« EdellinenJatka »
Rolla. Hast thou children?
Sent. In my native village, in the very cot where I was born.
Rolla. Dost thou love thy wife and children?-
Rolla. Soldier! Imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death in a strange land—What would be thy last request?
Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying olessing to my wife and children.
Rolla. What if that comrade was at thy prison door, and should there be told, thy fellow soldier dies at sunrise, yet thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing to his poor children, or his wretched wife—what wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive thy comrade from the door?
Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child; and I am come but to receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of my friend.
Sent. Go in. [Exit Sentinel.]
[Ěnter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.]
Rolla. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This disguise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon; now take it thou, and fly.
Alon. And Rolla-
Rolla. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, not Rolla's; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. Or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the desert; nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art a husband and a father; the being of a lovely wife and helpless infant depend upon thy life. Go! go! Alonzo, not to save thyself, but Cora, and thy child.
Alon. Urge me not thus, my friend--I am prepared to die in
peace. Rolla. To die in peace! devoting her you have sworn to live for, to madness, misery, and death! Alon. Merciful heavens!
Rolla. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo--now mark me well. Thou knowest that Rolla never pledged his word and shrunk from its fulfilment. Know then, if thou art proudly obstinate, thou shalt have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla perish by thy side.
Alon. O Rolla! you distract me! Wear you the robe, and though dreadful the necessity, we will strike down the guard, and force our passage.
Rolla. What, the soldier on duty here?
Alon. Yes, else seeing two, the alarm will be instant death.
Rolla. For my nation's safety, I would not harm him. That soldier, mark me, is a man! All are not men that wear the human form. He refused my prayers, refused my gold, denying to admit---till his own feelings bribed him. I will not risk a hair of that man's head, to save my heartstrings from consuming fire. But haste! A moment's further pause
and all is lost. Alon. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honour and from right.
Rolla. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonour to his friend? [Throwing the friar's garment over his shoulders.] There! conceal thy face-Now God be with thee.
God.- Translated from a Russian Ode by DerZHANIR. 1 0 Thou Eternal One! whose presence bright,
All space doth occupy.--All motion guide;
2 A million torches lighted by thy hand,
Wander unwearied through the blue abyss;
But thou to these art as the noon to night. 3 Yes! as a drop of water in the sea,
All this magnificence is lost in thee:-
Against infinity! what am I then? Nought!
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too;
I am, O God, and surely thou must be!
Direct my understanding then to thee;
The Dead Sea.-CROLY. 1 The wind blows chill across those gloomy waves ;
Oh! how unlike the green and dancing main! The
surge is foul, as if it rolled o'er graves;
Stranger, here lie the cities of the plain.
Rose palace once, and sparkling pinnacle;
On pomp and festival the twilight fell.
Was stained with blood, and pride, and perjury; Long warned, long spared, till her whole heart was foul,
And fiery vengeance on its clouds came nigh. 4 And still she mocked, and danced, and, taunting spoke
Her sportive blasphemies against the Throne;It came!-the thunder on her slumber broke:
God spake the word of wrath!-Her dream was done. 5 Yet, in her final night, amid her stood
Immortal messengers; and pausing Heaven, Pleaded with man, but she was quite imbued,
Her last hour waned, she scorned to be forgiven! 6 T was done!--Down pour'd at once the sulph'rous show'r,
Down stooped, in fame, the heaven's red canopy. Oh! for the arm of God, in that fierce hour!
’T was vain, nor help of God or man was nigh. 7 They rush, they bound, they howl, the men of sin;
Still stooped the cloud, still burst the thicker blaze; The earthquake heaved!—Then sank the hideous din!
Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays. 8 Paris! thy soul is deeper dyed with blood,
And long, and blasphemous, has been thy day; And, Paris! it were well for thee that flood,
Or fire, could cleanse thy damning stains away.
New Missionary Hymn.
All thy scenes I love them well,
Can I leave you-
Joys no stranger-heart can tell!
Can I leave thee-
Holy days and Sabbath bell,
Can I leave you—
From the scenes I loved so well!
Pleased I leave theeFar in heathen lands to dwell. 5 In the deserts let me labor,
On the mountains let me tell,
Let me hasten,
Let the winds the canvass swell
far hence to dwell. Glad I bid thee, Native land !--FAREWELL -FAREWELL!