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At a banquet-he and Illo.

Thou speakest WALLENSTEIN (rises and strides across the saloon).

Of Piccolomini. What was his death? The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber. The courier had just left thee as I came. COUNTESS.

(WALLENSTEIN by a motion of his hand makes signs Bid me not go, O let me stay with thee!

to her to be silent. WALLENSTEIN (moves to the window). Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view, There is a busy motion in the Heaven,

Let us look forward into sunny days, The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower,

Welcome with joyous heart the victory, Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle' of the moon, Forget what it has cost thee. Not to-day, Struggling, darts spatches of uncertain light.

For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead; No form of star is visible! That one

To thee he died, when first he parted from thee. White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder,

WALLENSTEIN. Is from Cassiopeia, and therein

This anguish will be wearied down,' I know; Is Jupiter. (A pause). But now

What pang is permanent with man? From the highest, The blackness of the troubled element hides him! As from the vilest thing of every day [lle sinks into profound melancholy, and looks va

He learns to wean himself: for the strong hours cantly into the distance.

Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost COUNTESS (looks on him mournfully, then grasps his In him. The bloom is vanish'd from my life. hand).

For O! he stood beside me, like my youth,
What art thou brooding on?

Transform'd for me the real to a dream,

Clothing the palpable and the familiar

With golden exhalations of the dawn.
If I but saw him, 't would be well with me.

Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, He is the star of my nativity,

The beautiful is vanish'd-and returns not. And often marvellously hath his aspect

Shot strength into my heart,

O be not treacherous to thy own power.

Thy heart is rich enough to vivify

Thou 'lt see him again. Itself. Thou lovest and prizest virtues in him, WALLENSTEIN (remains for a while with absent mind, The which thyself didst plant, thyself unfold. then assumes a livelier manner, and turns suddenly

WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the door). to the Countess).

Who interrupts us now at this late hour ? See him again? O never, never again!

It is the Governor. He brings the keys

Of the Citadel. 'Tis midnight. Leave me, sister!


O't is so hard to me this night to leave thee-
He is gone-is dust.

A boding fear possesses me!


Fear? Wherefore?
Whom meanest thou then?


Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finish'd!

Never more find thee! For him there is no longer any future,

WALLENSTEIN. His life is bright-bright without spot it was,

Fancies! And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour

COUNTESS. Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap.

O my soul Far off is he, above desire and fear;

Has long been weigh'd down by these dark forebodings. No more submitted to the change and chance

And if I combat and repel them waking, Of the unsteady planets. O 't is well

They still rush down upon my heart in dreams, With him! but who knows what the coming hour

I saw thee yesternight with thy first wife Veil'd in thick darkness brings for us?

Sit at a banquet gorgeously attired.

These four lines are expressed in the original with exquisite This was a dream of favourable omen,
Am Himmel ist geschæftige Bewegung,

That marriage being the founder of my fortunes.
Des Thurmes Fahne jagt der Wind, schnell geht

Der Wolken Zug, die Mondes-Sichel wankl,

To-day I dreamt that I was seeking thee
Und durch die Nacht zuckt ungewisse Helle.

In thy own chamber. As I enter'd, lo! The word - moon-sickle,» reminds me of a passage in Harris, as It was no more a chamber : the Chartreuse quoted by Johnson, under the word « falated. The enlightened At Gitschin 't was, which thou thyself hast founded, part of the moon appears in the form of a sicklo or reaping-hook, which is while she is moving from the conjunction to the opposition, or from the new moon to the fall : but from full to a new again, the

"A very inadequate translation of the original. enlightened part appears gibbous, and the dark falcated.

Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich,
The words « wankey, and - schweben: are not easily translated. Denn was vorschmerzte nicht der Mensch !
The Englisb words, by which we attempt to render them, are either
vulgar or pedantic, or not of sufficiently general application. So

der Wolken Zug:- The Draft, the Procession of clouds.- The I shall grieve down this blow, of that I'm conscious :
Masses of the Clouds sweep onward in swift stream.

What does not man grieve down?




And where it is thy will that thou shouldst be


I hear a boisterous music! and the Castle

Is lighted up. Who are the revellers ?
Thy soul is busy with these thoughts.


There is a banquet given at the Castle
What! dost thou not believe that oft in dreams To the Count Tertsky, and Field Marshal Illo.
A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us?


In honour of the victory—This tribe
There is no doubt that there exist such voices.

Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting. Yet I would not call them

[Rings. The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER enters. Voices of warning that announce to us

Unrube me. I will lay me down to sleep. Only the inevitable. As the sun,

(WALLENSTEIN takes the keys from GORDON. Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image

So we are guarded from all enemies, In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits

And shut in with sure friends. Of great events stride on before the events,

For all must cheat me, or a face like this And in to-day already walks 10-morrow.

[Fixing his eye on Gordon. That which we read of the fourth Henry's death Was ne'er a hypocrite's mask. Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale

[The Groom OF THE CHAMBER takes off his mantle, Of my own future destiny. The king

collar, and scarf. Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife,

WALLENSTEIN. Long ere Ravaillac arm'd himself therewith.

Take care--what is that? His quiet mind forsook liim: the phantasma Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth Into the open air : like funeral knelis

The golden chain is snapped in two. Sounded that coronation festival;

WALLENSTEIN. And still with boding sense he heard the tread

Well, it has lasted long enough. Here-give it. Of those feel that even then were seeking him

[He takes and looks at the chain. Throughout the streets of Paris.

'T was the first present of the Emperor.

He hung it round me in the war of Friule,
And to thee

He being then Archduke; and I have worn it
The voice within thy soul bodes nothing ?

Till now from habit-

From superstition, if you will. Belike,

Nothing It was to be a Talisman to me; Be wholly tranquil.

And while I wore it on my

neck in faith, COUNTESS.

It was to chain to me my

life long And another time

The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was.
I hasten'd after thee, and thou ran'st from me

Well, be it so! Henceforward a new fortune
Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall, Must spring up for me; for the potency
There seem'd no end of it: doors creak'd and clapp'd; Of this charm is dissolved.
1 follow'd panting, but could not o'ertake thee;

(Groom OF THE CHAMBER retires with the vestments. When on a sudden did I feel myself

WALLENSTEIN rises, takes a stride across the Grasp'd from behind-the band was cold, that grasp'd

room, and stands at last before Gordon in a

posture of meditation. 'Twas thou, and thou didst kiss and there seem'd

How the old time relurns upon me! I
A crimson covering to envelop us.

Behold myself once more at Burgau, where

We two were Pages of the Court together.
That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber.

We oftentimes disputed: thy intention
COUNTESS (gazing on him).

Was ever good; but thou wert wont to play
If it should come to that if I should see thee,

The Moralist and Preacher, and wouldst rail at meWho standest now before me in the fulness

That I strove after things too high for me,
Of life-

[She falls on his breast and weeps. Giving my faith to bold unlawful dreams,

And still extol to me the golden mean.
The Emperor's proclamation weighs upon thee-

-Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend Alphabets wound not-and he finds no hands.

To thy own self. See, it has made thee early

A superannuated man, and (but
If he should find them, my resolve is taken -


my munificent stars will intervene) I bear about me my support and refuge.

Would let thee in some miserable corner
[Exit Countess. Go out like an untended lamp.


My Prince!

With light heart the poor fisher moors his boat,

And watches from the shore the lofty ship
All quict in the town?

Stranded amid the storm.
The town is quiet.

Art thou already











In harbour then, old man? Well! I am not.

SENI. The unconquer'd spirit drives me o'er life's billows;

Flee ere the day-break! My plaoks still firm, my canvas swelling proudly. Trust not thy person to the Swedes! Hope is my goddess still, and Youth my in mate;

WALLENSTEIN, And while we stand thus front to front almost,

What now I might presume to say, that the swift years

Is in thy thoughts? Have passed by powerless o'er my upblanched hair.

SENI (with louder voice). [lle moves with long strides across the Saloon, and i Trust not thy person to these Swedes. remains' on the opposite side over-against


What is it then? Who now persists in calling Fortune false?

SENI (still more urgently).
To me she has proved faithful, with fond love
Took me from out the common ranks of men,

O wait not the arrival of these Swedes!
And like a mother goddess, with strong arm

An evil near at hand is threatening thee Carried me swiftly up the steps of life.

From false friends. All the signs stand full of horror! Nothing is common in my destiny,

Near, near at band the net-work of perditionNor in the furrows of my hand. Who dares

Yea, even now 't is being cast around thee!
Interpret then

life for me as 't were

One of the undistinguishable many?

Baptista, thou art dreaming !--Fear befools thee.
True in this present moment I appear
Fallen low indeed; but I shall rise again.

Believe not that an empty fear deludes me.
The high flood will soon follow on this ebb;

Come, read it in the planetary aspects; The fountain of my fortune, wbich now stops

Read it thyself, that ruia threatens thee Repress'd and bound by some malicious star,

From false friends! Will soon in joy play forth from all its pipes.

From the falseness of my friends And yet remember I the good old proverb,

Has risen the whole of my unprosperous fortunes. • Let the night come before we praise the day. »

The warning should have come before! At present I would be slow from long continued fortune

I need no revelation from the stars
To gather hope: for Hope is the companion

To know that.
Given to the unfortunate by pitying Heaven,
Fear hovers round the head of prosperous men:

Come and see! trust thine own eyes!
For still unsteady are the scales of fate.
WALLENSTEIN (smiling).

A fearful sign stands in the house of life-
I hear the very Gordon that of old

An enemy; a fiend lurks close behind
Was wont to preach to me, now once more preaching; The radiance of thy planet.–O be warn’d!
I know well, that all sublunary things

Deliver not thyself up to these heathens,
Are still the vassals of vicissitude.

To wage a war against our. holy church.

WALLENSTEIN (laughing gently).
The unpropitious gods demand their tribute.
This long ago the ancient Pagans knew :

The oracle rails that way! Yes, yes! Now
And therefore of their own accord they offer'd

I recollect. This junction with the Swedes To themselves injuries, so to alone

Did never please thee-lay thyself to sleep,

Baprista! Signs like these I do not fear.
The jealousy of their divinities :
And human sacrifices bled to Typhon.

GORDON (who during the whole of this dialogue has

shown marks of extreme agitution, and now turns to [After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued


My Duke and General! May 1 dare presume?
I too have sacrificed to him-For me
There fell the dearest friend, and through my fault

He fell! No joy from favourable fortune

Speak freely
Can overweigh the anguish of this stroke.
The envy of my destiny is glutted :

What if 't were no mere creation
Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightping Of fear, if God's high providence vouchsafed
Was drawn off which would else have shatter'd me. To interpose its aid for your deliverance,

And made that mouth its organ?


Ye 're both feverish!
To these enter SENI.

How can mishap come to me from the Swedes ?

They sought this junction with me,'t is their interest. Is not that Seni? and beside himself,

GORDON (with difficulty suppressing his emotion). If one may trust his looks? What brings thee bitlier But what if the arrival of these SwedesAt this late hour, Baptista?

What if this were the very thing that wing'd

The ruin that is flying to your temples?
Terror, Duke!

[Flings himself at his feet. On thy account

There is yet time, my Prince.
What now?

O hear him! hear him!








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GORDON (rises).

The Rhine-Grave's still far off. Give but the orders,
This citadel shall close its gates upon him.

Gordon, BUTLER (at first behind the scenes).
If then he will besiege us, let him try it.

BUTLER (not yet come into view of the stage). But this I say; he 'll find his own destruction

Here stand in silence till I give the signal. With his whole force before these ramparts, sooner

GORDON (starts up). Than weary down the valour of our spirit.

'T is he, he has already brought the murderers.
He shall experience what a band of heroes,
Inspirited by an heroic leader,

The lights are out. All lies in profound sleep.
Is able to perform. And if indeed
It be thy serious wish to make amend

What shall I do, shall I attempt to save him?
For that which thou hast done amiss,-this, this Shall I call up the house? Alarm the guards?
Will touch and reconcile the Emperor

BUTLER (appears, but scarcely on the stage).
Who gladly turns his heart to thoughts of mercy, A light gleams hither from the corridor.
And Friedland, who returns repentant to him, It leads directly to the Duke's bed-chamber.
Will stand yet higher in bis Emperor's favour,

Than e'er he stood when he had never fallen.

But then I break my oath to the Emperor; WALLENSTEIN (contemplates him with surprise, remains If be escape and strengthen the enemy, silent awhile, betraying strong emotion). Do I not hereby call down on my head

All the dread consequences ? Gordon--your zeal and fervour lead far.

you Well, well- an old friend has a privilege. .

BUTLER (stepping forward). Blood, Gordon, has been flowing. Never, never

Hark! Who speaks there! Can the Emperor pardon me: and if he could, Yet I-I ne'er could let myself be pardon'd.

'T is better, I resign it to the hands Had I foreknown what now has taken place,

Of providence. For what am I, that I That he, my dearest friend, would fall for me, . Should take upon myself so great a deed? My first death-offering : and had the heart

I have not murder'd him, if he be murder'd; Spoken to me, as now it has done-Gordon,

But all his rescue were my act and deed;
It may be, I might have bethought myself.

Mine-and whatever be the consequences,
It may be too, I might not. Might or might not, I must sustain them.
Is now an idle question. All too seriously

BUTLER (advances).
Has it begun to end in nothing, Gordon!

I should know that voice. Let it then have its course.


[Stepping to the window. All dark and silent-at the castle too All is now hush'd-Light me, Chamberlain !

'T is Gordon. What do you want here? [The Groom of the Chamber, who had entered Was it so late then, when the Duke dismiss'd you ? during the last dialogue, and had been stand

Your hand bound up and in a scarf? ing at a distance and listening to it with vi

BUTLER. »sible expressions of the deepest interest, ad

'Tis wounded. vances in extreme agitation, and throws

That Illo fought as he was frantic, till
himself at the Duke's feet.

At last we threw him on the ground.
And thou too! But I know why thou dost wish
My reconcilement with the Emperor.

GORDON (shuddering).

Both dead?
Poor man! he hath a small estate in Cærn then,
And fears it will be forfeited because

Is he in bed ?
He's in my service. Am I then so poor,
That I no longer can indemnify

Ah, Butler!
My servants? Well! to no one I employ

Means of compulsion. If 't is thy belief

Is he? speak.
That fortune has fled from me, go! forsake me.
This night for the last time mayst thou unrobe me,

He shall not perish! Not through you! The Heaven And then go over to thy Emperor.

your arm.

See-'t is wounded !-
Gordon, good night! I think to make a long

BUTLER. Sleep of it: for the struggle and the turmoil

There is no need of


arm. Of this last day or two was great. May 't please you! Take care that they awake me not too early.

The most guilty (Exit Wallenstein, the Groom OF THE CHAMBER Have perish'd, and enough is given to justice. lighting him. Seni follows, GORDON remains

[The GROOM OF THE CHamber advances from the on the darkened stage, following the Duke

gallery with his finger on his mouth, comwith his eye, till he disappears at the farther

manding silence.
end of the gallery : then by his gestures the
old man expresses the depth of his anguish, He sleeps! O murder not the holy sleep!
and stands leaning against a pillar.

No! he shall dic awake.

[Is going.









His heart still cleaves

To earthly things : he's not prepared to step
Into the presence of his God!

COUNTESS TERTSKY (with a light).

Her bed-chamber is empty; she herself
BUTLER (going).

Is no where to be found! The Neubrunn too,
God 's merciful !

Who watch'd by her, is missing. If she should
GORDON (holds him).
Grant him but this night's respite.

Be flown--But whither flown? We must call up

Every soul in the house. How will the Duke
BUTLER (hurrying off).

Bear up against these worst had tidings? Q

The next moment
May ruin all.

If that my husband now were but return'd
GORDON (holds him still).

Home from the banquet!--Hark, I wonder whether
One hour!--

The Duke is still awake! I thought I heard
Voices and tread of feet here! I will

go Unhold me! What And listen at the door. Hark! what is that? Can that short respite profit him?

"T is hastening up the steps !





0-Time Works miracles. In one hour

SCENE VII. thousands

Of grains of sand run out; and quick as they,

Thought follows thought within the human soul..
Only one hour! Your heart may change its purpose,

GORDON (rushes in out of breath).

'T is a mistake! His heart may change its purpose-some new tidings May come; some fortunate event, decisive,

'T is not the Swedes-Ye must proceed no further

Butler!-0 God! where is he? May fall from Heaven and rescue him. O what

GORDON (observing the Countess).
May not one hour achieve!

Countess ! Say--
You but remind me,

You are come then from the castle? Where's my husHow precious every minute is!

band ? (He stamps on the floor.

GORDON (in an agony of affright).

Your husband !--Ask not !-- To the Duke--
To these enter MACDONALD, and Devereux, with the

Not till

You have discover'd to me-
GORDON (throwing himself between him and them).

No, monster!

On this moment
First over my dead body thou shalt tread.

Does the world hang. For God's sake! to the Duke. I will not live to see the accursed deed!

While we are speaking--
BUTLER (forcing him out of the way).

(Calling loudly, Weak-hearted dotard!

Butler! Butler!. God! [Trumpets are heard in the distance.


Why, he is at the castle with my husband.
Hark! The Swedish trumpets!

[BUTLER comes from the Gallery The Swedes before the ramparts! Let us hasten! GORDON (rushes out).

'T was a mistake—'T is not the Swedes-it is 0, God of Mercy!

The Imperialist's Lieutenant-General
BUTLER (calling after him).

Has sent me hither—will be here himself
Governor, to your post!

Instantly.-You must not proceed.
GROOM OF TAE CHAMBER (hurries in).

Who dares make larum here? Hush! The Duke sleeps.

He comes
DEVERZUX (with loud harsh voice).

Too late. (GORDON dashes himself against the wall. Friend, it is time now to make larum.


O God of mercy!



What too late?
Down with him!

Who will be here himself 7 Octavio
GROOM OF THE CHAMBER (run through the body by De- In Egra ? Treason! Treason !- Where's the Duke?
VÉREUX, falls at the entrance of the gallery.)

[She rushes to the Gallery. Jesus Maria! BUTLER.

SCENE VIII. Burst the doors

open. [They rush over the body into the gallery-two (Servants run across the Stage full of terror. The whole

doors are heard to crash one after the other, Scene must be spoken entirely without pauses.) Voices deadened by the distance-Clash of

SENI (from the Gallery). armsthen all at once a profound silence. O bloody frightful deed!


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