University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A Cottage in the Country, near which, Eudora and Elvira, her mother, are sitting—while, Eudora, in a melancholy mood, complains of her misfortunes,
Eudora
rises and walks.
Mother! we have no pleasure in this world!
Name blighted—hopes destroy'd—left alone!— [Weeps.


Elv.
Have I not lov'd thee, with the purest love?
Look'd on thee, when thou wast a child, all night?—
And, when the damask dawn of orient morn
Walk'd in my wicket, found me by thee still!—
He found me there, by thee!—Oh! what a curse!—
From day to day—from year to year,—these hands
Have nurs'd thee, child!—and, from these lacteal springs,
Have I, at midnight, fed thee,—half asleep!
And why didst thou deny me joy in age?—
As some bright star, above the rest hath shone,
The queen of all the radiant gems of heaven;—
Then shut, from tranquil light, to utter gloom!
So does the night of grief erase thy beams!
Where shall we go, for recompense?—Oh! God!—
There is no resting place beneath the sun!
There is the cottage where her mother lives.

[Points at it.
Eud.
Oh! she is full of tenderness and love.

Elv.
I would that I were dead and in my grave!
To die, and leave thee in the villain's hands?
[Indignant.
That foul apostate, rebel, traitor, wretch!—
He, who hath ruin'd my child, and broke this heart!
No; had I power, these old, decrepit hands,
Should make each second of his dying life.
A thousand years of misery! Oh! thou man!—
Could I but ope the windows of thy heart,
I'd shut a lion in, to tear 't in pieces!
Yes, open ev'ry vein that feeds thy heart,
And fill each empty tube with molten lead,
And hang thee up, and mock thee day and night!—
'Till thou had'st grown so old in ugliness,
That ev'ry fowl that soars in air, should scream,
And ev'ry wolf stand howling at thy corse!

[Weeps.
Eud.
That I had died when I was but a child!
That I had never seen the light of day!
He, who, was as the pulses of my heart,
He, who clung round me, but deform'd me thus!
And, with the lying lips of wanton lust,
Betray'd me unto bitterness and shame!—
He, who once held me to his beating heart,
And bade me hear the whispers of its love,
And mark the fervor of his soul!—now gone?
He—he, to chain me with a chain of lead! [Disdainfully.

Oh! for a healing Marah for this thirst!
He, lure me to his arms, then crush my heart?—
But let me not upbraid him!—he was kind!
An adder!—till I flutter'd in his jaws.
Shall I forgive him? Thereby swear my guilt?—
Not while this heart maintains my eagle thought.
Not while this hand can move a single joint.
Not while these eyes can see—these feet can walk.
Not while the sun wakes up at morn—by heavens!
Not while he shines, and sits upon yon sea!
I live to view the mirror of his blood,
[Disdainfully.
Reflect the deep damnation of his deeds!
And make seduction stare me in the face?
No; if there be no hand, so good, on earth,
As to absolve me of this cursed crime!—
If there be none on earth, so kind, as true,—
To shut the villain in a new dug grave!
And rid the air, in which I live, of bane—
By truth, and that which I have lost, I'll dress
Me in an Indian's garb, and paint me red,
The quiver'd angel of revengeful wrath—
And hunt him, like Diana, with a spear,
And wake the stings of his ingratitude!
To stifle this proud soul with such an air,—
When, in this rich apothecary, lives
An antidote, to purge him from the world!

Elv.
Repine no more, Eudora!—all is vain!—

Eud.
He, once the “apple of mine eye,” cast off!
If it offend thee, pluck it out!—it does!
My noonday sun is dark with lowering clouds!
And that meridian splendor, once so bright,
Lies folded in the funeral of disdain!
Now this dark garb of widowhood, shuts out
The sunshine which made virtue day, and chills
The healthy merriment of youthful blood!—
Bars up the door which opens on my soul!—
Shuts love within the dungeon of my brain,
And makes a culprit of my ev'ry thought!
Turns out the tenant of my bosom'd sire,
To play upon the winds!—that every ear
May drink the sound—that ev'ry tongue may blast,
The roses which once paradis'd my soul!
Oh! living death! why taunt me with thy woes?—

Elv.
Ah! why complain, when thou art half to blame?

Eud.
Oh! mother; wound me not—I tell thee now—
What? he! the Milo swore he'd take my life!—
And then, upon the curse, shed woman's tears!
And bade me, with a sigh, not break his heart!
And spoke of business which prorogued the time—
Till, like the sequence of an earthquake shock,
That lingering silence which succeeds the storm;
Aghast I stood! and begged him peace once more!
But, with the fury of a gorgon, rushed,
And clasp'd me in his arms,—still threatening death!
And, though, with purpose bent, I still had hopes! [Weeps.


Elvira.
Oh! how could nature look upon such things!

[Weeps.
Eud.
The wrath of heaven doth not chastise like men,
But lingers in infringement, giving pain.

[Weeps.
Elvira.
Oh! Eudora! Eudora!—why weep now?
Why choose this bright congenial day, to turn
Thy heart strings into discord! and, break down
The channel of life's precious stream! and melt
The current of existence into tears?—
Though heaven's decree has been delayed, my child!
At last, his death will yield thee richer gifts!

Eud.
I tell thee, mother! though thou knowest me well!
And brought'st me upward from a child, with care!
Thou know'st me not! I'm strange to thee, for all!
I tell thee, and the lamps, which burn in heaven,
Bear witness that my words have all gone forth!
And can no more return than could a ball
Shot from the cannon's mouth—I tell thee now!
And mark me! my young heart is not forsworn—
No; 'tis as pure, in its intent, as snow!
I would not harm the simplest thing on earth!
As loathe to scorn, as fierce to insult given!
But, when despite is on my nature thrown,
I swear, 'tis harder far than adamant!
And now, for all I bore him, in this world!
For every moment that I saw his face,
If health survive, and only life shall last,—
For all the smiles which won me to belief,—
Shall fourfold years, and endless hate be given!
And this wide heart, so full, it fain would burst—
This fountain, which is stirred to bitter wrath,
Which that insatiate wretch so rudely stung,
And wounded with the arrows of his lust!—
Shall turn an August to his life, and thirst
For every drop that palpitates his heart!—
I tell thee, here are settled resolutions!
For, agony now slumbers in resolve.
I'd pray to heaven for fifty live-long years,
And travel through the world, to take his life!

[Weeps.
Elv.
Oh! my child! my child! thou art run mad!

Eud.
Mad!
Thou know'st I have enough to make me mad!
To burn up every atom of my blood;
And freeze the pulses of my heart to death!
But 'tis not so! perhaps I might go mad,
Had I a soul as little as myself;
And had no other way to vent my wrath,
Than through these weeping windows, which you see!
Which, every moment, tells me, that I breathe
The same fresh air, in which a traitor lives!
Had I no other door to enter heaven,
Than through these narrow straits and locks, which shoal
Existence—then, my heart might weep! but, mark!
For such a little heart, there never lived
Beneath God's heaven, a nobler, larger soul!
The mountains' heights are ascertained! the seas
Are fathomed, and the ocean's depths are known!
The heavens are fettered by material space!—
Revenge in woman hath no limitations!
'Tis measureless! and never had a shore!
Thou know'st a woman's love? how deep! how strong!
Then weigh it in the scales of heaven, and weep!

Elv.
My child! thou art beside thyself! 'tis vain!
I have foregone these many things for thee!
And here, I find thee railing out in wrath,
As if thou couldst allay the temptest-storms
And grasp the whirlwinds in thy hands—let's go!

[Starts away.
Eud.
I know one tempest I can still, too well!
And such a wreck shall never shame this world!
The chronicles of life are sealed by death;
And on the outskirts of the eternal hills,
Stands bold revenge to confiscate his soul!

Elv.
Thou, Eudora! do all this? who aids thee?

Eud.
Mother! I love thee—teach me not to hate!

Elv.
Thou art distracted—oh! that I were dead!

[Weeps.
Eud.
Weep not, my mother! I will soothe thine age!
Could I retrace the current of my years,
Back to the fountain of my early hopes,
How I could smile before thee!—with a heart
As buoyant as a fawn on Judah's hills!—
No mortal man shall know that day and hour,
When these poor hands shall chase life's cloud away,
And from the sky of life, that curtain draw,
And hurl a traitor from his domil throne!
Then will the sunshine of meridian day,
Beam on the bright Hesperian fruit of gold;
Break through the haze of disappointment's morn,
And light me and my mother home to heaven!

Elv.
O! heaven grant that hour could come.

Eud.
'Twill come!

Elv.
Come—let us take us to our lonely home.

Eud.
Hark! I hear the cooings of a mateless dove!—
'Tis so much like the voice I heard that day!
It sings so mellow, with harmonious pain!
Her music dwells within me, as a song,
Through visions purified—and oh! the grove!
Bright gems of love!—what spirits fill mine eyes?
Oh! what a season was such perfect love!
In early childhood, where my spirit met
Its ministers of peace!—to waste and melt
Like snow in sunshine? shall it be so now?—
My heart-strings bursting with untamed regret—
All circumfused with tears!—no; hope is strong!
The chains which bound my life are twain,
And mildew rusts them, from his cadent tears!—
And now, all trembling, like a stormy oak,
Shaken on high, by some unfriendly wind,
I see his iron heart-strings burst and bleed!
And cry unsolaced to his tortured mind!
Mark! this hand shall do 't, and this heart shall guide.

Elv.
What will become of Angeline, his wife?
[Disdainfully.
But she hath done no wrong! upbraid her not.

Eud.
I would not waste the offspring of my thoughts,
To name her name!—she was that golden gate,
Which shut my entrance out of happiness!
No! no!—who could be happy with a traitor?
No one!—not e'en an angel out of heaven!

Elv.
Let us home, my child! he loves her.

Eud.
He love?
And enemy to virtue, love?—tell me
That heaven is hell!—that he will go to heaven!
I tell thee, now, I have a daring soul!
Feeble in body—yet, in mind, a lion!
Then say no more—talk not of Angeline!
Methinks I see him sitting by her side,
As he disported once, with me—telling lies!

Elv.
His children will be taught their father's language.

Eud.
His children!—heavens! my child! my child! my child!

[Exeunt Eudora and Elvira.