(Princess, Tasso. Towards the end of the Scene the others.)
Prin. Thou thinkest to forsake us, or remainest
Rather behind in Belriguardo, Tasso,
And then thou wilt withdraw thyself from us?
I trust thine absence will not be for long.
To Rome thou goest?
Tasso. Thither first I wend;
And if, as I have reason to expect,
I from my friends kind welcome there receive,
With care and patient toil I may, at length,
Impart its highest finish to my poem.
Full many men I find assembled there,
Masters who may be styled in every art.
Ay, and in that first city of the world,
Hath not each site, yea, every stone, a tongue?
How many thousand silent monitors,
With earnest mien, majestic, beckon us!
There if I fail to make my work complete,
I never shall complete it. Ah, I feel it--
Success doth wait on no attempt of mine!
Still altering, I ne'er shall perfect it.
I feel, yea, deeply feel, the noble art
That quickens others, and does strength infuse
Into the healthy soul, will drive me forth,
And bring me to destruction. Forth I haste!
I will to Naples first.
Prin. Darest thou venture?
Still is the rigid sentence unrepealed
Which banished thee, together with thy father.
Tasso. I know the danger, and have pondered it.
Disguised I go, in tattered garb, perchance
Of shepherd or of pilgrim, meanly clad.
Unseen I wander through the city, where
The movements of the many shroud the one.
Then to the shore I hasten, find a bark,
With people of Sorrento, pleasant folk,
Returning home from market; for I too
Must hasten to Sorrento. There resides
My sister, ever to my parents' heart,
Together with myself, a mournful joy.
I speak not in the bark; I step ashore
Also in silence; slowly I ascend
The upward path, and at the gate inquire,
Where may she dwell, Cornelia Sersale?
With friendly mien, a woman at her wheel
Shows me the street, the house; I hasten on;
The children run beside me, and survey
The gloomy stranger with the shaggy locks.
Thus I approach the threshold. Open stands
The cottage door: I step into the house--
Prin. Oh, Tasso! if 'tis possible, look up,
And see the danger that environs thee!
I spare thy feelings, else I well might ask,
Is't noble so to speak as now thou speakest?
Is't noble of thyself alone to think,
As if thou didst not wound the heart of friends?
My brother's sentiments, are they concealed?
And how we sisters prize and honor thee,--
Hast thou not known and felt it? Can it be
That a few moments should have altered all?
Oh, Tasso! if thou wilt indeed depart,
Yet do not leave behind thee grief and care.
(Tasso turns away.)
How soothing to the sorrowing heart to give,
To the dear friend who leaves us for a season,
Some trifling present, though 'twere nothing more
Than a new mantle, or a sword perchance!
There's naught, alas! that we can offer thee,
For thou ungraciously dost fling aside
E'en what thou hast. Thou choosest for thyself
The pilgrim's scallop-shell, his sombre weeds,
His staff to lean on, and departing thus,
In willing poverty, from us thou takest
The only pleasure we could share with thee.
Tasso. Then, thou wilt not reject me utterly?
O precious words! O comfort dear and sweet!
Do thou defend me! Shield me with thy care!--
Oh, send me to Consandoli, or here
Keep me in Belriguardo, where thou wilt!
The prince is lord of many a pleasant seat,
Of many a garden, which the whole year round
Is duly kept, whose paths ye scarcely tread
A single day, perchance but for an hour.
Then, choose among them all the most remote
Which through long years ye have not visited,
And which perchance e'en now untended lies.
Oh, send me thither! There let me be yours!
And I will tend thy trees; with screen and tile
Will shield thy citrons from autumnal blasts,
Fencing them round with interwoven reeds;
Flowers of the fairest hue shall in the beds
Strike deep their spreading roots; with nicest care
Each pathway, every corner, shall be kept:
And of the palace also give me charge;
At proper times the windows I will open,
Ixst noxious vapors should the pictures mar;
The walls, with choicest stucco-work adorned,
I with light feather-work will free from dust;
There shall the polished pavement brightly shine;
There shall no stone, no tiling, be misplaced;
There shall no weeds sprout from the crevices!
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