Zanoni — Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Yes, the plague broke out, —the island home must be abandoned. Mighty Seer, thou hast no power to save those whom thou lovest/ Farewell, thou bridal roof! — sweet resting-place from care, farewell! Climates as soft may greet ye, O lovers, — skies as serene, and waters as blue and calm; but that time,—can it ever more return? Who shall say that the heart does not change with the scene,—the place where we first dwelt with the beloved one? Every spot there has so many memories which the place only can recall. The past that haunts it seems to command such constancy in the future. If a thought less kind, less trustful, enter within us, the sight of a tree under which a vow has been exchanged, a tear has been kissed away, restores us again to the hours of the first divine illusion. But ina home where nothing speaks of the first nuptials, where there is no eloquence of association, no holy burial-places of emotions, whose ghosts are angels! — yes, who that has gone through the sad history of affection will tell us that the heart changes not with the scene! Blow fair, ye favoring winds; cheerily swell, ye sails; away from the land where death has come to snatch the sceptre of Love! The shores glide by; new coasts succeed to the green hills and orange-groves of the Bridal Isle. From afar now gleam in the moonlight the columns, yet extant, of a temple which the Athenian dedicated to wisdom; and, standing on the bark that bounded on in the freshening gale, the votary who had survived the goddess murmured to himself, — “ Has the wisdom of ages brought me no happier hours than those common to the shepherd and the herdsman, with no world beyond their village, no aspiration beyond the kiss and the smile of home?” And the moon, resting alike over the ruins of the
p. 332
temple of the departed creed, over the hut of the living peasant, over the immemorial mountain-top, and the perishable herbage that clothed its sides, seemed to smile back its answer of calm disdain to the being who, perchance, might have seen the temple built, and who, in his inscrutable existence, might behold the mountain shattered from its base.
BOOK V.
THE EFFECTS OF THE ELIXIR,
CHAPTER I.
Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach! in meiner Brust.
Was stehst du so, und blickst erstaunt hinaus ?1 Faust,
Ir will be remembered that we left Master Paolo by the bedside of Glyndon; and as, waking from that profound slumber, the recollections of the past night came horribly back to his mind, the Englishman uttered a cry, and covered his face with his hands. “Good morrow, Excellency!” said Paolo, gayly. “Corpo di Bacco, you have slept soundly! ” The sound of this man’s voice, so lusty, ringing, and healthful, served to scatter before it the phantasma that yet haunted Glyndon’s memory. He rose erect in his bed. “ And where did you find me? Why are you here?” “Where did I find you! ” repeated Paolo, in surprise, — “in your bed, to be sure. Why amI here! — because the Padrone bade me await your waking, and attend your commands.”
1 Two souls dwell, alas! in th breast.
Why sicudtes era so, mt nee out astonished ?
p. 334
“The Padrone, Mejnour! — is he arrived? “ Arrived and departed, signor. He has left this letter for you. “ Give it me, and wait without till I am dressed. “At your service. I have bespoke an excellent breakfast: you must be hungry. I am a very tolerable cook; a monk’s son ought to be! You will be startled at my genius in the dressing of fish. My singing, I trust, will not disturb you.
I always sing while I prepare a salad; it harmonizes the ingredients. And slinging his carbine over his shoulder, Paolo sauntered from the room, and closed the door. Glyndon was already deep in the contents of the following letter: —
Yes, the plague broke out, —the island home must be abandoned. Mighty Seer, you have no power to save those whom you lovest/ Farewell, you bridal roof! — sweet resting-place from care, farewell! Climates as soft may greet you, O lovers, — skies as serene, and waters as blue and calm; but that time,—can it ever more return? Who shall say that the heart does not change with the scene,—the place where we first dwelt with the beloved one? Every spot there has so many memories which the place only can recall. The past that haunts it seems to command such constancy in the future. If a thought less kind, less trustful, enter within us, the sight of a tree under which a vow has been exchanged, a tear has been kissed away, restores us again to the hours of the first divine illusion. But ina home where nothing speaks of the first nuptials, where there is no eloquence of association, no holy burial-places of emotions, whose ghosts are angels! — yes, who that has gone through the sad history of affection will tell us that the heart changes not with the scene! Blow fair, you favoring winds; cheerily swell, you sails; away from the land where death has come to snatch the sceptre of Love! The shores glide by; new coasts succeed to the green hills and orange-groves of the Bridal Isle. From afar now gleam in the moonlight the columns, yet extant, of a temple which the Athenian dedicated to wisdom; and, standing on the bark that bounded on in the freshening gale, the votary who had survived the goddess murmured to himself, — “ Has the wisdom of ages brought me no happier hours than those common to the shepherd and the herdsman, with no world beyond their village, no aspiration beyond the kiss and the smile of home?” And the moon, resting alike over the ruins of the
p. 332
temple of the departed creed, over the hut of the living peasant, over the immemorial mountain-top, and the perishable herbage that clothed its sides, seemed to smile back its answer of calm disdain to the being who, perchance, might have seen the temple built, and who, in his inscrutable existence, might behold the mountain shattered from its base.
BOOK V.
THE EFFECTS OF THE ELIXIR,
CHAPTER I.
Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach! in meiner Brust.
Was stehst du so, und blickst erstaunt hinaus ?1 Faust,
Ir will be remembered that we left Master Paolo by the bedside of Glyndon; and as, waking from that profound slumber, the recollections of the past night came horribly back to his mind, the Englishman uttered a cry, and covered his face with his hands. “Good morrow, Excellency!” said Paolo, gayly. “Corpo di Bacco, you have slept soundly! ” The sound of this man’s voice, so lusty, ringing, and healthful, served to scatter before it the phantasma that yet haunted Glyndon’s memory. He rose erect in his bed. “ And where did you find me? Why are you here?” “Where did I find you! ” repeated Paolo, in surprise, — “in your bed, to be sure. Why amI here! — because the Padrone bade me await your waking, and attend your commands.”
1 Two souls dwell, alas! in th breast.
Why sicudtes era so, mt nee out astonished ?
p. 334
“The Padrone, Mejnour! — is he arrived? “ Arrived and departed, signor. He has left this letter for you. “ Give it me, and wait without till I am dressed. “At your service. I have bespoke an excellent breakfast: you must be hungry. I am a very tolerable cook; a monk’s son ought to be! You will be startled at my genius in the dressing of fish. My singing, I trust, will not disturb you.
I always sing while I prepare a salad; it harmonizes the ingredients. And slinging his carbine over his shoulder, Paolo sauntered from the room, and closed the door. Glyndon was already deep in the contents of the following letter: —
No commentary for this page under the selected tracks.
There is commentary on page 1.