The Works of Lord Byron Complete in One Volume

We had not felt our poverty, or as
Millions of myriads feel it, cheerfully;
But for these phantoms of thy feudal fathers,
Thou mightst have earn'd thy bread as
thousands earn it;

Or, if that seem too humble, tried by

commerce,

Or other civic means, to amend thy fortunes. Werner (ironically). And been an Hanseatic burgher? Excellent! Josephine. Whate'er thou mightst have been, to me thou art,

What no state, high or low, can ever change, My heart's first choice;-which chose thee, knowing neither

Thy birth, thy hopes, thy pride; nought, save thy sorrows:

While they last, let me comfort or divide them;

When they end, let mine end with them, or thee!

Werner. My better angel! such I have
ever found thee;

This rashness, or this weakness of my temper,
Ne'er raised a thought to injure thee or thine.
Thou didst not mar my fortunes: my own

nature

In youth was such as to unmake an empire,
Had such been my inheritance; but now,
Chasten'd, subdued, out-worn, and taught
to know

Myself, to lose this for our son and thee!
Trust me, when, in my two-and-twentieth
spring

My father barr'd me from my father's house,
The last sole scion of a thousand sires
(For I was then the last), it hurt me less
Than to behold my boy and my boy's mother
Excluded in their innocence from what
My faults deserved exclusion: although then
My passions were all living serpents, and
Twined like the Gorgon's round me.
[A knocking is heard.

As e'er was gilt upon a trader's board;
I have a cousin in the lazaretto
Of Hamburgh, who has got a wife who bore
The same. He is an officer of trust,
Surgeon's assistant (hoping to be surgeon),
And has done miracles i' the way of business.
Perhaps you are related to my relative?
Werner. To yours?

Josephine. Oh, yes; we are, but distantly.
[Aside to Werner.
Cannot you humour the dull gossip till
We learn his purpose?

Idenst. Well, I'm glad of that;
I thought so all along; such natural
yearnings

Play'd round my heart-blood is not water,
cousin ;

And so let's have some wine, and drink unto
Our better acquaintance: relatives should be
Friends.

Werner. You appear to have drank enough
already,

And if you had not, I've no wine to offer,
Else it were yours; but this you know, or
should know:

Josephine. Hark!
Werner. A knocking!
Josephine. Who can it be at this lone What brings you here?
hour? we have

You see I am poor and sick, and will not see
That I would be alone; but to your business!

Few visitors.

Werner. And poverty hath none,

Save those who come to make it poorer still.
Well, I am prepared.

[Werner puts his hand into his bosom
as if to search for some weapon.
Josephine. Oh! do not look so. İ
Will to the door, it cannot be of import
In this lone spot of wintry desolation—
The very desert saves man from mankind.
[She goes to the door.
Enter IDENSTEIN.

Idenst. A fair good evening to my fairer
hostess

And worthy-what's your name, my friend?
W'erner. Are you

Not afraid to demand it?

Idenst. Why, what should bring me here?
Werner. I know not, though I think
that I could guess

That which will send you hence.
Josephine (aside). Patience, dear Werner!
Idenst. You don't know what has happen-
ed, then?

Josephine. How should we?

Idenst. The river has o'erflow'd.
Josephine. Alas! we have known
That to our sorrow, for these five days; since
It keeps us here.

Idenst. But what you don't know is,
That a great personage, who fain would cross
Against the stream, and three postillions'
wishes,

Is drown'd below the ford, with five posthorses.

A monkey, and a mastiff, and a valet.

Josephine. Poor creatures! are you sure?
Idenst. Yes, of the monkey,
And the valet, and the cattle; but as yet
We know not if his Excellency's dead
Or no; your noblemen are hard to drown,
As it is fit that men in office should be;
But, what is certain,is, that he has swallow'd
Enough of the Oder to have burst two
peasants;

And now a Saxon and Hungarian traveller,
Who, at their proper peril, snatch'd him from
The whirling river, have sent on to crave
A lodging, or a grave, according as
It may turn out with the live or dead body.
Josephine. And where will you receive
him? here, I hope,

If we can be of service-say the word. Idenst. Here? no; but in the Prince's own apartment,

As fits a noble guest: 'tis damp, no doubt, Not having been inhabited these twelve years;

But then he comes from a much damper place,
So scarcely will catch cold in't, if he be
Still liable to cold- and if not, why
He'll be worse lodged to-morrow: ne'erthe-
less,

I have order'd fire and all appliances
To be got ready for the worst—that is,
In case he should survive.

Josephine. Poor gentleman!

I hope he will, with all my heart.
Werner. Intendant,

sephine,

Have you not learn'd his name? My Jo[Aside to his wife. Retire, I'll sift this fool. [Exit Josephine. Idenst. His name? oh Lord! Who knows if he hath now a name or no; 'Tis time enough to ask it when he's able To give an answer, or if not, to put His heir's upon his epitaph. Methought Just now you chid me for demanding names? Werner. True, true, I did so; you say well and wisely.

Enter GABOR.

Gabor. If I intrude, I craveIdenst. Oh, no intrusion! This is the palace; this a stranger like Yourself; I pray you make yourself at home: But where's hisExcellency,and how fares he? Gabor. Wetly and wearily, but out of peril ;

He paused to change his garments in a cottage (Where I doff'd mine for these, and came on hither),

And has almost recover'd from his drenching. He will be here anon.

Idenst. What ho, there! bustle! Without there, Herman, Weilburg, Peter, Conrad!

[Gives directions to different ser

vants who enter.

A nobleman sleeps here to night-see that All is in order in the damask-chamber -

Within the palace-precincts, since his Highness

Left it some dozen years ago. And then His Excellency will sup, doubtless? Gabor. Faith!

I cannot tell ; but I should think the pillow Would please him better than the table after His soaking in your river: but for fear Your viands should be thrown away, I mean To sup myself, and have a friend without Who will do honour to your good cheer with A traveller's appetite.

Idenst. But are you sure

His Excellency—but his name, what is it?
Gabor. I do not know.

Idenst. And yet you saved his life.
Gabor. I help'd my friend to do so.
Idenst. Well, that's strange,

To save a man's life whom you do not know. Gabor. Not so; for there are some I know so well

I scarce should give myself the trouble.
Idenst. Pray,

Good friend, and who may you be?
Gabor. By my family,

Hungarian.

Idenst.

Which is call'd?

Gabor. It matters little.

Idenst. (aside) I think that all the world

are grown anonymous,

Since no one cares to tell me what he's call'd! Pray, has his Excellency a large suite? Gabor. Sufficient.

Idenst. How many?

Idenst. (aside) I don't much like this fellow-close and dry

He seems, two things which suit me not; however,

Wine he shall have; if that unlocks him not, I shall not sleep to-night for curiosity. [Erit Idenstein. Gabor (to Werner). This master of the ceremonies is

The intendant of the palace, I presume? 'Tis a fine building, but decay'd.

Werner. The apartment

Design'd for him you rescued will be found In fitter order for a sickly guest.

Gabor. I wonder then you occupied it not, For you seem delicate in health. Werner (quickly). Sir! Gabor. Pray

Excuse me: have I said aught to offend you? Werner. Nothing: but we are strangers to each other.

Gabor. And that's the reason I would have us less so :

I thought our bustling host without had

said

Gabor. Then, as we never met before, and never,

It may be, may again encounter, why,
I thought to cheer up this old dungeon here
(At least to me) by asking you to share
The fare of my companions and myself.
Werner. Pray, pardon me; my health—
Gabor. Even as you please.

I have been a soldier, and perhaps am blunt
In bearing.

Werner. I have also served, and can Requite a soldier's greeting.

Gabor. In what service? The Imperial?

Werner (quickly, and then interrupting himself). I commanded-no—I mean I served; but it is many years ago, When first Bohemia raised her banner'gainst The Austrian.

Gabor. Well, that's over now, and peace Has turn'd some thousand gallant hearts adrift

To live as they best may; and, to say truth, Some take the shortest.

Werner. What is that?

Werner. And I-nothing.

Gabor. That's harder still. You say you were a soldier. Werner. I was.

Gabor. You look one still. All soldiers are Or should be comrades,even though enemies. Our swords when drawn must cross, our engines aim

(While levell'd) at each other's hearts; but when

A truce, a peace, or what you will, remits The steel into its scabbard, and lets sleep The spark which lights the matchlock, we are brethren.

You are poor and sickly — I am not rich but healthy;

I want for nothing which I cannot want;
You seem devoid of this-wilt share it?
[Gabor pulls out his purse.

Werner. Who
Told you I was a beggar?

Gabor. You yourself,

In saying you were a soldier during peacetime.

Werner (looking at him with suspicion). You know me not?

Gabor. I know no man, not even Myself: how should I then know one I ne'er Beheld till half an hour since?

Werner. Sir, I thank you.

Your offer 's noble were it to a friend,
And not unkind as to an unknown stranger,
Though scarcely prudent; but no less I
thank you.

I am a beggar in all save his trade,
And when I beg of any one it shall be
Of him who was the first to offer what
Few can obtain by asking. Pardon me.
[Exit Werner.

Gabor (solus). A goodly fellow by his looks, though worn,

As most good fellows are,by pain or pleasure, Which tear life out of us before our time: I scarce know which most quickly; but

Idenst. Fair!-Well, I trust your taste in | Some days ago that look'd the likeliest

wine is equal

journey

To that you shew for beauty;but I pledge you For Werner.
Nevertheless.

Gabor. Is not the lovely woman

I met in the adjacent hall, who, with
An air, and port, and eye, which would
have better

Beseem'd this palace in its brightest days
(Though in a garb adapted to its present
Abandonment), return'd my salutation—
Is not the same your spouse?

Idenst. I would she were!
But you're mistaken- that's the stranger's
wife.

Gabor. And by her aspect she might be a prince's: Though time hath touch'd her too, she still retains

Much beauty, and more majesty.

Idenst. And that

Is more than I can say for Madame Idenstein,
At least in beauty: as for majesty,
She has some of its properties which might
Be spared- but never mind!

Gabor. I don't. But who
May be this stranger. He too hath a bearing
Above his outward fortunes.

Idenst. There I differ.

He's poor as Job, and not so patient; but
Who he may be, or what, or aught of him,
Except his name (and that I only learn'd
To-night), I know not.

Gabor. But how came he here?

Idenst. In a most miserable old caleche,
About a month since, and immediately
Fell sick, almost to death. He should have
died.

Gabor. Tender and true!—but why?
Idenst. Why, what is life
Without a living? He has not a stiver.
Gabor. In that case, I much wonder that
a person

Of your apparent prudence should admit
Guests so forlorn into this noble mansion.
Idenst. That's true; but pity, as you
know, does make

One's heart commit these follies; and besides,
They had some valuables left at that time,
Which paid their way up to the present
hour,

And so I thought they might as well be
lodged

Here as at the small tavern, and I gave
them

The run of some of the oldest palace-rooms.
They served to air them, at the least as long
As they could pay for fire-wood.

Gabor. Poor souls!
Idenst. Ay,
Exceeding poor.

Gabor. And yet unused to poverty,
If I mistake not. Whither were they going?
Idenst. O! Heaven knows where, unless
to Heaven itself.

Gabor. Werner! I have heard the name, But it may be a feign'd one.

Idenst. Like enough!

But hark! a noise of wheels and voices, and
A blaze of torches from without. As sure
As destiny, his Excellency 's come.
I must be at my post: will you not join me,
To help him from his carriage, and present
Your humble duty at the door?
Gabor. I dragg'd him

From out that carriage when he would
have given

His barony or county to repel
The rushing river from his gurgling throat.
He has valets now enough: they stood aloof

then

Shaking their dripping ears upon the shore,
All roaring, Help!" but offering none;

and as

For duty (as you call it) I did mine then, Now do yours. Hence, and bow and cringe him here!

Idenst. I cringe!—but I shall lose the opportunity

Plague take it! he'll be here, and I not there! [Exit Idenstein, hastily. Re-enter WERNER.

Werner (to himself). I heard a noise of wheels and voices. How

All sounds now jar me!

(Perceiving Gabor) Still here! Is he not
A spy of my pursuer's? His frank offer,
So suddenly, and to a stranger, wore
The aspect of a secret enemy;
For friends are slow at such.

Gabor. You seem rapt,

And yet the time is not akin to thought.
These old walls will be noisy soon.

Baron,

The

Or Count (or whatsoe'er this half-drown'd
noble

May be), for whom this desolate village, and
Its lone inhabitants, show more respect
Than did the elements, is come.

Idenst. (without) This way-
This way, your Excellency : — have a care,
The staircase is a little gloomy, and
Somewhat decay'd; but if we had expected
So high a guest-pray take my arm,my lord !
Enter STRALENheim, IdensteIN, and Attend-
ants, partly his own, and partly retainers
of the domain, of which IDENSTEIN is
Intendant.

Stralenh. I'll rest me here a moment.
Idenst. (to the servants) Ho! a chair!
Instantly, knaves!

[Stralenheim sits down.
Werner (aside). 'Tis he!
Stralenh. I'm better now.
Who are these strangers?

Idenst. Please you, my good lord, One says he is no stranger. Werner (aloud and hastily). Who says that? [They look at him with surprise. Idenst. Why, no one spoke of you, or to you!-but

Here's one his Excellency may be pleased To recognise. [Pointing to Gabor.

Gabor. I seek not to disturb

His noble memory.

Stralenh. I apprehend

This is one of the strangers to whose aid I owe my rescue. Is not that the other? [Pointing to W ́erner. My state, when I was succour'd, must excuse My uncertainty to whom I owe so much. Idenst. He!-no, my Lord! he rather wants for rescue

Than can afford it. 'Tis a poor sick man, Travel-tired, and lately risen from a bed From whence he never dream'd to rise. Stralenh. Methought

That there were two.

Gabor. There were, in company; But, in the service render'd to your lordship, I needs must say but one, and he is absent. The chief part of whatever aid was render'd, Was his: it was his fortune to be first. My will was not inferior, but his strength And youth outstripp'd me; therefore do

not waste

Your thanks on me. I was but a glad second Unto a nobler principal.

Stralenh. Where is he?

Would pass him by unknown. I must be wary; An error would spoil all.

Idenst. Your Lordship seems Pensive. Will it not please you to pass on? Stralenh. 'Tis past fatigue which gives my weigh'd-down spirit

An outward show of thought. I will to rest. Idenst. The Prince's chamber is prepared, with all

The very furniture the Prince used when Last here, in its full splendour.

(Aside). Somewhat tatter'd, And devilish damp, but fine enough by torchlight;

And that's enough for your right noble blood Of twenty quarterings upon a hatchment; So let their bearer sleep 'neath something like one

Now, as he one day will for ever lie.

Stralenh (rising, and turning to Gabor) Good night, good people! Sir, I trust to

you say

His Lordship, or his Excellency? Pray, My Lord, excuse this poor man's want of breeding:

An Attendant. My Lord, he tarried in He hath not been accustom'd to admission

the cottage, where

Your Excellency rested for an hour,

And said he would be here to-morrow.

To such a presence.

Stralenh. (to Idenst.) Peace, intendant! Idenst. Oh!

I am dumb.

Stralenh. (to Werner) Have you been long here? Werner. Long? Stralenh. I sought An answer, not an echo.

Werner. You may seek

Both from the walls. I am not used to answer Those whom I know not.

Stralenh. Indeed! ne'er the less You might reply with courtesy, to what Is ask'd in kindness.

Werner. When I know it such,

I will requite— that is, reply--in unison.
Stralenh. The intendant said, you had
been detain'd by sickness—
If I could aid you-journeying the same way?
Werner (quickly). I am not journeying
the same way.
Stralenh. How know ye
That, ere you know my route?
Werner. Because there is

But one way that the rich and poor must tread Together. You diverged from that dread path

Some hours ago, and I some days; henceforth

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