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NEUBRUNN.

THEKLA.

NEUBRUNN.

THEKLA.

NEU BRUNN.

THEKLA.

CAPTAIN.

CAPTAIN (confused).
I retire.

Princess
THEKLA.

[THEKLA silently makes signs to him lo go, and "T is over.

turns from him. The Captain lingers, and Proceed to the conclusion.

is about to speak. LADY NEUERUNN repeals

the signal, and he retires.
CAPTAIN.

Wild despair
Inspired the troops with frenzy when they saw

SCENE V.
Their leader perish; every thought of rescue
Was spurn'd ; they fought like wounded tigers; their

THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN.
Frantic resistance roused our soldiery ;
A murderous fight took place, nor was the contest

THEKLA (falls on LADY NEUBRUNN's neck). Finish'd before their last man fell.

Now, gentle Neubrunn, show me the affection

Which thou hast ever promised-prove thyself THEKLA (faltering).

My own true friend and faithful fellow-pilgrim.

And where This night we must away!
Where is—You have not told me all.
CAPTAIN (after a pause).

Away! and whither?
This morning
We buried him. Twelve youths of noblest birth Whither! There is but one place in the world.
Did bear him to interment; the whole army Thither where he lies buried! To his coffin !
Follow'd the bier. A laurel deck'd his coffin ;
The sword of the deceased was placed upon it,
In mark of honor, by the Rhinegrave's self.

What would you do there?
Nor tears were wanting; for there are among us
Many, who had themselves experienced

What do there?
The greatness of his mind, and gentle manners;

That wouldst thou not have ask'd, hadst thou e'er All were affected at his fate. The Rhinegrave

loved. Would willingly have saved him; but himself

There, there is all that still remains of him. Made vain the attempt—'t is said he wish'd to die. That single spot is the whole earth to me. NEUBRUNN (to THEKLA, who has hidden her coun. That place of death

tenance). Look up, my dearest lady —

Is now the only place, TIIEKLA.

Where life yet dwells for me: detain me not ! Where is his grave? Come and make preparations : let us think CAPTAIN.

Of means to fly from hence. At Neustadt, lady; in a cloister church

NEUERUNN. Are his remains deposited, until

Your father's rageWe can receive directions from his father. THEKLA.

That time is pastWhat is the cloister's name?

And now I fear no human being's rage.

NEUBRUNN.
Saint Catherine's.

The sentence of the world! The tongue of calumny!
THEKLA.
And how far is it thither?

Whom am I seeking? Him who is no more.

Am I then hastening to the arms— God!

I haste but to the grave of the beloved.
Near twelve leagues.
THEKLA.

And we alone, two helpless feeble women?
And which the way ?
CAPTAIN.

We will take weapons : my arm shall protect thee.
You go by Tirschenreit
And Falkenberg, through our advanced posts. In the dark night-time?
THEKLA.
Who

Darkness will conceal us. Is their commander ?

This rough tempestuous night,
CAPTAIN.
Colonel Seckendorf.

Had he a soft bed (THEKLA steps to the table, and takes a ring from Under the hoofs of his war-horses ? a casket. THEKLA.

Heaven! You have beheld me in my agony,

And then the many posts of the enemy! And shown a feeling heart. Please you, accept

THEKLA. [Giving him the ring. They are human beings. Misery travels free A smaall memorial of this hour. Now go! Through the whole earth.

THEKLA.

CAPTAIN.

THEKLA.

CAPTAIN.

NEUBRUNN.

THEKLA.

NEUBRUNN.

THEKLA.

NEUBRUNN.

THEKLA.

NEUBRUNN.

THEKLA.

NEUBRUNN.

NEUBRUNN.

THEKLA.

NEUBRUNN.
The journey's weary length-

SCENE VI.
THEKLA.
The pilgrim, travelling to a distant shrine His spirit 'tis that calls me: 'tis the troop
Of hope and healing, doth not count the leagues. Of his true followers, who offer'd up

Themselves to avenge his death : and they accuse me
NEUBRUNN.
How can we pass the gates ?

of an ignoble loitering--they would not

Forsake their leader even in his death-they died for THEKLA.

him ! Gold opens them.

And shall I live -
Go, do but go.

For me too was that laurel-garland twined
NEUBRUNN.

That decks his bier. Life is an empty casket :
Should we be recognized I throw it from me. O! my only hope ;-
THEKLA.

To die beneath the hoofs of trampling steeds In a despairing woman, a poor fugitive,

That is the lot of heroes upon earth! [Eti THEKLA.* Will no one seek the daughter of Duke Friedland.

(The curtain drops).
NEUBRUNN.
And where procure we horses for our flight?
THEKLA.

ACT V.
My equerry procures them. Go and fetch him.

SCENE I. Dares he, without the knowledge of his lord ?

SCENE-A Saloon, terminated by a Gallery which es. THEKLA.

tends far into the back-ground. He will. Go, only go. Delay no longer.

WALLENSTEIN (sitting at a table). Dear lady! and your mother?

THE SWEDISH CAPTAIN (standing before him).

WALLENSTEIN.
Oh! my mother!

Commend me to your lord. I sympathize

In his good fortune ; and if you have seen me NEUBRUNN. So much as she has suffer'd too already ;

Deficient in the expressions of that joy, Your tender mother-Ah! how ill prepared

Which such a victory might well demand, For this last anguish!

Attribute it to no lack of good-will,

For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell,
THEKLA.
Woe is me! my mother!

And for your trouble take my thanks. To-morrow

The citadel shall be surrender'd to you

[Pauses. On your arrival. Go instantly.

[The SWEDISH CAPTAIN retires. WALLENSTEIN sils NEUBRUNN. But think what you are doing !

lost in thought, his eyes fixed vacantly, and his head sustained by his hand. The COUNTES

TERTSKY enters, stands before him awhile, tikWhat can be thought, already has been thought.

observed by him; at length he starts, sees ker NEUBRUNN.

and recollects himself. And being there, what purpose you to do?

WALLENSTEIN.

Comest thou from her ? Is she restored ? How is she? There a Divinity will prompt my soul.

COUNTESS.

My sister tells me, she was more collected Your heart, dear lady, is disquieted!

After her conversation with the Swede.
And this is not the way that leads to quiet.

She has now retired to rest.
THEKLA.

WALLENSTEIN.
To a deep quiet, such as he has found,
It draws me on, I know not what to name it, She will shed tears.
Resistless does it draw me to his grave.

COUNTESS.
There will my heart be eased, my tears will flow.

I find thee alter'd too, O hasten, make no further questioning!

My brother! After such a victory There is no rest for me till I have left

I had expected to have found in thee These walls—they fall in on me-a dim power A cheerful spirit. O remain thou firm! Drives me from hence-O mercy! What a feeling! Sustain, uphold us! For our light thou art, What pale and hollow forms are those! They fill,

Our sun.
They crowd the place! I have no longer room here!

WALLENSTEIN.
Mercy! Still more! More still! The hideous swarm! Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's
They press on me; they chase me from these walls-Thy husband ?
Those hollow, bodiless forms of living men!
NEUBRUNN.

The soliloquy of Thekla consists in the original of six-andYou frighten me so, lady, that no longer

twenty lines, twenty of which are in rhymes of irregular recur I dare stay here myself. I go and call

rence, I thought it prudent to abridge it. Indeed the whole scena Rosenberg instantly. [Exit LADY NEUBRUNN. omitted without injury to the play.

between Thekla and Lady Neubrunn might, perhaps, have been

THEKLA.

THEKLA

NEUBRUNN.

The pang will soften

206

COUNTESS.

COUNTESS.
At a banquet-he and Illo.

Thou speakest

Of Piccolomini. What was his death?
WALLENSTEIN (rises and strides across the saloon).
The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber. The courier had just left thee as I came.

(WALLENSTEIN by a motion of his hand makes COUNTESS.

signs to her to be silent. Bid me not go, O let me stay with thee!

Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view,
WALLENSTEIN (moves to the windou).

Let us look forward into sunny days.
There is a busy motion in the Heaven,

Welcome with joyous heart the victory, The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower,

Forget what it has cost thee. Not to-day, Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle* of the moon,

For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead;
Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light. To thee he died, when first he parted from thee.
No form of star is visible! That one
While stain of light, that single glimmering yonder, This anguish will be wearied down," I know;

WALLENSTEIN.
Is from Cassiopeia, and therein
Is Jupiter. (A puse). 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 [He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks Ile learns to wean himself: for ihe strong hours vacantly 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.

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

Transform'd for me the real to a dream,

Clothing the palpable and the familiar
WALLENSTEIN,

With golden exhalations of the dawn.
Methinks,

Whatever fortunes wait my future toils,
If I but saw him, 't would be well with me.

The beautiful is vanishi’d—and returns not.
He is the star of my nativity,
And often marvellously hath his aspect

COUNTESS.

O be not treacherous to thy own power.
Shot strength into my heart.

Thy heart is rich enough to vivify
COUNTESS.

Itself. Thou lovest and prizest virtues in him,

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

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

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!
COUNTESS.
How?

COUNTESS.
WALLENSTEIN

O'tis so hard to me this night to leave thee-
He is gone—is dust.

A boding sear possesses me!
COUNTESS.

WALLENSTEIN.
Whom meanest thou then?

Fear? Wherefore?'

COUNTESS.
WALLENSTEIN.

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
Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap.

COUNTESS.
Far off is he, above desire and fear;

O my soul No more subrnitted to the change and chance Has long been weigh'd down by these dark forebodings. Of the unsteady planets. O'tis well

And if I combat and repel them waking, With him! but who knows what the coming hour They still rush down upon my heart in dreams. Veild in thick darkness brings for us?

I saw thee yester-night with thy first wise

Sit at a banquet gorgeously attired. . These four lines are expressed in the original with exquisite

WALLENSTEIN. felicity.

This was a dream of favorable omen, Am Himmel ist geschaftige Bewegung,

That marriage being the founder of my fortunes. Des Thurme, Fahne jagt der Wind, schnell geht Der Wolken Zug, die Konies-Sichel wankt,

COUNTESS. Und durch die Nacht zuckt ungewisse lelle. To-day I dreamt that I was seeking thee The word "moon-sick le,” reminds me of a passage in Har. In thy own chamber. As I enter'd, lo! res, as quoted by Johnson, under the word "falcated.” “ The It was no more a chamber: the Chartreuse enlightened part of the moon appears in the form of a sickle or At Gitschin 't was, which thou thyself hast founded, reading book, which is while she is moving from the conjunction to the opposition, or from the new-moon to the full: but from full to a new again, the enlightened part appears gibbous, and the dark falcated."

* A very inadequate translation of the original. The words " wanken" and "schweben" are not easily trans- Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich, lated. The English words, by which we attempt to render Denn was verschmerzte nicht der Mensch! them, are either vulgar or pediatic, or not of sufficiently general application. So "der Wolken Zug"--Tho Draft, the Pro

LITERALLY Cession of clouds.-The Masses of the Clouds sweep onward I shall grieve doron this blow, of that I'm conscious : in swift stream

What does not man grieve down?

COUNTESS.

And where it is thy will that thou shouldst be

WALLENSTEIN.
Interr'd.

I hear a boisterous music! and the Castle
WALLENSTEIN.

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

GORDON.
COUNTESS.

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?

WALLENSTEIN.
WALLENSTEIN.
There is no doubt that there exist such voices.

In honor of the victory—This tribe
Yet I would not call them

Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting. Voices of warning that announce to us

[Rings. The GROOM OP THE CHAMBER entera Only the inevitable. As the sun,

Unrobe me. I will lay me down to sleep. Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image

(WALLENSTEIN takes the keys from GORDON. In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits

So we are guarded from all enemies, Of great events stride on before the events,

And shut in with sure friends. And in today already walks to-morrow.

For all must cheat me, or a face like this That which we read of the fourth Henry's death

[Firing his eye on GORDOX. Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale

Was ne'er a hypocrite's mask. Of my own future destiny. The king

[The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER takes off his marFelt in his breast the phantom of the knife,

ile, collar, and scarf. Long ere Ravaillac arm'd himself therewith. His quiet mind forsook him: the phantasma

WALLENSTEIN. Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth

Take care—what is that? Into the open air: like funeral knells

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER. Sounded that coronation festival;

The golden chain is snapped in two.
And still with boding sense he heard the tread

WALLENSTEIN.
Of those feet that even then were seeking him
Throughout the streets of Paris.

Well, it has lasted long enough. Here-give it.

(He takes and looks at the chain And to thee

"Twas the first present of the Emperor. The voice within thy soul hodes nothing ?

He hung it round me in the war of Friule,

He being then Archduke; and I have worn it
WALLENSTEIN.

Till now from habit

Nothing. From superstition, if you will. Belike, Be wholly tranquil.

It was to a Talisman to me;

And while I wore it on my neck in faith,
And another time

It was to chain to me all my life long
I hasten'd after thee, and thou rann'st from me

The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was. Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall

, Well, be it so! Henceforward a new fortune
There seem'd no end of it: doors creak'd and clapp'd; Must spring up for me; for the potency
I follow'd panting, but could not o'ertake thee;

Of this charm is dissolved.
When on a sudden did I feel myself
Grasp'd from behind-the hand was cold, that

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER retires with the trgt. grasp'd me

ments. WALLENSTEIN rises, takes a stride ’T was thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there seem'd

across the room, and stands at last before A crimson covering to envelop us.

GORDON in a posture of meditation.

How the old time returns upon me! I
WALLENSTEIN.
That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber.

Behold myself once more at Burgau, where

We two were Pages of the Court together.
COUNTESS (gazing on him),
If it should come to that if I should see thee,

We oftentimes disputed: thy intention
Who standest now before me in the fullness

Was ever good; but thou wert wont to play Of life

The Moralist and Preacher, and wouldst rail at me [She falls on his breast and weeps. That I strove after things too high for me, WALLENSTEIN.

Giving my faith to bold unlawful dreams, The Emperor's proclamation weighs upon thee- And still extol to me the golden mean. Alphabets wound not—and he finds no hands. — Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend COUNTESS.

To thy own self. See, it has made thee early If he should find thein, my resolve is taken

A superannuated man, and (but I bear about me my support and refuge.

That my munificent stars will intervene) [Erit COUNTESS. Would let thee in some miserable corner

Go like an untended lamp.

COUNTESS.

GORDON

SCENE II.
WALLENSTEIN, GORDON.

WALLENSTEIN.
All quiet in the town?

GORDON

The town is quiet.

My Prince!
With light heart the poor fisher moors his boat,
And watches from the shore the lofty ship
Stranded amid the storm.

WALLENSTEIN.
Art thou already

SENI.

WALLENSTEIN.

WALLENSTEIN.

SENI.

In harbor then, old man? Well! I am not.
The unconquer'd spirit drives me o'er life's billows;

Flee ere the day-break!
My planks still firm, my canvas swelling proudly. Trust not thy person to the Swedes!
Hope is my goddess still, and Youth my inmate;
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 pass'd by powerless o'er my unblanch'd hair.
(He moves with long strides across the Saloon, and Trust not thy person to these Swedes.

SENI (with louder voice).
remains on the opposite side over-against
GORDON.

What is it then :
Who now persists in calling Fortune false ?
To me she has proved faithful, with fond love

SENI (still more urgently). 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 Carned 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 hand the net-work of perdition-
Nor in the furrows of my hand. Who dares Yea, even now 'tis being cast around thee!
Interpret then my life for me as 't were

WALLENSTEIN.
One of the undistinguishable many ?
True, in this present moment I appear

Baptista, thou art dreaming -Fear befools thee.
Fallen low indeed; but I shall rise again.
The high flood will soon follow on this ebb; Believe not that an empty fear deludes me.
The fountain of my fortune, which now stops

Come, read it in the planetary aspects ;
Repress'd and bound by some malicious star, Read it thyself, that ruin threatens thee
Will soon in joy play forth from all its pipes. From false friends!

WALLENSTEIN.
GORDON
And yet remember I the good old proverb,

From the falseness of my friends "Let the night come before we praise the day."

Has risen the whole of my unprosperous fortunes. I would be slow from long-continued fortune

The warning should have come before. At present To gather hope : for Hope is the companion

I need no revelation from the stars Given to the unfortunate by pitying Heaven;

To know that.

SENI.
Fear hovers round the head of prosperous men:
For still unsteady are the scales of fate.

Come and see! trist thine own eyes!

A fearful sign stands in the house of life-
WALLENSTEIN (smiling).

An enemy; a fiend lurks close behind
I hear the very Gordon that of old

The radiance of thy planet.-0 be warn'd!
Was wont to preach to me, now once more preaching; Deliver not thyself up to these heathens,
I know well, that all sublunary things

To wage a war against our holy church.
Are still the vassals of vicissitude.
The unpropitious gods demand their tribute.

WALLENSTEIN (laughing gently).

The oracle rails that way! Yes, yes! Now
This long ago the ancient Pagans knew :
And therefore of their own accord they offer'd

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

Did never please thee-lay thyself to sleep, The jealousy of their divinities :

Baptista! Signs like these I do not fear. And human sacrifices bled to Typhon.

GORDON (who during the whole of this dialogue has (After a pruse, serious, and in a more subdued shown marks of extreme agitation, and now turns to

WALLENSTEIN). I too have sacrificed to him-For me

My Duke and General! May I dare presume ? There fell the dearest friend, and through my fault

WALLENSTEIN. He fell! No joy from favorable fortune

Speak freely Can overweigh the anguish of this stroke.

GORDON. The envy of my destiny is glutted :

What if 't were no mere creation Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning

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?

WALLENSTEIN.
SCENE III.

Ye're both feverish!

How can mishap come to me from these Swedes ? To these enter SENI.

They sought this junction with me —'tis their in

terest. Is not that Seni ? and beside himself, If one may trust his looks ? What brings thee hither But what if the arrival of these Swedes

GORDON (with difficulty suppressing his emotion). At 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.

There is yet time, my Prince.
WALLENSTEIN.
What now?

O hear him! hear him!

manner.

WALLENSTEIN.

SENI.

On thy account.

SENI.

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