The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe / Including Essays on Poetry

ROME - a Hall in a Palace. ALESSANDRA and CASTIGLIONE.

Alessandra Thou art sad, Castiglione.

Castiglione Sad!-not I.

Oh, I'm the happiest, happiest man in Rome!

A few days more, thou knowest, my Alessandra,

Will make thee mine. Oh, I am very happy!

Alessandra Methinks thou hast a singular way of showing

Thy happiness-what ails thee, cousin of mine?

Why didst thou sigh so deeply?

Castiglione Did I sigh?

I was not conscious of it. It is a fashion,

A silly-a most silly fashion I have

When I am very happy. Did I sigh? [sighing]

Alessandra Thou didst. Thou art not well. Thou hast indulged

Too much of late, and I am vexed to see it.

Late hours and wine, Castiglione,-these

Will ruin thee! thou art already altered-

Thy looks are haggard-nothing so wears away

The constitution as late hours and wine.

Castiglione (musing) Nothing, fair cousin, nothing-

Not even deep sorrow-

Wears it away like evil hours and wine.

I will amend.

Alessandra Do it! I would have thee drop

Thy riotous company, too-fellows low born

Ill suit the like of old Di Broglio's heir

And Alessandra's husband.

Castiglione I will drop them.

Alessandra Thou wilt-thou must. Attend thou also more

To thy dress and equipage-they are over plain

For thy lofty rank and fashion-much depends

Upon appearances.

Castiglione I'll see to it.

Alessandra Then see to it!-pay more attention, sir,

To a becoming carriage-much thou wantest

In dignity.

Castiglione Much, much, oh, much I want

In proper dignity.

Alessandra (haughtily) Thou mockest me, sir!

Castiglione (abstractedly) Sweet, gentle Lalage!

Alessandra Heard I aright?

I speak to him-he speaks of Lalage?

Sir Count!

[places her hand on his shoulder]

what art thou dreaming?

He's not well!

What ails thee, sir?

Castiglione (starting) Cousin! fair cousin!-madam!

I crave thy pardon-indeed I am not well-

Your hand from off my shoulder, if you please.

This air is most oppressive!-Madam-the Duke!

Enter Di Broglio

Di Broglio My son, I've news for thee!-hey!-what's the matter?

[observing Alessandra].

I' the pouts? Kiss her, Castiglione! kiss her,

You dog! and make it up, I say, this minute!

I've news for you both. Politian is expected

Hourly in Rome-Politian, Earl of Leicester!

We'll have him at the wedding. 'Tis his first visit

To the imperial city.

Alessandra What! Politian

Of Britain, Earl of Leicester?

Di Broglio The same, my love.

We'll have him at the wedding. A man quite young

In years, but gray in fame. I have not seen him,

But Rumor speaks of him as of a prodigy

Pre-eminent in arts, and arms, and wealth,

And high descent. We'll have him at the wedding.

Alessandra I have heard much of this Politian.

Gay, volatile and giddy-is he not,

And little given to thinking?

Di Broglio Far from it, love.

No branch, they say, of all philosophy

So deep abstruse he has not mastered it.

Learned as few are learned.

Alessandra 'Tis very strange!

I have known men have seen Politian

And sought his company. They speak of him

As of one who entered madly into life,

Drinking the cup of pleasure to the dregs.

Castiglione Ridiculous! Now I have seen Politian

And know him well-nor learned nor mirthful he.

He is a dreamer, and shut out

From common passions.

Di Broglio Children, we disagree.

Let us go forth and taste the fragrant air

Of the garden. Did I dream, or did I hear

Politian was a melancholy man?

[Exeunt]

ROME.-A Lady's Apartment, with a window open and looking into a garden. LALAGE, in deep mourning, reading at a table on which lie some books and a hand-mirror. In the background JACINTA (a servant maid) leans carelessly upon a chair.

Lalage Jacinta! is it thou?

Jacinta (pertly) Yes, ma'am, I'm here.

Lalage I did not know, Jacinta, you were in waiting.

Sit down!-let not my presence trouble you-

Sit down!-for I am humble, most humble.

Jacinta (aside) 'Tis time.

(Jacinta seats herself in a side-long manner upon the chair, resting her elbows upon the back, and regarding her mistress with a contemptuous look. Lalage continues to read.)

Lalage "It in another climate, so he said,

Bore a bright golden flower, but not i' this soil!"

[pauses-turns over some leaves and resumes.]

"No lingering winters there, nor snow, nor shower-

But Ocean ever to refresh mankind

Breathes the shrill spirit of the western wind"

Oh, beautiful!-most beautiful!-how like

To what my fevered soul doth dream of Heaven!

O happy land! [pauses] She died!-the maiden died!

O still more happy maiden who couldst die!

Jacinta!

[Jacinta returns no answer, and Lalage presently resumes,]

Again!-a similar tale

Told of a beauteous dame beyond the sea!

Thus speaketh one Ferdinand in the words of the play-

"She died full young"-one Bossola answers him-

"I think not so-her infelicity

Seemed to have years too many"-Ah, luckless lady!

Jacinta! [still no answer.]

Here's a far sterner story-

But like-oh, very like in its despair-

Of that Egyptian queen, winning so easily

A thousand hearts-losing at length her own.

She died. Thus endeth the history-and her maids

Lean over her and keep-two gentle maids

With gentle names-Eiros and Charmion!

Rainbow and Dove!-Jacinta!

Jacinta (pettishly) Madam, what is it?

Lalage Wilt thou, my good Jacinta, be so kind

As go down in the library and bring me

The Holy Evangelists?

Jacinta Pshaw!

[Exit]

Lalage If there be balm

For the wounded spirit in Gilead, it is there!

Dew in the night time of my bitter trouble

Will there be found-"dew sweeter far than that

Which hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill."

[re-enter Jacinta, and throws a volume on the table]

Jacinta

(aside) There, ma'am, 's the book.

Indeed she is very troublesome.

Lalage (astonished) What didst thou say, Jacinta?

Have I done aught

To grieve thee or to vex thee?-I am sorry.

For thou hast served me long and ever been

Trustworthy and respectful.

[resumes her reading.]

Jacinta (aside) I can't believe

She has any more jewels-no-no-she gave me all.

Lalage What didst thou say, Jacinta? Now I bethink me

Thou hast not spoken lately of thy wedding.

How fares good Ugo?-and when is it to be?

Can I do aught?-is there no further aid

Thou needest, Jacinta?

Jacinta (aside) Is there no further aid!

That's meant for me.

[aloud]

I'm sure, madam, you need not

Be always throwing those jewels in my teeth.

Lalage Jewels! Jacinta,-now indeed, Jacinta, I thought not of the jewels.

Jacinta Oh, perhaps not!

But then I might have sworn it. After all,

There's Ugo says the ring is only paste,

For he's sure the Count Castiglione never

Would have given a real diamond to such as you;

And at the best I'm certain, madam, you cannot

Have use for jewels now. But I might have sworn it.

[Exit]

[Lalage bursts into tears and leans her head upon the table-after a short pause raises it.]

Lalage Poor Lalage!-and is it come to this?

Thy servant maid!-but courage!-'tis but a viper

Whom thou hast cherished to sting thee to the soul!

[taking up the mirror]

Ha! here at least's a friend-too much a friend

In earlier days-a friend will not deceive thee.

Fair mirror and true! now tell me (for thou canst)

A tale-a pretty tale-and heed thou not

Though it be rife with woe. It answers me.

It speaks of sunken eyes, and wasted cheeks,

And beauty long deceased-remembers me,

Of Joy departed-Hope, the Seraph Hope,

Inurned and entombed!-now, in a tone

Low, sad, and solemn, but most audible,

Whispers of early grave untimely yawning

For ruined maid. Fair mirror and true!-thou liest not!

Thou hast no end to gain-no heart to break-

Castiglione lied who said he loved--

Thou true-he false!-false!-false!

[While she speaks, a monk enters her apartment and approaches unobserved.]

Monk Refuge thou hast,

Sweet daughter! in Heaven. Think of eternal things!

Give up thy soul to penitence, and pray!

Lalage (arising hurriedly) I cannot pray!-My soul is at war with God!

The frightful sounds of merriment below;

Disturb my senses-go! I cannot pray-

The sweet airs from the garden worry me!

Thy presence grieves me-go!-thy priestly raiment

Fills me with dread-thy ebony crucifix

With horror and awe!

Monk Think of thy precious soul!

Lalage Think of my early days!-think of my father

And mother in Heaven! think of our quiet home,

And the rivulet that ran before the door!

Think of my little sisters!-think of them!

And think of me!-think of my trusting love

And confidence-his vows-my ruin-think-think

Of my unspeakable misery!--begone!

Yet stay! yet stay!-what was it thou saidst of prayer

And penitence? Didst thou not speak of faith

And vows before the throne?

Monk I did.

Lalage 'Tis well.

There is a vow 'twere fitting should be made-

A sacred vow, imperative and urgent,

A solemn vow!

Monk Daughter, this zeal is well!

Lalage Father, this zeal is anything but well!

Hast thou a crucifix fit for this thing?

A crucifix whereon to register

This sacred vow? [he hands her his own.]

Not that-Oh! no!-no!-no [shuddering.]

Not that! Not that!-I tell thee, holy man,

Thy raiments and thy ebony cross affright me!

Stand back! I have a crucifix myself,-

I have a crucifix! Methinks 'twere fitting

The deed-the vow-the symbol of the deed-

And the deed's register should tally, father!

[draws a cross-handled dagger and raises it on high.]

Behold the cross wherewith a vow like mine

Is written in heaven!

Monk Thy words are madness, daughter,

And speak a purpose unholy-thy lips are livid-

Thine eyes are wild-tempt not the wrath divine!

Pause ere too late!-oh, be not-be not rash!

Swear not the oath-oh, swear it not!

Lalage 'Tis sworn!

An Apartment in a Palace. POLITIAN and BALDAZZAR.

Baldazzar Arouse thee now, Politian!

Thou must not-nay indeed, indeed, thou shalt not

Give way unto these humors. Be thyself!

Shake off the idle fancies that beset thee

And live, for now thou diest!

Politian Not so, Baldazzar!

Surely I live!

Baldazzar Politian, it doth grieve me

To see thee thus!

Politian Baldazzar, it doth grieve me

To give thee cause for grief, my honored friend.

Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do?

At thy behest I will shake off that nature

Which from my forefathers I did inherit,

Which with my mother's milk I did imbibe,

And be no more Politian, but some other.

Command me, sir!

Baldazzar To the field then-to the field-

To the senate or the field.

Politian Alas! alas!

There is an imp would follow me even there!

There is an imp hath followed me even there!

There is-what voice was that?

Baldazzar I heard it not.

I heard not any voice except thine own,

And the echo of thine own.

Politian Then I but dreamed.

Baldazzar Give not thy soul to dreams: the camp-the court

Befit thee-Fame awaits thee-Glory calls-

And her the trumpet-tongued thou wilt not hear

In hearkening to imaginary sounds

And phantom voices.

Politian It is a phantom voice!

Didst thou not hear it then?

Baldazzar I heard it not.

Politian Thou heardst it not!-Baldazzar, speak no more

To me, Politian, of thy camps and courts.

Oh! I am sick, sick, sick, even unto death,

Of the hollow and high-sounding vanities

Of the populous Earth! Bear with me yet awhile

We have been boys together-school-fellows-

And now are friends-yet shall not be so long-

For in the Eternal City thou shalt do me

A kind and gentle office, and a Power-

A Power august, benignant, and supreme-

Shall then absolve thee of all further duties

Unto thy friend.

Baldazzar Thou speakest a fearful riddle

I will not understand.

Politian Yet now as Fate

Approaches, and the Hours are breathing low,

The sands of Time are changed to golden grains,

And dazzle me, Baldazzar. Alas! alas!

I cannot die, having within my heart

So keen a relish for the beautiful

As hath been kindled within it. Methinks the air

Is balmier now than it was wont to be-

Rich melodies are floating in the winds-

A rarer loveliness bedecks the earth-

And with a holier lustre the quiet moon

Sitteth in Heaven.-Hist! hist! thou canst not say

Thou hearest not now, Baldazzar?

Baldazzar Indeed I hear not.

Politian Not hear it!-listen-now-listen!-the faintest sound

And yet the sweetest that ear ever heard!

A lady's voice!-and sorrow in the tone!

Baldazzar, it oppresses me like a spell!

Again!-again!-how solemnly it falls

Into my heart of hearts! that eloquent voice

Surely I never heard-yet it were well

Had I but heard it with its thrilling tones

In earlier days!

Baldazzar I myself hear it now.

Be still!-the voice, if I mistake not greatly,

Proceeds from younder lattice-which you may see

Very plainly through the window-it belongs,

Does it not? unto this palace of the Duke.

The singer is undoubtedly beneath

The roof of his Excellency-and perhaps

Is even that Alessandra of whom he spoke

As the betrothed of Castiglione,

His son and heir.

Politian Be still!-it comes again!

Voice (very faintly) "And is thy heart so strong1

As for to leave me thus,

That have loved thee so long,

In wealth and woe among?

And is thy heart so strong

As for to leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!"

Baldazzar The song is English, and I oft have heard it

In merry England-never so plaintively-

Hist! hist! it comes again!

Voice (more loudly) "Is it so strong

As for to leave me thus,

That have loved thee so long,

In wealth and woe among?

And is thy heart so strong

As for to leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!"

Baldazzar 'Tis hushed and all is still!

Politian All is not still.

Baldazzar Let us go down.

Politian Go down, Baldazzar, go!

Baldazzar The hour is growing late-the Duke awaits us,-

Thy presence is expected in the hall

Below. What ails thee, Earl Politian?

Voice (distinctly) "Who have loved thee so long,

In wealth and woe among,

And is thy heart so strong?

Say nay! say nay!"

Baldazzar Let us descend!-'tis time. Politian, give

These fancies to the wind. Remember, pray,

Your bearing lately savored much of rudeness

Unto the Duke. Arouse thee! and remember!

Politian Remember? I do. Lead on! I do remember.[going].

Let us descend. Believe me I would give,

Freely would give the broad lands of my earldom

To look upon the face hidden by yon lattice-

"To gaze upon that veiled face, and hear

Once more that silent tongue."

Baldazzar Let me beg you, sir,

Descend with me-the Duke may be offended.

Let us go down, I pray you.

Voice (loudly) Say nay!-say nay!

Politian (aside) 'Tis strange!-'tis very strange-methought the voice

Chimed in with my desires and bade me stay!

[Approaching the window]

Sweet voice! I heed thee, and will surely stay.

Now be this fancy, by heaven, or be it Fate,

Still will I not descend. Baldazzar, make

Apology unto the Duke for me;

I go not down to-night.

Baldazzar Your lordship's pleasure

Shall be attended to. Good-night, Politian.

Politian Good-night, my friend, good-night.