Bibliotheca Polyglotta

Catilina (Catiline)

Complete text

FURIA.
Han er borte. Jeg har nået målet for mit liv.
Solens første blik på sletten ser ham kold og stiv.

FURIA.
He is gone forever. My great task in life is done.
Cold and rigid we shall find him in the morning sun.

AURELIA
(hen for sig).
I hans harmopfyldte hjerte skulde elskov mer ej bo?
Var det drømme? Nej, så lød det fra hans vrede læbe jo.

AURELIA.
[Aside.]
In his passion-glutted bosom then should love no longer dwell?
Was it nothing but a dream? His angry words I heard full well.

FURIA.
Sværdet klinger; Catilina svæver alt på gravens rand;
snart han som en lydløs skygge haster mod de dødes land.

FURIA.
Hark, the weapons clash; already at the brink
of death he stands;
Soon a noiseless shadow he will hasten toward the spirit
lands.

AURELIA
(farer sammen).
Ah, hvo er du, uheldsvangre røst, der høres hist,
uglen lig, når hult den varsler ifra træets kvist!
Er du stegen fra de klamme skyggelande frem
for at føre Catilina til dit skumle hjem?

AURELIA.
[Startled.]
Who are you, prophetic voice, that yonder comes to me,
Like the night-owl’s cry of warning from some far-off tree!
Are you from the clammy underworld of spirits come
Hence to lead my Catiline into your gloomy home?

FURIA.
Hjemmet er jo vandrings-målet, og hans veje gik
gennem livets dynd og sumpe –

FURIA.
Home is ay the journey’s goal, and all his wanderings lay
Through the reeking swamps of life--

AURELIA.
Kun et øjeblik
Frit og ædelt var hans hjerte, stærk hans sjæl og god,
til et giftfrø den omklamred med sin slangerod.

AURELIA.
But only for a day.
Free and noble was his heart, his spirit strong and true,
Till around it serpent-like a poisoned seedling grew.

FURIA.
Friskt og grønt er og platanens løv i brede lag,
til dens stamme kvæles i en slyngvæksts favnetag.

FURIA.
So the plane-tree, too, keeps fresh and green its leafy dress,
Till its trunk is smothered in a clinging vine’s caress.

AURELIA.
Der forrådte du dit ophav! Denne stemmes klang
gav fra Catilinas læber genlyd mangen gang.
Du er slangen, som forgifted for mig livets frugt,
slangen, som for al min ømhed har hans hjerte lukt.
Fra de vågne nætters drømme grant jeg kender dig,
ser dig som en trusel stillet mellem ham og mig.
Ved min elskte husbonds side higed jeg så fro
mod et liv, af stilhed hegnet, mod et hvilens bo;
i hans trætte hjerte planted jeg et urtebed;
som dets bedste smykke freded jeg vor kærlighed.
Ah, din hadske hånd har rykket urten op med rod,
og i støvet ligger den, hvor før den frodig stod!

AURELIA.
Now did you betray your source. For time and time again
Echoed from the lips of Catiline this one refrain.
You the serpent are, who poisoned all my joy in life,
Steeled his heart against my kindness through your deadly strife.
From those waking night-dreams well I know your infamy,
Like a threat I see you stand between my love and me.
With my husband at my side I cherished in my breast
Longings for a tranquil life, a home of peace and rest.
Ah, a garden-bed I planted in his weary heart;
As its fairest ornament our love I hedged apart.
Flower and all have you uprooted with malignant hand;
In the dust it lies where thriving it did lately stand.

FURIA.
Svage tåbe; du vil lede Catilinas skridt?
Ser du ikke at hans hjerte aldrig helt var dit?
Tror du, dine blomster trives kan i slig en grund?
I det solskin-svangre forår gror violer kun,
medens bulmen yppigst vokser under skyens tag;
og hans sjæl var alt forlængst en skyfuld høstens dag.
Alt er tabt for dig! Snart slukkes gnisten i hans barm,
og som hævnens offer ligger han i dødens arm!

FURIA.
Foolish weakling; you would guide the steps of Catiline?
Do you not perceive his heart was never wholly thine?
Think you that in such a soil your flower can survive?
In the sunny springtime only violets can thrive,
While the henbane grows in strength beneath a clouded grey;
And his soul was long ago a clouded autumn day.
All is lost to you. Soon dies the spark within his breast;
As a victim of revenge he shall go to his rest.

AURELIA
(med stigende ild).
Nej, ved alle lysets guder, nej, det skal han ej!
Til hans hjerte mine tårer baner end en vej.
Finder jeg ham bleg og blodig efter kampens larm,
slynge vil jeg mine arme om hans kolde barm,
ånde på hans stumme læbe al min kærlighed,
mildne smerten i hans indre, bringe trøst og fred.
Hævnens bud, dit offer skal jeg vriste af din hånd,
binde ham til lysets hjemland med et elskovsbånd;
og er hjertets slag forstummet, medens øjet brast,
går vi begge bort fra livet i et favntag fast.
Skænk mig da, I milde magter, for hvad her jeg led,
ved min husbonds side gravens store stille fred.
(hun går.)

AURELIA.
[With increasing vehemence.]
Thus he shall not perish; no, by all the gods of day!
To his weary heart my tears will somehow force a way.
If I find him pale and gory on the battlefield,
I shall throw my arms about him and his bosom shield,
Breathe upon his speechless lips the love within my soul,
Ease the pain within him and his suffering mind console.
Herald of revenge, your victim from you I shall wrest,
Bind him to the land of sunshine, to a home of rest;
If his eyes be dimmed already, stilled his beating heart,
Linked together arm in arm we shall this life depart.
Grant me, gods of mercy, in return for what I gave,
By the side of him I love, the stillness of the grave.
[She goes.]

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