FABIAN.

She holds most resolute silence--I forebore To question her.

DUKE.

Describe this sullen guest.

FABIAN.

A turban girds her brow, white as the sea-foam, Whence, all untrammelled, her dark thin hair Streams fitfully upon her storm-beat front; Her eye at rest, pale fire in its black orb Innocuous sleeps--but roused, Jove's thunder-cloud Enkindles not so fiercely! Once it shot Full on mine eye:--in dazzling terror yet It haunts my brain!

DUKE.

How eloquent the tongue When the soul stirs it!--I would see, unharm'd, This quickened volcano! [_Exit FABIAN._ Some moon-struck wanderer Craving redress for her wrong'd fancies.

_Enter FABIAN followed by ZORAYDA; she stands in silence gazing at the DUKE._

Woman, what seekest thou?--Doth silence best Declare thine errand?

ZORAYDA.

Silence best, my lord, Should tell thy destiny--Heaven hath commanded To speak no evil.

DUKE.

A rare conceit.--What more?--Is this thy message?

Haste,--we command not back the pa.s.sing time:-- To thy request.

ZORAYDA.

Much need hast thou to note These priceless minutes;--let no fragment slip Ungathered.--Yet my boon thou wilt not grant!

Seest thou yon shadow?-- [_She beckons him to the window._

DUKE.

Nought this ungifted eye beholds But the dark battlement upon the stream, Spread by the tranquil moon.

ZORAYDA.

Seest thou yon pennon Furl'd from the turret, floating on the verge Of that still, sedgy sh.o.r.e?--

DUKE.

Its shadow falls Where thou dost point;--but how may this befit With thy request?

ZORAYDA.

At thy far-echoing birth, When hoa.r.s.e artillery told to Mantua, Thy wailing entrance to a troublous life, Yon trembling shadow fell, as now it meets, Just on the rippled bank,--uniting each-- The calm wave and the sh.o.r.e.--

DUKE.

Thy meaning, stranger.

ZORAYDA.

Ere yet the bubbling life crept through thy veins, 'Twas thus decreed: thine hour of danger comes, And sudden death, when that dim shadow pa.s.ses Where at thy birth it brooded.--

DUKE.

(_Aside to FABIAN._) Watch this woman; Suspicion wakes at her discourse.--(_To ZORAYDA._)-- That shadow Hath oft-time pa.s.s'd, no danger thence betiding.

ZORAYDA.

Thy death can happen not, save when, as now, The pale moon flings yon omen from her beam; But ever it bodes danger.

DUKE.

For this purpose Enterest thou my chamber?

ZORAYDA.

I have sought thee To give rejected counsel.--What! some treachery From me thou fearest!--Bind me--gird my chains To the unhewn rock beneath the unvisited depths Of these abhorr'd foundations--I would wear them Without a murmur could'st thou listen!--Hark!

Thus runs the record of thy house:

"_When the proud eagle From his cloud-wreath'd nest Enamour'd meets the dove, And sighs on her soft bosom, One shaft shall pierce them._"

Duke, beware----that shaft shall come!

Let it not find thee in that perilous hour, Prescience forebodes thee, at some lady's ear Sighing unhallowed love.--Its malice then Harms not thy breast, another bears the stroke!

Remember--once again I meet thee.

[_Exit ZORAYDA._

FABIAN.

My lord, the guard shall rid you of the witch.

DUKE.

Let her depart, she harms me not.

FABIAN.

You seem O'erspent with watching, and forget your couch.-- Betake you now to your accustom'd rest?

DUKE.

My _rest_?--'Tis well;--but will the couch give rest?

Ay, to the wearied limb--but not the weary breast!

Follow me, boy, unto my chamber. [_Exeunt._

ACT IV.--SCENE I.

_A Church._

_Enter two CITIZENS._

FIRST CITIZEN.

Strange omens these!

SECOND CITIZEN.

They bode disaster, else Hath Nature changed, and her accustom'd course No longer holds.--See, from the ducal vault The stone--o'er which its mailed warrior rests In such grim pomp--is roll'd, as if that mouth Expectant yawn'd for prey.--How comes it thus?

THIRD CITIZEN.

Some swarth attendant, late within the tomb, Hath left unclosed its yet insatiate gulf; And he returns ere long.--His task complete, This stone, oft visited, regains its place;-- Would it were closed for ever!

SECOND CITIZEN.

Ne'er to his country's weal a truer prince Shall rise in Mantua--all proper tongues To his just praise are eloquent;--no voice But gathers blessing, when it speaks of Andrea.

I'll peep o'er the dark wall of this huge grave.

Fresh wonders still!--Here lie funeral trappings Covering the entrance;--an inscription too Upon the pall--[_Reads_]--"_Andrea, the fifth Duke Of Mantua_"--a goodly list of honours, Names and ill.u.s.trious acts, now follow--"_Died_"-- I cannot tell those mystic characters-- Canst thou a.s.sign their import?