CAPTAIN (after a pause). This morning We buried him. Twelve youths of noblest birth Did bear him to interment; the whole army 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. Nor tears were wanting; for there are among us Many, who had themselves experienced The greatness of his mind, and gentle manners; All were affected at his fate. The Rhinegrave Would willingly have saved him; but himself Made vain the attempt 't is said he wish'd to die. NEUBRUNN (to THEKLA, who has hidden her coun tenance). Look up, my dearest lady THEKLA. Where is his grave? CAPTAIN. SCENE V. THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN. THEKLA (falls on LADY NEUBRUNN's neck). Now, gentle Neubrunn, show me the affection Which thou hast ever promised-prove thyself My own true friend and faithful fellow-pilgrim. This night we must away! NEUBRUNN. That time is past NEUBRUNN. Your father's rage THEKLA. And now I fear no human being's rage. NEUBRUNN. The sentence of the world! The tongue of calumny! THEKLA. Whom am I seeking? Him who is no more. Am I then hastening to the arms-O God! I haste but to the grave of the beloved. NEUBRUNN. And we alone, two helpless feeble women? THEKLA. We will take weapons: my arm shall protect thee. NEUBRUNN. In the dark night-time? THEKLA. Darkness will conceal us. NEUBRUNN. Is their commander? CAPTAIN. Colonel Seckendorf. This rough tempestuous night THEKLA. Had be a soft bed [THEKLA steps to the table, and takes a ring from Under the hoofs of his war-horses? SCENE VI. THEKLA. His spirit 'tis that calls me: 'tis the troop Of his true followers, who offer'd up Themselves to avenge his death: and they accuse me Forsake their leader even in his death-they died for And shall I live?— For me too was that laurel-garland twined ACT V. SCENE I. SCENE-A Saloon, terminated by a Gallery which extends far into the back-ground. WALLENSTEIN (sitting at a table). THE SWEDISH CAPTAIN (standing before him). WALLENSTEIN. Commend me to your lord. I sympathize In his good fortune; and if you have seen me For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell, And for your trouble take my thanks. To-morrow [The SWEDISH CAPTAIN retires. WALLENSTEIN sits WALLENSTEIN. Comest thou from her? Is she restored? How is she? COUNTESS. My sister tells me, she was more collected WALLENSTEIN. She will shed tears. The pang will soften. COUNTESS. I find thee alter'd too, My brother! After such a victory To a deep quiet, such as he has found, WALLENSTEIN. Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's husband? The soliloquy of Thekla consists in the original of six-andtwenty lines, twenty of which are in rhymes of irregular recurrence. I thought it prudent to abridge it. Indeed the whole scene between Thekla and Lady Neubrunn might, perhaps, have been omitted without injury to the play. COUNTESS. At a banquet-he and Illo. WALLENSTEIN (rises and strides across the saloon). The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber. COUNTESS. Bid me not go, O let me stay with thee! WALLENSTEIN (moves to the window). There is a busy motion in the Heaven, The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower, Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle of the moon, Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light. No form of star is visible! That one COUNTESS. Thou speakest Of Piccolomini. What was his death? The courier had just left thee as I came. Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view, WALLENSTEIN. White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder, This anguish will be wearied down,* I know; Is from Cassiopeia, and therein Is Jupiter. (A pause). But now The blackness of the troubled element hides him! [He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks vacantly into the distance. COUNTESS (looks on him mournfully, then grasps his hand). What pang is permanent with man? From the highest COUNTESS. O be not treacherous to thy own power. WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the door). Who interrupts us now at this late hour? COUNTESS. O'tis so hard to me this night to leave theeA boding fear possesses me! WALLENSTEIN. Fear? Wherefore? COUNTESS. WALLENSTEIN. He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finish'd! No more submitted to the change and chance With him! but who knows what the coming hour •These four lines are expressed in the original with exquisite felicity. Am Himmel ist geschæftige Bewegung, Des Thurmes Fahne jagt der Wind, schnell geht Der Wolken Zug, die Mondes-Sichel wankt, Und durch die Nacht zuckt ungewisse Helle. The word "moon-sickle," reminds me of a passage in Harris, as quoted by Johnson, under the word "falcated." "The enlightened part of the moon appears in the form of a sickle or reaping-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." The words wanken" and "schweben" are not easily translated. The English 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 Masses of the Clouds sweep onward in swift stream. Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking Never more find thee! WALLENSTEIN. Fancies! COUNTESS. O my soul Has long been weigh'd down by these dark forebodings. WALLENSTEIN. This was a dream of favorable omen, COUNTESS. To-day I dreamt that I was seeking thee * A very inadequate translation of the original. Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich, Denn was verschmerzte nicht der Mensch! LITERALLY. I shall grieve down this blow, of that I'm conscious: What does not man grieve down? And where it is thy will that thou shouldst be WALLENSTEIN. Thy soul is busy with these thoughts. COUNTESS. What! dost thou not believe that oft in dreams WALLENSTEIN. There is no doubt that there exist such voices. Voices of warning that announce to us Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image COUNTESS. And to thee The voice within thy soul bodes nothing? WALLENSTEIN. Be wholly tranquil. COUNTESS. And another time WALLENSTEIN. I hear a boisterous music! and the Castle GORDON. There is a banquet given at the Castle WALLENSTEIN. In honor of the victory-This tribe [WALLENSTEIN takes the keys from GORDON For all must cheat me, or a face like this [Firing his eye on GORDON. Was ne'er a hypocrite's mask. [The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER takes off his mantle, collar, and scarf. WALLENSTEIN. Take care-what is that? GROOM OF THE CHAMBER. The golden chain is snapped in two. WALLENSTEIN. Well, it has lasted long enough. Here-give it. Nothing. From superstition, if you will. Belike, I hasten'd after thee, and thou rann'st from me Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall, Grasp'd from behind-the hand was cold, that "Twas thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there seem'd A crimson covering to envelop us. WALLENSTEIN. That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber. If it should come to that-if I should see thee, And while I wore it on my neck in faith, Of this charm is dissolved. GROOM OF THE CHAMBER retires with the vest- How the old time returns upon me! I Was ever good; but thou wert wont to play [She falls on his breast and weeps. That I strove after things too high for me, In harbor then, old man? Well! I am not. Who now persists in calling Fortune false? Nor in the furrows of my hand. Who dares GORDON. And yet remember I the good old proverb, WALLENSTEIN (smiling). I hear the very Gordon that of old Come and see! trust thine own eyes' Was wont to preach to me, now once more preaching; Deliver not thyself up to these heathens, I know well, that all sublunary things Are still the vassals of vicissitude. The unpropitious gods demand their tribute. And therefore of their own accord they offer'd The jealousy of their divinities: And human sacrifices bled to Typhon. [After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued manner. I too have sacrificed to him-For me There fell the dearest friend, and through my fault Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning Was drawn off which would else have shatter'd me SCENE III. To these enter SENI. WALLENSTEIN. is not that Seni? and beside himself, To wage a war against our holy church. WALLENSTEIN (laughing gently). The oracle rails that way! Yes, yes! Now I recollect. This junction with the Swedes Did never please thee-lay thyself to sleep, Baptista! Signs like these I do not fear. GORDON (who during the whole of this dialogue has shown marks of extreme agitation, and now turns to WALIENSTEIN). My Duke and General! May I dare presume? Speak freely. WALLENSTEIN. GORDON. What if 't were no mere creation Of fear, if God's high providence vouchsafed To interpose its aid for your deliverance, And made that mouth its organ? WALLENSTEIN. Ye're both feverish! How can mishap come to me from these Swedes? They sought this junction with me-'tis their in terest. GORDON (with difficulty suppressing his emotion). If one may trust his looks? What brings thee hither But what if the arrival of these Swedes- On thy account. |