Mor. Yes! his last look—my brother’s dying look
Reproach’d me as it faded from his face.
And I deserved it! Had I not given way
To the wild guilty pleadings of my heart,
I might have won his freedom! Now, ’tis past.
He is free now!
Aymer enters, armed as for battle.
Aymer! you look so changed!
Aym. Changed!—it may be. A storm o’ the soul goes by
Not like a breeze! There’s such a fearful grasp
Fix’d on my heart! Speak to me—lull remorse!
Bid me farewell!
Mor. Yes! it must be farewell!
No other word but that.
Aym. No other word!
The passionate, burning words that I could pour
From my heart’s depths! ’Tis madness! What have I
To do with love? I see it all—the mist
Is gone—the bright mist gone! I see the woe,
The ruin, the despair! And yet I love,
Love wildly, fatally! But speak to me!
Fill all my soul once more with reckless joy!
That blessèd voice again!
Mor. Why, why is this?
Oh! send me to my father! We must part.
Aym. Part!—yes, I know it all! I could not go
Till I had seen you! Give me one farewell,
The last—perchance the last!—but one farewell,
Whose mournful music I may take with me
Through tumult, horror, death!
[A distant sound of trumpets.
Mor. (starting.) You go to battle!
Aym. Hear you not that sound?
Yes! I go there, where dark and stormy thoughts
Find their free path!
Mor. Aymer! who leads the foe?
(Confused.) I meant—I mean—my people! Who is he,
My people’s leader?
Aym. Kaled. (Looking at her suspiciously.) How! you seem—
The name disturbs you!
Mor. My last brother’s name!
Aym. Fear not my sword for him!
Mor. (turning away.) If they should meet!
I know the vow he made.
(To Aymer.) If thou—if thou
Shouldst fall!
Aym. Moraima! then your blessèd tears
Would flow for me? then you would weep for me?
Mor. I must weep tears of very shame; and yet—
If—if your words have been love’s own true words,
Grant me one boon!
[Trumpet sounds again.
Aym. Hark! I must hence. A boon!
Ask it, and hold its memory to your heart,
As the last token, it may be, of love
So deep and sad.
Mor. Pledge me your knightly faith!
Aym. My knightly faith, my life, my honour—all,
I pledge thee all to grant it!
Mor. Then, to-day,
Go not this day to battle! He is there,
My brother Kaled!
Aym. (wildly.) Have I flung my sword
Down to dishonour?
[Going to leave her—she detains him.
Mor. Oh! your name hath stirr’d
His soul amidst his tents, and he had vow’d,
Long ere we met, to cross his sword with yours,
Till one or both should fall. There hath been death
Since then, amongst us; he will seek revenge.
And his revenge—forgive me!—oh! forgive!
—I could not bear that thought!
Aym. Now must the glance
Of a brave man strike me to the very dust!
Ay, this is shame.
[Covering his face.
(Turning wildly to Moraima.)
You scorn me too? Away!—She does not know
What she hath done!
[Rushes out.

Scene III.—Before a gateway within the city.

Rainier, Herman, Knights, Men-at-arms, &c.

Her. ’Tis past the hour.
Rai. (looking out anxiously.) Away! ’tis not the hour—
Not yet! When was the battle’s hour delay’d
For a Chatillon? We must have come too soon!
All are not here.
Her. Yes, all!
Rai. They came too soon!
[Going up to the knights.
Couci, De Foix, Du Mornay—here, all here!
And he the last!—my brother!
(To a Soldier.) Where’s your lord?
(Turning away.) Why should I ask, when that fair Infidel——
Aymer enters.
The Saracen at our gates—and you the last!
Come on, remember all your fame!
Aym. (coming forward in great agitation.) My fame!
—Why did you save me from the Paynim’s sword,
In my first battle?
Rai. What wild words are these?
Aym. You should have let me perish then—yes, then!
Go to your field and leave me!
Knights. (thronging round him.) Leave you!
Rai. Aymer!
Was it your voice?
Aym. Now talk to me of fame!
Tell me of all my warlike ancestors,
And of my father’s death—that bitter death!
Never did pilgrim for the fountains thirst
As I for this day’s vengeance! To your field!
—I may not go!
Rai. (turning from him.) The name his race hath borne
Through a thousand battles—lost!
(Returning to Aymer.) A Chatillon!
Will you live and wed dishonour?
Aym. (covering his face.) Let the grave
Take me and cover me! I must go down
To its rest without my sword!
Rai. There’s some dark spell upon him! Aymer, brother!
Let me not die of shame! He that died so
Turn’d sickening from the sun!
Aym. Where should I turn?
[Going up abruptly to the knights.
Herman—Du Mornay! ye have stood with me
I’ the battle’s front—ye know me! ye have seen
The fiery joy of danger bear me on
As a wind the arrow! Leave me now—’tis past!
Rai. (with bitterness.) He comes from her!—the infidel hath smiled,
Doubtless, for this.
Aym. I should have been to-day
Where shafts fly thickest, and the crossing swords
Cannot flash out for blood!—Hark! you are call’d!
[Wild Turkish music heard without. The background of the scene becomes more and more crowded with armed men.
Lay lance in rest!—wave, noble banners! wave!
[Throwing down his sword.
Go from me!—leave the fallen!
Her. Nay, but the cause?
Tell us the cause!
Rai. (approaching him indignantly.)
Your sword—your crested helm
And your knight’s mantle—cast them down! your name
Is in the dust!—our father’s name! The cause?
—Tell it not, tell it not!
[Turning to the soldiers and waving his hand.
Sound, trumpets! sound!
On, lances! for the Cross!
[Military music. As the knights march out, he looks back at Aymer.
I would not now
Call back my noble father from the dead,
If I could with but a breath!—Sound, trumpets, sound!
[Exeunt knights and soldiers.
Aym. Why should I bear this shame? ’tis not too late!
[Rushing after them, he suddenly checks himself.
My faith! my knightly faith pledged to my fall!
[Exit.

Scene IV. Before a Church.

Groups of Citizens passing to and fro. Aymer standing against one of the pillars of the church in the background, and leaning on his sword.

1st Cit. (to 2d.) From the walls, how goes the battle?
2d Cit. Well, all well,
Praise to the Saints! I saw De Chatillon
Fighting, as if upon his single arm
The fate o’ the day were set.
3d Cit. Shame light on those
That strike not with him in their place!
1st Cit. You mean
His brother? Ay, is’t not a fearful thing
That one of such a race—a brave one too—
Should have thus fallen?
2d Cit. They say the captive girl
Whom he so loved, hath won him from his faith
To the vile Paynim creed.
Aym. (suddenly coming forward.) Who dares say that?
Show me who dares say that!
[They shrink back—he laughs scornfully.
Ha! ha! ye thought
To play with a sleeper’s name!—to make your mirth
As low-born men sit by a tomb, and jest
O’er a dead warrior! Where’s the slanderer? Speak!
A Citizen enters hastily.
Cit. Haste to the walls! De Chatillon hath slain
The Paynim chief!
[They all go out.
Aym. Why should they shrink? I, I should ask the night
To cover me! I that have flung my name
Away to scorn! Hush! am I not alone?
[Listening eagerly.
There’s a voice calling me—a voice i’ the air—
My father’s!—’Twas my father’s! Are the dead,
Unseen, yet with us? Fearful!
(Loud shouts without, he rushes forward exultingly.)
’Tis the shout
Of victory! We have triumph’d!—We! my place
Is midst the fallen!
[Music heard, which approaches, swelling into a triumphant march. Knights enter in procession, with banners, torch-bearers, &c. The gates of the church are thrown open, and the altar, tombs, &c. within, are seen illuminated. Knights pass over, and enter the church. One of them takes a torch, and lifts it to Aymer’s face in passing. He strikes it down with a sword; then, seeing Rainier approach, drops the sword, and covers his face.
Aym. (grasping Rainier by the mantle, as he is about to pass.)
Brother! forsake me not!
Rai. (suddenly drawing his sword, and showing it him.) My sword is red
With victory and revenge! Look—dyed to the hilt!
—We fought—and where were you?
Aym. Forsake me not!
Rai. (pointing with his sword to the tombs within the church.)
Those are proud tombs! The dead, the glorious dead,
Think you they sleep, and know not of their sons
In the mysterious grave? We laid him there!
—Before the ashes of your father, speak!
Have you abjured your faith?
Aym. (indignantly.) Your name is mine—your blood—and you ask this!
Wake him to hear me answer!—Have you? No!
—You have not dared to think it.
[Breaks from him, and goes out.
Rai. (entering the church, and bending over one of the tombs.)
Not yet lost!
Not yet all lost! He shall be thine again!
So shalt thou sleep in peace!
Music and Chorus of Voices from the church.
Praise, praise to heaven!
Sing of the conquer’d field, the Paynim flying,—
Light up the shrines, and bid the banners wave!
Sing of the warrior for the red-cross dying—
Chant a proud requiem o’er his holy grave!
Praise, praise to heaven!
Praise!—lift the song through night’s resounding sky!
Peace to the valiant for the Cross that die!
Sleep soft, ye brave!

ACT III.

Scene I.—A platform before the Citadel. Knights entering.
Her. (to one of the Knights.) You would plead for him?
Knight. Nay, remember all
His past renown!
Her. I had a friend in youth—
This Aymer’s father had him shamed for less
Than his son’s fault—far less!
We must accuse him;—he must have his shield
Reversed—his name degraded.
Knight. He might yet—
All the Knights. Must his shame cleave to us?
We cast him forth—
We will not bear it.
Rainier enters.
Rai. Knights! ye speak of him—
My brother—was’t not so? All silent! Nay,
Give your thoughts breath! What said ye?
Her. That his name
Must be degraded.
Rai. Silence! ye disturb
The dead. Thou hear’st, my father!
[Going up indignantly to the Knights.
Which of ye
Shall first accuse him? He, whose bold step won
The breach at Ascalon ere Aymer’s step,
Let him speak first!
He that plunged deeper through the stormy fight,
Thence to redeem the banner of the Cross,
On Cairo’s plain, let him speak first! Or he
Whose sword burst swifter o’er the Saracen,
I’ the rescue of our king, by Jordan’s waves—
I say, let him speak first!
Her. Is he not an apostate?
Rai. No, no, no!
If he were that, had my life’s blood that taint,
This hand should pour it out! He is not that.
Her. Not yet.
Rai. Not yet, nor ever! Let me die
In a lost battle first!
Her. Hath he let go
Name—kindred—honour—for an infidel,
And will he grasp his faith?
Rai. (after a gloomy pause.)
That which bears poison—should it not be crush’d
What though the weed look lovely?
[Suddenly addressing Du Mornay
You have seen
My native halls, Du Mornay, far away
In Languedoc?
Du Mor. I was your father’s friend—
I knew them well.
Rai. (thoughtfully.) The weight of gloom that hangs—
The very banners seem to droop with it—
O’er some of those old rooms! Were we there now,
With a dull wind heaving the pale tapestries,
Why, I could tell you——
[Coming closer to Du Mornay.
There’s a dark-red spot
Grain’d in the floor of one—you know the tale?
Du Mor. I may have heard it by the winter fires,
—Now ’tis of things gone by.
Rai. (turning from him displeased.) Such legends give
Some minds a deeper tone.
(To Herman.) If you had heard
That tale i’ the shadowy tower——
Her. Nay, tell it now!
Rai. They say the place is haunted—moaning sounds
Come thence at midnight—sounds of woman’s voice.
Her. And you believe——
Rai. I but believe the deed
Done there of old. I had an ancestor—
Bertrand, the lion-chief—whose son went forth
(A younger son—I am not of his line)
To the wars of Palestine. He fought there well—
Ay, all his race were brave; but he return’d,
And with a Paynim bride.
Her. The recreant!—say,
How bore your ancestor?
Rai. Well may you think
It chafed him—but he bore it—for the love
Of that fair son, the child of his old age.
He pined in heart, yet gave the infidel
A place in his own halls.
Her. But did this last?
Rai. How should it last? Again the trumpet blew,
And men were summon’d from their homes to guard
The city of the Cross. But he seem’d cold—
That youth! He shunn’d his father’s eye, and took
No armour from the walls.
Her. Had he then fallen?
Was his faith wavering?
Rai. So the father fear’d.
Her. If I had been that father——
Rai. Ay, you come
Of an honour’d lineage. What would you have done?
Her. Nay, what did he?
Rai. What did the lion-chief?
[Turning to Du Mornay.
Why, thou hast seen the very spot of blood
On the dark floor! He slew the Paynim bride.
Was it not well? (He looks at them attentively, and as he goes out exclaims—)
My brother must not fall!

Scene II.—A deserted Turkish burying-ground in the city—tombs and stones overthrown—the whole shaded by dark cypress-trees.

Mor. (leaning over a monumental pillar, which has been lately raised.)
He is at rest;—and I!—is there no power
In grief to win forgiveness from the dead?
When shall I rest? Hark! a step—Aymer’s step!
The thrilling sound!
[She shrinks back as reproaching herself.
To feel that joy even here!
Brother! oh, pardon me!
Rai. (entering, and slowly looking round.)
A gloomy scene!
A place for——Is she not an infidel?
Who shall dare call it murder?
[He advances to her slowly, and looks at her.
She is fair—
The deeper cause! Maid, have you thought of death
Midst these old tombs?
Mor. (shrinking from him fearfully.) This is my brother’s grave.
Rai. Thy brother’s! That a warrior’s grave had closed
O’er mine—the free and noble knight he was!
Ay, that the desert-sands had shrouded him
Before he look’d on thee!
Mor. If you are his—
If Aymer’s brother—though your brow be dark,
I may not fear you!
Rai. No? why, thou shouldst fear
The very dust o’ the mouldering sepulchre,
If it had lived, and borne his name on earth!
Hear’st thou?—that dust hath stirr’d, and found a voice,
And said that thou must die!
Mor. (clinging to the pillar as he approaches.)
Be with me, heaven!
You will not murder me?
Rai. (turning away.) A goodly word
To join with a warrior’s name!—a sound to make
Men’s flesh creep. What!—for Paynim blood
Did he stand faltering thus—my ancestor—
In that old tower?
[He again approaches her—she falls on her knees.
Mor. So young, and thus to die!
Mercy—have mercy! In your own far land
If there be love that weeps and watches for you,
And follows you with prayer—even by that love
Spare me—for it is woman’s! If light steps
Have bounded there to meet you, clinging arms
Hung on your neck, fond tears o’erflow’d your cheek,
Think upon those that loved you thus, for thus
Doth woman love! and spare me!—think on them;
They, too, may yet need mercy! Aymer, Aymer!
Wilt thou not hear and aid me?
Rai. (starting.) There’s a name
To bring back strength! Shall I not strike to save
His honour and his life? Were his life all——
Mor. To save his life and honour!—will my death——
[She rises and stands before him, covering her face hurriedly.
Do it with one stroke! I may not live for him!
Rai. (with surprise.) A woman meet death thus!
Mor. (uncovering her eyes.) Yet one thing more—
I have sisters and a father. Christian knight!
Oh! by your mother’s memory, let them know
I died with a name unstain’d.
Rai. (softened and surprised.)
And such high thoughts from her!—an infidel!
And she named my mother!—Once in early youth
From the wild waves I snatch’d a woman’s life;
My mother bless’d me for it (slowly dropping his dagger)—even with tears
She bless’d me. Stay, are there no other means?
(Suddenly recollecting himself.) Follow me, maiden! Fear not now.
Mor. But he—
But Aymer—
Rai. (sternly.) Wouldst thou perish? Name him not!—
Look not as if thou wouldst! Think’st thou dark thoughts
Are blown away like dew-drops? or I, like him,
A leaf to shake and turn i’ the changing wind?
Follow me, and beware!
[She bends over the tomb for a moment, and follows him.
Aymer enters, and slowly comes forward from the background.
Aym. For the last time—yes! it must be the last!
Earth and heaven say—the last! The very dead
Rise up to part us! But one look—and then
She must go hence for ever! Will she weep?
It had been little to have died for her—
I have borne shame.
She shall know all! Moraima! Said they not
She would be found here at her brother’s grave?
Where should she go? Moraima! There’s the print
Of her step—what gleams beside it?
(Seeing the dagger, he takes it up.) Ha! men work
Dark deeds with things like this!
[Looking wildly and anxiously around.
I see no——blood!
[Looking at the dagger.
Stain’d!—it may be from battle; ’tis not—wet.
[Looks round, intently listening; then again examines the spot.
Ha!—what is this? another step in the grass!—
Hers and another’s step!
[He rushes into the cypress-grove.

Scene III.—A hall in the citadel, hung with arms and banners.

Rainier, Herman—Knights in the background, laying aside their armour.

Her. (coming forward and speaking hurriedly.)
Is it done? Have you done it?
Rai. (with disgust.) What! you thirst
For blood so deeply?
Her. (indignantly.) Have you struck, and saved
The honour of your house?
Rai. (thoughtfully to himself.) The light i’ the soul
Is such a wavering thing! Have I done well?
(To Herman).
Ask me not! Never shall they meet again.
Is ’t not enough?
Aymer enters hurriedly with the dagger, and goes up with it to several of the knights, who begin to gather round the front.
Aym. Whose is this dagger?
Rai. (coming forward and taking it.) Mine.
Aym. Yours! yours!—and know you where—
Rai. (about to sheath it, but stopping.) Oh! you do well
So to remind me! Yes! it must have lain
In the Moslem burial-ground—and that vile dust—
Hence with it! ’tis defiled.
[Throws it from him.
Aym. If such a deed——
Brother! where is she?
Rai. Who?—what knight hath lost
A Ladye-love?
Aym. Could he speak thus, and wear
That scornful calm, if——No! he is not calm.
What have you done?
Rai. (aside.) Yes! she shall die to him!
Aym. (grasping his arm.) What have you done—speak!
Rai. You should know the tale
Of our dark ancestor, the Lion-Chief,
And his son’s bride.
Aym. Man! man! you murder’d her!
[Sinking back.
It grows so dark around me! She is dead!
(Wildly.) I’ll not believe it! No! she never look’d
Like what could die!
[Goes up to his brother.
If you have done that deed——
Rai. (sternly.) If I have done it, I have flung off shame
From my brave father’s house!
Aym. (in a low voice to himself.)
So young, and dead!—because I loved her—dead!
(To Rainier).
Where is she, murderer? Let me see her face.
You think to hide it with the dust!—ha! ha!
The dust to cover her! We’ll mock you still:
If I call her back, she’ll come! Where is she?—speak!
Now, by my father’s tomb! but I am calm.
Rai. Never more hope to see her!
Aym. Never more!
[Sitting down on the ground.
I loved her, so she perish’d!—All the earth
Hath not another voice to reach my soul,
Now hers is silent! Never, never more!
If she had but said farewell!—(Bewildered.) It grows so dark!
This is some fearful dream. When the morn comes I shall wake.
——My life’s bright hours are done!
Rai. I must be firm.
(Takes a banner from the wall, and brings it to Aymer.)
Have you forgotten this? We thought it lost,
But it rose proudly waving o’er the fight
In a warrior’s hand again! Yours, Aymer! yours!
Brother! redeem your fame!
Aym. (putting it from him.) The worthless thing!
Fame! She is dead!—give a king’s robe to one
Stretch’d on the rack! Hence with your pageantries
Down to the dust!
Her. The banner of the Cross!
Shame on the recreant! Cast him from us!
Rai. Boy!
Degenerate boy! Here, with the trophies won
By the sainted chiefs of old in Paynim war
Above you and around; the very air,
When it but shakes their armour on the walls,
Murmuring of glorious deeds; to sit and weep
Here for an Infidel! My father’s son,
Shame! shame! deep shame!
Knights. Aymer de Chatillon!
Go from us, leave us!
Aym. (starting up.) Leave you! what! ye thought
That I would stay to breathe the air you breathe!—
And fight by you! Murderers! I burst all ties!
[Throws his sword on the ground before them.
There’s not a thing of the desert half so free!
(To Rainier.)
You have no brother! Live to need the love
Of a human heart, and steep your soul in fame
To still its restless yearnings! Die alone!
Midst all your pomps and trophies—die alone!
[Going out, he suddenly returns.
Did she not call on me to succour her?
Kneel to you—plead for life? The Voice of Blood
Follow you to your grave!
[Exit.
Rai. (with emotion.) Alas! my brother!
The time hath been, when in the face of Death
I have bid him leave me, and he would not!
(Turning to the Knights.) Knights!
The Soldan marches for Jerusalem—
We’ll meet him on the way.

ACT IV.

Scene I.—Camp of Melech, the Saracen Emir.

Melech, Sadi, Soldiers.

Mel. Yes! he I mean—Rainier de Chatillon!
Go, send swift riders o’er the mountains forth,
And through the deserts, to proclaim the price
I set upon his life!
Sadi. Thou gav’st the word
Before; it hath been done—they are gone forth.
Mel. Would that my soul could wing them!
Didst thou heed
To say his life? I’ll have my own revenge!
Yes! I would save him from another’s hand!
Thou said’st he must be brought alive?
Sadi. I heard
Thy will, and I obey’d.
Mel. He slew my son—
That was in battle—but to shed her blood!
My child Moraima’s! Could he see and strike her?
A Christian see her face, too! From my house
The crown is gone! Who brought the tale?
Sadi. A slave
Of your late son’s, escaped.
Mel. Have I a son
Left? speak, the slave of which? Kaled is gone—
And Octar gone—both, both are fallen—
Both my young stately trees, and she my flower—
No hand but mine shall be upon him, none!—
[A sound of festive music without.
What mean they there?
[An attendant enters.
Att. Tidings of joy, my chief!
Mel. Joy!—is the Christian taken?
Moraima enters, and throws herself into his arms.
Mor. Father! Father!
I did not think this world had yet so much
Of aught like happiness!
Mel. My own fair child!
Is it on thee I look indeed, my child?
[Turning to attendants.
Away, there!—gaze not on us! Do I hold
Thee in my arms! They told me thou wert slain.
Rainier de Chatillon, they said——
Mor. (hurriedly.) Oh, no!
Twas he that sent thee back thy child, my father.
Mel. He! why, his brother Aymer still refused
A monarch’s ransom for thee!
Mor. (with a momentary delight.) Did he thus?
[Suddenly checking herself.
—Yes! I knew well! Oh! do not speak of him!
Mel. What! hath he wrong’d thee? Thou hast suffer’d much
Amongst these Christians! Thou art changed, my child.
There’s a dim shadow in thine eye, where once——
But they shall pay me back for all thy tears
With their best blood.
Mor. (alarmed.) Father! not so, not so!
They still were gentle with me. But I sat
And watch’d beside my dying brother’s couch
Through many days: and I have wept since then—
Wept much.
Mel. Thy dying brother’s couch!—yes, thou
Wert ever true and kind.
Mor. (covering her face.) Oh! praise me not!
Look gently on me, or I sink to earth;
Not thus!
Mel. No praise! thou’rt faint, my child, and worn:
The length of way hath——
Mor. (eagerly.) Yes! the way was long,
The desert’s wind breath’d o’er me. Could I rest?
Mel. Yes! thou shalt rest within thy father’s tent.
Follow me, gentle child! Thou look’st so changed.
Mor. (hurriedly.) The weary way,—the desert’s burning wind——
[Laying her hand on him as she goes out.
Think thou no evil of those Christians, father!—
They were still kind.
Scene II.—Before a Fortress amongst Rocks, with a Desert beyond.—Military Music.

Rainier de Chatillon—Knights and Soldiers.