University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene the Temple.
Enter Carlos and Gonzalez.
Car.
Thou hast my thanks, Gonzalez—my fond heart
But for thy watchful care had been the sport
Of a fierce savage beauty.—Now I know
The minion of her soul:—Oh! that reflection
Shoots all the fires of disappointed love
Thro' my distracted heart.

Gon.
Forgive, my lord,
If I unwittingly have fix'd a pang
That preys upon your peace.—In yonder grove
I saw them meet in secret interview.—

Car.
I saw them too—thy vigilance inform'd me—
These eyes beheld them in close amorous parley,
In ardent gaze—Beheld a peasant slave
Familiar with that luxury of charms,
With Orellana's charms! It fires to madness.
I saw that wretch whom I redeem'd from death,
At her request redeem'd—Unthinking fool!
I saw him meet her in the conscious grove,
Embracing and embrac'd!

Gon.
Perish the thought,
That thus disturbs your breast—you know my lord,
By your command I seiz'd the slave, and now
Far other chains than those of love infold him.

Car.
E'er long he dies—this very hour shall see him
A Christian, or a victim to his errors.—

Gon.
The guards now lead him forth—

Car.
Was it for this
The tyrant fair oppos'd ev'n heav'n itself?
Oh! at the altar's foot her lov'd idea
Was present still, and zeal for heav'nly truth
A tear from those bright eyes dissolv'd away;—
But false compassion rules my heart no more.
I saw her meet the slave—at my approach
Fierce indignation darted from her eye,
And straight she turn'd with high disdain away.
Ah!—See! She comes!—Still lovely in her guilt!
[Exit Gonzalez.
The haughty fierceness of untutor'd virtue
Beams savage graces round her; still she must,
She shall be mine; my heart adores her still.

Enter Orellana.
Orel.
You have done this, Sir,—and I thank you for it—

Car.
Think not I urg'd severity against thee—
But oh! do justice to that gentle nature
That governs here; that now throbs wildly for you,
With all the soft solicitude of love.

Orel.
What has a wretch like me to do with love?

Car.
Dost thou avoid me then, thou cruel fair?
Dost thou avoid me?—Now I know the cause
That made thee unrelenting to my sighs—
I know your Paramour—now know for whom
Don Carlos' vows were all dispers'd in air;
For years who held dominion o'er your heart,
And made me languish at your feet in vain.

Orel.
And if I cherish'd a long hidden flame,
Who claims a right to tyrannize my heart?

Car.
Think'st thou a breast susceptible as mine,
That swells with rapture if thou deign'st to smile,
Or by a frown is tortur'd in the extreme,
Think'st thou a heart like mine will e'er permit
A conquer'd slave to win thy last regard?
Oh! there's an avarice in love that claims
Each gentle grace, each amiable air,
Claims the noble hoard of sweets, and will not bear
A word, a look directed to another.—

Orel.
And mean'st thou then to choak the voice of pity?
Is that the purpose?—Know the injur'd youth,
Whom thy fell rage but now has doom'd to death,
Is miserable—therefore dear to me;—
Know he is virtuous—therefore has my love.

Car.
Thy love!—Does he possess it?—He,
Inhuman fair!—But yet recall the word—
Our laws that spare no infidel—

Orel.
Thou Spaniard!
Thou fierce barbarian from a world unknown!—
But all our sacred rites thou hast profan'd,
And well may'st violate love's altar too.
Come, point thy dagger at this virgin breast,
And conquer hearts, as you would force our faith.

Car.
You wrong me much; hear Orellana, hear
Thy tenderest suppliant.

Orel.
Never—woman's weakness
With pity saw you kneeling at my feet,
And sighing fruitless vows.—But this last outrage
Against a helpless captive—Witness gods!
If Orellana hear this Spaniard more,
Or listen to the tale of impious love,
Deep down in earth may she alive be buried,
Her spirit doom'd to wander o'er the world,
And never reach the mansion of her fathers.—

Car.
Your minion dies—my rage is up in arms,
And the soft voice of love shall plead no more.

(Exit.
Orel.
Barbarian go!—Ah! there's a sight indeed
Afresh that opens ev'ry source of grief.

Enter Alzuma in chains.
Orel.
Oh! Let me seek thy mother, tell her all;
With the strong eloquence of filial tears,
I'll throw me at her feet, and in her heart,
Lost as it is, I'll find some hidden fibre,
Where all the mother trembles for her offspring.—

Alzuma.
Restrain this rage—Alzuma would not owe
A second favour to her—She, alas!
Is dead to nature—That accursed fiend,
Fanatic fury, blasts each moral virtue.—
She has pronounc'd my doom.—Let her not know
She kills a son—Oh! let me never add
That guilt atrocious to a parent's crimes.

Orel.
Are there no means to save thee?—

Alzuma.
Look not thus—
Ennobled by thy virtues—by distress
Endear'd:—Each glance thou send'st unmans me quite,
And ev'n a brother's fondness akes to view thee.
Thy goodness charms, and by each heart-string draws me
Back to this hated world.—For thee, my sister,
When I should boldly tread the ridge of peril,
And dare the depth below—for thy dear sake
I cling to life—extend my feeble arms,
But thou no aid can'st give.—

Orel.
Distracting thought!
Must I survive thee helpless and forlorn,
A victim to the Spaniard's hated love?

Alzuma.
There lies the pang that bids these drops of anguish
Fall in this copious stream—not for myself
I feel—But oh! when I am gone—when fate
Has stretch'd this body on the flinty earth,
Who shall defend thy weakness?—Must I leave thee
A prey to ruffian force?—Must that rare beauty,
Shall that conspire against thee? must those eyes
Obedient roll to a fierce conqu'ror's will,
Inflame his hot desires, to plunge thee deeper
In shame and servitude?

Orel.
Unpitying gods!

Alzuma.
Perhaps to waft thee from thy native land
To foreign altars, and a foreign bed!—

Orel.
There is but one, one only refuge—

Alzuma.
Name it—

Orel.
I'll perish with thee—Lo! Behold a weapon!

[Shews a dagger.
Alzuma.
Ha!

Orel.
Where'er thy spirit wings it's happy flight,
I'll hail thy triumph—Soar on trembling wing,
And distant eye thy radiant tract of glory
To ev'ry kindred star.—

Alzuma.
Relentless pow'rs!
No other boon you've left me to bestow.

Orel.
Ah! me! they come—the fell Pizarro comes.—

Enter Pizarro, Orazia, Carlos, Guards, &c.
Ora.
Now, Orellana, we demand compliance.—
Provoke our wrath no more—the vested priest
Waits at the altar; there Don Carlos' love
And heav'n indulgent claim thee for their own.

Alzuma.
Unnatural, barbarous mother!

[Aside.
Orel.
For his love
Don Carlos has my thanks—Spain will not think
Her lustre tarnish'd, that a wretch like me
Feels no ambition for her proud alliance.
The gods of Spain—

Ora.
This arrogance—

Orel.
Indulge
A favourable ear—the Gods of Spain
Will not be jealous that no fragrance rolls
Around their shrines from me—If error's maze
Misguide my steps, their all pervading eye
Will read the honest purpose of my soul,
And mercy win the thunder from their hands.

Ora.
This wilful disobedience!—Who has taught
The vain delusive dream?—

Car.
That slave!—'Tis he,
Who rules her wayward fancy.—

Ora.
Ha!—That traitor!
Dost thou presume to spread sedition here?

Alzuma.
(Looking at her.)
Oh! Thou apostate!—These hot burning tears
Will burst their way—

Pizarro.
And does thy sullen eye
Dart the fierce glance of treason on your queen?

Ora.
Who and what art thou?

Alzuma.
I've no rank or name,
To plead my cause in thy obdurate heart.
To your own child unnatural as thou art,
I have no claim to mercy—

Pizarro.
Base reviler!
Within the tropic all must think alike.

Alzuma.
Betwixt us both the sacred shaft of war
Has long been shot, and enmity prevails
Fierce, inextinguishable!

Ora.
My example
May teach thee, slave, to yield to sacred truth,
And Spain's imperial mandate.

Alzuma.
Thy example!
Full well you judg'd, thou traitress to thy country!—
To fly to gods who can forgive thy crimes—
Ours shudder at them.—

Pizarro.
To the altar drag
The impious slave—

[Guards seize Alzuma.
Orel.
Oh! Wretched Orellana!

Alzuma.
Barbarians hold! Yet Spaniard ere I die
Hear my last fervent prayer.—'Twas lust of gold,
Not zeal for truth and love of human kind,
That brought you to Peru.—And may that gold,
Oh! may it prove to Spain the direful spring
Of worse calamities than we have felt;
May it unnerve your arm; dissolve in sloth
Laborious industry;—ne'er let your plains
The toiling hand of cultivation know;
Kindle fierce war; and may some happier state,
Whose sons with love of gen'rous freedom glowing
Preserve their civil and religious rites,
The foes of tyranny!—who found their laws
On the broad base of reason and of nature;
Oh! may that happy state, if such there be!—
With bolder prow triumphant o'er the deep,
Pursue you hither with avenging thunder,
In your own harbours wrap your ships in fire,
And bow ye down to seek detected gold
For others uses!—Be that curse upon ye!

Pizarro.
His blasphemy pollutes the air—forthwith
Give him the death he merits.—

Orel.
Once again
Let me embrace him.—One last sad farewell
No pow'r on earth shall hinder.

[Embraces him.
Car.
Ha! that insolent!
Perdition seize the slave!—Shall he enjoy—
By heav'n this sabre cleaves him to the ground.

[Going to strike.
Orel.
Now by the vital air—by ev'ry pow'r
That guides, impels, or melts the human heart,
By yon bright orb of day, by your own gods,
Enough of blood they've had—By them I ask—
They will approve soft pity—Spare his life,
Oh! Spare his innocence, nor murder me.

Car.
Tear off her hold—By heav'n the slave—

Orel.
Now strike,
Now execute your purpose—with the blow
This ready dagger plunges to my heart.

Car.
Hold, Orellana!—This abhorred steel
[Takes the dagger from her.
Was never meant to wound thy tender form—
Thou hast disarm'd my vengeance—By yon heav'n
I would not see thy beauteous bosom gor'd
For the extended empire of the world.—

Orel.
If ought of cruelty the pris'oner suffer,
This hand shall set me free.—

Car.
Dispel thy fears—
I will not urge his fate—I will not urge
Thee to compliance—Guiltless of his death
I leave this temple, leave this scene of horror
Where persecution draws th'unhallow'd sword,
And murders for belief.

Pizarro.
Yet Carlos stay,
I charge thee stay, nor dare again traduce
A father's deeds.

Car.
Your pardon, Sir; my heart revolts,
And will not see that youth, whoe'er he be,
A victim to the blind insensate rage
That sheds man's blood, and dares to think it virtue.

[Exit.
Pizarro.
Ha! The time calls for rigour; feeble laws
And government relax'd might hazard all
The laurels this good sword has reap'd in war.
Rash and presumptuous boy!—By my command
He shall retrace his steps;—This very hour
Sees Orellana his. Ourself will seek him.
Mean time, Orazia, be it thine to see
That traitor die a victim to his crimes.

[Exit.
Ora.
Yield Orellana: Or thy mother's love
Turns to vindictive rage.

Alzuma.
Dishonour blast
The horrid counsel—rather brave with scorn
Their fiercest hate—Not all the worst of ills
The purple tyrant has in store for virtue
Can plead for pardon with your gods abjur'd.
Oh! Shun the guilt of treason to your soul!—
On the mind fix'd and obstinately just
Ev'n ruin falls in vain—

Ora.
It falls this moment
On thy devoted head—

Orel.
Orazia, hear me—
Restrain this rage—all nature starts with horror.—
Humanity is shock'd—if he must die,
Of all who live, thou should'st be innocent.—

Orazia.
Cling not about me thus—

Orel.
Forbear, forbear
The horrid stroke—not all the dews of Heav'n
Will wash the barb'rous murder from your hands.
Remorse and anguish follow—peace of mind
Will ever shun thee—fiends will haunt thy brain,
And all the madness of despairing guilt.

Orazia.
Thou plead'st in vain—my soul expanding feels
The glowing rapture, the exalted purpose
That swells above the infirmities of nature,
And burns with all it's god.—

Orel.
Ye host of heav'n!
Seize Orellana—drag her to your altar;
In horrid union bind me to Don Carlos,
Rather than break by one atrocious act,
All the eternal ties that link the world.

Alzuma.
Thou break them not—our country and our gods
Those are our first connexions—for my life
It is not worth my care—who dies for freedom
Has liv'd his course of nature and of glory,
And who survives it but a single hour,
Has liv'd that hour too much.—

Orel.
My soul resumes
Her strength—I will not yield—

Ora.
The traitor dies—
He dies this moment—

Alzuma.
Undismay'd I come.

Orel.
No—never—never—here these hands shall hold him—
[A soldier lays hold of her.
He shall not die—tear, tear me piecemeal first—
I'll perish with him rather—let the blow
That ends his life, unite us both in death—

[She is torn from him, a soldier stands at the altar with a lifted sabre.
Alzuma.
Now Altabalipa, where'er thy spirit
Roams in uncertain being, with thy firmness
Inspire me now—teach me like thee to die.

Ora.
Ah!—wherefore should the slave invoke that name?

[She goes near the soldier.
Alzuma.
Lo thus I bare my bosom!

[Goes up to the altar.
Ora.
Ha!

Orel.
Yet hold!
[Held by a soldier.
Thou wretched mother hold—it is—forbear—
It is the purest blood of all Peru—
A vengeful god—a god of wrath beholds
The barb'rous deed—I hear his thunder roll—
It bursts the roof—the pillar'd temple falls—
It falls to crush ye all—

Alzuma.
Here strike at once,
And with my life-blood glut her frantic rage.

Ora.
Forbear (holding the soldier)
I charge thee; stop the bloody stroke—
Oh! wonder-working pow'rs!

[faints away.
Orel.
The well known token.
Grav'd on his breast has mark'd him for her son.

[aside.]
Enter Pizarro.
Pizarro.
No, nought shall shake the purpose of my soul—
Orazia! why thus sinks her drooping spirit?

Alzuma.
Does justice triumph o'er the gods of Spain?

Orel.
Recall her heav'n, and o'er her waking sense
Pour down your gentlest influence.—

Assists Orazia.
Pizarro.
Rebel slave!
Th'exterminating wrath of heav'n pursues thee—
Still shalt thou meet thy fate—

Ora.
Oh! lend your aid,—
And lead me, lead my steps—my Lord Pizarro,
If e'er Orazia won thy kind affections,
Remit the cruel rigour of the law,
And spare a wretch's life.—

Pizarro.
She too rebels—
She pleads for heresy—

Ora.
Oh, no! I plead
For mercy, and for justice.—

Pizarro.
Would'st thou save
That wilful obstinate? reflect Orazia;
Is this your faith?—Is this your promis'd zeal?

Ora.
Zeal in excess is vice—'tis impious—
Horrid repugnance to the will of heav'n;
Subversive of each virtue; foe to all
The tender laws of charity and love;
Those laws that raise, and dignify our being,
Nature's great edict in the human heart.

Pizarro.
Thy words are treason—

Ora.
No! 'tis justice speaks—
Thanks to th'eternal pow'rs, at length I see
That each religion, truth itself may have
Its wild enthusiasts, and its frantic zealots.—

Pizarro.
By heav'n some hidden meaning lurks beneath
This sudden revolution of thy heart.

Ora.
Oh! spare his innocence—have mercy—

Pizarro.
Yes,
The slave shall live till from that stubborn spirit
Torture hath wrung each deep, each hidden purpose.
See him secur'd in the deep dungeon's gloom.

Alzuma.
Yes, lead me hence, where I no more may see
This hated race—but oh! when I am gone,
Respect her woes, her helpless innocence—
From death I shrink not—nature at my birth
Condemn'd me to it—soon the hour shall come
When truth, when conscience shall condemn thy deeds—

[Exit.
Pizarro.
The rebel's doom is fix'd—I burn to see
Each shackled slave thro' our extended realm
Or live a Christian, or embrace his fate.

[Exit.
Orazia and Orellana.
Ora.
Oh! Orellana, 'tis—it is your brother—
The wound indented on his youthful breast—
Plainly I saw it—'tis my child, my son—

Orel.
It is Alzuma—oh! I know it all—
This day reveal'd it to me—

Ora.
Was it just
To leave him thus expos'd?—

Orel.
He will'd it so—

Ora.
Wretch that I am!—I tremble at it still—
Oh! whither was I plunging!—what a depth
Of woe and guilt, unutterable guilt,
What endless misery have I escap'd!
Murder my son!—barbarity unheard of!
It shocks my soul—and did he, could he think,
Could my child think me dead to human nature?
The thought distracts; it rives a mother's heart,
To thee I've been ungentle; thou hast cause
To doubt my love—but come to my embrace.—

Orel.
Oh! bless'd event! and do I live to taste
This unexpected joy, this dear delight?

Ora.
The brink of horror, on which late I stood,
Recalls from error ev'ry wand'ring sense.
Alzuma shall not die—the Christian's God
Beams the sweet smiles of universal love
On all his fair creation—haughty Spain
Perverts his holy laws; but still the pow'r,
That warn'd my erring virtue, may inform him
Truth only triumphs when it conquers hearts,
And never gains by carnage and destruction.—