The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition). Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       To fall upon his neck, to call him father!

       But his stern eye o’erpowered the swelling passion —

       It dared not but be silent. And those brilliants,

       That like a crown of stars enwreathed your brows, 20

       They scared me too! O wherefore, wherefore should he

       At the first meeting spread as ‘twere the ban

       Of excommunication round you, wherefore

       Dress up the angel as for sacrifice,

       And cast upon the light and joyous heart 25

       The mournful burthen of his station? Fitly

       May love dare woo for love; but such a splendour

       Might none but monarchs venture to approach.

      Thekla. Hush! not a word more of this mummery.

       You see how soon the burthen is thrown off. 30

      [To the COUNTESS.

      He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not?

       ‘Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy!

       He had quite another nature on the journey —

       So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent. [To MAX.

       It was my wish to see you always so, 35

       And never otherwise!

      Max. You find yourself

       In your great father’s arms, belovéd lady!

       All in a new world, which does homage to you,

       And which, wer’t only by its novelty,

       Delights your eye.

      Thekla. Yes; I confess to you 40

       That many things delight me here: this camp,

       This motley stage of warriors, which renews

       So manifold the image of my fancy,

       And binds to life, binds to reality,

       What hitherto had but been present to me 45

       As a sweet dream!

      Max. Alas! not so to me.

       It makes a dream of my reality.

       Upon some island in the ethereal heights

       I’ve lived for these last days. This mass of men

       Forces me down to earth. It is a bridge 50

       That, reconducting to my former life,

       Divides me and my heaven.

      Thekla. The game of life

       Looks cheerful, when one carries in one’s heart

       The inalienable treasure. ‘Tis a game,

       Which having once reviewed, I turn more joyous 55

       Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss.

       In this short time that I’ve been present here,

       What new unheard-of things have I not seen!

       And yet they all must give place to the wonder

       Which this mysterious castle guards.

      Countess. And what 60

       Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted

       With all the dusky corners of this house.

      Thekla. Ay, but the road thereto is watched by spirits,

       Two griffins still stand sentry at the door.

      Countess (laughs). The astrological tower! — How happens it 65

       That this same sanctuary, whose access

       Is to all others so impracticable,

       Opens before you even at your approach?

      Thekla. A dwarfish old man with a friendly face

       And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services 70

       Were mine at first sight, opened me the doors.

      Max. That is the Duke’s astrologer, old Seni.

      Thekla. He questioned me on many points; for instance,

       When I was born, what month, and on what day,

       Whether by day or in the night.

      Countess. He wished 75

       To erect a figure for your horoscope.

      Thekla. My hand too he examined, shook his head

       With much sad meaning, and the lines methought,

       Did not square over truly with his wishes.

      Countess. Well, Princess, and what found you in this tower? 80

       My highest privilege has been to snatch

       A side-glance, and away!

      Thekla. It was a strange

       Sensation that came o’er me, when at first

       From the broad sunshine I stepped in; and now

       The narrowing line of daylight, that ran after 85

       The closing door, was gone; and all about me

       ‘Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows

       Fantastically cast. Here six or seven

       Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me

       In a half-circle. Each one in his hand 90

       A sceptre bore, and on his head a star;

       And in the tower no other light was there

       But from these stars: all seemed to come from them.

       ‘These are the planets,’ said that low old man,

       ‘They govern worldly fates, and for that cause 95

       Are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you,

       Spiteful, and cold, an old man melancholy,

       With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn.

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