BETH. Safe? Safe? O let me then inherit danger, And it shall be my birth-right! SAROL. (aside.) That look again !— The wood which first incloses, and then skirts The highest track that leads across the mountains Thou know'st it, Bethlen? BETH. Lady, 'twas my wont To roam there in my childhood oft alone And mutter to myself the name of father. For still Bathory (why, till now I guess'd not) Gaz'd upward. Yet of late an idle terror GLY. Madam, that wood is haunted by the warwolves, Vampires, and monstrous— SAROL. (with a smile.) Moon-calves, credulous girl! Haply some o'ergrown savage of the forest Hath his lair there, and fear hath framed the rest. [Then speaking again to Bethlen. After that last great battle, (0 young man! Thou wakest anew my life's sole anguish) that Led by a cry, far inward from the track, In the hollow of an oak, as in a nest, Did find thee, Bethlen, then an helpless babe. Scarce by both palms supported from the earth, A wounded lady lay, whose life fast waning Seemed to survive itself in her fixt eyes, That strained towards the babe. At length one arm Painfully from her own weight disengaging, She pointed first to heaven, then from her bosom Drew forth a golden casket. Thus entreated Thy foster-father took thee in his arms, And kneeling spake: If aught of this world's comfort Can reach thy heart, receive a poor man's troth, That at my life's risk I will save thy child! Her countenance work'd, as one that seem'd preparing A loud voice, but it died upon her lips In a faint whisper, "Fly! Save him! Hide-hide all !” BETH. And did he leave her? What had I a mother? And left her bleeding, dying? Bought I vile life With the desertion of a dying mother? Oh agony! GLY. Alas! thou art bewildered, And dost forget thou wer't an helpless infant! BETH. What else can I remember, but a mother Mangled and left to perish? SAROL' Hush, Glycine! It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct: And it will find a mirror in the waters, It now makes boil above it. Check him not! BETH. O that I were diffused among the waters That pierce into the secret depths of earth, And find their way in darkness! Would that I She can not die! O pardon, gracious lady! SAROL. Deep Love, the Godlike in us, still believes Its objects as immortal as itself! BETH. And found her still SAROL, Alas! he did return, He left no spot unsearch'd in all the forest. But she (I trust me by some friendly hand) Had been borne off. ВЕТН. GLY. O whither? Dearest Bethlen! I would that you could weep like me! O do not SAROL. (continuing the story) While he was absent A friendly troop, 'tis certain, scoured the wood, Hotly pursued indeed by Emerick. This gracious lady must hear blessings only. She hath not yet the glory round her head, Nor those strong eagle wings, which made swift way To that appointed place, which I must seek: Or else she were my mother! SAROL. Noble youth! From me fear nothing! Long time have I owed Long passed that weigh me down, tho' innocent! Thy foster-father hid the secret from thee, For he perceived thy thoughts, as they expanded, Travel will ripen thee, and enterprize Beseems thy years! Be thou henceforth my soldier! ། And whatsoe'er betide thee, still believe That in each noble deed, achieved or suffered, Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth! And may the light that streams from thine own honour Guide thee to that, thou seekest! GLY. Must he leave us? BETH. And for such goodness can I return nothing, But some hot tears that sting mine eyes? Some sighs That if not breath'd would swell my heart to stifling? May heaven and thine own virtues, high-born lady, Be as a shield of fire, far, far aloof To scare all evil from thee! Yet, if fate Hath destined thee one doubtful hour of danger, |