SCENE III.

WANDA, THE BARD, _later_ HERMANN.

WANDA (_with emotion_).

Minstrel! thou seest, not causelessly I seek thee; Now, from the store experience provides, Give me a crumb of counsel; youth so proud In knowledge, yet in wisdom is but poor. Oh! of thy inspiration let one beam Illume a mind oppress’d by fogs of doubt.

BARD.

Be thy own heart thy guide, thence issues forth The fount of inspiration, and there holds Conscience her awful oracle, and there Honour to duty hath an altar rear’d. Our best adviser is our conscience still, Though often to her voice our ears are deaf, To honied flattery list’ning ’stead of truth. Bad counsellors are poisoners of our bliss, And dig the grave of honour; this concerns Princes yet more than peoples.

[HERMANN _enters_.

HERMANN.

No greetings, queen, for courtesies have ceased Between my lord and you; he, Rüdiger, The mighty Prince of Germany, brooks not From you the insult of a daring “No!” But on the frontier of your Poland stands-- Soon, soon to be its frontier no more-- To quench with trusty steel his vengeance thirst, To tame your pride down into lack of will, Through utter helplessness of slavery, yet still Pitying, he lingers, graciously declares Yet once again, if you will now receive His proffer’d hand, the gathering cloud shall clear, And ’twixt the rival hosts no blood shall flow. But if your bold defiance you repeat, Woe to you then, rash woman, and false queen. The German armies, ranged in dread array, Uplift the sword already, which will teach That right is to the strongest.

WANDA (_with dignity, and in a tone of proud contempt_).

“As is the master, so the servant,” thus Our proverb says, and truly, if I judge Your lord from you, your people from you both, I needs must deem, as neighbours you are bad, As men unpolish’d, and as warriors!-- Why that’s to prove!--we’ll test your skill in arms. Conquest and spoil we seek not, Poland’s sons Take no fierce pleasure in the clang of war, And know too well what love of country means To stretch with greedy grip toward other lands. The plough, the pruning hook, the poet’s dream, The minstrel’s harp, and sweet domestic joys, These are their dear delight; but dearer yet, Dearer than life itself, is liberty! And when their peaceful industry is marr’d, And hostile voices thunder, duty’s call Presses the sword in the reluctant grasp, And rings our watchword, “Trust th’ immortal gods!” Threats and the threat’ner alike we scorn!

HERMANN.

What! scorn to Rüdiger?

WANDA.

Peace! servant of a master who would fain Subdue a feeble woman through her fears; Know that our virtue to weakmindedness Degenerates not, nor to the coward soul; And if the guest insults the ancient rules, Which form the code of hospitality, From all its duties is the host set free. In you I see the unblushing messenger Of jarring words, uncourteous and harsh; One moment, and you cease to be my guest, And of my neighbour, the ambassador. Say to your prince, my _no_ still no remains; _With us_ a word once given is never changed.

[_Exit_ HERMANN.