The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes - Volume 1 by George MacDonald (finding audrey .txt) 📖

/> Content to sorrow a little, so I might
But see her with the darling on her knees,
And know that must be pure that dwelt within
The circle of thy glory. Lilia! Lilia!
I scorn the shame rushing from head to foot;
I would endure it endlessly, to save
One thought of thine from his polluting touch;
Saying ever to myself: this is a part
Of my own Lilia; and the world to me
Is nothing since I lost the smiles of her:
Somehow, I know not how, she faded from me,
And this is all that's left of her. My wife!
Soul of my soul! my oneness with myself!
Come back to me; I will be all to thee:
Back to my heart; and we will weep together,
And pray to God together every hour,
That he would show how strong he is to save.
The one that made is able to renew-
I know not how.-I'll hold thy heart to mine,
So close that the defilement needs must go.
My love shall ray thee round, and, strong as fire,
Dart through and through thy soul, till it be cleansed.-
But if she love him? Oh my heart-beat! beat!
Grow not so sick with misery and life,
For fainting will not save thee.-Oh no! no!
She cannot love him as she must love me.
Then if she love him not-oh horrible!-oh God!

[ He stands in a stupor for some minutes .]

What devil whispered that vile word, unclean ?
I care not-loving more than that can touch.
Let me be shamed, ay, perish in my shame,
As men call perishing, so she be saved.
Saved! my beloved! my Lilia!-Alas,
Would she were here! oh, I would make her weep,
Till her soul wept itself to purity!
Far, far away! where my love cannot reach.
No, no; she is not gone!

[ Starting and facing wildly through the room .]

It is a lie-
Deluding blind revenge, not keen-eyed love.
I must do something.-

[ Enter LILY.]

Ah! there's the precious thing
That shall entice her back.

[ Kneeling and clasping the child to his heart .]

My little Lily,
I have lost your mother.

Lily .
Oh!

[ Beginning to weep .]

She was so pretty,
Somebody has stolen her.

Julian .
Will you go with me,
And help me look for her?

Lily .
O yes, I will.

[ Clasping him round the neck .]

But my head aches so! Will you carry me?

Julian .
Yes, my own darling. Come, we'll get your bonnet.

Lily .
Oh! you've been crying, father. You're so white!

[ Putting her finger to his cheek .]


SCENE XI.- A table in a club-room. Several Gentlemen seated round it. To them enter another .

1st Gentleman .
Why, Bernard, you look heated! what's the matter?

Bernard .
Hot work, as looked at; cool enough, as done.

2nd G .
A good antithesis, as usual, Bernard,
But a shell too hard for the vulgar teeth
Of our impatient curiosity.

Bernard .
Most unexpectedly I found myself
Spectator of a scene in a home-drama
Worth all stage-tragedies I ever saw.

All .
What was it? Tell us then. Here, take this seat.

[ He sits at the table, and pours out a glass of wine .]

Bernard .
I went to call on Seaford, and was told
He had gone to town. So I, as privileged,
Went to his cabinet to write a note;
Which finished, I came down, and called his valet.
Just as I crossed the hall I heard a voice-
"The Countess Lamballa-is she here to-day?"
And looking toward the door, I caught a glimpse
Of a tall figure, gaunt and stooping, drest
In a blue shabby frock down to his knees,
And on his left arm sat a little child.
The porter gave short answer, with the door
For period to the same; when, like a flash,
It flew wide open, and the serving man
Went reeling, staggering backward to the stairs,
'Gainst which he fell, and, rolling down, lay stunned.
In walked the visitor; but in the moment
Just measured by the closing of the door,
Heavens, what a change! He walked erect, as if
Heading a column, with an eye and face
As if a fountain-shaft of blood had shot
Up suddenly within his wasted frame.
The child sat on his arm quite still and pale,
But with a look of triumph in her eyes.
He glanced in each room opening from the hall,
Set his face for the stair, and came right on-
In every motion calm as glacier's flow,
Save, now and then, a movement, sudden, quick,
Of his right hand across to his left side:
'Twas plain he had been used to carry arms.

3rd G .
Did no one stop him?

Bernard .
Stop him? I'd as soon
Have faced a tiger with bare hands. 'Tis easy
In passion to meet passion; but it is
A daunting thing to look on, when the blood
Is going its wonted pace through your own veins.
Besides, this man had something in his face,
With its live eyes, close lips, nostrils distended,
A self-reliance, and a self-command,
That would go right up to its goal, in spite
Of any no from any man. I would
As soon have stopped a cannon-ball as him.
Over the porter, lying where he fell,
He strode, and up the stairs. I heard him go-
I listened as it were a ghost that walked
With pallid spectre-child upon its arm-
Along the corridors, from door to door,
Opening and shutting. But at last a sting
Of sudden fear lest he should find the lady,
And mischief follow, shot me up the stairs.
I met him at the top, quiet as at first;
The fire had faded from his eyes; the child
Held in her tiny hand a lady's glove
Of delicate primrose. When he reached the hall,
He turned him to the porter, who had scarce
Recovered what poor wits he had, and saying,
"The count Lamballa waited on lord Seaford,"
Turned him again, and strode into the street.

1st G .
Have you learned anything of what it meant?

Bernard .
Of course he had suspicions of his wife:
For all the gifts a woman has to give,
I would not rouse such blood. And yet to see
The gentle fairy child fall kissing him,
And, with her little arms grasping his neck,
Peep anxious round into his shaggy face,
As they went down the street!-it almost made
A fool of me.-I'd marry for such a child!


SCENE XII.- A by-street . JULIAN walking home very weary. The child in his arms, her head lying on his shoulder. An Organ-boy
with a monkey, sitting on a door-step. He sings in a low voice .

Julian .
Look at the monkey, Lily.

Lily .
No, dear father;
I do not like monkeys.

Julian .
Hear the poor boy sing.

[ They listen. He sings .]

SONG.

Wenn ich höre dich mir nah',
Stimmen in den Blättern da;
Wenn ich fühl' dich weit und breit,
Vater, das ist Seligkeit.

Nun die Sonne liebend scheint,
Mich mit dir und All vereint;
Biene zu den Blumen fliegt,
Seel' an Lieb' sich liebend schmiegt.

So mich völlig lieb du hast,
Daseyn ist nicht eine Last;
Wenn ich seh' und höre dich,
Das genügt mir inniglich.

Lily .
It sounds so curious. What is he saying, father?

Julian .
My boy, you are not German?

Boy .
No; my mother
Came from those parts. She used to sing the song.
I do not understand it well myself,
For I was born in Genoa.-Ah! my mother!

[ Weeps .]

Julian .
My mother was a German, my poor boy;
My father was Italian: I am like you.