MARINA.
My own dear father, when I am Moscow"s queen Kioff, you know, must be our boundary.
Kioff must then be mine, and thou shalt rule it.
MEISCHEK.
Thou dreamest, girl! Already the great Moscow Is for thy soul too narrow; thou, to grasp Domains, wilt strip them from thy native land.
MARINA.
Kioff belonged not to our native land; There the Varegers ruled in days of yore.
I have the ancient chronicles by heart; "Twas from the Russian empire wrenched by force.
I will restore it to its former crown.
MEISCHEK.
Hush, hush! The Waywode must not hear such talk.
[Trumpet without. They"re breaking up.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Greek convent in a bleak district near the sea Belozero.
A train of nuns, in black robes and veils, pa.s.ses over the back of the stage. MARFA, in a white veil, stands apart from the others, leaning on a tombstone. OLGA steps out from the train, remains gazing at her for a time, and then advances to her.
OLGA.
And does thy heart not urge thee forth with us To taste reviving nature"s opening sweets?
The glad sun comes, the long, long night retires, The ice melts in the streams, and soon the sledge Will to the boat give place and summer swallow.
The world awakes once more, and the new joy Woos all to leave their narrow cloister cells For the bright air and freshening breath of spring.
And wilt thou only, sunk in lasting grief, Refuse to share the general exultation?
MARFA.
On with the rest, and leave me to myself!
Let those rejoice who still have power to hope.
The time that puts fresh youth in all the world Brings naught to me; to me the past is all, My hopes, my joys are with the things that were.
OLGA.
Dost thou still mourn thy son--still, still lament The sovereignty which thou has lost? Does time, Which pours a balm on every wounded heart, Lose all its potency with thee alone?
Thou wert the empress of this mighty realm, The mother of a blooming son. He was s.n.a.t.c.hed from thee by a dreadful destiny; Into this dreary convent wert thou thrust, Here on the verge of habitable earth.
Full sixteen times since that disastrous day The face of nature hath renewed its youth; Still have I seen no change come over thine, That looked a grave amid a blooming world.
Thou"rt like some moonless image, carved in stone By sculptor"s chisel, that doth ever keep The selfsame fixed unalterable mien.
MARFA.
Yes, time, fell time, hath signed and set me up As a memorial of my dreadful fate.
I will not be at peace, will not forget.
That soul must be of poor and shallow stamp Which takes a cure from time--a recompense For what can never be compensated!
Nothing shall buy my sorrow from me. No, As heaven"s vault still goes with the wanderer, Girds and environs him with boundless grasp, Turn where he will, by sea or land, so goes My anguish with me, wheresoe"er I turn; It hems me round, like an unbounded sea; My ceaseless tears have failed to drain its depths.
OLGA.
Oh, see! what news can yonder boy have brought, The sisters round him throng so eagerly?
He comes from distant sh.o.r.es, where homes abound, And brings us tidings from the land of men.
The sea is clear, the highways free once more.
Art thou not curious to learn his news?
Though to the world we are as good as dead, Yet of its changes willingly we hear, And, safe upon the sh.o.r.e, with wonder mark The roar and ferment of the trampling waves.
[NUNS come down the stage with a FISHER BOY.
XENIA--HELENA.
Speak, speak, and tell us all the news you bring.
ALEXIA.
Relate what"s pa.s.sing in the world beyond.
FISHER BOY.
Good, pious ladies, give me time to speak!
XENIA.
Is"t war--or peace?
ALEXIA.
Who"s now upon the throne?
FISHER BOY.
A ship is to Archangel just come in From the north pole, where everything is ice.
OLGA.
How came a vessel into that wild sea?
FISHER BOY.
It is an English merchantman, and it Has found a new way out to get to us.
ALEXIA.
What will not man adventure for his gain?
XENIA.
And so the world is nowhere to be barred!
FISHER BOY.
But that"s the very smallest of the news.
"Tis something very different moves the world.
ALEXIA.
Oh, speak and tell us!