The works of Mrs. Hemans; with a memoir of her life online

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THE WORKS

OK A^>-^-^^

MRS HEMANS;



A MEMOIR OF HER LIFE,



HER SISTER



IN SEVEN VOLUMES.
VOL. V.



WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS,
EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
M.DCC0.L1V.



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1257



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CONTENTS



PAOK

^ THE VESPERS OP PALERMO— A Tragedy, ... 1
y% AWNOTATION, ...... 110

^ SONGS OF THE CID—

V The Cid'B Departure into Exile, .111

V, The Cid'B Deathbed. . .112

The Cid'B Funeral Procession, .116

^ The Cid's Rifiing, . .119

Notes, 121

ON A FLOWER PROM THE FIELD OF GRUTLI, 128

ON A LEAF FROM THE TOMB OP VIRGIL, . .124

THE CHIEFTAIN'S SON, 125

A FRAGMENT, 126

ENGLAND'S DEAD 127

THE MEETING OF THE BARDS, .129

THE VOICE OF SPRING 182

RECORDS OP WOMAN—

Arabella Stuart, .180

The Bride of the Greek Isle. .... 147
The Switzer's Wife, .166

Properzia Rossi. ...... 160



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CONTENTS.



RECORDS OF WOMAN, Continued—
Gertrude ; or. Fidelity till Death,
Imelda,

Edith; a Tale of the Woods, .
The Indian City,
The Peasant Girl of the Rhone,
Indian Woman's Death-Song,
Joan of Arc in Rheims,
Pauline,

Juana, ....
The American Forest Girl,
Costanza^ ....
Madeline; a Domestic Tale,
The Queen of Prussia's Tomb,
The Memorial Pillar,
The Grave of a Poetess^
Notes,



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS—
The Homes of England,
The Sicilian Captive,
Ivan the Czar, .
Carolan's Prophecy,
The Lady of the Castle,
The Mourner for the Barmecides,
The Release of Tasso. .
The Spanish Chapel,
The Kaiser's Feast,
The Necromancer, .
Tasso and his Sister,
Ulla; or, the Adjuration, .
To Wordsworth,



165
167
172
180
188
192
195
198
202
206
209
214
218



228
280
284
288
242
246

•249
250
254

•255
256



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CONTENTS.



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, Cmavmud-
A Monarch's Deathbed,
To the Memory of Heber,
The Adopted Child,
Invocation, ....

Kdmer and his Sister,
The Death-day of KOruer,
An Hour of Bonutnce,
A Voyages Dream of Land,
The Effigies,

The Landmg of the Pilgrim Fathers,
The Spirit's Mysteries,
The Departed, ....
The Palm Tree, . ' .
The Child's Last Sleep,
The Simbeam,
Breathings of Spring, .
The Illuminated City,
The Spells of Home, .
Roman Girl's Song,
The Distant Ship,
The Birds of Passage,
The Graves of a Household,
Mozart's Requiem, .
The Image in Lava,
Christmas Carol,
A Father reading the Bible,
The Meeting of the Brothers,
The Last Wish, ....
Fairy Favours,
Annotation, ....



264
266



272
274
276
278



286



291
293
295
296
298
299
301
302
805
807
308
310
812
315
317



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THE VESPERS OF PALERMO.

A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.



DRAMATIS PERS0N-3E.

Count di Procida.
Kaimond di Procida, hU Son.
Eribert, Viceroy,
Db CoufJi.

MONTALBA.
GUIDO.

Alberti.
Anselmo, a Monk,

VlTTORIA.

Constance, SUier to Erib&rt,

Nobles, Soldiers, Messengers, Vassals, Peasant, dbc, d:c.

Scene — Palermo.



ACT I.

Scene L — A Valley, with Vineyards and Cottages.

Groups of Peasants — Procida, disguised as

a Pilgrim, among them,

\gt Pea. Ay, this was wont to be a festal time
In days gone by ! I can remember well

VOL. V. A



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2 THE VESPERS OF PALERMO.

The old familiar melodies that rose

At break of mom, from all our purple hills,

To welcome in the vintage. Never since

Hath music seem'd so sweet. But the light hearts

Which to those measures beat so joyously.

Are tamed to stillness now. There is no voice

Of joy through all the land.

2d Pea. Yes ! there are sounds

Of revelry within the palaces,
And the fair castles of our ancient lords,
Where now the stranger banquets. Ye may hear
From thence the peals of song and laughter rise
At midnight's deepest hour.

3d Pea, Alas ! we sat,

In happier days, so peacefully beneath
The olives and the vines our fathers rear'd,
Encircled by our children, whose quick steps
Flew by us in the dance ! The time hath been
When peace was in the hamlet, wheresoe'er
The storm might gather. But this yoke of France
Falls on the peasant's neck as heavily
As on the crested chieftain's. We are bow'd
E'en to the earth.

Pea,^8 Child. My feither, tell me when
Shall the gay dance and song again resound
Amidst our chestnut-woods, as in those days
Of which thou'rt wont to tell the joyous tale ?

Ist Pea, When there are light and reckless hearts
once more
In Sicily's green vales. Alas ! my boy.
Men meet not now to quaflF the flowing bowl.
To hear the mirthful song, and cast aside



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THE VESPERS OF PALERMO. 3

The weight of work-day care : they meet to speak
Of wrongs and sorrows, and to whisper thoughts
They dare not breathe aloud.

Fro, {from the background.) Ay, it is well
So to relieve th' o'erburthen'd heart, which pants
Beneath its weight of wrongs ; but better far
In silence to avenge them !

An Old Pea. What deep voice

Came with that startling tone ?

\st Pea. It was our guest's,

The stranger pilgrim who hath sojoum'd here
Since yester-mom. Good neighbours mark him'

weU :
He hath a stately bearing, and an eye
Whose glance looks through the heart. His mien

accords
111 with such vestments. How he folds around him
His pilgrim-cloak, e'en as it were a robe
Of knightly ermine ! That commanding step
Should have been used in courts and camps to

move.
Mark him 1

Old Pea. Nay, rather, mark him not ; the times
Are fearful, and they teach the boldest hearts
A cautious lesson. What should bring him here %

A Yovih, He spoke of vengeance !

Old Pea, Peace ! we are beset

By snares on every side, and we must learn
In silence and in patience to endure.
Talk not of vengeance, for the word is death.

Pro. {coming forward indignantly.) The word is
death ! And what hath life for thee,



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4 THE VESPERS OF PALERMO.

That thou shouldst cling to it thus ? thou abject

thing!
Whose very soul is moulded to the yoke.
And stamp'd with servitude. What ! is it life
Thus at a breeze to start, to school thy voice
Into low fearful whispers, and to cast
Pale jealous looks around thee, lest, e'en then,
Strangers should catch its echo? — Is there aught
In this so precious, that thy fiirrow'd cheek
Is blanch'd with terror at the passing thought
Of hazarding some few and evil days.
Which drag thus poorly on ?

Some of the Peas, Away, away !

Leave us, for there is danger in thy presence.

Pro, Why, what is danger? Are there deeper
ills
Than those ye bear thus calmly ? Ye have drain'd
The cup of bitterness till naught remains
To fear or shrink from — ^therefore, be ye strong !
Power dwelleth with despair. Why start ye thus
At words which are but echoes of the thoughts
Look'd in your secret souls ? Full well I know.
There is not one among you, but hath nursed
Some proud indignant feeling, which doth make
One conflict of his life. I know thy wrongs.
And thine— and thine ; but if within your breast
There is no chord that vibrates to my voice.
Then fare ye well.

A Yottth {coming forward.) No, no ! say on, say
on!
There are still free and fiery hearts e'en here,
That kindle at thy words.



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THE VESFERB OF PALERMO. 5

Pea, If that indeed
Thou hast a hope to give us

Pro. There is hope

For all who suffer with indignant thoughts
Which work in silent strength. What ! think ye

Heaven
O'erlooks the oppressor, if he bear awhile
His crested head on high 1 I tell you, no !
Th' avenger will not sleep. It was an hour
Of triumph to the conqueror, when our king,
Our young brave Conradin, in life's feir mom
On the red scaffold died. Yet not the less
Is Justice throned above ; and her good time
Comes rushing on in storms : that royal blood
Hath lifted an accusing voice from earth.
And hath been heard. The traces of the past
Fade in marCs heart, but ne'er doth Heaven forget.

Pea, Had we but arms and leaders, we are men
Who might earn vengeance yet; but wanting these,
What wouldst thou have us do ?

Pro, Be vigilant ;

And when the signal wakes the land, arise !
The peasant's arm is strong, and there shall be
A rich and noble harvest. Fare ye well.

[Eocit Procida.
Ist Pea, This man should be a prophet : how he
seem'd
To read our hearts with his dark searching glance
And aspect of command ! and yet his garb
Is mean as ours.

2d Pea, Speak low ; I know him well.

At first his voice disturb'd me, like a dream



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6 THE VESPERS OP FALEBMO.

Of other days, but I remember now
His form, seen oft when in my youth I served
Beneath the banners of our kings ! Tis he
Who hath been exiled and proscribed so long.
The Count di Procida.

Pea. And is this he 1

Then Heaven protect him ! for around his steps
Will many snares be set.

\st Pea. He comes not thus

But with some mighty purpose — doubt it not;
Perchance to bring us freedom. He is one.
Whose faith, through many a trial, hath been proved
True to our native princes. But away !
The noontide heat is past, and from the seas
Light gales are wandering through the vineyards ;

now
We may resiune our toil. [Exeunt Peasants,

Scene IL — The Terrace of a Castle.

ErIBERT, VlTTORIA.

Vit. Have I not told thee, that I bear a heart
Blighted and cold 1 — Th' affections of my youth
Lie slumbering in the grave ; their fount is closed,
And all the soft and playful tenderness
Which hath its home in woman's breast, ere yet
Deep wrongs have sear'd it — all is fled from mine.
Urge me no more.

Uri. lady ! doth the flower

That sleeps entomb'd through the long wintry storms.
Unfold its beauty to the breath of spring.



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THE VESPERS OP PALERMO. 7

And shall not woman's heart, fi-om chill despair,
Wake at love's voice ?

VU. Love ! — ^make love's name thy spell.

And I am strong ! — the very word calls up
From the dark past, thoughts, feelings, powers

array'd
In arms against thee ! Know'st thou whom I loved
While my soul's dwelling-place was still on earth?
One who was born for empire, and endow'd
With such high gifts of princely majesty.
As bow'd all hearts before him ! Was he not
Brave, royal, beautiful 1 And such he died ;
He died ! — ^hast thou forgotten 1 — And thou'rt here,
Thou meet'st my glance with eyes which coldly

look'd,
— Coldly ! — nay, rather with triumphant gaze.
Upon his murder !— Desolate as I am.
Yet in the mien of thine affianced bride.
Oh ! my lost Conradin ! there should be still
Somewhat of loftiness, which might o'erawe
The hearts of thine assassins.

JSri. Haughty dame !

If thy proud heart to tenderness be closed.
Know, danger is around thee : thou hast foes
That seek thy ruin, and my power alone
Can shield thee from their arts.

VU. Provencal, tell

Thy taJe of danger to some happy heart
Which hath its little world of loved ones round.
For whom to tremble ; and its tranquil joys
That make earth Paradise. I stand alone ;
— ^They that are blest may fear.



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8 THE VESPERS OF PALERMO.

Eri. Is there not one

Who ne'er commands in vain ? Proud lady, bend
Thy spirit to thy fiite ; for know that he,
Whose car of triumph in its earthquake path,
O'er the bow'd neck of prostrate Sicily,
Hath borne him to dominion ; he, my king,
Charles of Anjou, decrees thy hand the boon
My deeds have well deserved ; and who hath power
Against his mandates ?

Vit. Viceroy, tell thy lord

That, e'en where chains lie heaviest on the land.
Souls may not all be fetter'd. Offc, ere now,
Conquerors have rock'd the earth, yet fail'd to tame
Unto their purposes that restless fire
Inhabiting man's breast. A spark bursts forth.
And so they perish ! 'Tis the fate of those
Who sport with lightning — and it may be his.
Tell him I fear him not, and thus am free.

Eri. 'Tis well. Then nerve that loffcy heart to

bear
The wrath which is not powerless. Yet again
Bethink thee, lady ! Love may change — hath

changed
To vigilant hatred oft, whose sleepless eye
Still finds what most it seeks for. Fare thee well.
— Look to it yet ! — To-morrow I return.

[Exit Eribert.
Vit, To-morrow !— Some ere now have slept and

dreamt
Of morrows which ne'er dawn'd— or ne'er for them ;
So silently their deep and still repose
Hath melted into death ! Are there not balms



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THE VESPERS OP PALERMO. 9

In nature's boundless realm, to pour out sleep

Like this on me ? Yet should my spirit still

Endure its earthly bonds, tiU it could bear

To his a glorious tale of his own isle,

Free and avenged. — Then shouldst be now at

work,
In wrath, my native Etna ! who dost lift
Thy spiry pUlar of dark smoke so high.
Through the red heaven of sunset I — sleep'st thou

stiU,
With all thy founts of fire, while spoilers tread
The glowing vales beneath 1

[Progida efitersy disguised.
Ha ! who art thou.
Unbidden guest, that with so mute a step
Dost steal upon me ?

Pro, One, o'er whom hath pass'd

All that can change man's aspect 1 Yet not long
Shalt thou find safety in forgetfulness.
I am he, to breathe whose name is perilous,
Unless thy wealth could bribe the winds to silence.
— Know'st thou this, lady 1 [He shows a ring,

Vit, Righteous heaven ! the pledge

Amidst his people from the scaffold thrown
By him who perish'd, and whose kingly blood
E'en yet is unatoned. My heart beats high —
— Oh, welcome, welcome ! thou art Procida,
Th' Avenger, the Deliverer !

Fro, Call me so.

When my great task is done. Yet who can tell
If the retum'd he welcome ? Many a heart
Is changed since last we met.



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10 • THE VESPERS OP PALERMO.

Vie, Why dost thou gaze,

With such a still and solemn earnestness,
Upon my alter'd mien ?

Fro, That I may read

If to the widow'd love of Conradin,
Or the proud Eribert's triumphant bride,
I now intrust my fate.

Fit, Thou, Procida !

That thou shouldst wrong me thus ! — ^prolong thy

gaze
Till it hath foimd an answer.

Fro, 'Tis enough.

I find it in thy cheek, whose rapid change
Is from death's hue to fever's; in the wild
Unsettled brightness of thy proud dark eye.
And in thy wasted form. Ay, 'tis a deep
And solemn joy, thus in thy looks to trace.
Instead of youth's gay bloom, the characters
Of noble suffering : on thy brow the same
Commanding spirit holds its native state.
Which could not stoop to vileness. Yet the voice
Of Fame hath told afar, that thou shouldst wed
This tyrant Eribert.

Vit And told it not

A tale of insolent love repell'd with scorn,
Of stem commands and fearful menaces
Met with indignant courage ? Procida !
It was but now that haughtily I braved
His sovereign's mandate, which decrees my hand,
With its fair appanage of wide domains
And wealthy vassals, a most fitting boon.
To recompense his crimes. — I smiled — ay, smiled —



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THE VESPERS OP PALERMO. 11

In proud security ; for the high of heart
Have still a pathway to escape disgrace,
Though it be dark and lone.

Fro, Thou shalt not need

To tread its shadowy mazes. Trust my words :
I tell thee that a spirit is abroad
Which will not slumber, till its path be traced
By deeds of fearful fame. Vittoria, live 1
It is most meet that thou shouldsi live, to see
The mighty expiation ; for thy heart
(Forgive me that I wrong'd its faith !) hath nursed
A high, majestic grief, whose seal is set
Deep on thy marble brow.

Vit, Then thou canst tell.

By gazing on the wither'd rose, that there
Time, or the blight, hath work'd ! Ay, this is in
Thy vision's scope : but oh ! the things unseen.
Untold, imdreamt of, which like shadow's pass
Hourly o'er that mysterious world, a mind
To ruin struck by grief ! Yet doth my soul.
Far midst its darkness, nurse one soaring hope.
Wherein is bright vitality. 'Tis to see
Bis blood avenged, and his fair heritage,
My beautiftil native land, in glory risen.
Like a warrior from his slumbers !

Fro. Hearst thou not

With what a deep and ominous moan the voice
Of our great mountain swells ? There will be soon
A fearful burst ! Vittoria ! brood no more
In silence o'er thy sorrows, but go forth
Amidst thy vassals, (yet be secret still,)
And let thy breath give nurture to the spark



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12 THE VESPERS OF PALERMO.

Thou'lt find already kindled. I move on

In shadow, yet awakening in my path

That which shall startle nations. Fare thee well.

Vit. When shall we meet again 1 — Are we not
those
Whom most he loved on earth, and think*st thou not
That love e'en yet shall bring his spirit near
While thus we hold communion ?

Fro. Yes, I feel

Its breathing influence whilst I look on thee,
Who wert its light in life. Yet will we not
Make womanish tears our oflering on his tomb ;
He shall have nobler tribute ! — I must hence.
But thou shalt soon hear more. Await the time.

[Exeunt separately.

Scene III. — The Sea-Shore,
Baimond di Peocida, Constance.

Con. There is a shadow fisu: within your eye.
Which hath of late been deepening. You were

wont.
Upon the clearness of your open brow.
To wear a brighter spirit, shedding round
Joy like our southern sun. It is not well,
If some dark thought be gathering o'er your soul.
To hide it from affection. Why is this 1
My Raimond, why is this 1

Raim, Oh ! from the dreams

Of youth, sweet Constance, hath not manhood still
A wild and stormy wakening ? They depart —



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THE VESFEBS OF PALERMO. 13

Light after light, our glorious visions fiide,

The vaguely beautiful ! till earth, unveil'd,

Lies pale around ; and life's realities

Press on the soul, from its unfathom'd depth

Rousing the fiery feelings, and proud thoughts.

In all their fearftd strength 1 'Tis ever thus.

And doubly so with me ; for I awoke

With high aspirings, making it a curse

To breathe where noble minds are bow'd, as here.

— To breathe I — It is not breath !

Con. I know thy grief,

— And is't not mine 1 — ^for those devoted men
Doom'd with their life to expiate some wild word,
Bom of the social hour. Oh ! I have knelt,
E'en at my brother's feet, with fruitless tears,
Imploring him to spare. His heart is shut
Against my voice ; yet will I not forsake
The cause of mercy.

Raim, Waste not thou thy prayers.

Oh, gentle love, for them. There's little need
For pity, though the galling chain be worn
By some few slaves the less. Let them depart 1
There is a world beyond the oppressor's reach.
And thither lies their way.

Con, Alas ! I see

That some new wrong hath pierced you to the
soul.

Raim, Pardon, belovM Constance, if my words.
From feelings hourly stung, have caught, perchance,
A tone of bitterness. Oh ! when thine eyes.
With their sweet eloquent thoughtfulness, are
fix'd



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14 THE VESPEBS OP PALERMO.

Thus tenderly on mine, I should forget

All else in their soft beams ; and yet I came

To tell thee

Con, What? What wouldst thou say 1 Oh
speak !
Thou wouldst not leave me !

Raim, I have cast a cloud,

The shadow of dark thoughts and ruin'd fortunes.
O'er thy bright spirit. Haply, were I gone,
Thou wouldst resume thyself, and dwell once more.
In the clear sunny light of youth and joy,
E'en as before we met — ^before we loved !

Con, This is but mockery. Well thou know'st
thy love
Hath given me nobler being ; made my heart
A home for all the deep sublimities
Of strong affection ; and I would not change
Th' exalted life I draw from that pure source,
With all its chequer'd hues of hope and fear.
E'en for the brightest calm. Thou most unkind !
Have I deserved this 1

Raim, Oh I thou hast deserved

A love less fatal to thy peace than mine.
Think not 'tis mockery ! But I cannot rest
To be the scom'd and trampled thing I am
In this degraded land. Its very skies,
That smile as if but festivals were held
Beneath their cloudless azure, weigh me down
With a dull sense of bondage, and I pine
For freedom's charter'd air. I would go forth
To seek my noble fether : he hath been
Too long a lonely exile, and his name



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THE VESPERS OP PALERMO. 15

Seems fading in the dim obscurity
Which gathers round my fortunes.

Con. Must we part ?

And is it come to this ? Oh ! I have still
Deem'd it enough of joy with thee to share
E'en grief itsel£ And now ! But this is vain.
Alas ! too deep, too fond, is woman's love :
Too fuU of hope, she casts on troubled waves
The treasures of her soul !

Raim, Oh ! speak not thus !

Thy gentle and desponding tones fall cold
Upon my inmost heart. I leave thee but
To be more worthy of a love like thine ;
For I have dreamt of fame ! A few short years,
And we may yet be blest.

Con, A few short years !

Less time may well suffice for death and &te
To work all change on earth ; to break the ties
Which early love had form'd ; and to bow down
Th* elastic spirit, and to blight each flower
Strewn in life's crowded path ! But be it so !
Be it enough to know that happiness
Meets thee on other shores.

Raim. Where'er I roam.

Thou shalt be with my soul ! Thy soft low voice
Shall rise upon remembrance, like a strain
Of music heard in boyhood, bringing back
Life's morning freshness. Oh ! that there should be
Things which we love with such deep tenderness,
But, through that love, to learn how much of woe
Dwells in one hour like this ! Yet weep thou not!
We shall meet soon ; and many days, dear love !
Ere I depart.



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16 THE VE8FEB8 OF FALEBHO.

Con. Then there's a respite still.