay down his life to save us.
But I have read thee, in our sacred Book,
His gentle words of love.

Cor. Thou hast thou hast! they're stirring in my heart:

Each fibre of my body thrills in answer

[blocks in formation]

I struck my hand against my soldier's mail,
And cried, "This faith is worthy of a man!"
Cor. Our best philosophers have raised their
thoughts

To one great universal Lord of all,

Lord e'en of Jove himself and all the gods;
But who dost feel for that high, distant Essence
A warmer sentiment than deep submission?
But now, adoring love and grateful confidence
Cling to the infinity of power and goodness,
As the repentant child turns to his sire
With yearning looks that say, "Am I not thine ?"
I am too bold: I should be humbled first
In penitence and sorrow, for the stains
Of many a hateful vice and secret passion.
Fath. Check not the generous tenor of thy

thoughts:

O check it not! Love leads to penitence,
And is the noblest, surest path; whilst fear
Is dark and devious. To thy home return,
And let thy mind well weigh what thou hast heard.
If then thou feel'st within thee, faith assured
That faith, which may, even through devouring
flames,

Its passage hold to heaven, baptismal rites
Shall give thee entrance to a purer life;
Receive thee, as thy Saviour's valiant soldier,
For his high warfare arm'd.

Cor. I am resolved, and feel that in my heart There lives that faith; baptize me ere we part.

Fath. So be it then. But yet that holy rite Must be preferr'd; for lo! our brethren come, Bearing the ashes of our honour'd saints, Which must, with hymns of honour be received.

Enter Christians, seen advancing slowly along one of the aisles, and bearing a large veiled urn; which they set down near the front. They then lift off the veil and range themselves round it, while one sings and the rest join in the chorus at the end of each short

verse.

SONG.

Departed brothers, generous, brave,

Who for the faith have died,
Nor its pure source denied,

Your bodies from devouring flames to save.

Chorus.

Honour on earth, and bliss in heaven,
Be to your saintly valour given!

And we, who, left behind, pursue

A pilgrim's weary way

To realms of glorious day,

Shall rouse our fainting souls with thoughts of you.
Honour on earth, &c.

Your ashes mingled with the dust,
Shall yet be forms more fair

Than e'er breathed vital air,

When earth again gives up her precious trust.
Honour on earth, &c.

The trump of angels shall proclaim,
With tones far sent and sweet,
Which countless hosts repeat,

The generous martyr's never-fading name.

Honour on earth, and bliss in heaven,
Be to your saintly valour given!

Cor. (to Father.) And ye believe those, who a

few hours since

Were clothed in flesh and blood, and here, before us,

« ПретходнаНастави »