Chapter 36

ROSAURA, in a light corselet, with sword and dagger; SIGISMUND, and Soldiers.

ROSAURA. Noble-hearted Sigismund! Thou whose hidden light heroic Issues from its night of shadows To the great deeds of its morning; And as heaven's sublimest planet From the white arms of Aurora Back restores their beauteous colour To the wild flowers and the roses, And upon the seas and mountains, When endiademed with glory, Scatters light, diffuses splendour, Braids their foam, their hair makes golden; Thus thou dawnest on the world Bright auspicious sun of Poland, Who will help a hapless woman, She who at thy feet doth throw her, Help her, since she is unhappy, And a woman; two good motives Quite enough to move a man Who of valour so doth boast him, Though even one would be sufficient, Though even one would be all potent. Thou hast seen me thrice already, Thrice thou hast not truly known me, For each time by different dresses Was I strangely metamorphosed. First I seemed to thee a man, When within thy sad and sombre Cell thou sawest me, when thy life Wiled from me mine own misfortunes. As a woman next thou sawest me, Where the splendours of thy throne-room Vanished like a fleeting vision, Vain, phantasmal and abortive. The third time is now, when being Something monstrous and abnormal, In a woman's dress thou see'st me With a warrior's arms adorned. And to pity and compassion That thou may'st be moved more strongly, Listen to the sad succession Of my tragical misfortunes. In the Court of Muscovy I was born of a noble mother, Who indeed must have been fair Since unhappiness was her portion. Fond and too persuading eyes Fixed on her, a traitor lover, Whom, not knowing, I don't name, Though mine own worth hath informed me What was his: for being his image, I sometimes regret that fortune Made me not a pagan born, That I might, in my wild folly, Think he must have been some god, Such as he was, who in golden Shower wooed Danae, or as swan Leda loved, as bull, Europa. When I thought to lengthen out, Citing these perfidious stories, My discourse, I find already That I have succinctly told thee How my mother, being persuaded By the flatteries of love's homage, Was a fair as any fair, And unfortunate as all are. That ridiculous excuse Of a plighted husband's promise So misled her, that even yet the remembrance brings her sorrow. For that traitor, that Aeneas Flying from his Troy, forgot there, Or left after him his sword. By this sheath its blade is covered, But it shall be naked drawn Ere this history is over. From this loosely fastened know Which binds nothing, which ties nothing, Call it marriage, call it crime, Names its nature cannot alter, I was born, a perfect image, A true copy of my mother, In her loveliness, ah, no! In her miseries and misfortunes. Therefore there is little need To say how the hapless daughter, Heiress of such scant good luck, Had her own peculiar portion. All that I will say to thee Of myself is, that the robber Of the trophies of my fame, Of the sweet spoils of my honour, Is Astolfo . . . . Ah! to name him Stirs and rouses up the choler Of the heart, a fitting effort When an enemy's name is spoken,-- Yes, Astolfo was that traitor, Who, forgetful of his promise (For when love has passed away, Even its memory is forgotten), Came to Poland, hither called. From so sweet so proud a conquest, To be married to Estrella, Of my setting sun the torch light. Who'll believe that when one star Oft unites two happy lovers, Now one star, Estrella, comes Two to tear from one another? I offended, I deceived, Sad remained, remained astonished, Mad, half dead, remained myself; That's to say, in so much torment, That my heart was like a Babel Of confusion, hell, and horror: I resolving to be mute, (For there are some pains and sorrows That by feelings are expressed, Better than when words are spoken). I by silence spoke my pain, Till one day being with my mother Violante, she (oh, heavens!) Burst their prison; like a torrent Forth they rushed from out my breast, Streaming wildly o'er each other. No embarrassment it gave me To relate them, for the knowing That the person we confide to A like weakness must acknowledge Gives as 'twere to our confusion A sweet soothing and a solace, For at times a bad example Has its use. In fine, my sorrows She with pity heard, relating Even her own grief to console me: When he has himself been guilty With what ease the judge condoneth! Knowing from her own experience That 'twas idle, to slow-moving Leisure, to swift-fleeting time, To intrust one's injured honour. She could not advise me better, As the cure of my misfortunes, Than to follow and compel him By prodigious acts of boldness To repay my honour's debt: And that such attempt might cost me Less, my fortune wished that I Should a man's strange dress put on me. She took down an ancient sword, Which is this I bear: the moment Now draws nigh I must unsheath it, Since to her I gave that promise, When confiding in its marks, Thus she said, "Depart to Poland, And so manage that this steel Shall be seen by the chief nobles Of that land, for I have hope That there may be one among them Who may prove to thee a friend, An adviser and consoler." Well, in Poland I arrived; It is useless to inform thee What thou knowest already, how A wild steed resistless bore me To thy caverned tower, wherein Thou with wonder didst behold me. Let us pass too, how Clotaldo Passionately my cause supported, How he asked my life of the king Who to him that boon accorded; How discovering who I am He persuaded me my proper Dress to assume, and on Estrella To attend as maid of honour, So to thwart Astolfo's love And prevent the marriage contract. Let us, too, pass by, that here thou didst once again behold me In a woman's dress, my form Waking thus a twofold wonder, And approach the time, Clotaldo Being convinced it was important That should wed and reign together Fair Estrella and Astolfo, 'Gainst my honour, me advised To forego my rightful project. But, O valiant Sigismund, Seeing that the moment cometh For thy vengeance, since heaven wishes Thee to-day to burst the portals Of thy narrow rustic cell, Where so long immured, thy body Was to feeling a wild beast, Was to sufferance what the rock is, And that 'gainst thy sire and country Thou hast gallantly revolted, And ta'en arms, I come to assist thee, Intermingling the bright corselet Of Minerva with the trappings Of Diana, thus enrobing Silken stuff and shining steel In a rare but rich adornment. On, then, on, undaunted champion! To us both it is important To prevent and bring to nought This engagement and betrothal; First to me, that he, my husband, Should not falsely wed another, Then to thee, that their two staffs Being united, their joined forces Should with overwhelming power Leave our doubtful victory hopeless. Woman, I come here to urge thee To repair my injured honour, And as man I come to rouse thee Crown and sceptre to recover. Woman I would wake thy pity Since here at thy feet I throw me, And as man, my sword and person In thy service I devote thee. But remember, if to-day As a woman thou should'st court me, I, as man, will give thee death In the laudable upholding, Of my honour, since I am In this strife of love, this contest, Woman my complaints to tell thee, And a man to guard my honour.

SIGISMUND [aside]. Heavens! if it is true I dream, Memory then suspend thy office, For 'tis vain to hope remembrance Could retain so many objects. Help me, God! or teach me how All these numerous doubts to conquer, Or to cease to think of any!-- Whoe'er tried such painful problems? If 'twas but a dream, my grandeur, How then is it, at this moment, That this woman can refer me To some facts that are notorious? Then 'twas truth, and not a dream; But if it was truth (another And no less confusion,) how Can my life be called in proper Speech a dream? So like to dreams Are then all the world's chief glories, That the true are oft rejected As the false, the false too often Are mistaken for the true? Is there then 'twixt one and the other Such slight difference, that a question May arise at any moment Which is true or which is false? Are the original and the copy So alike, that which is which Oft the doubtful mind must ponder? If 'tis so, and if must vanish, As the shades of night at morning, All of majesty and power, All of grandeur and of glory, Let us learn at least to turn To our profit the brief moment That is given us, since our joy Lasteth while our dream lasts only. In my power Rosaura stands, Thou, my heart, her charms adoreth, Let us seize then the occasion; Let love trample in its boldness All the laws on which relying She here at my feet has thrown her. 'Tis a dream; and since 'tis so, Let us dream of joys, the sorrows Will come soon enough hereafter. But with mine own words just spoken, Let me now confute myself! If it is a dream that mocks me, Who for human vanities Would forego celestial glory? What past bliss is not a dream? Who has had his happy fortunes Who hath said not to himself As his memory ran o'er them, "All I saw, beyond a doubt Was a dream." If this exposeth My delusion, if I know That desire is but the glowing Of a flame that turns to ashes At the softest wind that bloweth; Let us seek then the eternal, The true fame that ne'er reposeth, Where the bliss is not a dream, Nor the crown a fleeting glory. Without honour is Rosaura. But it is a prince's province To give honour, not to take it: Then, by Heaven! it is her honour That for her I must win back, Ere this kingdom I can conquer. Let us fly then this temptation. [To the Soldiers. 'Tis too strong: To arms! March onward! For to-day I must give battle, Ere descending night, the golden Sunbeams of expiring day Buries in the dark green ocean.

ROSAURA. Dost thou thus, my lord, withdraw thee? What! without a word being spoken? Does my pain deserve no pity? Does my grief so little move thee? Can it be, my lord, thou wilt not Deign to hear, to look upon me? Dost thou even avert thy face?

SIGISMUND. Ah, Rosaura, 'tis thy honour That requires this harshness now, If my pity I would show thee. Yes, my voice does not respond, 'Tis my honour that respondeth; True I speak not, for I wish That my actions should speak for me; Thee I do not look on, no, For, alas! it is of moment, That he must not see thy beauty Who is pledged to see thy honour. [Exit followed by the Soldiers.

ROSAURA. What enigmas, O ye skies! After many a sigh and tear, Thus in doubt to leave me here With equivocal replies!

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