M43b 
 
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I 
 

 BERTRAM: 
 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CASTLE OF ST. ALDOBRANI). 
 
 A TRAGEDY, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 
 BY THE REV R. C. MATURIN, 
 
 Author of Fatal Revenge, Wild Irish Boy, Milesian Chief, &c. &c. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THOMAS II. PALMER. 
 
 1822. 
 
 
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BERTRAM; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CASTLE OF ST. ALDOBRAND. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 scene i— night , a gallery in a convent , a large goth- 
 ic window in the extremity , through which light¬ 
 ning is seen flashing—two monks enter in terror . 
 
 1 st Monk. Heaven for its mercy !—what a night 
 is here— 
 
 Oh ! didst thou hear that peal? 
 
 2 d Monk. The dead must hear it. 
 
 (a p.ause, thunder ) 
 
 Speak, speak, and let me hear a human voice! 
 
 Monk. While the dark terror hurtled distantly, 
 Lapt in the skirts of the advancing clouds, 
 
 I cower’d with head full low upon my pallet, 
 
 And deem’d that i might sleep ; till the strong light 
 clear as noon day, show each object round me. 
 Relic, and rosary, and crucifix, 
 
 Did rock and quiver in the bickering glare— 
 
 Then forth I rush’d in agony of fear. 
 
 2 d Monk. Among the tombed tenants of the clois- 
 I walked and told my beads. [ter 
 
 But, by the momently gleams of sheeted blue, 
 
 Did the pale marbles glare so sternly on me, 
 
 I almost deem’d they lived, and fled in horror. 
 
 1st Monk. There is much comfort in a holy man 
 In such an hour as this. ( knocking at a door) 
 
 Ho, wake thee, prior ! » 
 
 a 2 
 
6 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 2 d Monk. Oh ! come forth, holy prior, and pray for 
 us. 
 
 enter the prior. 
 
 Prior . All peace be with you ! ’tis a fearful hour. 
 Is? Monk Hath memory a parallel to this ? 
 
 2 d Monk. How hast thou fared in this most awful 
 lime ? 
 
 Prior. As one whom fear did not make pitiless : 
 
 I bowed me at the cross for those whose heads 
 Are naked to the visiting blasts of Heaven, 
 
 In this its hour of wrath— 
 
 For the lone traveller on the hill of storms ; 
 
 For the toss’d shipman on the perilous deep ; 
 
 Till the last peal that thundered o’er mine head 
 Did force a cry of—mercy for myself. 
 
 “ 1st Monk. (eagerly ) Think’st thou these rock- 
 based turrets will abide ? 
 
 u 2d Monk. Think’st thou they will not topple o’er 
 our heads ? 
 
 11 Prior. The hand of Him who rules the storm is 
 o’er us.” 
 
 Is? Monk. Oh, holy prior, this is no earthly storm. 
 The strife of fiends is on the battling clouds, 
 
 The glare of hell is in these sulphurous lightnings,— 
 This is no earthly storm. 
 
 Prior. Peace, peace, thou rash and unadvised 
 man ; 
 
 Oh, add not to this night of nature’s horrors 
 The darker shadowing of thy wicked fears. 
 
 The hand of Heaven, not man, is dealing with us, 
 And thoughts like thine do make it deal thus sternly 
 
 enter a monk fiale and breathless. 
 
 Prior. Speak, thou hast something seen. 
 
 2d Monk. A fearful sight. 
 
 Prior. What hast thou seen ? 
 
 3d Monk. A piteous, fearful sight— 
 
 A noble vessel labouring with the storm 
 Hath struck upon the rocks beneath our walls, 
 
 And, by the quivering gleams of livid blue, 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 7 
 
 Act I] 
 
 Her deck is crowded with despairing souls, 
 
 And in the hollow pauses of the storm 
 We heard their perishing cries — 
 
 Prior. Now haste ye forth, 
 
 Haste all. 
 
 3 d Monk. It cannot be, it is too late ; 
 
 For many a fathom doth the beetling rock 
 
 Rise o’er the breaker’s surge that dashes o’er them ; 
 
 No help of human hand can reach them there; 
 
 One hour will hush their cries, and by the morn 
 Thou wilt behold the ruin—wreck and corse. 
 
 Float on the weltering wave. 
 
 Prior. Almighty power, 
 
 Can nought be done ? all things are possible— 
 
 Wave high your torches on each crag and cliff-— 
 
 Let many lights blaze on our battlements— 
 
 Shout to them in the pauses of the storm, 
 
 And tell them there is hope— 
 
 And let our deep-toned bell its loudest peal 
 Send cheerly o’er the deep— 
 
 ’Twill be a comfort to the wretched souls 
 In their extremity—all things are possible ; 
 
 Fresh hope may give them strength, and strength 
 deliverance— 
 
 I’ll hie me forth with you. 
 
 3 d. Monk. Wilt thou go forth ?— 
 
 Hardly the vigorous step of daring youth 
 
 May hold its footing on those wave-washed crags: 
 
 And how wilt thou abide ? 
 
 1st Monk. ’Tis tempting Heaven.— 
 
 Prior. To succour man, not tempt my God, I go ; 
 He will protect his servant. [exeunt 
 
8 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 sccne ii— the rocks—the sea—a storm—the con¬ 
 vent illuminated in the back ground—the bell tolls 
 at intervals—a group of monks on the rocks with 
 torches—“a vessel in distress in the offing” 
 
 enter the prior and monks below. 
 
 Prior. ( clasping his hands') Holy St. Anselm I 
 what a sight is here ! 
 
 Is* Monk. Pray for their souls—their earthly part 
 is doomed. 
 
 Prior. Oh, that a prayer could hush the element ! 
 Hold, I do espy a hope, a blessed hope— 
 
 That wave hath heaved her from the rock she struck 
 Lo, every arm on board is plied for safety— [on. 
 Now, all the saints to speed. 
 
 Monk. No saint doth hear. 
 
 Lo, the recoiling surge drives fiercely o’er her— 
 
 In, holy prior, or ere their drowning shriek 
 Do rive the sense ; in, in, and tell thy beads. 
 
 Prior. I will not in, while to that hopeless wreck 
 One arm doth cling ; while o’er the roaring waste 
 One voice be raised for help, I will not hence. 
 
 (Monks above ) 
 
 She sinks, she sinks—oh, hour of wo and horror ! 
 
 (“ the vessel sinks.”—the prior falls into the arms 
 of the monks—the scene shuts) 
 
 scene in —the gallery. 
 
 enter the first monk and the prior. 
 
 1st Monk. Now rest you, holy prior, you are much 
 moved— 
 
 Prior. ( not heeding him) All, all did perish 
 
 1st Monk. Change those drenched weeds- 
 
 Prior. I wist not of them—every soul did perish— 
 
Act. I] 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 9 
 
 enter third monk hastily. 
 
 3d Monk. No, there was one did battle with the 
 storm, 
 
 With careless, desperate force ; full many times 
 His life was won and lost, as though he recked not— 
 No hand did aid him, and he aided none— 
 
 Alone he breasted the broad wave, alone 
 
 That man was saved- 
 
 Prior. Where is he ? lead him hither. 
 
 (the stranger is led in by monks ) 
 
 liaise to St. Anselm, thou redeemed soul, 
 
 Raise high thy living voice in prayer and praise ; 
 
 For wondrous hath his mercy been to thee- 
 
 2 d Monk. He hath not spoken yet— 
 
 Stranger. Who are those round me ? 
 
 Where am I ? 
 
 Prior. On the shore of Sicily— 
 
 The convent of St. Anselm this is called— 
 
 Near is the castle of lord Aldobrand, 
 
 A name far known, if, as thy speech imports, 
 Thou’rt of Italian birth- — 
 
 (,At the name of Aldobrand , the stranger makes an 
 effort to break from the monks , but falls through 
 weakness ) 
 
 Tell us thy name, “ sad man-” 
 
 Stranger. A man of wo—— 
 
 Prior. What is thy wo, that Christian love may 
 heal it ? 
 
 Hast thou upon the pitiless waters lost 
 Brother, or sire, or son ? did she thou lovest 
 Sink in thy straining sight ? 
 
 Or have the hoardings of thy worldly thrift 
 Been lost with youder wreck ? 
 
 (to these questions the stranger gives signs of dissent ) 
 Why dost thou then despond ? 
 
 Stranger. Because I live- 
 
 Prior. Look not so wild! can we do aught for thee? 
 
10 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 Stran. Yes, plunge me in the waves from which 
 ye snatch’d me ; 
 
 So will the sin be on your souls, not mine' 
 
 Prior. I’ll question not with him—-his brain is 
 wrecked— 
 
 For ever in the pauses of his speech 
 His lip doth work with inward mutterings, 
 
 And his fixed eye is rivetted fearfully 
 On something that no other sight can spy ; 
 
 Food and rest will restore him ; lead him in— 
 Stran. (dashing off the monks as they approach) 
 Off! ye are men—there’s poison in your touch— 
 
 (sinking back ) 
 
 But I must yield, for this has left me strengthless. 
 
 \exeunt 
 
 scene iv —a hall in the castle of Aldobrand. 
 
 enter pietro and teresa meeting. 
 
 Piet. Hah, Teresa waking ! was ever such a tem¬ 
 pest ? 
 
 Ter. The lady Imogine would watch all night, 
 And I have tended on her. What roused thee ? 
 
 Piet. Would you could tell me what would give me 
 sleep in such a night. I know of but one remedy for 
 fear and wakefulness ; that is a flagon of wine. I 
 hoped the thunder would have waked old Hugo to 
 open the cellar door for me. 
 
 Ter. He has left his bed. E’en now I passed him 
 Measuring the banquet hall with restless steps. 
 
 And moody fretful gestures. He approaches. 
 
 enter hugo. 
 
 Piet. Hugo, well met. Does e’en thy age bear 
 memory of so ferrible a storm. 
 
 Hug. They have been frequent lately. 
 
 Piet. They are ever so in Sicily. 
 
 Hug. So it is said. But storms when I was young 
 Would still pass o’er like Nature’s fitful fevers, 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 Act I] 
 
 11 
 
 And rendered all more wholesome. Now their rage 
 Sent thus unseasonable and profitless 
 Speaks like the threats of Heaven. 
 
 Ter . Heaven grant its wrath visit not my kind 
 lady. 
 
 Hug. Heaven grant, Teresa, 
 
 She may be still as happy in these halls, 
 
 As when she tripped the green a rural maid, 
 
 “ And caroll’d light of heart,” ere her good father’s 
 ruin, 
 
 Or our lord saw and loved her. 
 
 Piet. See if madam Clotilda be not roused. 
 
 Ter. I’m glad, for she’s our lady’s loved companion, 
 And most esteemed attendant. 
 
 enter Clotilda. 
 
 Clot. Is the lady Imogine risen ? 
 
 Ter. She hath not rested through the night. 
 
 Long ere the storm arose, her restless gestures 
 Forbade all hope to see her blessed with sleep. 
 
 Clot. Since her lord’s absence it is ever thus. 
 
 But soo'n he will return to his loved home, 
 
 And the gay knights and noble wassailers 
 Banish her lonely melancholy. ( horn heard without ) 
 Monk. (without ) What, ho ! 
 
 Hug. There’s some one at the gate. 
 
 My fears presage unwelcome messengers 
 At such untimely hours. 
 
 Clot. Attend the summons, Hugo. 
 
 I seek the lady Imogine. If ’tis aught 
 
 Concerns her or our lord, follow me thither, [exeunt 
 
 scene v— a gothic apartment — imogine discover¬ 
 ed sitting at a table , looking at a picture. 
 
 Imo . Yes, 
 
 The limner’s art may trace the absent feature. 
 
 And give the eye of distant weeping faith 
 
12 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 To view the form of its idolatry : 
 
 But oh, the scenes s mid which they met and parted; 
 The thoughts, the recollections sweet and bitter ; 
 
 Th’ Elysian dreams of lovers, when they loved—■ 
 Who shall restore them ? 
 
 “ Less lovely are the fugitive clouds of eve, 
 
 And not more vanishing ”—if thou couldst speak, 
 Dumb witness of the secret soul of Imogine, 
 
 Thou might'st acquit the faith of womankind— 
 Since thou wast on my midnight pillow laid, 
 
 Friend hath forsaken friend—the brotherly tie 
 Been lightly loosed—the parted coldly met— 
 
 Yea mothers have with desperate hands wrought 
 harm, 
 
 To little lives from their own bosoms lent. 
 
 But woman still hath loved—if that indeed 
 Woman e'er loved like me. 
 
 enter Clotilda. 
 
 Clot. The storm seems hushed—wilt thou to rest, 
 lady ? 
 
 Irno. 1 feel no lack of rest- 
 
 Clot. Then let us stay, 
 
 And watch the last peal murmuring on the blast. 
 
 1 will sit by the while, so thou wilt tell 
 Some pleasant story to beguile the time. 
 
 Imo. I am not in the mood. 
 
 Clot. I pray thee, tell me of some shadowy thing 
 Crossing the traveller on his path of fear, 
 
 On such a night as this— 
 
 “ Or shipwrecked seaman clinging to a crag, 
 
 From which some hand of darkness pushes him.” 
 
 Imo. Thou simple maid, 
 
 Thus to enslave thy heart to foolish fears. 
 
 Clot. Far less i deem of peril is in such, 
 
 Than in those tales women most love to list to; 
 
 The tales of love—for they are all untrue. 
 
 Imo. Lightly thou say'st that woman's love is false, 
 The thought is falser far— 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 13 
 
 Act I] 
 
 For some of them are true as martyr’s legends, 
 
 As full of suffering faith, of burning love, 
 
 Of high devotion, worthier heaven than earth- 
 
 Oh, I do know a tale. 
 
 Clot. Of knight or lady ? 
 
 Imo. Of one who loved—she was of humble birth, 
 Yet dared to love a proud and noble youth. 
 
 His sovereign’s smile was on him—glory blazed 
 Around his path, yet did he smile on her— 
 
 Oh, then what visions were that blessed one’s! 
 
 His sovereign’s frown came next— 
 
 ‘‘Then bowed the banners on his crested walls, 
 
 Torn by the enemies’ hand from their proud height, 
 Where twice two hundred years they mocked the 
 storm. 
 
 The stranger’s step profan’d his desolate halls,” 
 
 An exiled outcast, houseless, nameless, abject, 
 
 He fled for life, and scarce by flight did save it. 
 
 No hoary beadsman bid his parting step 
 God speed—no faithful vassal followed him : 
 
 For fear had withered every heart but hers, 
 
 Who amid shame and ruin loved him better. 
 
 Clot. Did she partake his lot ? 
 
 Imo. She burned to do it, 
 
 But ’twas forbidden. 
 
 Clot . How proved she then her love ? 
 
 Imo Was it not love to pine her youth away l 
 In her lone bower she sat all day to hearken 
 For tales of him, and—soon came tales of wo. 
 
 High glory lost, he wrecked not what was saved— 
 With desperate men in desperate ways he dealt— 
 
 A change came o’er his nature, and his heart, 
 
 Till she that bore him had recoiled from him, 
 
 “ Nor know the alien visage of her child.” 
 
 Yet still she loved, yea, still lived hopeless on. 
 
 Clot. Hapless lady! what hath befallen her? 
 
 Imo. PotFmany a miserable year hath past— 
 
 "She knows him as one dead, or worse than dead ; 
 
 B 
 
14 BERTRAM. [Maturltv 
 
 And many a change her varied life hath known, 
 
 But her heart none. 
 
 In the lone hour of tempest and of terror, 
 
 Her soul was on the dark hill’s side with Bertram. 
 Yea, when the launched bolt did sear the sense, 
 
 Her soul’s deep orisons were breathed for him. 
 
 Was not this love ! yea, thus doth woman love. 
 
 Clot. “ I would I had beheld their happier hours.” 
 Hast thou e’er seen the dame ? I pray thee, paint her. 
 
 Imo. They said her cheek of youth was beautiful, 
 Till withering sorrow blanched the bright rose there: 
 And I have heard men swear her form was fair ; 
 
 But grief did lay his icy finger on it, 
 
 And chilled it to a cold and joyless statue. 
 
 “ Methought she carolled blithely in her youth, 
 
 As the couched nestling trills his. vesper lay, 
 
 But song and smile, beauty and melody, 
 
 And youth and happiness are gone from her. 
 Perchance, even as she is, he would not scorn her, 
 
 If he could know her—for, for him she’s changed ; 
 She is much altered, but her heart—her heart—” 
 Clot. I would I might behold that wretched lady. 
 In all her sad and waning loveliness. 
 
 Imo. Thou wouldst not deem her wretched—out¬ 
 ward eyes 
 
 Would hail her happy. 
 
 They’ve decked her form in purple and in pall. 
 When she goes forth the thronging vassals kneel, 
 And bending pages bear her footcloth well— 
 
 No eye beholds that lady in her bower. 
 
 That is her hour of joy, for then she weeps, 
 
 Nor does her husband hear. 
 
 Clot. Sayst thou her husband ?— 
 
 How could she wed, she who did love so well ? 
 
 Imo. How could she wed! what could I do but wed? 
 “ Hast seen the sinking fortunes of thy house— 
 
 Hast felt the bitter gripe of shameful want—” 
 
15 
 
 Act I] BERTRAM. 
 
 Hast seen a father on the cold, cold earth, 
 
 Hast read his eye of silent agony, 
 
 That asked relief, but would not look reproach 
 Upon his child unkind— 
 
 I would have wed disease, deformity, 
 
 \ea, griped death’s grisly form to ’scape from it— 
 And yet some sorcery was wrought on me, 
 for earlier things do seem as yesterday, 
 
 But I’ve no recollection of the hour 
 They gave my hand to Aldobrand. 
 
 Clot. Blessed saints— 
 
 And was it thou indeed ? 
 
 Imo. I am that wretch— 
 
 The wife of a most noble, honoured lord— 
 
 1 he mother of a babe whose smiles do stab me_ 
 
 But thou art Bertram’s still, and Bertram’s ever ! 
 
 rint u “ {striking her heart)” 
 
 clot • nath time no power upon thy hopeless love ? 
 Imo. \ea, time hath power, and what a power I’ll 
 tell thee, 
 
 \ power to change the pulses of the heart 
 To one dull throb of ceaseless agony, 
 
 To hush the sigh on the resigned lip, 
 
 Vnd lock it in the heart—freeze the hot tear, 
 
 And bid it on the eyelid hang for ever— 
 iuch power hath time o’er me. 
 
 Clot. And has not then 
 
 l husband’s kindness- 
 
 Imo. Mark me, Clotilda, 
 ind mark me well; I am no desperate wretch 
 yh° borrows an excuse from shameful passion, 
 o make its shame more vile— 
 am a wretched, but a spotless wife, 
 
 ’ve been a daughter but too dutiful— 
 ut oh ! the writhings of a generous soul, 
 tabb’d by a confidence it can’t return, 
 
 o whom a kind word is a blow on th’ heart_ 
 
 cannot paint thy wretchedness. ( bursts into tears') 
 Clot. Nay, nay, 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 16 
 
 Dry up your tears, soon will your lord return, 
 
 Let hi in not see you thus by passion shaken. 
 
 Imo. Oh wretched is the dame, to whom the sound 
 c< Your lord will soon return”—no pleasure brings. 
 Clot . Some step approaches—’tis st. Anselm s monk. 
 Imo. Remember— now, what wouldst thou, rever¬ 
 end father ? 
 
 enter first monk. 
 
 Monk. St. Anselm’s benison on you, gracious dame. 
 Our holy prior by me commends him to you— 
 
 The wreck that struck upon our rocks 1 th storm 
 Hath thrown some wretched souls upon his care. 
 
 (For many have been saved since morning dawned.; 
 Wherefore he prays the wonted hospitality 
 That the free noble usage of your castle 
 Doth grant to ship-wreck’d and distressed men— 
 
 Imo. Bear back my greetings to your holy prior— 
 Tell him the lady of St. Aldobrand 
 Holds it no sin, although her lord be absent, 
 
 To ope her gates to wave-tossed mariners— 
 
 Now Heaven forfend your narrow cells were cum¬ 
 bered 
 
 While these free halls stood empty—tell your prior 
 We hold the custom of our castle still. \exeunt 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 scene I —an apartment in the convent the stran¬ 
 gle lies sleeping on a couch—the prior watching 
 
 him. 
 
 Prior. He sleeps, if it be sleep ; this starting trance 
 Whose feverish tossings and deep muttered groans, 
 
 Do prove the soul shares not the body’s rest— 
 
 (hanging over him) 
 
 How the lip works, how the bare teeth do grind— 
 And beaded drops course down his writhen brow 
 
I 
 
 Act II] BERTRAM. 17 
 
 I will awake him from this horrid trance, 
 
 This is no natural sleep—ho, wake thee, stranger ! 
 Scran. What wouldst thou have, my life is in thy 
 power— 
 
 Prior. Most wretched man, whose fears alone be¬ 
 tray thee— 
 
 What art thou ? speak. 
 
 Stran. Thou sayest I am a wretch— 
 
 And thou sayest true—these weeds do witness it— 
 These wave-worn weeds—these bare and bruised 
 limbs, 
 
 What wouldst thou more—I shrink not from the ques¬ 
 tion. 
 
 I am a wretch, and proud of wretchedness, 
 
 *Tis the sole earthly thing that cleaves to me. 
 
 Prior. Lightly I deem of outward wretchedness, 
 For that hath been the lot of blessed saints— 
 
 But in their dire extreme of outward wretchedness 
 Full calm they slept in dungeons and in darkness— 
 Such hath not been thy sleep— 
 
 Stran. Didst watch my sleep— 
 
 But thou couldst glean no secret from my ravings.— 
 Prior. Thy secrets, wretched man, I reck not of 
 them— 
 
 But I adjure thee by the church’s power 
 (A power to search man’s secret heart of sin) 
 
 Show me thy wound of soul— 
 
 Weep’st thou, the ties of nature or of passion 
 Torn by the hand of Heaven ?— 
 
 Oh no ! full well I deemed no gentler feeling 
 Woke the dark lightning of thy withering eye— 
 What fiercer spirit is it tears thee thus ? 
 
 Show me the horrid tenant of thy heart— 
 
 Or wrath, or hatred, or revenge, is there— 
 
 Stran. (suddenly starting from his couch, u falling 
 on his knees and raising his clasped hands) 
 
 I would consort with mine eternal enemy, 
 
 To be revenged on him.— 
 
 Prior. Art thou a man, or fiend, who speakest thus? 
 
 b 2 
 
18 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 Stran. I was a man, I know not what I am— 
 What others’ crimes and injuries have made me. 
 Look on me—what am I ? —{advancing) 
 
 Prior. I know thee not. 
 
 Stran. I marvel that thou say’st it 7 — 
 
 For lowly men full oft remember those 
 In changed estate, whom equals have forgotten : 
 
 A passing beggar hath remembered me, 
 
 When with strange eyes my kinsmen looked on me— 
 I wore no sullied weeds on that proud day 
 When thou a barefoot monk didst bow full low 
 For alms my heedless hand hath flung to thee — 
 Thou dost not know m z——(approaching him) 
 Prior. Mine eyes are dim with age—but many 
 thoughts 
 
 Do stir within me at thy voice. 
 
 Stran. List to me, monk, it is thy trade to talk, 
 
 As reverend men do use in saintly wise, 
 
 Of life’s vicissitudes and vanities— 
 
 Hear one plain tale that doth surpass all saws— 
 
 Hear it from me —count Bertram —aye—count Ber¬ 
 tram— 
 
 The darling of his liege and of his land, 
 
 The army’s idol, and the council’s head— 
 
 Whose smile was fortune, and whose will was law— 
 Doth bow him to the prior of St. Anselm 
 For water to refresh his parched lip, 
 
 And this hard-matted couch to fling his limbs on. 
 Prior. Good heaven and all its saints! 
 
 JBer. Wilt thou betray me ? 
 
 Prior. Lives there the wretch beneath these walls 
 to do it ? 
 
 Sorrow enough hath bowed thy head already. 
 
 Thou man of many woes. 
 
 Far more I fear lest thou betray thyself. 
 
 Hard by do stand the halls of Aldobrand 
 (Thy mortal enemy and cause of fall,) 
 
 Where ancient custom doth invite each stranger 
 Cast on this shore to sojourn certain days, 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 19 
 
 Act II] 
 
 And taste the bounty of the castle’s lord— 
 
 If thou goest not, suspicion will aiise ; 
 
 And if thou dost (all changed as thou art) 
 
 Some desperate burst of passion will betray thee, 
 And end in mortal scathe— 
 
 What dost thou gaze with such fixed eyes ? 
 
 Per. What sayest thou i 
 I dreamed I stood before lord Aldobrand 
 Impenetrable to his searching eyes— 
 
 And I did feel the horrid joy men feel 
 Measuring the serpent’s coil whose fangs have stung 
 them ; 
 
 Scanning with giddy eye the air-hung rock 
 From which they leapt and live by miracle ; 
 
 “ Following the dun skirt of the o’erpast storm 
 Whose bolt did leave them prostrate”— 
 
 To see that horrid spectre of my thoughts 
 In all the stern reality of life— 
 
 To mark the living lineaments of hatred, 
 
 And say this is the man whose sight should blast me ; 
 Yet in calm dreadful triumph still gaze on: 
 
 It is a horrid joy. 
 
 Prior. Nay, rave not thus—. 
 
 Thou wilt not meet him, many a day must pass 
 Till from Palermo’s walls he wend him homeward— 
 Where now he tarries with St. Anselm’s knights. 
 
 His dame doth dwell in solitary wise ; 
 
 Few are the followers in his lonely halls— 
 
 Why dost thou smile in that most horrid guise ? 
 
 Per. (repeating his words) His dame doth dwell 
 alone—perchance his child— 
 
 Oh, no, no, no—it was a damned thought. 
 
 Prior. I do but indistinctly hear thy words, 
 
 But feel they have some fearful meaning in them— 
 Per. Oh, that 1 could but mate him in his might, 
 Oh, that we were on the dai k wave together, 
 
 With but one plank between us and destruction, 
 That I might grasp him in these desperate arms, 
 And plunge with him amid the weltering billows— 
 
20 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 And view him gasp for life—and— 
 
 “ Prior. Horrible—horrible—I charge thee cease; 
 The shrines are trembling on these sainted walls— 
 The stoney forms will start to life and answer thee.” 
 
 Ber. Ha, ha—I see him struggling— 
 
 I see him—ha, ha, ha, (a frantic laugh) 
 
 Prior. Oh horrible— 
 
 Help, help to hold him—for my strength doth fail— 
 
 enter 1st monk. 
 
 Monk. The lady of St. Aldobrand sends greeting— 
 Prior. Oh, art thou come, this is no time for greet¬ 
 ing— 
 
 Help, bear him off—thou see’st his fearful state. 
 
 [exeunt , bearing him off 
 
 scene ii —hall in the castle of St. Aldobrand . 
 
 enter hugo , shewing in Bertram’s comrades , “Clo¬ 
 tilda following .” 
 
 Hugo. This way, friends, this way, good cheer 
 awaits you. 
 
 1st Sail. Well then, good cheer was never yet be¬ 
 stowed 
 
 On those who need it more. 
 
 Hugo. To what port bound, 
 
 Did this fell storm o’ertake you ? 
 
 1.?? Sail. No matter, 
 
 So we find here a comfortable haven. 
 
 Hugo. Whence came you ? 
 
 Sail. Psha, I cannot answer fasting. 
 
 Hugo. Roughness, the proverb says, speaks hon¬ 
 esty, 
 
 I hope the adage true. 
 
 “ Clot. Lead them in, Hugo, 
 
 1 hey need speedy care—which is your leader ? 
 
 “1 st Sait. He will be here anon—what ye would 
 know. 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 21 
 
 Act II] 
 
 Demand of him. 
 
 “ 2d Sail. (advancing ) He’s here. 
 i( Clot. I fain would learn 
 Their country and their fortunes. 
 
 li enter Bertram, with a sullen air , but scrutiniz¬ 
 ing all around. 
 
 “ Clot. Is that him P 
 
 His looks appal me, I dare not speak to him. 
 
 u (all pause at his afi/iearance )” 
 Hugo. Come, come, the feast’s prepared within, 
 this way. 
 
 “ (Bertram passes on sullenly and exit ) 
 “ Clot. The gt ief that clothes that leader’s woe- 
 worn form, 
 
 The chilling awe his ruin’d grandeur wears, 
 
 Is of no common sort—I must observe him. 
 
 [exit Clotilda .” 
 
 Is? Sail. Now, comrades, we will honour our host’s 
 bounty 
 
 With jovial hearts, and gay forgetfulness 
 Of perils past and coming. 
 
 GLEE. 
 
 We be men escaped from dangers. 
 
 Sweet to think of o’er our bowls ;— 
 
 Wilds have ne’er known hardier rangers, 
 
 Hall shall ne’er see blither souls. [ exeunt 
 
 scene hi —moonlight ; a terrassed rampart of the 
 castle ; a part of the latter is seen , the rest con¬ 
 cealed by woods. 
 
 imogine alone ; she gazes at the moon for some 
 time and then advances slowly. 
 
 Imo. Mine own loved light, 
 
 That every soft and solemn spirit worships, 
 
 That lovers love so well strange joy is thine, 
 
22 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 Whose influence o’er all tides of soul hath power, 
 Who lendst thy light to rapture and despair ;— 
 
 “ The glow of hope and wan hue of sick fancy 
 Alike reflect thy rays: alike thou lightest 
 The path of meeting or of parting love— 
 
 Alike on mingling or on breaking hearts 
 Thou smil’st in throned beauty.” Bertram, Bertram, 
 How sweet it is to tell the list’ning night 
 The name beloved—it is a spell of power 
 To wake the buried slumberers of the heart, 
 
 Where memory lingers o’er the grave of passion 
 Watching its tranced sleep !— 
 
 “ The thoughts of other days are rushing on me. 
 
 The loved, the lost, the distant, and the dead, 
 
 Are with me now, and I will mingle with them 
 Till my sense fails, and my raised heart is wrapt 
 In secret suspension of mortality.” 
 
 enter Clotilda. 
 
 Clot . Why dost thou wander by this mournful light, 
 Feeding sick fancy with the thought that poisons?— 
 Imo. I will but weep beneath the moon awhile. 
 Now do not chide my heart for this sad respite, 
 
 “ The thoughts it most doth love do visit it then, 
 
 And make it feel like heaven”— 
 
 Clot. Nay, come with me, and view those storm- 
 ’scaped men 
 
 A-feasting in thy hall; ’twill cheer thy heart 
 Of perils ’scaped by flood and fire they tell, 
 
 And many an antique legend wild they know 
 And many a lay they sing—hark, their deep voices 
 Come faintly on the wind. 
 
 “ (noise of singing and revelry without)'* 
 lmo. Their wild and vulgar mirth doth startle me. 
 “ This clamorous wassail in a baron’s hall 
 Ill suits the state of rescued fearful men :—” 
 
 But as I passed the latticed gallery 
 
 One stood alone ; I marked him where he stood. 
 
 His face was veiled,—faintly a light fell on him ; 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 Act II] 
 
 23 
 
 But through soiled weeds his muffled form did show 
 A wild and terrible grandeur. 
 
 Clot. I marked him too. He mixed not with the 
 rest, 
 
 But o’er his wild mates held a stern control— 
 
 Their rudest burst of riotous merriment 
 Beneath his dark eye’s stilling energy 
 Was hushed to silence. 
 
 Imo. He never spoke ? 
 
 Clot. No, he did nought but sigh, 
 
 If I might judge by the high-heaving vesture 
 Folded so deep on his majestic breast;— 
 
 Of sound I heard not—” 
 
 Imo. Call him hither.— 
 
 There is a mystery of woe about him 
 That strongly stirs the fancy. 
 
 Clot. Wilt thou confer alone, at night, with one 
 Who bears such fearful form ? 
 
 Imo. Why therefore send him— 
 
 All things of fear have lost their power o’er me— 
 
 [exit Clotilda 
 
 imogine afifiears to be debating with herself how 
 to receive him , at length she says , 
 
 Imo. If he do bear, like me, a withered heart. 
 
 I will not mock him with a sound of comfort— 
 
 Bertram enters slowly from the end of the stage ; 
 his arms folded , his eyes fixed on the earth ; she 
 does not know him. 
 
 Imo. A form like that hath broken on my dreams, 
 So darkly wild, so proudly stern ; 
 
 Doth it rise on me waking ? 
 
 Bertram comes to the end of the stage , and stands 
 without looking at her. 
 
 Imo. Stranger, I sent for thee, for that I deemed 
 
24 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 Some wound was thine, that yon free band might 
 chafe,— 
 
 Perchance thy worldly wealth sunk with yon wreck ; 
 Such wound my gold can heal—the castle’s almoner— 
 Ber. The wealth of world> were heaped on me in 
 vain. 
 
 Imo. Oh then I read thy loss—thy heart is sunk 
 In the dark waters pitiless ; soipe dear friend. 
 
 Or brother, loved as thine own soul, lies there— 
 
 “ 1 pity thee, sad man, but can no more—” 
 
 Gold 1 can give, but can no comfort give, 
 
 For I am comfortless— 
 
 “ Yet if I could collect my faltering breath 
 Well were I meet for such sad ministry, 
 
 For grief hath left my voice no other sound—” 
 
 Ber. (striking his heart') No dews give freshness 
 to this blasted soil— 
 
 Imo. Strange is thy form, but more thy words are 
 strange— 
 
 Fearful it seems to hold this parley with thee. 
 
 Tell me thy race and country— 
 
 Ber. What avails it? 
 
 The wretched have no country : that dear name 
 Comprises home, kind kindred, fostering friends, 
 Protecting laws, ail that binds man to man— 
 
 But none of these are mine ;—1 have no country— 
 And for my race, the last dread trump shall wake 
 The sheeted relics of mine ancestry, 
 
 Ere trump of herald to the armed lists 
 3n the bright blazon of their stainless coat, 
 
 Calls their lost child again— 
 
 Imo 1 shake to hear him— 
 
 There is an awful thrilling in his voice— 
 
 “ The soul of other days comes rushing in them.—” 
 If nor my bounty nor my tears can aid thee, 
 
 Stranger, farewell; and ’mid thy misery 
 Pray, when thou tell’st thy beads, for one more 
 wretched. 
 
Act II] BERTRAM. 25 
 
 Ber. Stay, gentle lady, I wesild somewhat with 
 thee. 
 
 (Imogine retreats terrified) 
 
 {detaining her)—' Thou shall not go- 
 
 Imo. Shalt not!—Who art thou ? speak— 
 
 Ber . And must I speak ? 
 
 There was a voice which all the world, but thee, 
 Might have forgot, and been forgiven. 
 
 Imo. My senses blaze—between the dead and liv- 
 
 I stand in fear—oh God !—it cannot be_ [ing 
 
 Those thick black locks—those wild and sunburnt 
 features- 
 
 He looked not thus—but then that voice_ 
 
 It cannot be—for he would know my name 
 
 Ber. Imogine—( she has tottered toward > him dur¬ 
 ing the last speech , and when he utters her name, 
 shrieks and falls into his arms) 
 
 Ber. Imogine—yes, 
 
 Thus pale, cold, dying, thus thou art most fit 
 To be enfolded to this desolate heart— 
 
 A blighted lily on its icy bed— 
 
 Nay, look not up, ’tis thus I would behold thee, 
 
 That pale cheek looks like truth—I’ll gaze no more— 
 That fail, that pale, dear cheek, these helpless arms. 
 If I look longer they will make me human. 
 
 Imo. {starting from him) Fly, fly, the vassals of 
 thine enemy wait 
 To do thee dead. 
 
 Ber. Then let them wield the thunder, 
 
 Fell is their dint, who’re mailed in despair. 
 
 I Let mortal might sever the grasp of Bertram. 
 
 Imo. Release me—I must break from him—he 
 knows not— 
 
 Oh God ! 
 
 Ber. Imogine—madness seizes me_ 
 
 Why do I find thee in mine enemy’s walls ? 
 
 What dost thou in the halls of Aldobrand ? 
 
 Infernal light doth shoot athwart my mind— 
 
 C 
 
26 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [JVIaturin 
 
 Swear thou art a dependent on his bounty, 
 
 That chance, or force, or sorcery brought thee hither; 
 Thou canst not be—tny throat is swoln with agony— 
 Hell hath no plague—Oh no, thou couldst not do it. 
 lino. “ (kneeling)” Mercy. 
 
 Ber. Thou hast it not, or thou wouldst speak— 
 Speak, speak— (with frantic violence) 
 lino. I am the wife of Aldobrand,— 
 
 To save a famishing father did I wed, 
 
 Ber. I will not curse her —but the hoarded ven¬ 
 geance—— 
 
 Imo. Aye—curse, and consummate the horrid 
 spell. 
 
 For broken-hearted, in despairing hour, 
 
 With every omen dark and dire I wedded— 
 
 Some ministring demon mocked the robed priest. 
 With some dark spell, not holy vow, they bound me, 
 Full were the rites of horror and despair. 
 
 They wanted but—the seal of Bertram’s curse. 
 
 Ber. (not heeding her) —Talk of her father—could 
 a father love thee 
 
 As I have loved ? “—the veriest wretch on earth 
 Doth cherish in some corner of his heart 
 Some thought that makes that heart a sanctuary 
 For pilgrim dreams in midnight-hour to visit, 
 
 And weep and worship there. 
 
 —And such thou wert to me—and thou art lost. 
 —-What was a father ? could a father’s love 
 Compare with mine?” in want, and war, and peril, 
 Things that would thrill the hearers blood to tell of, 
 My heart grew human when I thought of thee— 
 Imogine would have shuddered for my danger— 
 
 Imogine would have bound my leechless wounds .— 
 
 Imogine would have sought my nameless corse, 
 
 And known it well—and she was wedded—wedded— 
 —Was there no name in hell’s dark catalogue 
 To brand thee with, but mine immortal foe’s?—* 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 Act II] 
 
 27 
 
 And did I ’scape from war, and want, and famine. 
 To perish by the falsehood of a woman ? 
 
 Imo. Oh spare me, Bertram ; oh preserve thyself. 
 Ber. A despot’s vengeance, a false country’s 
 curses, 
 
 The spurn of menials whom this hand had fed— 
 
 In my heart’s steeled pride I shook them off, 
 
 As the bayed lion from his hurtless hide 
 Shakes his pursuer’s darts—across their path— 
 One dart alone took aim, thy hand did barb it. 
 
 Imo. He did not hear my father’s cry—O heaven— 
 Nor food, nor fire, nor raiment, and his child 
 Knelt madly to the hungry walls for succour, 
 
 E’er her wrought brain could bear the horrid thought, 
 Or wed with him—or—see thy father perish. 
 
 Ber. Thou tremblest test I curse thee, tremble 
 not- 
 
 Though thou has made me, woman, very wretched— 
 Though thou hast made me—but I will not curse 
 thee— 
 
 Hear the last prayer of Bertram’s broken heart, 
 
 That heart which thou hast broken, not his foes !-- 
 
 Of thy rank wishes the full scope be on thee— 
 
 May pomp and pride shout in thine addered path 
 Till thou shalt feel and sicken at their hollowness— 
 May he thou’st wed, be kind and generous to thee, 
 Till thy wrung heart, stabb’d by his noble fondness, 
 Writhe in detesting consciousness of falsehood— 
 
 May thy babe’s smile speak daggers to that mother 
 Who cannot love the father of her child, 
 
 And in the bright blaze of the festal hall, 
 
 When vassals kneel, and kindred smile around thee, 
 May ruined Bertram’s pledge hiss in thine ear— 
 Joy to the proud dame of St. Aldobrand— 
 
 While his cold corse doth bleach beneath her towers. 
 Imo. ( detaining him ) Stay. 
 
 Ber. No. 
 
 Imo. Thou hast a dagger. 
 
 Ber. Not for woman. 
 
 
23 BERTRAM. ^Maturin 
 
 Imo. (flinging herself on the ground ) It was my 
 prayer to die in Bertram’s presence, 
 
 But not. by words like these- 
 
 Ber. (turning back ) On the cold earth ! 
 
 —I do forgive thee from my inmost soul — . — 
 
 {the child of Imo gin e rushes in and clings to her) 
 Child . Mother. 
 
 Ber. {eagerly snatching ufi the child) God bless 
 thee, child—Bertram hath kissed thy child. 
 {he rushes out. “ Clotilda enters gazing after him 
 in terror , and goes to afford relief to Imogine ”— 
 the curtain drafts) 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene i —a wood—the stage darkened — St. Aldo - 
 brand sfteaking to a ftage behind the scenes. 
 
 Aid. Hold thou my good steed, page ; the moon is 
 down, 
 
 We’ve far outstript the knights, but slacker speed 
 Hath found a surer road—where, think’st thou, are 
 we ? 
 
 enter st. aldobrand and a page. 
 
 Vainly I listen through the night so still 
 For bell that tells of holy convent near, 
 
 “Or warder’s bugle from the battlement, 
 
 Or horn of knight returning from the chase—” 
 
 All is dark, still, and lorn; where deemest thou are 
 we ? 
 
 Page Oh we are nigh a fell and fearful spot, 
 
 For by the last gleams of the sunken moon 
 
 I saw the towers . 
 
 Aid What towers are those, boy? 
 
 Page. The ruined towers that ’tis said are haunted; 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 29 
 
 Act III] 
 
 * { Dimly they rose amid the doubtful gloom, 
 
 But notone star-beam twinkled on their summits.” 
 Alcl. Then, not four Teagues divide me' from mine 
 home. 
 
 Mine home—it is a pleasant sound—there bide 
 My dame and child—all pleasant thoughts dwell 
 there— 
 
 “ Then, while I rest beneath this broad-armed tree, 
 Or oak, or elm, in this dark night I wot not — 
 
 It shall be thy sweet penance to rehearse 
 
 All thou hast heard of these most fearful towers— 
 
 The tale will soothe my sleep, nor mar my dreams. 
 
 “ Page. Then let me couch by thee—I pray thee 
 do— 
 
 For ever I love ’mid frightful tales i’th’ dark 
 To touch the hand 1 tell the tale of fear to—” 
 
 (a bell tolls') 
 
 Aid. Hark ! ’tis the convent bell, “forego thy tale 
 The blessed thoughts of home are in that sound 
 
 That near my castle’s gallant walls doth float- 
 
 (i chorus of knights heard faintly from the forest.) 
 Aid. What \oices swell upon the midnight air? 
 Page St. Anselm’s knights. 
 
 Aid. Yes, ’tis their pious wont, 
 
 When journeying near the sound of convent-bell 
 ’Mid flood or fire, to raise the holy hymn 
 
 That chaunts the praise of their protecting saint - - 
 
 List to.the solemn harmony— 
 
 Guided by that we may rejoin their company. 
 
 [exeunt 
 
 {chorus heard again , and continues drawing nearer 
 till the scene closes) 
 
 scene ii —the convent—the prior reading —Ber¬ 
 tram views him with the attention of one who 
 envies him , then speaks. 
 
 Per. How many hours have passed since matin- 
 bell ? 
 
 Prior. I know not till it sound again to vespers. 
 Time passes o’er us with a noiseless lapse : 
 
 c 2 
 
30 BERTH AiW. [Maturin 
 
 Our hours are marked alone by prayer and study, 
 And know no change but by their mute succession— 
 Ber. Yea—thus they live, if this may life be called 
 Where moving shadows mock the parts of men. 
 
 Prayer follows study, study yields to prayer - - 
 
 Bell echoes bell, till wearied with the summons 
 The ear doth ache for that last welcome peal 
 That tolls an end to listless vacancy— 
 
 “ Aye—when the red swol’n stream comes roaring 
 down-- 
 
 Full many a glorious flower, and stately tree, 
 
 Floats on the ruthless tide, whose unfelt sway 
 Moves not the mire that stagnates at the bottom.’* 
 The storm for Bertram—and it hath been with me. 
 Dealt with me branch and bole, bared me to th’ roots, 
 And where the next wave bears my perished trunk 
 In its dread lapse, I neither know nor reck of— 
 Prior. Thou desperate man, whom mercy wooes 
 in vain, 
 
 Although with miracles she pleads — 
 
 Forbear, I say, to taint these holy echoes 
 With the fell sounds of thy profane despair— 
 
 Ber. Good monk, I am beholden to your patience. 
 Take this from one, whose lips do mock at praise ; 
 Thou art a man whose mild and reverend functions 
 “ Might change the black creed of misanthropy, 
 
 And” bid my better angel half return.-- 
 
 But—’tis impossible—“ I will not trouble thee*—” 
 The wayward Bertram and his moody mates 
 Are tenants all unmeet for cloistered walls— 
 
 We will find fitter home. 
 
 Prior. Whither wilt thou resort ? 
 
 Ber. Is there no forest 
 Whose shades are dark enough to shelter us, 
 
 Or cavern rifted by the perilous lightning, 
 
 Where we must grapple with the tenanting wolf 
 To earn our bloody lair ?—there let us bide, 
 
 Nor hear the voice of man, nor call of heaven. 
 
Act III] BERTRAM. 31 
 
 Prior. Wend not, I charge thee, with those des¬ 
 perate men. 
 
 Full well I wot who are thy fearful mates - 
 In their stern strife with the incensed deep, 
 
 That dashed them bruised and breathless on our 
 shores, 
 
 When their drenched hold forsook both gold and geer, 
 They griped their daggers with a murderer’s instinct. 
 —I read thee for a leader of a band 
 Whose trade is blood.— 
 
 Ber Well, then, thou knowest the worst- 
 
 “ And let the worst be known.” I am their leader— 
 Prior. Mark what I read, renounce that horrid 
 league- 
 
 Flee to the castle of St. Aldobrand, 
 
 1 His power may give thee safety, and his dame 
 May plead for thee against the law’s stern purpose— 
 All as thou art unknown 
 
 Ber. His dame plead for me !- 
 
 When my cold corse, torn from some felon wheel, 
 
 Or dug from lightless depth of stoney dungeon, 
 Welters in the cold gaze of pitiless strangers, 
 
 Then flin‘g it at his gate, whose cursed stones 
 My living foot treads never,—yet beware 
 Lest the corse burst its cearments stark and curse 
 thee— 
 
 Prior. Hush, hush these horrid sounds ; where 
 wilt thou bide ? 
 
 Near us nor knight nor barron holds his keep, 
 
 For far and wide thy foeman’s land extends. 
 
 Ber. The world hath ample realms beyond his 
 power. 
 
 There must I dwell—I seek my rugged mates—” 
 The frozen mountain or the burning sand 
 Would be more wholesome than the fertile realm 
 That’s lorded o’er by Aldobrand. (exit Bertram 
 Prior. “High-hearted man, sublime even in thy 
 guilt, 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 32 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 Whose passions are thy crimes, whose angel sin 
 Is pride that rivals the star-bright apostate’s.” 
 Wild admiration thrills me to behold 
 An evil strength, so above earthly pitch— 
 Descending angels only could reclaim thee— 
 
 enter 2 d monk. 
 
 Monk. The lady of St. Aldobrand in haste 
 Craves swift admittance to your sacred cell. 
 
 Prior . She is a gracious and a pious dame, 
 
 And doth our cell much honour by her presence. 
 
 enter imogine— she kneels to him. 
 
 Prior. The blessings of these sainted walls be on 
 thee ! 
 
 Why art thou thus disturbed, what moves thee, 
 daughter ? 
 
 Imo. Nay, do not raise me with those reverend 
 hands, 
 
 “ Nor benison of saint greet mine approach, 
 
 Nor shadow of holy hand stretch’d forth to bless 
 me.” 
 
 I am a wretched, soul-struck, guilty woman. 
 
 Prior. Thou dost amaze me ; by mine holy order 
 I deemed no legends of our cloistered saints 
 Held holier records of pure sanctity 
 Than the clear answer of thy stainless life 
 To shrift’s most piercing search — 
 
 Imo. Oh holy prior, no matron proud and pure 
 “ Whose dreams ne’er wandered from her wedded 
 lord, 
 
 Whose spoused heart was plighted with her hand,” 
 Kneels for thy prayer of power—1 am a wretch, 
 “Who, pale and withering with unholy love, 
 
 Lay a shrunk corse in duty’s fostering arms, 
 
 And with cold smiles belied her heart’s despair.” 
 
 I’ve nursed a slumbering serpent till it stung me, 
 
 And from my heait’s true guardian hid its foulness. 
 Prior. Thou’st done an evil deed-- 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 3S 
 
 Act III] 
 
 For sin is of the soul, and thine is tainted — - 
 But most I blame thee, that from thy soui’s guardian 
 Thou hiddest thy secret guilt. 
 
 Imo. I knew it not- 
 
 Last night, oh ! last night told a dreadful secret— 
 The moon went down, its sinking ray shut out 
 The parting form of one beloved too well. 
 
 *‘The fountain of my heart dried up within me,—” 
 With nought that loved me, and with nought to love, 
 
 I stood upon the desert earth alone . - 
 
 “ I stood and wondered at my desolation — 
 
 For l had spurned at every tie for him, 
 
 And hardly could I beg from injured hearts 
 The kindness that my desperate passion scorned—” 
 And in that deep and utter agony, 
 
 Though then, than ever most unfit to die, 
 
 I fell upon my knees, and prayed for death. 
 
 Prior. u And did deserve it, wert thou meet for 
 Art thou a wife and mother, and canst speak [it—” 
 
 Of life rejected by thy desperate passion- 
 
 These bursting tears, wrung hands, and burning 
 words, 
 
 Are these the signs of penitence or passion ? 
 
 Thou comest to me, for to my ear alone 
 May the deep secret of thy heart be told, 
 
 And fancy riot in the luscious poison— — 
 
 Fond of the misery we paint so well, 
 
 Proud of the sacrifice of broken hearts, 
 
 We pour on heaven’s dread ear, what man’s would 
 shrink from ■ — 
 
 Yea, make a merit of the impious insult, 
 
 And wrest the functions of mine holy office 
 To the foul ministry of earthly passion. 
 
 Imo. Why came I here, I had despair at home, 
 W T here shall the wretch resort whom Heaven for-* 
 sakes ? 
 
 Prior . Thou hast forsaken Heaven. 
 
 Speed to thy castle, shut thy chamber door, 
 
 Bind fast thy soul by every solemn vow 
 
34 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 Never to hold communion with that object— 
 
 “ If still thy wishes contradict thy prayers,” 
 
 If still thy heart’s responses yield no harmony- 
 Weary thy saint with agonies of prayer ; 
 
 On the cold marble que'hch thy burning breast ; 
 Number with every bead a tear of soul; 
 
 Press to thy heart a cross, and bid it banish 
 The form that would usurp its image there— 
 
 Imo. ( kneeling ) One parting word— 
 
 Prior . No, not one parting look- 
 
 One parting thought, I charge thee on thy soul. 
 
 Imo. (turning away) He never loved,— 
 
 Prior. Why clingest thou to my raiment ? 
 
 Thy grasp of grief is stronger on my heart— 
 
 “ For sterner oft our words than feelings are.” 
 
 enter 1st monk and page. 
 
 Monk. Hail, holy prior, and hail, thou noble dame, 
 With joyful heart I break upon your privacy — 
 
 St. Aldobrandbefore his own good gates 
 
 Doth rein his war-steed’s pride; the warder’s horn 
 
 Full merrily rings his peal of welcome home— 
 
 I hied me onward with the joyful tidings 
 To greet his happy dame. 
 
 Imo. My thanks await them- 
 
 Prior. Now, by my beads the news is wond’rous 
 welcome — — 
 
 Hath thy brave lord in safety reached his home— 
 
 “ Praise to St. Anselm who ne’er leaves his servants. 
 My rosary hath been well told for him—” 
 
 (Clear thy dimmed brow, for shame ! hie to thy lot’d. 
 And show a dame’s true duty in his welcome,) 
 
 Came with thy lord the knights of good St. Anselm, 
 Bearing the banner of their guardian saint 
 Safe from the infidel scathe l 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 35 
 
 Act III] 
 
 Page. They come with speed- 
 
 Though lated in the forest’s wildering maze ; 
 
 Last night their shelter was the broad brown oak—— 
 Prior. High praise be given—haste, summon all 
 our brethren ; 
 
 Th* occasion, noble dame, doth call me from thee— 
 
 So benedicite- [ exeunt 
 
 Imo. {alone) That word should mean— 
 
 A blessing rest on me—I am not blest— 
 
 “ I’m weary of this conflict of the heart— 
 
 These dying struggles of reluctant duty— 
 
 These potent throes of wild convulsive passion.” 
 Would I were seared in guilt, or strong in innocence! 
 ! I dare not search my heart: some iron vow 
 Shall bind me down in passive wretchedness, 
 
 And mock the force of my rebellious heart 
 “ To break its rivetting holds- 
 
 “ as she kneels ,” enter Bertram. 
 
 Ha ? art thou there ?- 
 
 Come kneel with me, and witness to the vow 
 ! I offer to renounce thee, and to die- ■ - 
 
 Per. Nay, it is meet that we renounce each other— 
 Have we not been a miserable pair ? 
 i Hath not our fatal passion cursed, not blessed us ? 
 i Had we not loved how different were our fates j 
 i For thou hadst been a happy honoured dame. 
 
 And I had slept the sleep of those that dream not— 
 But life was dear, while Imogine did love. 
 
 Imo. Witness my vow—while I have breath to 
 speak it— 
 
 Per. Then make it thus—why dost thou shrink 
 from me ? 
 
 Despair hath its embrace as well as passion— 
 
 May I not hold thee in these folded arms ? 
 
 May I not clasp thee to this blasted heart ? 
 
 When the rich soil teemed with youth’s generous 
 flowers— 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturia 
 
 35 
 
 I felt thee sunshine-now thy rayless light 
 Falls like the cold moon on a blasted heath, 
 
 Mocking its desolation—speak thy vow— 
 
 1 will not chide thee if the word should kill me— 
 
 Imo. ( sinking into his arms ) I cannot utter it— 
 Ber. Have we not loved, as none have ever loved, 
 And must we part as none have ever parted ? 
 
 I know thy lord is near ; I know his towers 
 Must shut thee from my sight—the curfew-hour 
 Will send me on a far and fearful journey— 
 
 Give me one hour, nor think thou givest too much, 
 When grief is all the boon.— 
 
 Imo. One hour to thee ? 
 
 Ber. When the cold moon gleams on thy castle 
 walls, 
 
 Wilt thou not seek the spot where last we met i 
 That be our parting spot—Oh Imogine— 
 
 Heaven, that denies the luxury of bliss, 
 
 Shall yield at least the luxury of anguish, 
 
 And teach us the stern pride of wretched ess— 
 
 “ Our parting hour be at the dim moonlight, 
 
 And we will make that hour of parting dearer 
 Than years of happy love—what recollection— 
 What rich and burning tears—in that blessed hour 
 Our former hearts shall glide into our breasts, 
 
 Mine free from care, as thine was light of sorrow — n 
 That hour shall light my parting step of darkness— 
 Imogine’s form did gleam on my last glance, 
 Jmogine’s breath did mix with my last sigh, 
 
 Imogine’s tear doth linger on my cheek, 
 
 But ne’er must dew my grave— 
 
 Imo. I am desperate 
 
 To say I’ll meet thee, but I will, will meet thee ; 
 
 No future hour can rend my heart like this, 
 
 Save that which breaks it.— 
 
 the child runs in, and clings to imogine. 
 
 Child. My father is returned, “ and kissed and 
 blessed me-” 
 
Act IV] BERTRAM. 37 
 
 Imo. (falling on the child's neck ) What have I 
 done, my child; forgive thy mother. 
 
 Bcr. (surveying her ‘with stern contempt ) Wo¬ 
 man, oh woman, and an urchin’s kiss 
 
 Rends from thy heart thy love of many years— . . 
 
 Go, virtuous dame, to thy most happy lord, 
 
 And Bertram’s image taint your kiss with poison. 
 
 [exit Bertram. 
 
 Imo. {alone) ’Tis but the last—and I have sworn 
 to meet him, 
 
 My boy, my boy, thy image will protect me. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 scene i — a dark night under the castle walls — Ber¬ 
 tram appears in a state of the utmost agi aiion 
 —he extends his arms towards a spot where the 
 moon has disappeared. 
 
 Bcr. Thou hidest away thy face, and wilt not view 
 me. 
 
 All the bright lights of heaven are dark above me— 
 Beneath the black cope of this starless night 
 There lurks no darker soul— 
 
 My fiend-like glory hath departed from me— 
 Bertram hath nought above the meanest losel 
 I should have bearded him in halls of pride— 
 
 I should have mated him in fields of death— 
 
 Not stol’n upon his secret bower of peace, 
 
 And breathed a serpent’s venom on his flower. 
 
 (he looks up at the casement of the tower , at which a 
 light appears , he gazes on it —She is there 
 She weeps-—no husband wipes her tears away— 
 
 She weeps—no babe doth cheer the guilty mother. 
 Aldobrand—no—I never will forgive thee, 
 
 For I am sunk beneath thee—who art thou? 
 
 D 
 
38 
 
 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 enter two of Bertram's band. 
 
 1st Bob. Why dost thou wander in the woods alone, 
 Leaving thy mates to play with idle hilts, 
 
 O' dream with monks o’er rosary and relic ? 
 
 G;ve us a deed to do. 
 
 Ber. u Yes, ye are welcome, 
 
 Y of spirits shall be proud—ho”—hear ye, villains, 
 
 ] k now ye both—ye are slaves, that for a ducat 
 
 W iuld rend the screaming infant from the breast 
 To plunge it in the flames ; 
 
 Yea, draw your keen knives cross a father’s throat, 
 And carve with them the bloody meal ye earned; 
 
 V llains, rejoice,your leader’s crimeshave purged you, 
 You punished guilt—I preyed on innocence— 
 
 Ytr have beheld me tallen—begone—begone. 
 
 Is* Rob. Why then, Heaven’s benison be with you, 
 Thnu’lt need it if thou tarriest longer here. 
 
 Ber. How, slave, what fear you ? 
 
 2d Rob. Fly ; this broad land hath not one spot to 
 hide thee. 
 
 Danger and death await thee in those walls. 
 
 Ber. They’d fell a blasted tree—well—let it fall— 
 But, though the perished trunk feel not the wound. 
 Woe to the smiting hand—its fall may crush him. 
 
 1st Rob. Lord Aldobrand 
 Holds high commission from his sovereign liege 
 To hunt thy outlaw’d life through Sicily. 
 
 Ber. ( wildly ) Who—what— 
 
 2d Rob. We mingled with the men at arms 
 “ As journeying home.” Their talk was of count 
 Bertram, 
 
 Whose vessel had from Manfredonia’s coast 
 Been traced towards this realm. 
 
 Is; Rob. And if on earth his living form were found. 
 Lord AuiobranU had power to seal his doom. 
 
 ♦‘Some few did pity him.” 
 
Act IV] BERTRAM. 39 
 
 Ber. (i bursting into ferocity) Villain, abhorred 
 villain. 
 
 Hath he not pushed me to extremity ? 
 
 Are these wild weeds, these scarred and scathed 
 limbs, 
 
 This wasted frame, a mark for human malice ? 
 There have been those who from the high bark’s side 
 Have whelmed their enemy in the flashing deep ; 
 
 But who hath watch’d to see his struggling hands, 
 
 To hear the sob of death ?—Fool—ideot—ideot— 
 ’Twas but e’en now, 1 would have knelt to him 
 With the prostration of a conscious villain ; 
 
 I would have crouched beneath his spurning feet; 
 
 I would have felt their trampling tread and blessed 
 
 For I had injured him—and mutual injury 
 Had freed my withered heart—Villain—1 thank thee. 
 “ 1st Rob. What wilt thou do ? shall we prepare 
 for blows ? 
 
 a Ber. Behold me. Earth, what is the life he hunts 
 for ? 
 
 Come to my cave, thou human hunter, come ; 
 
 For thou hast left thy prey no other lair 
 But the bleak rock or howling wilderness ; 
 
 Cheer up thy pack of fanged and fleshed hounds, 
 Flash ail the flames of hell upon its darkness, 
 
 Then enter if thou darest. 
 
 Lo, there the crushed serpent coils to sting thee, 
 
 Yea, spend his life upon the mortal throe.” 
 
 1st Rob. Wilt thou fly ? 
 
 Ber. Never—on this spot I stand 
 The champion of despair—this arm my brand— 
 
 This breast my panoply—and for my gage— 
 
 (Oh thou hast reft from me all knightly pledge) 
 
 Take these black hairs torn from a head that hates 
 thee— 
 
 Deep be their dye before that pledge is ransomed— 
 
40 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 In thine heart’s blood or mine—why stri vest thou with 
 ^ me ? (wild with passion) 
 
 Lord Aldobrand v l brave thee in th? halls, 
 
 Wrecked, famished, wrung in heart, and worn in 
 limb—• 
 
 For bread ot thine this lip hath never stained— 
 
 I bid thee to the conflic 1 — ay, come on— 
 
 Coward—hast armed thy vassals?—come then all— 
 Follow—ye shall have work enough—follow, 
 
 [i exeunt 
 
 SCENE II—imogine “ in her apartment**—a lamp, 
 burning on the table — she walks some time in great 
 agitation , and then pushes the light away . 
 
 Imo. Away, thou glarest on me, thy light is hateful ; 
 Whom doth the dark wind chide so hollowly ? 
 
 The very stones shrink from my steps of guilt, 
 
 All lifeless things have come to life to curse me : 
 
 « ()h ! that a mountain’s weight were cast on me; 
 Oh ! that the wide, wild ocean heaved o’er me; 
 
 Oh ! that I could into the earthly centre 
 Sink and be nothing. 
 
 Sense, memory, feeling, life extinct and swallowed. 
 With things that are not, or have never been, 
 
 Lie down and sleep the everlasting sleep— 
 
 (she sinks on the ground)* 
 If I run mad, some wild word will betray me, 
 
 Nay—let me think—what am I?—no, what was I ? 
 
 '• _ (a long pause ) 
 
 I was the honoured wife of Aldobrand ; 
 
 I am the scorned minion of a ruffian. 
 
 enter Clotilda. 
 
 Imo. Who art thou that thus comest on* me in dark¬ 
 ness ? 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 Act IV] 
 
 41 
 
 Clot. The taper’s blaze doth make it bright as noon. 
 Imo. I saw thee not, till thou wert close to me. 
 
 So steal the steps of those who watch the guilty; 
 How darest thou gaze thus earnestly upon me; 
 What seest thou in my face ? 
 
 “ Clot. A mortal horror. 
 
 If aught but godless souls at parting bear 
 The lineaments of despair, such face is thine.” 
 
 Imo. See’st thou despair alone ? 
 
 Nay, mock me not, for thou hast read more deeply, 
 Else why that piercing look. 
 
 Clot. I meant it not— 
 
 But since thy lonely walk upon the rampart— 
 Strange hath been thy demeanor, all thy maidens 
 Do speak in busy whispers of its wildness— 
 
 Imo. “ O hang me shuddering on the baseless crag. 
 The vampire’s wing, the wild-worm’s sting be oti 
 me, 
 
 But” hide me, mountains, from the man I’ve in¬ 
 jured. 
 
 Clot. Whom hast thou injured ? 
 
 Imo. Whom doth woman injure ? 
 
 Another daughter dries a father’s tears ; 
 
 Another sister claims a brother’s love ; 
 
 An injured husband hath no other wife, 
 
 “ Save her who wrought him shame.” 
 
 Clot. I will not hear thee. 
 
 Imo. We met in madness, and in guilt we parted— 
 “Oh ! I see horror rushing to thy face—” 
 
 Do not betray me, I am penitent— 
 
 “ Do not betray me,” it will kill my lord— 
 
 Do not betray me, it will kill my boy, 
 
 My little one that loves me. 
 
 Clot. Wretched woman— 
 
 Whom guilt hath flung at “ a poor menial’s” feet— 
 Rise, rise, how canst thou keep thy fatal secret l 
 
^ BERTRAM. [Maturia 
 
 Those fixt and bloodshot eyes, those wringing hands— 
 Imo. And were ! featureless, inert, and marble— 
 Th’ accuser here would speak— 
 
 Clot. Wilt thou seek comfort of the holy prior? 
 Imo. When I was innocent, I sought it of him— 
 
 F r if his lip of wrath refused my pardon, 
 
 Mv heart would have absolved me—** '• 
 
 Now when that heart condemns me. what avails 
 The pardon of my earthly erring judge? 
 
 4k Clot. Yet, hie from hence, upon their lady’s bower 
 No menial dares intrude. 
 
 “ Imo. That seat of honour— 
 
 My guilty steps shall never violate—” 
 
 Wliai fearful sound is that ? 
 
 Clot . Alas, a teller trial doth abide thee; 
 
 I hear thy lord’s approach. 
 
 Madness is in thy looks, he’ll know it all— 
 
 Imo. Why, 1 am mad with horror and remorse. 
 
 He comes, he comes, in all that murderous kindness 
 Oh Bertram’s curse is on me. 
 
 enter aldobrand. 
 
 Aid. How fares my dame ? give me thy white hand, 
 love. 
 
 “Oh it is pleasant for a war-worn man 
 To c uch him on the downy lap of comfort— 
 
 And on his rush-strewn floors of household peace 
 Hear his doffed harness ring—Take thou my hel¬ 
 met : ( to page who goes out )” 
 
 Well may man toil for such an hour as this. 
 
 Imo. (standing timidly near him ) Yea, happier 
 they, who on the bloody field 
 Stretch when their toil is done— 
 
 Aid. What means my love? 
 
 Imo. Is there not rest among the quiet dead ? 
 
 “ But is there surely rest in mortal dwellings?” 
 
Act IV] BERTRAM. 43 
 
 Aid. Deep loneliness hath wrought this mood in 
 thee, 
 
 For like a cloistered votarist thou hast kept, 
 
 Thv damsels tell me, this long turrets bound— 
 
 “ A musing walk upon the moonlight ramparts, 
 
 “ Or thy lute’s mournful vespers all thy cheering— 1 * 
 Not thine to parley at the lattised casement 
 With wandering wooer, or— 
 
 Imo. (wildly ) For mercy’s sake forbear— 
 
 Aid. How farest thou ? 
 
 Imo. (recovering ) Well—well—a sudden pain o 1 
 th’ heart. 
 
 Aid. Knowest thou the cause detained me hence 
 so long, 
 
 “ And which again must call me soon away ?” 
 
 Imo. ( trying to recollect herself) Was it not war ? 
 Aid. Ay, and the worst war, love— 
 
 When our fell foes are our own countrymen. 
 
 Thou knowest the banish’d Bertram— 44 why, his 
 name 
 
 Doth blanch thy altered cheek, as if his band 
 With their fierce leader, were within these towers. 
 
 “ Imo. Mention that name no more—on with thy 
 tale— 
 
 Aid. 44 1 need not tell thee, how” his mad ambition 
 Strove with the crown itself for sovereignty— 
 
 The craven monarch was his subject’s slave— 
 
 In that dread hour my country’s guard I stood, 
 
 From the state’s vitals tore the coiled serpent, 
 
 First hung him writhing up to public scorn, 
 
 Then flung him forth to ruin. 
 
 Imo. Thou need’st not tell it— 
 
 Aid. “ Th’ apostate would be great even in his 
 fall— 
 
 “On Manfredonia’s wild and wooded shore 
 u His desperate followers awed the regions round—*’ 
 Late from Taranto’s gulf his bark was traced 
 Right to these shores, 44 perchance the recent >torm 
 Hath spared me further search, but if on earth, 
 
44 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 His living form be found”— 
 
 Imo, Think’st thou he harbours here ? 
 
 “ Go, crush thy foe—for he is mine and thine— 
 
 But tell me not when thou hast done the deed.” 
 
 Aid. YVhy art thou thus, my Imogine, my love ? 
 
 C£ In former happier hours thy form and converse 
 Had, like thy lute, that gracious melancholy 
 Whose most sad sweetness is in tone with joy— 
 Perchance I’ve been to thee a rugged mate— 
 
 My soldier’s mood is all too lightly chafed— 
 
 But when the gust hath spent its short-liv’d fury, 
 
 I bowed before thee with a child’s submission, 
 
 And wooed thee with a weeping tenderness. 
 
 “ Imo. (after much agitation ) Be generous, and 
 stab me—” 
 
 Aid. Why is this ? 
 
 ** I have no skill in woman’s changeful moods. 
 
 Tears without grief, and smiles without a joy— 
 
 My days have passed away ’mid war and toil— 
 
 The grinding casque hath worn my locks of youth ; 
 Beshrew its weight, it hath ploughed furrows there, 
 Where time ne’er drove its share—mine heart’s 
 sole wish 
 
 Is to sit down in peace among its inmates— 
 
 To see mine home for ever bright with smiles, 
 
 ’Mid thoughts of past, and blessed hopes of future, 
 Glide through the vacant hours of waning life— 
 Then die the blessed death of aged honour, 
 
 Grasping thy hand of faith, and fixing on thee 
 Eyes that, though dim in death, are bright' with 
 love. 
 
 Imo. “ Thou never wilt—thou never wilt on me— 
 Ne’er erred the prophet heart that grief inspired, 
 Though joy’s illusions mock their votarist—” 
 
 I’m dying, Aldobrand, a malady 
 
 Preys on my heart, that medicine cannot reach, 
 
 “ Invisible and cureless—look not on me 
 With looks of love, for then it stings me deepest—” 
 When I am cold, when my pale sheeted corse 
 Sleeps the dark sleep no venomed tongue can wake, 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 45 
 
 Act. IV] 
 
 List not to evil thoughts of her whose lips 
 H ive then no voice to plead— 
 
 Take to thine arms some honourable dame, 
 
 “ (Blessed will she be within thine arn.s of honour)” 
 And—if he dies not on his mother’s grave— 
 
 Still love my boy as if that mother lived. 
 
 Aid. Banish such gloomy dreams— 
 
 M ’Tis solitude that makes thee speak thus sadly— 
 
 44 No longer shalt tbou pine in lonely halls.’* 
 
 Come to my courh, my love— 
 
 Imo. Stand off—unhand me.— 
 
 “ Forgive me, oh my husband ;** 
 
 I have a vow, a solemn tow is on me— 
 
 44 And black perdition gulf my perjured soul” 
 
 If 1 ascend the bed of peace and honour 
 
 Till that- 
 
 Aid . Tiil what ? 
 
 Imo. My penance is accomplished. 
 
 Aid. Nay, heaven forfend I should disturb thy 
 orisons— 
 
 The reverend prior were fittest counsellor—■ 
 Farewell!—“ but in the painful hour of penance 
 Think upon me, and spare thy tender frame. 
 
 44 Imo. And dost thou leave me with such stabbing 
 kindness ? 
 
 44 Aid. (to Clotilda, who goes out ) Call to my page 
 To bring the torch, and light me to mv chamber—** 
 Imo. y with a sudden imfiulse Jailing on her knees) 
 Yet, ere thou goest, forgive me, “oh my husband—” 
 
 Aid. Forgive thee !—What?<- 
 
 Imo. Oh, we do all offend— 
 
 There’s not a day of wedded life, if we 
 Count at its close the little bitter sum 
 Of thoughts and words, and looks unkind and fro- 
 ward, 
 
 Silence that chides, and wounding* of the eye— 
 
 But prostrate at each other’s feet, we should 
 Each night forgiveness ask—then what should I ? 
 Aid. 44 (not hearing the last words)'* Why take it 
 freely , 
 
 I well may pardon what 1 ne’er have felt, 
 
46 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 Im °' imnd) Wing him ° n heV 1(71668 and ki8sin S /iis 
 
 ?^ St i u? U forgive me from thine inmost soul- 
 Crod bless thee, oh God bless thee_” 
 
 A d , tSk reWell "~* < minC eyCS S rovv heavy, thy sad 
 
 a T^ a ^n s *°* en a heaviness upon my spirits— 
 
 1 will unto my solitary couch—” Farewell. 
 
 ^°flict—^ ^ n ° human heart can bide this^con- 
 
 All dark and horrible.—Bertram must die_ 
 
 But oh, within these walls, before mine eyes, 
 
 Who would have died for him, while life had value : 
 He shall not die-« Clotilda, ho, come forth ; * 
 
 «e yet may be redeemed, though I am lost— 
 
 J-iet him depart, and pray for her he ruin’d .” 
 
 ? ah “ ™ as u ^ncy’s work ” I hear a step— 
 
 It hath the speech-like thrilling of his tread ; 
 it is himself. 
 
 enter Bertram. 
 
 “It is a crime in me to look on thee— 
 
 But in whate’er I do there now is crime— 
 
 Yet ^fety— thought still struggles for thy 
 
 Fly ’ 'thee— HPS without a crime ma y w aru 
 
 Would thou hadst never come, or sooner parted. 
 
 On God—he heeds me not: 
 
 Why comest thou thus?’’ what is thy fearful busi¬ 
 ness r 
 
 “ I know thou comest for evil, but its purport 
 I ask my heart in vain, ^ 
 
Act IV] BERTRAM. 47 
 
 Ber. “ Guess it, and spare me.” (a long pause , 
 during which she gazes at him ) 
 
 Canst thou not read it in my face ? 
 
 “ Imo. I dare not; 
 
 Mixt shades of evil thought are darkening there; 
 
 But what my fears do indistinctly guess 
 Would blast me to behold—( turns away, a pause)” 
 Ber. Dost thou not hear it in my very silence ? 
 That which no voice can tell, doth tell itself. 
 
 “ Imo. My harassed thought hath not one point of 
 fear. 
 
 Save that it must not think.” 
 
 Ber. (throwing his dagger “ on the ground ”) 
 Speak thou for me.— 
 
 Shew me the chamber where thy husband lies, 
 
 The morning must not see us both alive. 
 
 Imo. ( screaming and struggling with him) Ah! 
 horror ! horror ! off—withstand me not, 
 
 I will arouse the castle, rouse the dead. 
 
 To save my husband ; villain, murderer, monster, 
 Dare the bayed lioness, but fly from me. 
 
 “ Ber. Go, wake the castle with thy frantic cries : 
 Those cries that tell my secret, blazon thine. 
 
 Yea, pour it on thine husband’s blasted ear. 
 
 “Imo. Perchance his wrath may kill me in its 
 mercy. 
 
 “ Ber . No, hope not such a fate of mercy from him; 
 He’ll curse thee with his pardon. 
 
 And would his death-fixed eye be terrible 
 As its ray bent in love on her that wronged him ? 
 And would his dying groan affright thine ear 
 Like words of peace spoke to thy guilt—in vain ? 
 “Imo. I care not, I am reckless, let me perish. 
 
 “ Ber. No, thou must live amid a hissing world, 
 
 A thing that mothers warn their daughters from, 
 
 A thing the menials that do tend thee scorn. 
 
 Whom when the good do name, they tell their 
 beads, 
 
48 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 And when the wicked think of, they do triumph ; 
 Cc.nst thou encounter this ? 
 
 u Imo. I must encounter it—I have deserved it; 
 Begone, or my next cry shall wake the dead. 
 
 “ Ber. Hear me. 
 
 “ Imo. N'> parley, tempter ; fiend, avaunt. 
 
 M Ber. Thy son.—{she stands stupifed) Go, take 
 him trembling in thy hand of sti*me, 
 
 A victim to the shrine of public scorn— 
 
 Poor boy ! his sire’s worst foe might pity him, 
 
 Albeit his mother will not— 
 
 Banished from noble halls, and knightly converse. 
 Devouring his young heart in loneliness 
 With bitter thought—my mother was—a wretch.” 
 Imo. {falling at his feet ) “lama wretch, but who 
 hath made me so ? 
 
 I’m writhing like a worm, beneath thy spurn.” 
 
 Have pity on me, I have had much wrong. 
 
 Ber. My heart is as the steel within my grasp. 
 
 “ Imo. {still kneeling ) Thou hast cast me down 
 from light, 
 
 From my high sphere of purity and peace, 
 
 Where once I walked in mine uprightness, blessed— 
 Do not thou cast me into utter darkness.” 
 
 Ber. {looking on her ’with pity for a ihomenf) Thou 
 fairest flower— 
 
 Why didst thou fling thyself across my path, 
 
 My tiger spring must crush thee in its way, 
 
 But cannot pause to pity thee. 
 
 Imo. Thou must, 
 
 “ For I am strong in woes”—I ne’er reproached 
 thee— 
 
 " I plead but with my agonies and tears—” 
 
 Kind, gentle, Bertram, my beloved Bertram, 
 
 For thou wert gentle once, “ and once beloved,” 
 Have mercy on me—Oh thou couldst not think it— 
 {looking up ,, and seeing no relenting in his face , she 
 start8 up wildly ) 
 
 By heaven “ and all its host,” he shall not perish. 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 49 
 
 Act IV] 
 
 Ber. “ By hell and all its host,” he shall not live. 
 “This is no transient flash of fugitive passion— 
 
 His death hath been my life for years of misery 
 Which else I had not lived— 
 
 Upon that thought and not on food I fed, 
 
 Upon that thought, and not on sleep I rested 
 I come to do the deed that must be done— ^ 
 
 Nor thou, nor sheltering angels, could prevent me. ’ 
 Imo. “ But man shall, miscreant”—help ! 
 jjji Ber , Thou callest in vain — 
 
 The armed vassals all are far from succour— 
 
 “ Following St. Anselm’s votarists to the convent—” 
 My band of blood are darkening in their halls— 
 
 “ Wouldst have him butchered by their ruffian hands 
 That wait mv bidding? 
 
 “ Imo. (falling on the ground)— Fell and horrible 
 I’m seal’d, shut down in ransomless perdition. 
 
 “ Ber. Fear not, my vengeance will not yield its 
 prey. 
 
 He shall fall nobly, by my hand shall fall— 
 
 But still and.dark the summons of its fate, 
 
 So winds the coiled serpent round his victim. 
 
 (a horn sounds without) 
 
 Whence was that blast ?” those felon slaves are 
 come- 
 
 He shall not perish by their ruffian hands. 
 
 [exit Bertram 
 
 Imo. (gazing round her , and slowly recovering re - 
 collection , repeats his last words)— He shall 
 not perish— 
 
 ,Oh ! it was all a dream—a horrid dream— 
 
 ' He was not here—it is impossible— 
 
 (tottering towards the door) 
 
 ■ I will not be alone another moment 
 Lest it do come again—where, where art thou ? 
 
 E 
 
50 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 “ enter Clotilda. 
 
 u Clot. Didst thou not call me ?—at thy voice of 
 anguish 
 
 I hasten, though I cannot hear thy words— 
 
 “ Imo, Let me lean on thee, let me hold thee fast— 
 \ea strongly grasp some strong substantial thing 
 To scare away foul forms of things that are not— 
 
 1 hey have been with me in my loneliness. 
 
 Oh, i have had such dark and horrid thoughts— 
 
 But they are gone—we will not think of them— 
 
 “ Clot What hath been with thee? 
 
 “ Imo ' Something dark that hovered (deliriously) 
 Upon the confines of unmingling worlds, 
 
 In dread for life—for death too sternly definite 
 Something the thought doth try in vain to follow— 
 
 1 hrough mist and twilight— 
 
 “ Clo. Wo is me! methought 
 I saw the form of Bertram as I entered— 
 
 “ (starting with sudden recollection ) Oh 
 
 God—it was no vision then, thou sawest him— 
 
 Give me my phrensy back—one moment’s thought_ 
 
 Lis done, by Heaven, ’tis done— 
 
 I will tall down before his injured feet, 
 
 1 11 tell him all my shame, and all my guilt, 
 
 My wrongs shall be a weapon in his hand, 
 
 And if it tail, this tainted frame of sin 
 
 Shall fall a shield before my husband’s breast_ 
 
 111 wake the castle—wake the faithful vassals— 
 
 111— (going, she sto/is suddenly) 
 
 I cannot be the herald of my shame, 
 
 Go thou, and tell them what I cannot utter. 
 
 “ Cl °• ° h > y et forgive me, through that gloomy 
 
 passage 07 
 
 I dare not venture, lest that dark form meet me. 
 
 “/mo. Nay, thou must go, ’tis I that dare not ven¬ 
 dor, it I see him in his holy sleep [ture_ 
 
 Resting so calmly on the bed I’ve wronged, 
 
 My heart will burst, and he must die unwarned_ 
 
 [exit Clotilda 
 
Act IV] BERTRAM. 51 
 
 “ Imo. {listening after her ) How long she lingers 
 —■ay—he knows my guilt 
 Even from this untold summons—ay—my boy. 
 
 They clothe thee with my shame. 
 
 Hush—look—all’s still within—a horrid stillness— 
 Perchance, that she, even she is bribed to aid— 
 
 Wo’s me, who now can trust a menial’s faith, 
 
 When that his wedded wife hath done him wrong. 
 
 “ enter Clotilda. 
 
 ** Clo. All’s safe—all’s well— 
 
 “ Imo. What meanest thou by these words ? 
 
 For sounds of comfort to my blasted ear 
 Do ring a death-peal— 
 
 “ Clo. Heardest thou not the horn ? 
 u Imo. 1 heard no horn, I only heard a voice 
 That menaced murder— 
 
 “ Clo. Oh i the horn did sound— 
 
 And with it came a blessed messenger. 
 
 St. Anselm’s knights within their patron’s walls 
 Do hold a solemn feast, and o’er his shrine 
 They hang the holy banner of his blessing— 
 
 Full swiftly came the summons to thy lord 
 To join them in their solemn ceremony— 
 
 Lord Aldobrand with few attendants gone, 
 
 Though late the hour, and dark the way, ere this 
 Hath measured half the distance. 
 
 “ Imo. {throwing herself -vehemently on her knees ) 
 Thank God, thank God—Heaven bless the gallant 
 knights! 
 
 Then he is safe until the morning’s dawn. 
 
 “ enter page. 
 
 “ Imo. Speak—who art thou ? 
 
 Page. Dost thou not know me, lady ? 
 
 “ Imo . V\ ell, well, I reck not—wherefore art thou 
 •ome l 
 
™ BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 “Page. So fierce the mountain-stream comes roar¬ 
 ing down, 
 
 The rivulet that bathes the convent walls 
 Is now a foaming flood—upon its brink 
 Thy lord and his small train do stand appalled 
 With torch and bell from their high battlements 
 The monks do summon to the pass in vain ; 
 
 He must return to-night. 
 
 “ Imo . ’Tis false, he must not—Oh, I shall run 
 mad— 
 
 Go thou, and watch upon the turret’s height— (to 
 Clotilda') 
 
 The flood must fall—the bright moon must shine 
 forth ; 
 
 Go, go and tell me so—why stayest tfyou here, (to 
 
 page) 
 
 Begone, and do not heed, and do not wat^h me. 
 
 [exit page 
 
 1 ve lost the courage of mine innocence, 
 
 And dare not have the courage of despair— 
 
 The evil strength that gave temptation danger, 
 let cannot give remorse its energy. 
 
 “enter ci.otilda. 
 
 “ & ot ' The night is calm and clear, and o’er the 
 plain 
 
 Nor arms do glimmer on my straining e£ght, 
 
 Nor through the stilly air did horseman’s tramp 
 Ring in faint echo from the hollow hill, 
 
 Though my fixed ear did list to giddiness— 
 
 Be comforted, he must have passed the Stream— 
 
 *’ Yea, 1 am comforted, ’tis blessed comfort— 
 He must have passed the stream—Oh pitying Hea¬ 
 ven 
 
 Accept these tears, these are not sinful tears— 
 
 I ell me again that he will not return. 
 
 u Clot. I soothly say, he must have passed the 
 stream. ' ~J ■ .< ■ •: 'll 
 
Act IV] BERTRAM. 53 
 
 u (thc horn is heard, without, announcing Aldo - 
 
 brand's return ) 
 
 “ Clot *Tis Aldobrand, he’s lost—we all are lost— 
 {without') 
 
 il Into Now Heaven have mercy on thy soul, my 
 husband, 
 
 For man hath none Is there no hope, no help ? 
 
 (looking towards the door , across which the band of 
 Bertram march silently and range themselves ) 
 None, none—his gathering band are dark airound 
 me— 
 
 I will make one last effort for their mercy, 
 
 If they be human they will listen to me. 
 
 (rushing towards them , they step forward and point 
 their swords to resist her) 
 
 Oh, there is nothing merciful in their looks; 
 
 Oh, there is nothing hit an in their hearts ; 
 
 They are not men—Hell hath sent up its devils. 
 There is no hope ; I’ll hear his dying groan. 
 
 I’ll hear his last cry for that help that comes not ; 
 
 I’ll hear him call upon his wife and child— 
 
 I will not hear it. ( stopping her ears) 
 
 Oh that my tighten’d heart had breath for prayer ; 
 Mercy, oh mercy, Bertr am ! 
 
 {another horn heard without , she starts and staggers 
 towards the door a noise of swords within) 
 
 Aid {within) Off, villain, off— 
 
 Ber. Vihain tnthv soul, for 1 am Bertram. 
 
 (Aldobrand retreating before Bertram, rushes on 
 the stage , and falls at Imogene's feet. 
 
 Aid, “ Let me die at her feet, my wife, my wife, 
 Wilt thou not staunch the life blood streaming from 
 me ? 
 
 Wilt thou not look at me ?” O save mv boy {dies) 
 (Imogene at the name of her sow, rushes off ; Ber• 
 tram stands over the body holding the daggi r with 
 his eyes fxed on it; the band fit up the back ; the 
 curtain drops) 
 
 E 2 
 
54 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 scene i —the chapel in the convent of St. Anselm^ 
 the shrine splendidly illuminated and decorated— 
 “ the Prior rising from before the altar . 
 
 enter 1st monk. 
 
 “ Monk. How gay and glorious doth our temple 
 seem ! 
 
 Look round thee, father. 
 
 “ Prior . I feel no joy like that the faithful feel, 
 Viewing the glories of their holy place ; 
 
 An horror of great darkness is upon me, 
 
 A fearful dread hath overwhelmed me. 
 
 “ Monk. Wherefore ? 
 
 ** Prior. As at the shrine I knelt but now in 
 prayer, 
 
 Nor sleep, nor waking, but a horrible vision 
 
 Fell on my tranced spirit, and I dreamed- 
 
 On the dark mountains was the vision wrought. 
 
 Of mist, and moonlight, mingling fitfully - -— 
 
 A brinded wolf did tear a struggling lion 
 While the cowed lioness stood trembling by—— 
 
 I wist not what it meant, but in mine agony, 
 
 I prayed to be released, and as I woke 
 
 The echoes gave me back my slumbering cries— 
 
 “ Monk. Tis a good dream, and bodeth something 
 good,- 
 
 “ Prior . How sayst thou, good ? 
 
 “ Monk. I dreamed it on that night 
 Lord Aldobrand did from his castle come, 
 
 And blessed days of peace have followed it.- - 
 
 “ Prior. Heaven grant they may ! 
 
 “ Monk. Lo, where the knights approach.” 
 
 (enter the knights in solemn procession with the con¬ 
 secrated banner—the prior advances to meet 
 them.) ' 
 
 Prior. Hail! champions of the church and of the 
 land, 
 
Act V] BERTRAM. 55 
 
 The banner of our holy saint in fight 
 Full bravely have ye borne, and scatheless back, 
 From unblessed weapon and from arm unholy, 
 Restored it to the power whose might struck for you. 
 {the music commences , the knights and monks ad¬ 
 vance in procession , the prior bearing the banner , 
 which he has received from the principal knight .) 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Guardian of the good and brave 
 
 Their banner o’er thy shrine we wave- 
 
 Monk, who counts the midnight b6ad- 
 
 Knight, who spurs the battle steed,—— 
 
 He, who dies ’mid requiem’s knelling- 
 
 Alike thy care, whose grace is shed 
 
 On cowled scalp and helmet head- 
 
 Thy temple of the rock' and flood 
 
 Forages mid their wrath has stood- 
 
 Thy midnight bell, through storm and calm 
 Hath shed on listening ear its balm. 
 
 u (the hymn is interrupted by ” 3 d monk rushing in 
 
 distractedly .) 
 
 3d Monk . Forbear, forbear - — 
 
 Prior. Why comest thou thus with voice of despe¬ 
 rate fear, 
 
 Breaking upon our solemn ceremony ? 
 
 3 d Monk. Despair is round our walls, a wailing 
 spirit, 
 
 “ Yea the mixt wailings of the infernal host 
 Burst deafeningly amid the shuddering blast”— 
 
 No earthly lip might utterance give to such — - 
 Prior. Thou’rt wild with watching, 4k fear and 
 loneliness, 
 
 In thy sole turret that o’erhangs the flood. 
 
 Of winds and waves, the strangely mingled sounds 
 Ride heavily” the night-wind’s hollow sweep, 
 Mocking the sounds of human lamentation*- 
 
56 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 3 d Monk. Hush, look, it comes again, (a screcuri) 
 Prior. Defend us, heaven, 
 
 ’Tvvas horrible indeed ; *tis in our walls— 
 
 Ha, through the cloister there doth something glide 
 “ That seems in truth not earthly——” 
 
 imogine rushes in with her child , her hair dishe¬ 
 velled , her dress stained with blood. 
 
 Imo. Save me, save me. 
 
 Prior. Save thee, from what ? 
 
 Imo. “From earth, and heaven, and hell,” 
 
 All, all are arm’d, and rushing in pursuit— 
 
 ( firior , monks , and knights gathering around , and 
 speaking together) 
 
 All. Who, what, what hath befallen thee ? 
 
 Speak. 
 
 Imo. O, wait not here to speak, but fly to save him, 
 For he lies low upon the bloody ground. 
 
 Knight. She speaks in madness, ask the frighted boy 
 Hath aught befallen his father ? 
 
 Imo. Ask him not— 
 
 He hath no father—we have murder’d him— 
 Traitress and murderer—we have murder’d him— 
 They’ll not believe me for mine agony— 
 
 Is not his very blood upon my raiment? 
 
 Reeks not the charnel-stream of murder from me ? 
 Prior and Monks, (vehemently) Impossible ! 
 
 Imo. Ay, heaven and earth do cry, impossible; 
 The shuddering angels “ round th’ eternal throne, 
 Vailing themselves in glory” shriek impossible. 
 
 But hell doth know it true. — - 
 
 Prior. ( advancing to her solemnly) Spirits of 
 madness, that possess this woman, 
 
 “ Depart, I charge you, trouble her no more, 
 
 Till she do answer to mine adjuration”- 
 
 Who did the deed ? 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 57 
 
 ■}. Act V] 
 
 (Imagine sinks gradually from his fixed eye, till , 
 hiding her face, she falls on the ground in silence ) 
 Knight. 1 do believe it, horrid as it seems— 
 
 • ls£ Monk. Pd not believe her words, I do her si¬ 
 lence. 
 
 Prior. “ {who has fallen back in horror into the 
 arms of the monks, rushes forward)” 
 
 Oh ! draw your swords, brave knights, and sheathe 
 them not-- 
 
 “ Slack not to wield the sword of Aldobrand, 
 
 Arise, pursue, avenge, exterminate 
 With all the implements of mortal might, 
 
 And all the thunders of the church’* curse.”- — 
 
 [exeunt tumultuously knights, monks, and attend¬ 
 ants, the prior is following them , Imagine , still 
 kneeling , grasps him by the robe. 
 
 Prior . {with mixt emotion, turning to her) 
 
 Thou art a wretch. I did so love and honour thee— 
 Thou’st broke mine aged heart—that look again— 
 
 Woman, let go thy withering hold- 
 
 Inio, I dare not— 
 
 I have no hold but upon heaven and thee. 
 
 Prior. ( tearing himself from her) “ I go, yet ere 
 mine aged feet do bear me 
 To the dark chase of that fell beast of b’ood,” 
 
 Hear thou, and—hope not—if by word or deed, 
 
 Yea, by invisible thought, unuttered wish, 
 
 Thou hast been ministrant to this horrid act— 
 
 With full collected force of malediction 
 
 - 1 do pronounce unto thy soul—despair- [exit 
 
 Imo. (looking round on the chapel , after a long 
 pause) They’ve left me; all things leave si»e, all 
 things human; 
 
 Follower and friend, last went the man of God ; 
 
 The last—but yet he went— 
 t) “ Child. I will nor leave thee 
 
 “ Imo . My son, my son, was that thy voice— 
 When heaven and angels, earth and earthly things 
 Do leave the guilty in their guiltiness, 
 
 \ A cherub’s voice doth whisper in my child’s. 
 
 K ■■ 
 
 i I \- 
 
 ■ - 
 
58 
 
 BERTRAM. 
 
 [Maturin 
 
 There is a shrine within thy little heart 
 Where I will hide, nor hear the trump of doom,” 
 Child. Dear mother, take me home— 
 lmo. Thou hast no home ; 
 
 She, whom thou callest mother, left thee none. 
 
 “ We’re hunted from mankind (sinking down) 
 
 “ Here will we lie in darkness down together, 
 
 And sleep a dreamless sleep”—what form is that— 
 Why have they laid him there ? ( recoiling) 
 
 “ Plain in the gloomy depth he lies before me 
 The cold blue wound whence blood hath ceased to 
 flow, 
 
 The stormy clenching of the bared teeth ; 
 
 “ The gory socket that the balls have burst from 
 I see them all—( shrieking ) 
 
 It moves—it moves—it rises—it comes on me— 
 ’Twill break th’ eternal silence of the grave ; 
 
 ’Twill wind me in its creaking matrowleiss arms. 
 Hold up thy hands to it, it was thy father; 
 
 Ah, it would have thee too, off—save me—off— 
 
 {rushes out with the child) 
 
 scene ii —changes to the castle. 
 
 prior enters alone. 
 
 Prior. His halls are desolate ; the lonely walls 
 Echo my single tread—through the long galleries— 
 The hurrying knights can trace nor friend nor foe ; 
 The murderer hath escaped— u the saints forgive 
 me, 
 
 I feel mine heart of weakness is come back, 
 
 Almost I wish he had—ha, here is blood— 
 
 Mine ebbing spirits lacked this stirring impulse—” 
 Ho—haste ye here—“ the shedder must be near.” 
 
 enter the knights, monks, &c. sufifiorting Clo¬ 
 tilda. 
 
Act V] BERTRAM. 59 
 
 Knight. We, found this trembling maid, alone, con¬ 
 cealed— 
 
 Prior. Speak—tell of Bertram—of thy lord—the 
 vassals— 
 
 Clot. Oh, give me breath, for I am weak with fear; 
 Short was the bloody conflict of the night— 
 
 The few remaining vassals fled in fear— 
 
 The bandits, loaded with the castle’s spoil—• 
 
 Are gone—I saw them issue from the walls— 
 
 But yet I dared not venture forth, while Bertram— 
 
 Ml. Go on—go on- 
 
 Clot. He bore the murdered body 
 Alone into yon chamber. (/ lointing) 
 
 “ I heard the heavy weight tr ail after him ; 
 
 I heard his bloody hands make fast the door ; 
 
 There hath he sat in dread society,” 
 
 The corse and murderer are there together. 
 
 (the knights draw their swords , and rush towards 
 
 the door ) 
 
 Prior, (interflosing) Hold, champions, hold, “ this 
 warfare is for me.” 
 
 The arm of flesh were powerless on him now ; 
 
 Hark how the faltering voice of feeble age 
 Shall bow him to its bidding. Ho, come forth, 
 
 (striking the door ) 
 Thou man of blood, come forth, “thy doom awaits 
 thee.” 
 
 Bertram ofiens the door, and advances slowly; his 
 dress is stained with blood , and he grasps the hilt 
 of a dagger in his hand—his look is so marked and 
 grand , that the knights , &c. make room for him % 
 and he advances to the front untouched. 
 
 “ All. Who art thou ?” 
 
 Per. I am the murderer; wherefore are ye come ? 
 “ Prior. This majesty of guilt doth awe my spirit; 
 Is it th’ embodied fiend who tempted him 
 Sublime in guilt ?” 
 
60 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 Ber. “ Marvel not at mewist ye whence I 
 come ? 
 
 The tomb, where dwell the dead, and I dwelt tvith 
 Till sense of life dissolved away within me. [him, 
 
 {looking round ghastlily ) 
 
 I am amazed to see ye living men. 
 
 I deemed that when I struck the final blow 
 Mankind expired, and we were left alone, 
 
 The corse and I were left alone together, 
 
 The only tenants of a blasted world 
 “ Dispeopled for my punishment, and changed a : 
 Into a penal orb of desolation.” 
 
 Prior. “ Advance and bind him, are ye men and 
 armed ? ' 
 
 What, must this palsied hand be first on him.?’* 
 Advance, and seize him, ere his voice of blasphemy 
 Shall pile the roof in ruins o’er our heads. 
 
 Ber. Advance, and seize me, ye who smile at 
 blood, v - 
 
 For every drop of mine a life shall pay ; 
 
 I’m naked, famished, faint, my brand is broken; 
 Rush, mailed champions, on the helpless Bertram ; 
 
 {they sink back ) 
 
 Now prove what fell resistance I shall make. 
 
 (throws down the hilt of his dagger ) 
 There, bind mine arms, it ye do list to bind them ; 
 
 I came to yield, but not to be subdued. 
 
 Prior. Oh, thou, who o’er thy stormy grandeur 
 flingest 
 
 A struggling beam that dazzles, awes, and vanishes ; 
 Thou who dost blend our wonder with our curses, 
 Why didst thou this ? 
 
 Ber. He wronged me, and I slew him. ^ 
 
 To man but thee 1 ne’er had said even this; 
 
 “ To man but thee, I ne’er shall utter more.” 
 
 Now speed ye swift from questioning to death— 
 
 {they surround him ) 
 
 One prayer, my executioners, not conquerors ; 
 
 “ Be most ingenious in your cruelty 
 
 Let rack and pincer do their full work on me ; 
 
BERTRAM, 
 
 61 
 
 Act V] 
 
 ’Twill rouse me from that dread unnatural sleeep, 
 
 In which mv soul hath dreamt its dreams of agony ; 
 This is my prayer, ye’ll not refuse it to me. 
 
 (as they are leading him off, the firior lays hold of 
 
 him) 
 
 Prior. Yet bend thy steeled sinews, bend and pray; 
 The corse of him thou’st murdered lies within, 
 
 (a long pause) 
 
 Per. I have offended Heaven, but will not mock it. 
 Spare me your rack and pincers, spare me words. 
 
 [exeunt 
 
 scene hi —a dark wood, in the back scene a cavern , 
 rocks and precipices above — imogine comes for¬ 
 ward. 
 
 Imo. (sighing heavily after a long pause) If I could 
 waft away this low-hung mist 
 That darkens o’er my brow; 
 
 If I could but unbind this burning band 
 That tightens round my heart. 
 
 4< Of night or morning is it ? 
 
 1 wist not which, a dull and dismal twilight 
 Pervading all things, and confounding all things, 
 
 Doth hover o’er my senses and my soul.” 
 
 (comes forward shuddering) 
 “ The moon shines on me, but it doth not light me 
 The surge glides past me, but it breathes not on me. 
 My child, my child, where art thou ; come to me, 
 
 I know thou hidest thyself for sport to mock me; 
 
 Yet come, for I am scared with loneliness. 
 
 I’ll call on thee no more, lo, there he glides, 
 
 And there, and there, he flies from me, “ he laughs, 
 I’ll sing thee songs the church-yard spirits taught 
 me. 
 
 I’ll sit all night on the grey tombs with thee, 
 
 So thou wilt turn to me he’s gone, he’s gone. 
 
 inter Clotilda, prior and monks surrounding. 
 
 Clot. She’s here, she’s here ; and is it thus I see her? 
 
 F 
 
.62 BLR1 RAM. £Maturin 
 
 Prior. All-pitying heaven, release her from this 
 misery. 
 
 Imo. Away, unhand me, ye are executioners! 
 
 I know your horrible errand ; who hath sent you ? 
 This is false Bertram’s doing ; “ God, oh God,” 
 
 How I did love, and how am I requited ; 
 
 Well, well, accuse me of what crime you will, 
 
 I ne’er was guilty of not loving thee ; 
 
 Oh, spare the torture, and I will confess; 
 
 Nay, now there needs it not, his look’s enough. 
 
 That smile hath keener edge than many daggers. 
 
 (she sinks into Clotilda’s arms') 
 Clo. How could this wasted form sustain the toils, 
 Bearing her helpless child. 
 
 Imo. (.starting up. ) I was a mother, ’twas my child 
 I bore ; 
 
 The murderer hung upon my flying steps ; 
 
 The winds with all their speed had failed to match 
 me. 
 
 “ Oh ! how we laughed to see the baffled fiend 
 Stamp on the shore, and grind his iron teeth, 
 
 While safe and far I braved the wave triumphant, 
 And shook my dripping locks like trophied banner.” 
 I was a mother then. 
 
 Prior . Where is thy child ! 
 
 Clo. (pointing to the cave into which she has 
 looked ) Oh, he lies cold within his cavern-tomb. 
 Why dost thou urge her with the horrid theme ? 
 
 Prior. It was to wake one living chord o’ th’ heart, 
 And 1 will try, though mine own breaks at it; 
 Where is thy child ? 
 
 Imo. {with a frantic laugh) The forest fiend hath 
 snatched him ; 
 
 4 ‘ He rides the night-mare through the wizard 
 
 woods.” 
 
 Prior. Hopeless and dark, even the last spark ex¬ 
 tinct. 
 
 enter Zd monk hastily. ' 
 
 Monk. Bertram, the r p? isonef Bertram-—— 
 
BERTRAM. 
 
 63 
 
 Act V] 
 
 Prior. Hush, thou’lt kill her; 
 
 Haste thee, Clotilda, holy brethren, haste ; 
 
 Remove her hence, ay, even to that sad shelter. 
 
 (pointing to the cave ) 
 
 I see the approaching torches of the guard, 
 
 “ Flash their red light athwart the forest’s shade,” 
 Rear her away ; u oh my weak eye doth fail 
 Amid these horrors.” 
 
 (Imagine is torn to the cave , the prior follows ) 
 
 manet last monk— enter a knight. 
 
 Knight. Where is the prior ? 
 u Monk In yonder cave he bides. 
 
 And here he wills us wait, for ’tis his purpose 
 Once more to parley with that wretched man : 
 
 How fares he now ? 
 
 “ Knight. As one whose pride of soul 
 Bears him up singly in this terrible hour ; 
 
 His step is firm, his eye is fixed ; 
 
 Nor menace, nor reviling, prayers nor curses 
 Can win an answer from his closed lips ; 
 
 It pities me, for he is brave, most brave. 
 
 “ Monk. Pity him not. 
 
 “ Knight. Hush ; lo, he comes”- 
 
 (a gleam of torch-light falls on the rocks. Bertram , 
 knights , and monks „ are seen winding down the pre¬ 
 cipices , the clank of Bertram's chains the only sound 
 heard. They enter , Bertram is between two monks , 
 who bear torches ) 
 
 lsf Monk. Leave him with us, and seek the prior, 
 I pray you. 
 
 Knight. ( aside to monk ) He yet may try escape. 
 We’ll watch concealed. 
 
 [exeunt all but Bertram and the two monks 
 1 st Monk. Brief rest is here allowed thee—mur¬ 
 derer, pause- 
 
 How fearful was our footing on those cliffs, 
 
64 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 Where time had worn those steep and rocky steps, 
 
 I counted them to thee as we descended. 
 
 But thou for pride wast dumb — - 
 Ber. I heard thee not— 
 
 2d Monk Look round thee, murderer, drear thy 
 resting place— 
 
 This is thy latest stage—survey it well— 
 
 “Lo, as I wave my dimmed torch aloft, 
 
 Yon precipice crag seems as if every tread 
 (Yea, echoed impulse of the passing foot) 
 
 Would loose its weight to topple o’er our heads— 
 Those cavities hollowed by the hand of wrath— 
 Those deepening gulfs, have they no horrible tenant? 
 Dare thine eye scan that spectred vacancy ? 
 
 Ber. I do not mark the things thou tell’st me of. 
 
 1 st Monk. Wretch, if thy fear no spectred inmate 
 shapes- 
 
 Ber. (starting from his trance ) Cease, triflers, 
 would you have me feel remorse ? 
 
 Leave me alone—nor cell, nor chain, nor dungeon, 
 Speaks to the murderer with the voice of solitude. 
 
 1 st Monk . “ Thou sayest true.” 
 
 In cruelty of mercy will we leave thee. 
 
 [exeunt monks 
 
 Ber. If they would go in truth—but what avails it? 
 
 [he meditates in gloomy refection for some minutes , 
 and his countenance slowly relaxes from its stern 
 expression) 
 
 the prior enters unobserved , and stands opposite 
 him in an attitude of supplication. Bertram re¬ 
 sumes his sternness) 
 
 Ber. Why art thou here ? There was a hovering 
 angel 
 
 Just lighting on my heart—and thou hast scared it— 
 Prior. Yea, rather with my prayers I’ll woo it 
 back. 
 
 In very pity of thy soul l come 
 
 To weep upon that heart I cannot soften— 
 
 [a long pause ) 
 
 Oh ! thou art on the verge of awful death— 
 
BERTRAM, 
 
 65 
 
 Act V] 
 
 Think of the moment, when the veiling scarf 
 That binds thine eyes shall shut nut earth for ever— 
 When in thy dizzy ear, hurtles the groan 
 Of those who see the smiting hand upreared, 
 
 Thou canst but feel—that moment comes apace -- 
 
 (Bertram smiles ) 
 
 But terrors move in thee a horrid joy, 
 
 And thou art hardened by habitual danger 
 Beyond the sense of aught but pride in death. 
 
 (Bertram turns away ) 
 Can I not move thee by one power in nature ? 
 
 There have been those whom Heaven hath failed to 
 move, 
 
 Yet moved they were by tears of kneeling age. 
 
 (kneels) 
 
 I wave all pride of ghostly power o’er thee— 
 
 I lift no cross, I count no bead before thee— 
 
 By the locked agony of these withered hands, 
 
 By these white hairs, such as thy father bore, 
 (Whom thou could’st ne’er see prostrate in the dust) 
 With toil to seek thee here my limbs do fail, 
 
 Send me not broken-hearted back again— 
 
 Yield, and relent, Bertram, my son, my son. 
 
 (weeping and looking up eagerly) 
 Did not a gracious drop bedew thine eye ? 
 
 Ber, Perchance a tear had fallen, hadst thou not 
 marked it. 
 
 Prior, (rising with dignity ) Obdurate soul—then 
 
 perish in thy pride- 
 
 Hear in my voice thy parting angel speak, 
 
 Repent—and be forgiven- 
 
 (Bertram turns towards him in strong emotion , when 
 a shriek is heard from the cavern. Bertram stands 
 fixed in horror ) 
 
 Prior (stretching out his hands towards the ca¬ 
 vern) Plead thou for me—thou whose wild voice of 
 horror, 
 
 Has pierced the heart my prayers have failed to 
 touch. 
 
66 BERTRAM. [Maturin 
 
 Ber. (‘wildly) What voice was that—yet do not 
 dare to rell me, 
 
 Name not her name, 1 charge thee. 
 
 Prior. Imogine . - 
 
 A maniac through these shuddering woods she wan¬ 
 ders, 
 
 But in her\madness, never cursed thy name. 
 (Bertram attempts to rush towards the-cave, but 
 stands stupijied on hearing a shriek from the 
 cavern. Imagine rushes from it in distraction , 
 bursting from the arms of Clotilda ; the monks and 
 knights follow , and remain in the back ground ) 
 Imo. Away, away, away, no wife—no mother— 
 (she rushes forward till she meets Bertram , who 
 stands in speechless horror ) 
 
 Imo. Give me my husband, give me back my child; 
 “Nay give me back myself—” 
 
 They say I’m mad, but yet I knew thee well— 
 
 Look on me—They would bind these wasted limbs— 
 I ask but death—death from thy hand —that hand can 
 deal death well —and yet thou wilt not give it. 
 
 Ber . (gazing on her for a moment , then rushing to 
 the prior , and sinking at his feet ) 
 
 Who hath done this? Where are the racks I hoped 
 for ? 
 
 Am I not weak ? am I not humbled now ? 
 
 (grovelling at the Prior’s feet , and then turning to 
 
 the knights ) 
 
 Hast thou no curse to blast—no curse for me_ 
 
 Is there no hand to pierce a soldier’s heart ? 
 
 Is there no foot to crush a felon’s neck ? 
 
 Imo. (raising herself at the sound of his voice) 
 Bertram. 
 
 (he rushes towards her , and first repeats Imogine 
 feebly ; as he approaches , he utters her name again 
 passionately , but as he draws nearer and sees 
 her look of madness and desperation , he repeats 
 it once more in despair , and does not dare to ap - 
 
Act V] BERTRAM. 6 7 
 
 firoach her , till he perceives her falling into Clo¬ 
 tilda’s arms , and catches her in his ) 
 
 Imo. Have l deserved this of thee ? ( she dies slow¬ 
 ly , with her eyes fixed on Bertrams who continues to 
 gaze o'/i her , unconscious of her having expired) 
 
 Prior. ’Tis past ; remove him from the corse - 
 
 (the knights and monks advance , he waves them off 
 with one handy still supporting the body) 
 
 “ Prior, (to the monks) Brethren, remove the 
 corse—-—” 
 
 Ber. She is not dead —( starting up) 
 
 She must not, shall not die till she forgives me— 
 Speak, speak to me— (kneeling to-the corpse) 
 (turning to the monks) Yes—she will speak anon ; 
 
 (a long pause : he drops on the corse) 
 She speaks no more ; why do ye gaze on me ? 
 
 1 loved her, yea, I love, in death I loved her : 
 
 I killed her, but 1 loved her : 
 
 What arm shall loose the grasp of love and death ? 
 (the knights and monks surround and attempt to tear 
 him from the body , he snatches a sword from one 
 of the knights , who retreats in terror , as it is point¬ 
 ed towards him. Bertram, resuming all his for¬ 
 mer sternness , bursts into a disdainful laugh) 
 
 Ber . Thee—against thee—oh, thou art safe, thou 
 worm- 
 
 Bertram hath but one fatal foe on earth, 
 
 And-Ae is here - (stabs himself) 
 
 Prior, (rushes forward) He dies, he dies. 
 
 Ber. (struggling with the agonies of death) 
 
 I know thee, holy prior—1 know ye, brethren, 
 
 Lift up your holy hands in charity. 
 
 (with a bursting of wild exultation) 
 
 I died no felon death- 
 
 A warrior’s weapon freed a warrior’s soul. 
 
 END OF BERTRAM. 
 
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