In Tuscany, my own dear sunny land,
Our nobles were but citizens and merchants,[170]
Like Cosmo.
Our nobles were but citizens and merchants,[170]
Like Cosmo.
Byron
No--the Prince's,
And not the stranger's.
_Iden. _ Sirrah! in the Prince's
Absence, I am sovereign; and the Baron is
My intimate connection;--"Cousin Idenstein!
(Quoth he) you'll order out a dozen villains. "
And so, you villains! troop--march--march, I say;
And if a single dog's ear of this packet 690
Be sprinkled by the Oder--look to it!
For every page of paper, shall a hide
Of yours be stretched as parchment on a drum,
Like Ziska's skin,[169] to beat alarm to all
Refractory vassals, who can not effect
Impossibilities. --Away, ye earth-worms!
[_Exit, driving them out_.
_Jos. _ (_coming forward_).
I fain would shun these scenes, too oft repeated,
Of feudal tyranny o'er petty victims;
I cannot aid, and will not witness such.
Even here, in this remote, unnamed, dull spot, 700
The dimmest in the district's map, exist
The insolence of wealth in poverty
O'er something poorer still--the pride of rank
In servitude, o'er something still more servile;
And vice in misery affecting still
A tattered splendour. What a state of being!
In Tuscany, my own dear sunny land,
Our nobles were but citizens and merchants,[170]
Like Cosmo. We had evils, but not such
As these; and our all-ripe and gushing valleys 710
Made poverty more cheerful, where each herb
Was in itself a meal, and every vine
Rained, as it were, the beverage which makes glad
The heart of man; and the ne'er unfelt sun
(But rarely clouded, and when clouded, leaving
His warmth behind in memory of his beams)
Makes the worn mantle, and the thin robe, less
Oppressive than an emperor's jewelled purple.
But, here! the despots of the north appear
To imitate the ice-wind of their clime, 720
Searching the shivering vassal through his rags,
To wring his soul--as the bleak elements
His form. And 'tis to be amongst these sovereigns
My husband pants! and such his pride of birth--
That twenty years of usage, such as no
Father born in a humble state could nerve
His soul to persecute a son withal,
Hath changed no atom of his early nature;
But I, born nobly also, from my father's
Kindness was taught a different lesson. Father! 730
May thy long-tried and now rewarded spirit
Look down on us and our so long desired
Ulric! I love my son, as thou didst me!
What's that? Thou, Werner! can it be? and thus?
_Enter_ WERNER _hastily, with the knife in his hand,
by the secret panel, which he closes hurriedly after him_.
_Wer. _ (_not at first recognising her_).
And not the stranger's.
_Iden. _ Sirrah! in the Prince's
Absence, I am sovereign; and the Baron is
My intimate connection;--"Cousin Idenstein!
(Quoth he) you'll order out a dozen villains. "
And so, you villains! troop--march--march, I say;
And if a single dog's ear of this packet 690
Be sprinkled by the Oder--look to it!
For every page of paper, shall a hide
Of yours be stretched as parchment on a drum,
Like Ziska's skin,[169] to beat alarm to all
Refractory vassals, who can not effect
Impossibilities. --Away, ye earth-worms!
[_Exit, driving them out_.
_Jos. _ (_coming forward_).
I fain would shun these scenes, too oft repeated,
Of feudal tyranny o'er petty victims;
I cannot aid, and will not witness such.
Even here, in this remote, unnamed, dull spot, 700
The dimmest in the district's map, exist
The insolence of wealth in poverty
O'er something poorer still--the pride of rank
In servitude, o'er something still more servile;
And vice in misery affecting still
A tattered splendour. What a state of being!
In Tuscany, my own dear sunny land,
Our nobles were but citizens and merchants,[170]
Like Cosmo. We had evils, but not such
As these; and our all-ripe and gushing valleys 710
Made poverty more cheerful, where each herb
Was in itself a meal, and every vine
Rained, as it were, the beverage which makes glad
The heart of man; and the ne'er unfelt sun
(But rarely clouded, and when clouded, leaving
His warmth behind in memory of his beams)
Makes the worn mantle, and the thin robe, less
Oppressive than an emperor's jewelled purple.
But, here! the despots of the north appear
To imitate the ice-wind of their clime, 720
Searching the shivering vassal through his rags,
To wring his soul--as the bleak elements
His form. And 'tis to be amongst these sovereigns
My husband pants! and such his pride of birth--
That twenty years of usage, such as no
Father born in a humble state could nerve
His soul to persecute a son withal,
Hath changed no atom of his early nature;
But I, born nobly also, from my father's
Kindness was taught a different lesson. Father! 730
May thy long-tried and now rewarded spirit
Look down on us and our so long desired
Ulric! I love my son, as thou didst me!
What's that? Thou, Werner! can it be? and thus?
_Enter_ WERNER _hastily, with the knife in his hand,
by the secret panel, which he closes hurriedly after him_.
_Wer. _ (_not at first recognising her_).
