Part 13 (1/2)

_Ad._ That hour of peace has come to me.

Believe it, father, save that I leave thee Crushed with thy sorrow here below.

_Des._ O front Serene and bold! O fearless hand! O eyes That once struck terror!

_Ad._ Cease thy lamentations, Cease, father, in G.o.d's name! For was not this The time to die? But thou that shalt live captive, And hast lived all thy days a king, oh listen: Life's a great secret that is not revealed Save in the latest hour. Thou'st lost a kingdom; Nay, do not weep! Trust me, when to this hour Thou also shalt draw nigh, most jubilant And fair shall pa.s.s before thy thought the years In which thou wast not king--the years in which No tears shall be recorded in the skies Against thee, and thy name shall not ascend Mixed with the curses of the unhappy. Oh, Rejoice that thou art king no longer! that All ways are closed against thee! There is none For innocent action, and there but remains To do wrong or to suffer wrong. A power Fierce, pitiless, grasps the world, and calls itself The right. The ruthless hands of our forefathers Did sow injustice, and our fathers then Did water it with blood; and now the earth No other harvest bears. It is not meet To uphold crime, thou'st proved it, and if 't were, Must it not end thus? Nay, this happy man Whose throne my dying renders more secure, Whom all men smile on and applaud, and serve, He is a man and he shall die.

_Des._ But I That lose my son, what shall console me?

_Ad._ G.o.d!

Who comforts us for all things. And oh, thou Proud foe of mine! _(Turning to Carlo.)_

_Carlo._ Nay, by this name, Adelchi, Call me no more; I was so, but toward death Hatred is impious and villainous. Nor such, Believe me, knows the heart of Carlo.

_Ad._ Friendly My speech shall be, then, very meek and free Of every bitter memory to both.

For this I pray thee, and my dying hand I lay in thine! I do not ask that thou Should'st let go free so great a captive--no, For I well see that my prayer were in vain And vain the prayer of any mortal. Firm Thy heart is--must be--nor so far extends Thy pity. That which thou can'st not deny Without being cruel, that I ask thee! Mild As it can be, and free of insult, be This old man's bondage, even such as thou Would'st have implored for thy father, if the heavens Had destined thee the sorrow of leaving him In others' power. His venerable head Keep thou from every outrage; for against The fallen many are brave; and let him not Endure the cruel sight of any of those His va.s.sals that betrayed him.

_Carlo._ Take in death This glad a.s.surance, Adelchi! and be Heaven My testimony, that thy prayer is as The word of Carlo!

_Ad._ And thy enemy, In dying, prays for thee!

_Enter_ ARVINO.

_Armno._ (_Impatiently_) O mighty king, thy warriors and chiefs Ask entrance.

_Ad._ (_Appealingly_.) Carlo!

_Carlo._ Let not any dare To draw anigh this tent; for here Adelchi Is sovereign; and no one but Adelchi's father And the meek minister of divine forgiveness Have access here.

_Des._ O my beloved son!

_Ad._ O my father, The light forsakes these eyes.

_Des._ Adelchi,--No!

Thou shalt not leave me!

_Ad._ O King of kings! betrayed By one of Thine, by all the rest abandoned: I come to seek Thy peace, and do Thou take My weary soul!

_Des._ He heareth thee, my son, And thou art gone, and I in servitude Remain to weep.

I wish to give another pa.s.sage from this tragedy: the speech which the emissary of the Church makes to Carlo when he reaches his presence after his arduous pa.s.sage of the Alps. I suppose that all will note the beauty and reality of the description in the story this messenger tells of his adventures; and I feel, for my part, a profound effect of wildness and loneliness in the verse, which has almost the solemn light and balsamy perfume of those mountain solitudes:

From the camp, Unseen, I issued, and retraced the steps But lately taken. Thence upon the right I turned toward Aquilone. Abandoning The beaten paths, I found myself within A dark and narrow valley; but it grew Wider before my eyes as further on I kept my way. Here, now and then, I saw The wandering flocks, and huts of shepherds. 'T was The furthermost abode of men. I entered One of the huts, craved shelter, and upon The woolly fleece I slept the night away.

Rising at dawn, of my good shepherd host I asked my way to France. ”Beyond those heights Are other heights,” he said, ”and others yet; And France is far and far away; but path There's none, and thousands are those mountains-- Steep, naked, dreadful, uninhabited Unless by ghosts, and never mortal man Pa.s.sed over them.” ”The ways of G.o.d are many, Far more than those of mortals,” I replied, ”And G.o.d sends me.” ”And G.o.d guide you!” he said.

Then, from among the loaves he kept in store, He gathered up as many as a pilgrim May carry, and in a coa.r.s.e sack wrapping them, He laid them on my shoulders. Recompense I prayed from Heaven for him, and took my way.

Beaching the valley's top, a peak arose, And, putting faith in G.o.d, I climbed it. Here No trace of man appeared, only the forests Of untouched pines, rivers unknown, and vales Without a path. All hushed, and nothing else But my own steps I heard, and now and then The rus.h.i.+ng of the torrents, and the sudden Scream of the hawk, or else the eagle, launched From his high nest, and hurtling through the dawn, Pa.s.sed close above my head; or then at noon, Struck by the sun, the crackling of the cones Of the wild pines. And so three days I walked, And under the great trees, and in the clefts, Three nights I rested. The sun was my guide; I rose with him, and him upon his journey I followed till he set. Uncertain still, Of my own way I went; from vale to vale Crossing forever; or, if it chanced at times I saw the accessible slope of some great height Rising before me, and attained its crest, Yet loftier summits still, before, around, Towered over me; and other heights with snow From foot to summit whitening, that did seem Like steep, sharp tents fixed in the soil; and others Appeared like iron, and arose in guise Of walls insuperable. The third day fell What time I had a mighty mountain seen That raised its top above the others; 't was All one green slope, and all its top was crowned With trees. And thither eagerly I turned My weary steps. It was the eastern side, Sire, of this very mountain on which lies Thy camp that faces toward the setting sun.