Alh. My husband— Ord. Yes, I murder'd him most foully. Alv. and Ter. O horrible! Alh. Why didst thou leave his children? Demon, thou shouldst have sent thy dogs of hell I would have stood far off, quiet though dark, Too great to be one soul's particular lot! [Struggling to suppress her feelings. The time is not yet come for woman's anguish. Where is our father? I shall curse thee then! Wert thou in heaven, my curse would pluck thee thence! Ter. He doth repent! See, see, I kneel to thee! O let him live! That aged man, his fatherAlh. (sternly). Why had he such a son? [Shouts from the distance of Rescue! Rescue! Alvar! Alvar! and the voice of Valdez heard. Alh. Rescue ?-and Isidore's Spirit unavenged? The deed be mine! [Suddenly stabs Ordonio. Now take my life! Ord (staggering from the wound). Atonement! Alv. (while with Teresa supporting Ordonio). Arm of avenging Heaven, Thou hast snatch'd from me my most cherish'd hope. But go! my word was pledged to thee. Ord. Brave not my father's rage! Away! thank thee! Thou [Then turning his eyes languidly to Alvar. She hath avenged the blood of Isidore! I stood in silence like a slave before her, With bitterer agonies than death can give. Forgive me, Alvar! Oh! couldst thou forget me! Dies. [Alvar and Teresa bend over the body of Ordonio. Alh. (to the Moors). I thank thee, Heaven! thou hast ordain'd it wisely, That still extremes bring their own cure. That point Lord of the Oppressor's-Knew I a hundred men This arm should shake the Kingdoms of the World; Should sink away, earth groaning from beneath them; The strong-holds of the cruel men should fall, Their Temples and their mountainous Towers should fall; Till Desolation seem'd a beautiful thing. And all that were, and had the Spirit of Life, Alhadra hurries off with the Moors; the stage fills arms. Alv. Turn not thy face that way, my father! hide, Oh hide it from his eye! Oh let thy joy Flow in unmingled stream through thy first blessing. [Both kneel to Valdez. Val. My Son! My Alvar! bless, Oh bless him, Heaven! Ter. Me too, my father? Val. Bless, Oh bless my children! Alv. Delights so full, if unalloy'd with grief, THE PICCOLOMINI; OR THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. A Drama. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. PREFACE OF THE TRANSLATOR. T was my intention to have prefixed a Life of Wallenstein to this translation; but I found that it must either have occupied a space wholly disproportionate to the nature of the publication, or have been merely a meagre catalogue of events narrated not more fully than they already are in the Play itself. The recent translation, likewise, of Schiller's "History of the Thirty Years' War" diminished the motives thereto. In the translation I endeavoured to render my Author literally wherever I was not prevented by absolute differences of idiom; but I am conscious, that in two or three short passages I have been guilty of dilating the original; and, from anxiety to give the full meaning, have weakened the force. In the metre I have availed myself of no other liberties than those which Schiller had permitted to himself, except the occasional breaking-up of the line by the substitution of a trochee for an iambic; of which liberty, so frequent in our tragedies, I find no instance in these dramas. S. T. COLERIDGE. |