Chapter III: Act I: Cracow, as in Legendary Times

SCENE I.

GOBLINS, WATER SPIRITS.

CHORUS OF GOBLINS.

Sing on, thou weird old salamander,
In magic fiery mazes wander,
Thy burning song may hurt thyself,
But cannot warm one shivering elf;
’Twill disenchant thy mind deluded,
And yet our power is not illuded,
In baleful spells we keep thee bound,
And firmly are the fetters wound.
List to that magic spell, and say
If thou canst exorcise its sway,
But for a time,
By foamy froth of hollow hope,
Or reminiscences raised up
Of Poland’s prime!--
Hither, ye demons dire,
Of rapine, and murder, and spite,
Perjury, falsehood, conspire,
All in one compact unite;
Reach out the hand,
A chosen band
Of mortals shall greet you,
And lovingly treat you,
As brothers in arms;
Who sneer down as vain
Each national claim,
And of right
Make light,
Though pray’d for in common humanity’s name.
What, tremble ye, cowards! delay not, draw near,
If God be a fiction, what is there to fear?
By your gorgon-like aspect, congeal’d into stone,
All helpless and heedless the nations look on.
In the name of all things holy
Desecration shall be bless’d,
Sin itself be canonized,
At the triple crown’s behest.
Hither spirits, powers of evil!
Soon your mighty chief, the Devil,
Gives that watchword to your ring
Which no minstrel can out-sing.
Write then, weak poet, on the changing sand
Which skirts the boasted river of thy land;
Write thy dull song of Poland’s daughters rare,
And all the heroic virtues of the fair;
Oblivion’s waves shall soon engulf thy rhymes,
Siberia’s snows be wafted o’er the lines,
Ashes of Polish bones that moulder’d down,
Where Spielberg and Spandau portentous frown,
Shall closely hide them with a spectral pall,
And from the shuddering eye shall cover all.
Sing, if thou wilt, of patriotic queens,
Of sacrifice of self, and all such themes;
Foreign oppressors soon, short-sighted fool,
Triumphantly shall reign with iron rule,
Though fearing, hating you with deadly hate,
And kindling you to hatred all too late:
When ye shall see the Vistula, beside
Her hundred sisters, with your life-blood dyed,
And when the Polish Wawel’s cannon shows
A front ’gainst Poland, not ’gainst Poland’s foes.
Then to your poets, into exile driven
Will time and leisure bounteously be given
To groan in cadence drear a worthless song,
To wail those foreign hills and groves among;
There, where a happy ignorance of grief
Forbids e’en sympathy to lend relief,
Where echo only answers with a groan,
The language and the woe alike unknown.

CHORUS OF WATER SPIRITS _from the Vistula_.

Away, ye dark spirits, in vain are your cries,
Who mock at misfortune, and virtue despise.
Ye symbols of hard and material prose,
Of poetry _living_ or _rhyming_ the foes;
Away! for the poet’s vocation sublime
To you is a problem unsolved for all time;
Heaven’s bolts lifeless fall when they reach the morass,
And thus the ideal with minds of your class.
Look up then, and know that your reign’s at an end;
From the Wawel see Wanda’s fair maidens descend;
At the aspect of innocence, beauty and love,
Quail, quail, ye dark demons! and shrinking remove;
Haste ere your weak vision be quench’d by the light,
Ye birds of ill-omen, ye owls of the night! [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

A BARD (_lost in meditation_); LESJA, _at the head of a train of
Maidens_; WANDA _soon after_; RZEWNA _later_.

LESJA.

Hail to thee, Bard, thou favour’d of the gods!
Their very language not unknown to thee,
Through whom the aspirations of mankind,
Formless and voiceless, dreaming i’ the dark,
Instinctive upward, shape immortal find,
And, dumb no longer, blossom into song.
We seek thee, Wanda seeks thee, she, our queen,
Would fain from thy experience counsel draw,
And in the labyrinth where she walks perplext,
Sighs for the clue of wisdom; as I speak,
See she approaches with enquiring face.

WANDA.

Friend of my father, servant of our gods!
Thou knowest well the answer I have given
To all the messengers by princes sent,
Who thirst for power, not love, who thinly veil
’Neath flattering smiles ambition’s anxious eye,
Seeking not Wanda’s heart, but Poland’s throne.
Yet may I always distance suitors thus,
And can I, ’mid the gaudy counterfeits
Round me, sincerity’s fair form discern,
And know to whom through very love for ME,
My _dearer_ self, my people, will be dear?
Say, on what altars shall I incense burn?
What oracle consult? I stand in doubt,
In me the maiden and the queen contend.
Fain to the gods would I be consecrate
In vestal purity, as priestess dwell,
Tending the sacred fire; yet can it be?
Say, minstrel, may such blissful lot be mine?

BARD.

Nay, nay, my queen, th’ eternal law of love,
In earth and heaven the same, such choice forbids;
Blessing and fruitfulness are e’er twin terms;
Society is usefulness and pleasure;
Queens have a high vocation, to uphold--
Pure morals, fervent zeal for public good,
And glad obedience to their country’s laws,
By eloquent example; ’tis the soul
Of precept, words must cold and lifeless fall,
When contradicted by the life, my queen.
Thy blessed mother with myself, her friend,
Have taught thee both to shun hypocrisy,
And own the faith sincere and true of love,
Obeying thus the dread celestial powers.
Unfruitfulness is their most dreadful curse
To mother earth, and to her earthly daughters;
Look round where’er thy eye, thy thoughts can bear thee,
Where do the gods command to loneliness?
Where rather do they not with blessing join
Their ancient edict, “Love and multiply?”
The grain of sand beside the Vistula,
The vast Carpathians round our land that rise,
The lowly worm that creeps unnoticed by,
The lordly eagle soaring to the sun,
All things in earth and air, and in the seas,
Obey alike the great primeval law.
Let but the will of gods be reverenced,
And sin to nature wears a stranger’s face.
_Free-will_, our highest gift, confuse thou not
With self-will, which is sin, and learn to know,
“In union there is strength.” The marriage bond,
By Heaven appointed, is a sacred tie;
Contempt of it, a devilish invention.
Heart-chills and conscience-stings seek solitude,
And immorality her cloak assumes;
Despite the many sanctimonious names
’Neath which cold-heartedness and egotism,
The weak, the timid, or the bad, invite,
To seek withdrawal from our human claims:
Celibacy is still and _must_ be sin!

[_Confused voices are heard outside,
and presently_ RZEWNA _enters_.

RZEWNA.

My queen!
Rüdiger’s messenger is here, the same
Who ten days since sued for your sovereign hand;
Fiercely he storms, demanding to be heard.
The sacred rules of hospitality
Alone deter the offended sentinels
From striking down the swearing ruffian;
The tumult grows, they wait their queen’s commands.

WANDA.

Let him come in, though a bird of omen ill,
Yet bread and salt should never be denied.

[_Exeunt_ RZEWNA, LESJA, _and the_ MAIDENS.

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.

SCENE IV.

WANDA, LESZEK.

_The clang of arms is heard in the distance._

LESZEK (_entering hurriedly_.)

My queen! I bring this strange intelligence:
The German army, with a vast array,
Have cross’d the weakly guarded frontier;
Havoc and sacrilege their march attend.

WANDA.

Let all the dukes their varied corps assemble,
Wanda herself will lead them to the field;
The bravest people that the world can boast,
Shall never murmur at their timid queen,
But rather say, she burns to be our guide;
To combat for our country, and our gods;
Dread powers! be this, our rightful cause, your care,
’Tis yours to award us victory, or death!

[_Exeunt omnes._

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