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

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      Thekla. I believe you.

      Countess. Did you suppose your father had laid out 30

       His most important life in toils of war,

       Denied himself each quiet earthly bliss,

       Had banished slumber from his tent, devoted

       His noble head to care, and for this only,

       To make a happy pair of you? At length 35

       To draw you from your convent, and conduct

       In easy triumph to your arms the man

       That chanc’d to please your eyes! All this, methinks,

       He might have purchased at a cheaper rate.

      Thekla. That which he did not plant for me might yet 40

       Bear me fair fruitage of its own accord.

       And if my friendly and affectionate fate,

       Out of his fearful and enormous being,

       Will but prepare the joys of life for me —

       Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art.

       Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped,

       For no espousals dost thou find the walls

       Deck’d out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing.

       Here is no splendour but of arms. Or think’st thou 50

       That all these thousands are here congregated

       To lead up the long dances at thy wedding?

       Thou see’st thy father’s forehead full of thought,

       Thy mother’s eye in tears: upon the balance

       Lies the great destiny of all our house. 55

       Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling,

       O thrust it far behind thee! Give thou proof,

       Thou’rt the daughter of the Mighty — his

       Who where he moves creates the wonderful.

       Not to herself the woman must belong, 60

       Annexed and bound to alien destinies.

       But she performs the best part, she the wisest,

       Who can transmute the alien into self,

       Meet and disarm necessity by choice;

       And what must be, take freely to her heart, 65

       And bear and foster it with mother’s love.

      Thekla. Such ever was my lesson in the convent.

       I had no loves, no wishes, knew myself

       Only as his — his daughter — his, the Mighty!

       His fame, the echo of whose blast drove to me 70

       From the far distance, wakened in my soul

       No other thought than this — I am appointed

       To offer up myself in passiveness to him.

      Countess. That is thy fate. Mould thou thy wishes to it.

       I and thy mother gave thee the example. 75

      Thekla. My fate hath shewn me him, to whom behoves it

       That I should offer up myself. In gladness

       Him will I follow.

      Countess. Not thy fate hath shewn him!

       Thy heart, say rather—’twas thy heart, my child!

      Thekla. Fate hath no voice but the heart’s impulses. 80

       I am all his! His Present — his alone,

       Is this new life, which lives in me. He hath

       A right to his own creature. What was I

       Ere his fair love infused a soul into me?

      Countess. Thou would’st oppose thy father then, should he 85

       Have otherwise determined with thy person?

      [THEKLA remains silent. The COUNTESS continues.

      Thou mean’st to force him to thy liking? — Child,

       His name is Friedland.

      Thekla. My name too is Friedland.

       He shall have found a genuine daughter in me.

      Countess. What? he has vanquished all impediment, 90

       And in the wilful mood of his own daughter

       Shall a new struggle rise for him? Child! child!

       As yet thou hast seen thy father’s smiles alone;

       The eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear child,

       I will not frighten thee. To that extreme, 95

       I trust, it ne’er shall come. His will is yet

       Unknown to me: ‘tis possible his aims

       May have the same direction as thy wish.

       But this can never, never be his will,

       That thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes, 100

       Should’st e’er demean thee as a love-sick maiden;

       And like some poor cost-nothing, fling thyself

       Toward the man, who, if that high prize ever

       Be destined to await him, yet, with sacrifices

       The highest love can bring, must pay for it. [Exit COUNTESS. 105

      Thekla. I thank thee for the hint. It turns

       My sad presentiment to certainty.

       And it is so! — Not one friend have we here,

       Not one true heart! we’ve nothing but ourselves!

       O she said rightly — no auspicious signs 110

       Beam on this covenant of our affections.

       This is no theatre, where hope abides.

       The dull thick noise of war alone stirs here.

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