The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy

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Фридрих Шиллер

Год написания книги

2017

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DON CAESAR

The yawning grave
Amid the haunts of life? No goodly sign
Was this: the rites fulfilled, why lingered yet
The trappings of the funeral show?

BOHEMUND

Your strife
With fresh embittered hate o'er all Messina
Woke discord's maddening flames, and from the deed
Our cares withdrew – so resolute remained,
And closed the sanctuary.

DON CAESAR

Make no delay;
This very night fulfil your task, for well
Beseems the midnight gloom! To-morrow's sun
Shall find this palace cleansed of every stain,
And light a happier race.

[Exit the Second Chorus, with the body of DON MANUEL.

CAJETAN

Shall I invite
The brotherhood of monks, with rights ordained
By holy church of old, to celebrate
The office of departed souls, and hymn
The buried one to everlasting rest?

DON CAESAR

Their strains above my tomb shall sound for ever
Amid the torches' blaze – no solemn rites
Beseem the day when gory murder scares
Heaven's pardoning grace.

CAJETAN

Oh, let not wild despair
Tempt thee to impious, rash resolve. My prince
No mortal arm shall e'er avenge this deed;
And penance calms, with soft, atoning power,
The wrath on high.

DON CAESAR

If for eternal justice
Earth has no minister, myself shall wield
The avenging sword; though heaven, with gracious ear,
Inclines to sinners' prayers, with blood alone
Atoned is murder's guilt.

CAJETAN

To stem the tide
Of dire misfortune, that with maddening rage
Bursts o'er your house, were nobler than to pile
Accumulated woe.

DON CAESAR

The curse of old
Shall die with me! Death self-imposed alone
Can break the chain of fate.

CAJETAN

Thou owest thyself
A sovereign to this orphaned land, by thee
Robbed of its other lord!

DON CAESAR

The avenging gods
Demand their prey – some other deity
May guard the living!

CAJETAN

Wide as e'er the sun
In glory beams, the realm of hope extends;
But – oh remember! nothing may we gain
From Death!

DON CAESAR

Remember thou thy vassal's duty;
Remember and be silent! Leave to me
To follow, as I list, the spirit of power
That leads me to the goal. No happy one
May look into my breast: but if thy prince
Owns not a subject's homage, dread at least
The murderer! – the accursed! – and to the head
Of the unhappy – sacred to the gods —
Give honors due. The pangs that rend my soul —