Olla Podrida. Фредерик Марриет
Читать онлайн книгу.
By those who thrust it on me in deceit; For well they knew it robb'd me of my birthright. 'Twas sin to make that vow; and were it not God's 'gerent here on earth hath power more ample To unloose, than monks to bind—thou'rt answer'd. Isid. Answer'd, but not content—if false to vows More sacred far;—yet surely not more sacred— For what should be more sacred than the vows Which link the happiness of two in one Till death dissolves the union?—If false To Heav'n, Anselmo—— Ans. Who made me false, then? Isid. Touch not that chord—treat me not as woman, Easy to flattery, boastful of her charms: You know me not, Anselmo; but till late I scarcely knew myself. Talk not to me of Heaven's vicegerent: Can man absolve from compact made with God? Ans. Isidora, it is now my duty T' assume the monitor, and point out to thee How e'en the purest of us, in our frailty, May haply slide. A maiden in her pride, But scarce in womanhood, dare to dispute The tenets of our faith, strikes at the head Of our religion; and what, for ages, Holy men have reverenced and believed, Hath been by her denounced as not her creed. Isid. 'Tis true—'tis true. The sin of unbelief, 'Gainst which I've rail'd, I fall into myself, Swayed by my foolish pride. (Turns to Anselmo.) But still, as yet Thou'rt bound, Anselmo—e'en this discourse, Methinks, is sacrilege. Ans. Nay, Isidora, Does not the father, he whose spiritual sway I yet acknowledge, grant me this sweet bliss? And is the tender sanction of that saint, Our more than mother, nothing? As monk— And now I scarce am one—it would seem I am an object of your utter hate. Isid. Not hate, Anselmo—'tis a bitter word; Say rather fear—of what belongs to Heav'n. Was there no crime, Anselmo, when thou stol'st, Like a disguised thief, this trusting heart? What sophistry can'st thou put forth to show Thou should'st retain thy base, dishonest theft? Ans. Not words, but deeds, my Isidora, Shall prove me worthy of the stolen treasure: The first are due to God. This very night With penance strict, I'll cleanse my tainted soul; Deep in contrition, on my knees I'll wait My dispensation from the sovereign pontiff; Then—— Isid. And then—dear, dear Anselmo. Ans. And then Shall sneering cavalier or flaunting dame Say, when a Guzman shall a Guzman wed, The monk parades it boldly, and the bride Hath cull'd the cloister for her wedded lord? No, no; they never shall, my Isidora. Then will I clad me in the warrior's steel: Thou shalt receive me from the crimson'd field, A laurel'd hero, or shall mourn me slain; I will not steal to thee from cloister'd sloth, But at thy portal light from battle steed. Spain hath around and that within, shall make The monk—a hero. Dost thou not think The plumed helm will better fit this head, Than the dull friar's cowl? My Isidora, Now for a space—a brief one, fare thee well! Once more I'll meet thee, and on bended knee, As soldier should, I'll claim from my betroth'd Some token that shall cheer me in the fight. I must be worthy of you. Isid. Thou art so. (Embrace.) Anselmo, fare thee well! may Heav'n bless thee! [Exit. Ans. All powerful virtue, unto thy shrine I bow. Sweet maid, whose great perfection Hath as a glass display'd to me my crimes; Oh may'st thou ever keep me in the path Where peace and happiness attend my steps! Now must I to the monast'ry repair, There to remain until I'm freed;—but then, To-night it is I meet the brave Don Felix: I had forgotten it. Most willingly Would I avoid this foolish rash dispute; And yet I must not. When I was friendless, Reckless of life—a life not worth preserving— I could have pass'd whole days in mortal strife. [Exit.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.